Gunter Jürgens took off his hat and wiped his brow. Almost nothing stayed dry in the rain forest. Jungle humidity made dryness near impossible, and the light drizzle made it worse.

The mound on which he stood rose six meters from the surrounding terrain. Layer upon layer had been peeled away until the pyramid top had been revealed. Now, a relatively level circle of mud, twenty meters across, marked the end of phase one. After weeks of careful work, they now had a vertical channel opened to the ancient structure's heart. The entire mound was only sixty meters across, and stood to one side of a larger, circular island of mud carved out of the Nicaraguan jungle.

Musty smells of wet earth and decaying vegetation filled the air. Only an occasional squawk or shriek pierced the muted, gray noise of heavy mist settling against a sea of broad, tropical leaves.

Gunter looked up at the sky just as the Roanhorse shuttle appeared below the cloud cover. He knew that the shuttles were fast, but seconds to travel from Scotland still seemed impossibly short.

As the shuttle settled toward the ground near the center of camp, Gunter made his way down the muddy slope.

He looked back over his shoulder and yelled to his foreman. "Al, get the rope ladder. We're going in."

At the mound top, Al Montoya and half a dozen workers stood gaping into the pyramid opening. One of the workers aimed a large flashlight down the throat of the ancient building. Several large stones and dozens of smaller ones decorated the mound's upper slope just beyond the hole that held their attention.

Of the stones they had removed, all were a medium gray granite. Each had been square cut with remarkable precision. Interior surfaces were smooth, but exterior surfaces had retained a high polish, all the more remarkable because of their great age.

Gunter's foreman, Al, was a burly mestizo, with a square face and aquiline nose that spoke of ancient Mayan royalty. The foreman looked away from the pyramid's hole, in Gunter's direction. "Sí, jefe." He took the flashlight from the worker and ordered him in Spanish to retrieve the ladder.

Gunter Jürgens was a second-generation American, on his Dad's side. This was his dig, though he did not look the part. Boyishly handsome face, and light brown crew cut made him appear immature. He stood only 177 centimeters high — medium height for a gringo — but he carried himself with authority. More importantly, he went out of his way to treat each worker with respect.

As he continued toward the shuttle, his glance met that of Lieutenant Rodriguez. The officer had just given an order to one of his privates who now trotted off toward the clearing's outer edge where the other guards on duty stood. Gunter gave the officer a warm, open smile. The lieutenant looked away, and turned his gaze to the site's jungle perimeter.

Gunter chuckled. All this activity probably woke them up.

The Nicaraguan government had assigned nearly two dozen soldiers to oversee camp security. Treasure hunters were always a threat at a fresh antiquities site, especially in the last few years, and frequently they were armed. Nicaragua's poor economy had become even weaker in the new interstellar marketplace. That had given birth to a new breed of criminals, more desperate and ruthless than anything Central America had seen in decades.

The dig was under the joint sponsorship of the Nicaraguan government, the British Academy's archaeological branch, and Roanhorse Aerospace. The aerospace company had supplied the high-tech devices used to discover the site. A warpfield sensor scan of Nicaragua's eastern hills had revealed many interesting structures hidden beneath the forests and farmland — small villages, solitary buildings of unknown purpose, and the buried ruins of an aqueduct.

The pyramid being investigated had set off nearly all of the sophate* detection algorithms. Within a very small space was an unnatural level of complex, inorganic structure and rare elements. A special survey marker had tagged the spot several weeks before. Gunter glanced toward the marker. It now lay on a tarp protecting a stack of provisions next to the main tent.

"The proverbial ‘X,'" he told himself softly. "The treasure is almost ours. And just a short distance from a town called Gate of Skulls. How poetic." In his mind's eye, he pictured pirates standing around a newly unearthed treasure chest. The image brought a brief smile to his face.

As Gunter neared the shuttle, Jack Gillenwater was stepping off into the mud, wearing a light gray slicker and black rain boots. Jack's rain cap made him look comical, but Gunter was not feeling the humor.

The representative from Roanhorse Aerospace was here to oversee the treasure chest's opening, and that made the archaeologist a little anxious. Gunter wanted to think he was in control of the dig and its findings, but with three sponsors, reality differed. So far, they had given him nothing about which to complain. Each group had left him alone, accepting daily progress reports, for the most part without any questions. This was the first sponsor visit.

Jack Gillenwater stood a tall, 191 centimeters. He had a pleasant, oval face with strong, well-defined features. There was an easy power from his movements that suggested this mid-thirties executive worked out regularly. He turned at the sound of Gunter's approach.

"Mister Jürgens," said Jack. "So good to see you again."

The two shook hands. Gunter made it a short formality. Pleasantries and politics were two of his least favorite activities.

"Gus. Please call me Gus."

"Certainly. Of course. Then, by all means, call me Jack." The Roanhorse representative propped his hands on his hips and nodded toward the mound, with its scatter of huge, cut stones, and large flank of displaced earth. "The hill looks a great deal shorter, what with four meters shaved off the top."

Gunter nodded, pursing his lips, then glanced upward to see the shuttle hover briefly before vanishing into the gray sky.

Jack hesitated, studying the archaeologist for a moment.

"Please." Jack pointed with his open hand toward the buried pyramid. "Let's see this treasure chest of yours."

Gunter smiled weakly at the statement of ownership, and led the way toward the pyramid. He knew the artifact was not his, but appreciated the man's attempt at breaking the moment's awkwardness. Ownership had never been his aim. The opportunity to work with such a find — that was what drove him.

Now, if only the rain would stop. Again, Gunter glanced at the sky. Too many problems with the slippery mud — minor injuries, mudslides — all making the work harder, and slower. And now that the pyramid is open, we're going to have to pitch a tent over the opening to keep the interior from flooding.

The past decade had given Nicaragua's eastern coast a series of record rains. At times, the mud would liquefy. The frame they had constructed for lifting the upper level stones from the pyramid had been apt to sink into the mud, especially with stones weighing more than a metric ton.

Injuries had been relatively minor, except for a broken arm when the lifting frame had slipped. Thankfully, there had been no fatalities.

Fifteen trabajadores from Managua did most of the manual labor. Of the locals, only Al, their supervisor, spoke fluent English and Spanish. Amongst the soldiers, only the lieutenant spoke a little English, but he usually deferred to Al for translations.

Gunter scanned the camp's periphery, roughly a circle two hundred and fifty meters across. He noticed two soldiers talking to one another, looking in his direction. Casually, he glanced at the other guards around the perimeter. As usual, they were paired and evenly spaced along the jungle wall and several meters from the clearing's edge.

Gunter's cellular phone chimed and he answered. "Gus here. Hi, Toshi. We're about to go into the pyramid." He listened intently while he and Jack continued toward the mound. "Good work, Toshi. See you shortly."

Gunter laughed softly as he holstered his phone, then muttered to himself. "This is the best darn day of my life."

"So?" asked Jack.

Gunter sobered a bit. "Lab results. We found organic material at the top of the pyramid, and under nearly three meters of soil. Dated, it comes in at a little over eight thousand years old. That's six thousand BCE."

"And?"

"That makes the pyramid very old. It was already here when the organic material was deposited. The pyramid had to have been built sometime before that — hundreds, maybe even thousands of years earlier." He pointed toward the mound ahead of them. "What we're about to enter might just be the oldest pyramid on the planet."

Jack took the lead as they started up the mound, and Gunter sped his pace to keep up.

On the mound's top, the workers had already staked out the load lines of the rope ladder. Despite the soft mud, the load lines were long enough and there were enough stakes in place to support one large man on the ladder, possibly two. Even so, Al had four men stand on each rope extension, next to the stakes to give the ladder extra stability.

At the pyramid opening, Gunter introduced Al. "Jack, I believe you've met Alberto Montoya, my foreman."

"Señor Gillenwater," said Al. "Mucho gusto." The two men shook hands warmly. "It is a pleasure to meet you again. Would you like to see our treasure chest?"

"The pleasure is mine, Señor Montoya." Jack glanced down the dark hole next to them, then back to Gunter. "Is it entirely safe?"

"No booby traps, if that's what you mean." Gunter laughed. "But I'll go down first." He received the large flashlight from Al and thanked his foreman. Clipping it to his belt, Gunter then started down.

Jack watched the archaeologist descend into the darkness. In moments, all he could see was the mist-like rain that entered the pyramid's throat.

After about ten meters, Gunter stepped away from the ladder and yelled. "I'll steady it for you. Come on down."

As Jack neared the bottom, Gunter spoke again. "Careful. The floor is another two meters down."

Gunter removed the flashlight from his belt and aimed it at the platform on which he stood. Jack could see the platform's edge give way to blackness, marking off a space little better than two meters by one.

"This is the treasure chest we're standing on."

With the flashlight, Gunter guided their way off the platform. A quick scan showed an empty chamber — no other artifacts or markings. One wall opened to a short corridor blocked on the other end by the pyramid's outer wall.

Gunter turned the flashlight back to their treasure. A simple, rectangular, gray stone box stood on a pedestal that elevated the box a little over half a meter off the chamber floor. A stone lid, nearly ten centimeters thick, covered the top of the box. Notches on the corners and halfway along the lengths of the box kept the lid securely in place.

For the moment, all thought of Roanhorse intrusion left Gunter. Here in the midst of such an ancient artifact, he could not stop smiling. He fidgeted like a young school boy on a first date, switching the flashlight between hands. Several times, he attempted to dry his hands on his pants.

In his imagination, he saw men and women solemnly placing the box onto its stone pedestal. He was momentarily puzzled at how effortlessly they moved the massive artifact. He was also puzzled that his imagination had chosen to clothe them in oddly modern dress.

"Doesn't look like much," said Jack, "at least on the outside."

"Hmm-m-m, yep." Gunter hesitated a moment, not sure he should say what was on his mind. Finally, he said softly, "Jack, I meant to thank you and Roanhorse Aerospace for sponsoring this dig. I might never have found this without —"

"Gus, don't worry about it." Jack held up a hand where it would show in the reflected light. "Listen. I know this is awkward having me here, but it's not what you think. I'm giddy as hell over your discovery. But I'm also here to help in any way I can."

Gunter nodded appreciatively.

"And," Jack added, taking a deep breath, "I'm not here to interfere. You're the expert. This is your show."

Puffed cheeks made Gunter look silly in the dim light. He let out the air slowly. "Thanks, Jack. I appreciate that."

Jack looked away and stroked his jaw, thoughtfully. Then he put a hand on one of the corners of their stone treasure chest and faced Gunter more fully. "When you came to RAS Scotland, four months ago, you suspected we had technology — the kind that could help you find prime dig sites. And you were right. Yeah, but we didn't tell you half the stuff we have in our arsenal."

Gunter tilted his head curiously. "I hope something to solve another problem we have. We know there's a gold box inside this stone one. We know there's a lot of detail inside that. But in order to get to the detail, we're going to have to remove both lids and take the items out piecemeal. I'd like to open them in a more controlled environment."

Jack chuckled softly. "Is the opening above big enough?"

"For the box to fit through? Sure, but this thing weighs several tons. There's a lot of solid gold inside. And the stone itself — got to be heavy."

"We can levitate out the entire stone box with all its contents. The same warpfield that drives our ships. Then take it anywhere you want."

"That's got to take a lot of energy."

"Not really. It takes surprisingly little to maintain the warpfield. And, with the field's inertial and gravitational attenuation, there's effectively no weight to lift." Jack nodded reassuringly. "Really. It's no problem."

Gunter felt suddenly free of any emotional restraint. "Well, damn, Sam. That's great!" He threw back his head and laughed freely. "Jack, we're going to get along just fine. That's a promise."

Jack reached up for the rope ladder and started to lift himself onto the stone box lid.

"Question, Jack." Gunter clipped the flashlight back onto his belt. "If you can have this levitated out, how long would it take to get it to Managua — to the warehouse lab?"

Jack laughed. "Minutes, if not seconds." He was still chuckling as he started back up.

Gunter smiled broadly into the darkness and held the ladder steady. While waiting for the okay from Jack, he looked down.

His attention moved into the object beneath his feet, and the hairs on his arms began to rise.

Everything in his life seemed focused toward this trophy, yet he felt insignificant next to it. Until now, his life's work had been supported by known history. The culture of five thousand years had always cushioned him from the unknown's abyss. Within the stone box, time dropped away as a chasm. Now he saw the six thousand years between the bottom of history and this object — this end to someone else's history. He felt naked above it. Nothing lay between him and the ancient of ancients.

Closing his eyes, Gunter felt suddenly dizzy. He blinked for a moment, took a slow, uneasy breath, and exhaled raggedly. Then he looked up and saw Jack wave to him.

Glancing again at the artifact, he imagined opening its secrets. "Soon," he whispered.

Gunter nodded and started up.