Pavonis never got high enough at these latitudes to provide much useful illumination now, sinking towards the horizon and clotted by great cauls of dust, it was little more than a rusty-red smear, hard for his eyes to focus on. Sylveste looked down at the excavation grid, the sides of each shaft brightly lit by the banks of floodlights arrayed around the area. “Shall I issue the general evacuation order?” “It’s going to be a hard one, sir.” The man fidgeted, drawing the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck. “You’re saying we should pack up and drive back to Mantell?” They’re advising all surface teams to return to the nearest base.” “Cuvier’s just issued a severe weather advisory for the whole North Nekhebet landmass. The man’s voice was muffled behind his breather mask. “Confirmation, sir,” said one of his team, emerging from the crouched form of the first crawler. But it would take only one good dustfall-one good razorstorm-to fill the shafts almost to the surface. A million years of stratified geological history pressed against the sheets. The shafts went down tens of metres, walled by transparent cofferdams spun from hyperdiamond. The archaeological dig was an array of deep square shafts separated by baulks of sheer-sided soil: the classical Wheeler box-grid. Sylveste stood on the edge of the excavation and wondered if any of his labours would survive the night. ONE Mantell Sector, North Nekhebet, Resurgam, Delta Pavonis system, 2551
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