“These,” he indicated the wealth from the plundered boxes, “can’t be anything but luxury goods, luxury goods of a civilization far more advanced than ours. I’m inclined to believe that this was a shipment which never reached its destination.”
“That tube we found the carrier in,” mused Kimber.
“Suppose they shot such containers through tubes for long distances. Even across the sea. We didn’t transport goods that way, but we can’t judge this world by Terra. And they have no high tides here.”
“Tas, Sim,” Carlee turned one of the bracelets around in hands which bore the scars of the hardworking Cleft life, “could they-are they still here? Those Others-?”
Kimber got to his feet, brushing the sand from his breeches.
“That’s what we’ll have to find out-and soon!” He squinted at the sun. “Too late to do anything more today. But tomorrow—”
“Hey!” Rogan balanced on his palm a tiny roll of black stuff he had just pried out of a pencil-slim container. “I think that this is some kind of microfilm. Maybe we can check on that-if we can rig up a viewer which will take it.”
Kordov was instantly alert. “How many of those things in there?”
Rogan took them one at a time from the box he had opened. “I see twenty.”
“Can you rig a viewer?” was Kordov’s next question.