Omnilingual Page 3
Sachiko had taken off her loup and was lighting a cigarette.
"I can think of pictures intended to explain their captions," she said."These picture language-books, the sort we use in the Service--littleline drawings, with a word or phrase under them."
"Well, of course, if we found something like that," von Ohlmhorst began.
* * * * *
"Michael Ventris found something like that, back in the Fifties," HubertPenrose's voice broke in from directly behind her.
She turned her head. The colonel was standing by the archaeologists'table; Captain Field and the airdyne pilot had gone out.
"He found a lot of Greek inventories of military stores," Penrosecontinued. "They were in Cretan Linear B script, and at the head of eachlist was a little picture, a sword or a helmet or a cooking tripod or achariot wheel. That's what gave him the key to the script."
"Colonel's getting to be quite an archaeologist," Fitzgerald commented."We're all learning each others' specialties, on this expedition."
"I heard about that long before this expedition was even contemplated."Penrose was tapping a cigarette on his gold case. "I heard about thatback before the Thirty Days' War, at Intelligence School, when I was alieutenant. As a feat of cryptanalysis, not an archaeologicaldiscovery."
"Yes, cryptanalysis," von Ohlmhorst pounced. "The reading of a knownlanguage in an unknown form of writing. Ventris' lists were in the knownlanguage, Greek. Neither he nor anybody else ever read a word of theCretan language until the finding of the Greek-Cretan bilingual in 1963,because only with a bilingual text, one language already known, can anunknown ancient language be learned. And what hope, I ask you, have weof finding anything like that here? Martha, you've been working on theseMartian texts ever since we landed here--for the last six months. Tellme, have you found a single word to which you can positively assign ameaning?"
"Yes, I think I have one." She was trying hard not to sound tooexultant. "_Doma._ It's the name of one of the months of the Martiancalendar."
"Where did you find that?" von Ohlmhorst asked. "And how did youestablish--?"
"Here." She picked up the photostat and handed it along the table tohim. "I'd call this the title page of a magazine."
He was silent for a moment, looking at it. "Yes. I would say so, too.Have you any of the rest of it?"
"I'm working on the first page of the first article, listed there. Waittill I see; yes, here's all I found, together, here." She told him whereshe had gotten it. "I just gathered it up, at the time, and gave it toGeoffrey and Rosita to photostat; this is the first I've really examinedit."
The old man got to his feet, brushing tobacco ashes from the front ofhis jacket, and came to where she was sitting, laying the title page onthe table and leafing quickly through the stack of photostats.
"Yes, and here is the second article, on page eight, and here's the nextone." He finished the pile of photostats. "A couple of pages missing atthe end of the last article. This is remarkable; surprising that a thinglike a magazine would have survived so long."
"Well, this silicone stuff the Martians used for paper is prettydurable," Hubert Penrose said. "There doesn't seem to have been anywater or any other fluid in it originally, so it wouldn't dry out withtime."
"Oh, it's not remarkable that the material would have survived. We'vefound a good many books and papers in excellent condition. But only areally vital culture, an organized culture, will publish magazines, andthis civilization had been dying for hundreds of years before the end.It might have been a thousand years before the time they died outcompletely that such activities as publishing ended."
"Well, look where I found it; in a closet in a cellar. Tossed in thereand forgotten, and then ignored when they were stripping the building.Things like that happen."
Penrose had picked up the title page and was looking at it.
"I don't think there's any doubt about this being a magazine, at all."He looked again at the title, his lips moving silently. "_MastharnorvodTadavas Sornhulva_. Wonder what it means. But you're right about thedate--_Doma_ seems to be the name of a month. Yes, you have a word, Dr.Dane."
Sid Chamberlain, seeing that something unusual was going on, had comeover from the table at which he was working. After examining the titlepage and some of the inside pages, he began whispering into thestenophone he had taken from his belt.
"Don't try to blow this up to anything big, Sid," she cautioned. "All wehave is the name of a month, and Lord only knows how long it'll be tillwe even find out which month it was."
"Well, it's a start, isn't it?" Penrose argued. "Grotefend only had theword for 'king' when he started reading Persian cuneiform."
"But I don't have the word for month; just the name of a month.Everybody knew the names of the Persian kings, long before Grotefend."
"That's not the story," Chamberlain said. "What the public back on Terrawill be interested in is finding out that the Martians publishedmagazines, just like we do. Something familiar; make the Martians seemmore real. More human."
* * * * *
Three men had come in, and were removing their masks and helmets andoxy-tanks, and peeling out of their quilted coveralls. Two were SpaceForce lieutenants; the third was a youngish civilian with close-croppedblond hair, in a checked woolen shirt. Tony Lattimer and his helpers.
"Don't tell me Martha finally got something out of that stuff?" heasked, approaching the table. He might have been commenting on theantics of the village half-wit, from his tone.
"Yes; the name of one of the Martian months." Hubert Penrose went on toexplain, showing the photostat.
Tony Lattimer took it, glanced at it, and dropped it on the table.
"Sounds plausible, of course, but just an assumption. That word may notbe the name of a month, at all--could mean 'published' or 'authorized'or 'copyrighted' or anything like that. Fact is, I don't think it's morethan a wild guess that that thing's anything like a periodical." Hedismissed the subject and turned to Penrose. "I picked out the nextbuilding to enter; that tall one with the conical thing on top. It oughtto be in pretty good shape inside; the conical top wouldn't allow dustto accumulate, and from the outside nothing seems to be caved in orcrushed. Ground level's higher than the other one, about the seventhfloor. I found a good place and drilled for the shots; tomorrow I'llblast a hole in it, and if you can spare some people to help, we canstart exploring it right away."
"Yes, of course, Dr. Lattimer. I can spare about a dozen, and I supposeyou can find a few civilian volunteers," Penrose told him. "What willyou need in the way of equipment?"
"Oh, about six demolition-packets; they can all be shot together. Andthe usual thing in the way of lights, and breaking and digging tools,and climbing equipment in case we run into broken or doubtful stairways.We'll divide into two parties. Nothing ought to be entered for the firsttime without a qualified archaeologist along. Three parties, if Marthacan tear herself away from this catalogue of systematizedincomprehensibilities she's making long enough to do some real work."
She felt her chest tighten and her face become stiff. She was pressingher lips together to lock in a furious retort when Hubert Penroseanswered for her.
"Dr. Dane's been doing as much work, and as important work, as youhave," he said brusquely. "More important work, I'd be inclined to say."
Von Ohlmhorst was visibly distressed; he glanced once toward SidChamberlain, then looked hastily away from him. Afraid of a story ofdissension among archaeologists getting out.
"Working out a system of pronunciation by which the Martian languagecould be transliterated was a most important contribution," he said."And Martha did that almost unassisted."
"Unassisted by Dr. Lattimer, anyway," Penrose added. "Captain Field andLieutenant Koremitsu did some work, and I helped out a little, butnine-tenths of it she did herself."
"Purely arbitrary," Lattimer disdained. "Why, we don't even know thatthe Martians could make the same kind of vocal sounds we do."
"Oh, yes, we do," Ivan Fitzgerald contradicted, safe on his own ground."I haven't