back.
“Time to install the hatch,” Dad says.
The hatch is basically a hollow pipe about two meters wide and three meters long. One end is open while the other has a cap with a wheel. Turn the wheel, pull, and the cap swings open. Spin it the other way and it locks it. Dad measures the depth of the hole and they trim the pipe to fit. Once that’s done, they insert it into the hole and secure it. It’s a super tight fit, which I suspect is the point.
After that, they lower two floodlights and I take another peek inside. Still no movement, but lots more Warriors are revealed. Again, I get that extra pump in my heart.
Beau and Niall pull a ladder apart until it’s about six meters long. Elese helps them insert it into the hole and hold on as they slide it down. Once it’s secure, Beau signals us to pull our flashlights. I tuck the blow-horn in my weapon belt.
“Officer Keir, keep an eye out for unfriendlies.” Beau moves to climb down.
“I should go first,” I say. “In case I…feel anything. Then we can quickly retreat.”
“Feel?”
“Pressure, coldness. Warning signs.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I grab the ladder with my left hand while holding my flashlight in the other. Taking my time, I climb down. The air cools as I descend. The strong dry desert scent is replaced by a damp mustiness. The ladder vibrates when Beau and then Niall step on. Sand from the bottom of their boots rains on me. Now I’m really glad for my cap. However, I keep my focus and my flashlight on the shadows.
Pausing at the bottom, I try to sense if shadow-blobs are lurking. The air lacks that heaviness and bitter cold.
“Clear.” I move so Beau and Niall can join me. Their boots crunch on the layer of sand on the floor.
Behind us is one of the corners of the pit carved out of an unremarkable sandstone. It is smooth and undisturbed, but in front of us is a diagonal row of thirteen Warriors—one of the eight sides of the octagon. The aliens arranged the Warriors into forty-two precise rows in the shape of an octagon. The shortest rows are eighteen Warriors long, and the longest ones contain forty-two Warriors. For a total of one thousand, four hundred, and fifty-two Warriors in one pit. Don’t be too impressed with my math skills; these numbers are well known because every pit on every exoplanet discovered so far has the exact same number of Warriors standing in the same configuration.
“Look out below,” Dad calls.
Another floodlight is on the way down. Beau and Niall move the two already here. Part of our job will be to set the lights all around the pit, illuminating as much as possible. They’re on tripods and can be raised so they’re above the Warriors’ heads. The statues range in height from one-hundred and eighty-three centimeters to one-hundred and ninety-five centimeters tall. The ceiling of the pit is another two meters higher.
“All right, we’ll spread out and check every centimeter of the pit,” Beau orders. “Lawrence, signal if you see or feel anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
Beau’s on my left and Niall’s on the right, so I head straight into the rows of Terracotta Warriors. They’re all Chinese and I’ve always viewed them as part of my extended family. Plus I practically grew up in Warrior pits so there’s a comfort in seeing over a thousand familiar faces.
Their hair is pulled up into knots or hidden under caps. They all wear long coats that reach their knees and have high collars—or they might be scarves as some of them have the ends tied and hanging down like a ribbon. Some wear armor over the coats. The General and the officers all have ribbons on their armor—two in the front and three on the back. The archeologists have identified eight—there’s that number again—basic head shapes, but their facial features were sculpted by hand, making millions of individuals. No two are alike.
Most have some type of facial hair—mustaches, beards, and little tear-drop shaped clumps of hair right under their bottom lip. They have wide noses, thin eyebrows, and slanted almond-shaped eyes. Each one stands on his own pedestal—yes, they’re all male. And their expressions are all mostly neutral. Except the guys who have peaked eyebrows; they look surprised.
I weave through them, checking shadows and setting floodlights. The pit grows brighter and brighter. It seems warmer as well—a good sign. Sand has drifted around the Warriors’ feet. I