“Dr. West to base,” She said. “Dr. West to Base. Come in Base camp. Come in, this is Dr. West.”


    After far too long a pause, she heard a relieved-sounding “Base camp to Dr. West. We hear you.”


    They were the most beautiful words she’d ever heard in her life. She would build monuments to them. “It’s good to hear you guys. Are Em and Dyson still there? Drs Yung and Dyson?”


    “Right here, you inconsiderate crone,” Em said. “We found the tunnel you got nabbed in. No sign of the creature, but we got guards posted there. Where are you?”


    “You guys see the big crystal pylons going down from the geode structures to the ground? The locals call these ‘Nexus’ by the way. I think that’s both a singular and plural.”


    “You’ve made local contact?” A different, gruffer, more military voice.


    “Yeah. The good news is they seem to regard modern English as their ancient holy tongue, so we can communicate with their priest caste if nothing else.”


    “Huh,” said the unseen soldier. “So what’s the bad news?”


    “We’re dealing with a priest caste. Those don’t usually have the greatest mental flexibility. And the really, really bad news is it looks like…” Deep breath, Hawk. Don’t lose it over your theory. “It looks like they regard Naomi Studdard and the teachers she zapped down with her as gods and goddesses. And if I’m reading their mythos right, Alex…”


    “Hey. Hey, hey, hey.” Em’s words pulling her back from the deep, dark precipice of grief. “Listen to me, now. We don’t know that. If it’s been hundreds or even thousands of years, and that Studdard creature is still around, then Alex has to be still—”


    “They ate him.” Hawk said. “In their mythology. Studdard and her cronies fucking ate Alex. They killed him and took—”


    “Stop it, Hawk—”


    “They took what was left and they—”


    “STOP.” Emile Yung barked out the word with the fever of a modern Che Guevara. “You stop that, Hawk. You’re catastrophizing, and you’re buying some third grade cobbled together makeshift theology created by the same woman who betrayed the trust of every parent that ever enrolled their children in her school. Do you think for ten seconds that woman would give Alex a single foothold back towards us?”


    “No,” she said.


    “No. Honey, you’re buying the Studdard version of transubstitution.” Em said.


    “I don’t know what that is,” she said, through tears.Stolen novel; please report.


    “And that’s one reason I love you, baby. Alright. Okay. You’ve given us your bad news. Now it’s our turn. The general is moving the command post down here in the hole. The good news is that puts them inside the time dilation effect, and we’ll all be able to plan better. He also wanted to respond to your abduction. It’ll be good to tell him you’ve landed soft.”


    “You bet. I can’t get up there, Em, and my contact down there was only able to protect me on the foundation of their religion. He’s about to get hauled off to a meeting with the other Archons—I’ll explain that later—”


    “And you’re either gonna have to go with him or chance climbing the rest of the way up here. But that may be a good thing, Hon. Kaiser’s gonna be down here with us and the General.”


    She didn’t like the way that idea turned her stomach. “I don’t guess there’s a way we can get the General to keep him out?”


    “Nope. The guy’s the only person on record to run Event clean up,” said Henry Dyson. “And while we’ve been able to get the guys in here up to speed, the General and Kaiser have been playing together for like a minute. Not enough time to turn the military sour on his ass.”


    “That won’t happen. The man bleeds military contracts,” Hawk said.


    “Ahem.” One of the unseen military men cleared his throat. “The correction. Edgar Studdard bled military contracts. Kaiser found ways to fill them.”


    Hawk grinned. “I take it you boys have opinions.”


    “We’re the ones who have to use their inventions, ma’am.”


    “Well, I’ve climbed about as far up as I can. The surface is slippery, hard—it’s probably some kind of quartz—and the wind’s getting pretty bad. If I slide down now I can meet back up with my contact. I’ll try to collect as much knowledge as I can.”


    “You do that, Hawk,” Em said. “And hey, as soon as the General is down with us, we’ll probably be mounting a rescue, or a first contact—”


    “Don’t.” the word came out hot and harried, like blood. Hawk wasn’t sure why. Just that any contact without the Archon’s presence would go badly. “The people down here—let’s call them the Holians—regard these crystal nexus things as the domain of their devil-figure. The guy I’m talking to knows it’s bunk, but he also knows that some of his people believe very strongly. At least, that’s how I interpret the ways he’s helped me. If and when we get back from this…whatever the hell it is…that’s when we should meet up.”


    “You really think you can keep the military genie in the bottle, Hawk?” Em said, dryly.


    “No. But I’m hoping we can keep it on ice a little bit longer. Okay. I’m going to start back down now. Hawk Out.”


    And she turned off the radio before anyone could protest, put her head down on her knees, and began to weep. Because she knew it was true. What she hadn’t been allowed to articulate, what Emile had smothered away with the swiftness of a fire-fighter on a flame: Alex was dead. Alex was dead, and somehow his body had been used by Naomi Studdard to get what she wanted.


    And if Hawk went with the Archon of Earth, she had at least a shot of finding out what that desire happened to be. Why would a seemingly sane person throw away their modern life…for this? Only way to find out was to follow the mythology down to its probable source.


    She had to find Naomi Studdard.


    Picking her head up off her knees, she clenched her fists one time. It was a promise of violence and retribution, and a request for an apology from the universe, written in divine blood. She was going to avenge Alex, and blot the greedy self-centered works of the Studdards out of this and every other universe, forever. That was her promise, and that was her vow. Not to Alex. Not to the Studdards. To herself. And maybe to the place where Alex used to be, which now ached in this terrible wind.


    And, done with the melodrama, Hawk began the careful process of sliding back down to the Temple of Light. Her own personal Ragnar?k would start there.