L ino slipped on the path near Fletcher Turn where water had
been dripping. He sometimes took this shortcut through the
caverns, but never in such a rush. Jump, duck, left, and then
jump.
The door slammed behind him as he ran to the far side of his
den. He held aside a painted canvas revealing a small nook in
the rock face. Gently, he lifted out the polished box and
placed it on his desk. His finger gracefully traced the
burlwood trim, and although he had no idea what burlwood was or
where it came from, he loved its swirly unpredictable patterns.
Nothing like the orderly fusion chambers.
"It's me," called a muffled voice through the door.
Lino crouched down and peeked under the door. There was no
mistaking Celestina's pink laces.
"Hurry," he said grabbing her arm, "get in." After checking
outside he closed the door. "Did you get it?"
"Easy sneezy. They're busy on something," she said, pushing
her skinny hand deep into a pocket. "Didn't pay me no
tention."
Lino heard rumbling machinery through the rock and the echoes
of distant alarms. The builders were definitely up to
something. He stood over Celestina as she produced all manner
of small trinkets, her mouth twisted. Even her small hands had
grown too large for the pocket. Finally, she proffered a
wadded ball of brown paper. Lino began disentangling it from
the blue string whose other end remained pocketed.
"Got daddy's diebox out," she said.
"It's a dialbox, and it's mine now," he said. "Been winding
it every three days, eight turns just like he showed me." Lino
grinned as he read the stamped paper.
"What's it say?"
Lino turned the box and removed the back, exposing many shiny
circles and curly metal ribbons. A couple pieces were flipping
back and forth.
"What's it say?"
"Just numbers Cel, you wouldn't understand."
Footsteps slapped the corridor outside, then disappeared as
fast as they came. Lino looked down at his sister's pouting
face.
"Okay," he said, resting his hand on her shoulder, "come
closer and look at this." He pointed to one of the wheels.
"See the scratch on this one? And this one here, and here?"
It was a curious contraption indeed. Its purpose seemed no
more than to move ridiculously slow; rotating needles on the
front above marked circles. The ratios were strange: sixty,
sixty, twelve. The fastest clicked in nearly perfect seconds,
but the 43,200 seconds it took the slower made no sense. About
two-thirds of a day. But inside were a series of what his dad
called calibration rings, and the scratches were now making
sense.
The room shook momentarily. The door seemed ever thinner; or
the commotion down in the atrium was louder. All sorts of new
mechanical noises were singing through the caverns. Celestina
clung to her brother now, but all Lino did was adjust little
screws into positions dictated by the crumpled paper.
"What's happening?" asked Celestina.
He shrugged. "Probably an alien invasion." The last screw
was now in position. "Great glowworms! They all line up."
"Are they hungry?"
"I don't have anything," said Lino. "It's been counting down
all along, just to now. I figured it out."
"Forgets the dawlbox," yelled Celestina. "I'm scared."
Lino was now aware of the uncomfortably tight hug his sister
had around him. "There's no aliens Cel, I just made 'em up.
I'm sorry." He tried to explain to her that the radio
transmissions were likely from some ancient probe. But still,
why was it transmitting the same signal over and over--the one
stamped on the paper which made all the scratches align? And
what was all the ruckus out there?
The blood left Lino's face as he thought about the situation
outside. Maybe some of the things he overheard the builders
saying were true, maybe visitors were coming. Maybe the
dialbox, with its strange burlwood and nonsense markings,
belonged to them. And they wanted it back.
He heard more footsteps. These were slower, a walking pace.
Then they stopped. They didn't diminish or faint away, but
just stopped. Lino and Celestina froze.
"In here," said a deep voice. "It's in here."
Tears were dripping down Celestina's face and Lino was
hugging her as much as she was him. "Just hold still,"
whispered Lino. "Maybe they'll take their box and leave us
alone."
"Lino, are you in there darling?"
He couldn't believe it. It sounded just like Mother. He
wanted to run to the door, but then thought better. Everyone
knows aliens can impersonate human voices.
The door swung open. It was their mother. Behind her stood
three strange humanoids in silver clothes. Celestina leaped up
and into Mother's arms.
One of the male-looking aliens approached. "You must be
Lino," it said, "your mom's said great things about you."
Lino was surprised that he could understand the beings. He
remained silent.
"Say hello to the Captain, dear," said Mother.
"I see," said the Captain, eyeing the dialbox, "you have my
old clock. Taken good care of it I presume."
"Take it," screamed Lino, "just don't hurt me or Cel."
The Captain laughed, then kneeled down to the boy. "You
don't know who we are, do you?" Lino just stared. "I'm
Captain Geoff Chadhill, your great grandfather."
Lino was understandably confused, the man in silver looked
even younger than his dad. But his name was familiar, as were
his warm comforting eyes.
After all fears of aliens had disappeared the Captain and
Lino sat for hours, discussing the dialbox, or clock, and
Lino's discovery. The 8000-crew spacecraft had left a small
team on this asteroid over a hundred years ago: to excavate a
city and to fabricate replacement magnetic fusion bottles for
the dying ship. They had jumped at nearly the speed of light
and returned one day later, or what was really 112 years inside
the asteroid. The antique clock had been configured to warn of
their coming, though technically obsolete. But it was now,
officially, Lino's dialbox.
x x x
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