The Hard Way Up - A. Bertram Chandler [51]
And then they came to the Cragge Rock reserve. "Cragge Rock," said the driver into his microphone, "is named after Captain Cragge, Master of the Lode Jumbuk, just as the planet itself is named after his wife, Olga." He paused. "Perhaps somewhere in the Galaxy there's a mountain that will be called Grimes Rock—but with all due respect to the distinguished spaceman in our midst he'll have to try hard to find the equal to Cragge Rock! The Rock, folks is the largest monolith in the known Universe—just a solid hunk of granite. Five miles long, a mile across, half a mile high." He turned his attention to Tanya and Moira. "Bigger than your Ayers Rock, ladies!" He paused again for the slight outburst of chuckles. "And to the north, sixty miles distant, there's Mount Conway, a typical mesa. Twenty miles to the south there's Mount Sarah, named after Chief Officer Conway's wife. It's usually called 'the Sallies,' as it consists of five separate domes of red conglomerate. So you see that geologically Cragge Rock doesn't fit in. There're quite a few theories, folks. One is that there was a submarine volcanic eruption when this was all part of the ocean bed. The Rock was an extrusion of molten matter from the core of the planet. It has been further shaped by millions of years of erosion since the sea floor was lifted to become this island continent."
As he spoke, the Rock was lifting over the otherwise featureless horizon. It squatted there on the skyline, glowering red in the almost level rays of the westering sun, an enormous crimson slug. It possessed beauty of a sort—but the overall impression was one of strength.
"We spend five full days here, folks," went on the driver. "There's a hotel, and there's an aboo settlement, and most of the boos speak English. They'll be happy to tell you their legends about the Rock—Wuluru they call it. It's one of their sacred places, but they don't mind us coming here as long as we pay for the privilege. That, of course, is all taken care of by the Tourist Bureau, but if you want any curios you'll have to fork out for them. See the way that the Rock's changing color as the sun gets lower? And once the sun's down it'll slowly fade like a dying ember . . . ."
The Rock was close now, towering above them, a red wall against the darkening blue of the cloudless sky. Then they were in its shadow, and the sheer granite wall was purple, shading to cold blue . . . Sunlight again, like a sudden blow, and a last circuit of the time-pocked monolith, and a final stop on the eastern side of the stone mountain.
They got out of the coach, stood there, shivering a little, in the still, chilly air. "It has something . . . ." whispered Tanya Lancaster.
"It has something . . ." agreed Moira Stevens.
"Ancestral memory?" asked Deane, with unusual sharpness.
"You're prying!" snapped the fat girl.
"I'm not, Moira. But I couldn't help picking up the strong emanation from your minds."
Tanya laughed. "Like most modern Australians we're a mixed lot—and, in our fully integrated society, most of us have some aboriginal blood. But . . . Why should Moira and I feel so at home here, both at home and hopelessly lost?"
"If you let me probe . . ." suggested Deane gently.
"No," flared the girl. "No!"
Grimes sympathized with her. He knew, all too well, what it is like to have a trained telepath, no matter how high his ethical standards, around. But he said, "Spooky's to be trusted. I know."
"You might trust him, John. I don't know him well enough."
"He knows us too bloody well!" growled Moira.
"I smell steak," said Grimes, changing the subject.
The four of them walked to the open fire, where the evening meal was already cooking.
Dawn on the Rock was worth waking up early for. Grimes stood with the