Read Deeper Into the Void Online
Authors: Mitchell A. Duncan
Tags: #Science Fiction, #General, #Fiction
Cardiff starts walking the other direction, to the mess hall. Mendez, Long and Lawrence each follow her; none of them have eaten anything since breakfast.
As the sun disappears behind the distant horizon to the west, Ghent sits quietly in his room, on his cot. His legs crossed and his arms quietly folded as he stares intently at his closed door; the latch is locked.
Year 15, Day 39
G
hent sits on the floor with his back to his door as the morning light breaks through his window. Dust laden air glows in the presence of the fresh light. His legs lie limply upon the cold painted floor. A sleepless night has rendered his eyes swollen and heavy. His hair, ragged and shabby, is filled with dust. Beads of sweat cover his face, and dampen his hair and jumpsuit.
Small beads of glass cover the floor and fill the sink basin; the medicine cabinet door is bare without the mirrored glass that once adorned it. Ghent leans his head back against the closed door and closes his eyes. The exhaustive night has taken a definite toll on him.
His eyes flash open and his hand rushes to the door handle to brace it after a loud knocking on his metal door.
| Cardiff: | Doctor Ghent, are you in there? Is everything alright in there? |
The sound of cloth moving along the metal surface on the inside of the door answers one of her questions. The sound of fidgeting precedes the door opening a crack.
| Ghent: | Oh, good morning Captain. |
| Cardiff: | Yes, is everything alright Doctor?… Doctor? |
She pushes on the door to widen the view into the room from the hallway. A firmly planted door ignores the force of her body as it pushes into the door again.
| Cardiff: | What’s going on in there? |
| Ghent: | Nothing, I will be out in a moment. I will look forward to seeing you in the mess hall in a few short minutes. |
| Cardiff: | Right, I’ll see you in a few. |
The sound of her footsteps as they fade down the hallway and out of the door, allows Ghent to relax, even if it is only just a tiny bit. His body complains as he pulls himself off of the floor. The sound of the mirrored glass crushing beneath his heavy boots, which he had not taken off during the night, causes him to pause a moment in consideration of the night’s events.
He reaches for the handle on the door; the sound of thousands of glass beads rolling draws his focus away from leaving the room. His head turns to the left to watch the spectacle; As if orchestrated by some unseen force, the glass upon the floor begins to congregate along the wall underneath where the mirror had been last night. As the final few pieces roll along the floor and come to rest in the pile, another migration of glass is set in motion; the glass beads begin to slide up the wall next to the sink. Ghent’s eyes squint, in the hope that a truer focus would reveal the whole impossible act to be a figment of his imagination.
He quickly grasps the lever handle on the door again and turns it to release the door. He turns and walks out of the door without paying any further attention to that which must be impossible. As the door shuts behind him, he draws in a deep breath to purge his distressed mind. The clear glass window in front of him permits him to see that Long and Lawrence are walking toward the laboratory down at bottom of the plaza.
He steps across the narrow hallway and places his hand on the window. The morning light fills the dome with color. A short smile crosses his face as the morning light buoys his mood greatly. A smile presses through the discontentment on his face, and breaks through to the surface. A warm rush of air surrounds Ghent, his eyes look to the side without the slightest movement from the rest of his body. The glass on the pane next to him begins to fog up. Not a single muscle twitches as words begin to appear on the foggy glass. The words appear as if drawn by some invisible finger on the glass. Ghent draws in a deep breath and closes his eyes tightly.
Long and Lawrence hurry through the opened door of the laboratory. With a single sample bag over his shoulder, Long places the samples on the long white bench. The bench, which is mounted on the wall of the laboratory, is smooth and clean. Lawrence grabs a pair of gloves out of the supply cabinet above the desk. Long places two metal swivel stools over in front of the spectrometer and microscope at the workbench.
The vials are carefully cataloged and laid out in an organized fashion on the table. Lawrence hands a pair of white vinyl gloves to Long, and then he stretches the vinyl over his own hands as well.
| Lawrence: | Okay, where do we start here? |
| Long: | Let’s start with number seven; load a sliver of that into that machine there. |
| Lawrence: | Well, what does it do? |
| Long: | Basically, it will confirm what I suspect. |
| Lawrence: | What do you suspect? |
| Long: | That the site we were at would be a very suitable place for manufacturing things. Specifically, it would be a good place to build large spacecraft hulls. Think about it, the gravity is far less here, less effort has to go into lifting larger items. |
| Lawrence: | Yes, I do remember the brief before we left. I do have one question, though. What is this stuff in this vial here in the bag? |
| Long: | Well, I think that it came from the wall on the way in, wasn’t it? |
| Lawrence: | Look at it, the cap came off and this stuff has made a real mess in the bag. Everything inside is covered in this metallic-looking slime. |
| Long: | I wonder what it is. I don’t recall getting all that much for a sample, so why is this mess so bad? Maybe it is like mercury, and expands a lot when it warms up. It would explain why the vial couldn’t contain it. |
| Lawrence: | Here, I will try and scrape some of it onto this glass slide. |
| Long: | Good. Okay, give it here. |
The slide is carefully placed under the light of the microscope. Long bends over the microscope to examine the odd substance under magnification.
| Long: | Well, it looks as though it is just expanding under the heat in here and even further once it is placed under the intense light in the microscope. It is expanding quickly enough that it looks like it is moving on the slide. Just don’t touch it with your bare hands. It might be a combination of heavy metals. |
| Lawrence: | So, what do you want me to do with all of this stuff? |
| Long: | For now, just clean it up and keep it away from everything else. I am going to resume my examination of these other items. |
Vial after vial is opened and tested, results are accurately logged. Long uses the glass control module at the front of the table to transcribe his report as he dictates it. He includes all of the information and photos for the report, all of which will be transmitted back to Earth. While preparing the report, the two continue their conversation from the prior day.
| Lawrence: | So, do you suppose that the third bag behind the living quarters was put there by someone in the first mission who had the same idea that we did? |
| Long: | Looks like it. It is a shame that they didn’t make it back though. |
| Lawrence: | So, I have only seen one of the bodies. What could have possibly happened to them? Much of their gear is still here, so it doesn’t look like they headed out on vacation or anything like that. |
| Long: | Well, I am not certain that they have gone anywhere. |
| Lawrence: | I’m afraid that you’re probably right. It gives a whole new meaning to having skeletons in your closet; we just might. |
| Long: | I’m not certain that they are even dead. I saw a woman that first night. |
| Lawrence: | I’m going to be straight with you, I think you are completely out of your mind. There was no woman standing there; there wasn’t anyone outside watching us either. |
| Long: | You’re half right; there wasn’t anyone outside watching us. What are you talking about? I never said anything about anyone outside watching us. |
| Lawrence: | Right, of course. Thanks for not killing me that night; it really means a lot to me. |
| Long: | I never intended to, I just thought that you should know what I had been asked to do. |
| Lawrence: | Of course, that lady wanted you to kill me. |
| Long: | You don’t have to believe me. |
| Lawrence: | Well, even if you are completely mad, you will be one rich crazy man when we get back, so it’s okay. Anyway, I told you my story yesterday. What’s yours? |
| Long: | I don’t have a story, I just went to school for a long time, got out of school and hopped on the next ship to Mars. You know, all the same basic boring stuff that everyone does. |
| Lawrence: | Yep, nothing I didn’t already know. If you really think that you don’t have a story, then you are about four types of strange. Not to say that that is bad or anything, just strange. By the way, you may also want to leave the sarcastic remarks to me too, they really need some work. |
| Long: | Speaking of sarcasm, something tells me that you really don’t take anything seriously, do you? I mean, we are out here, where I only wish we could be in the middle of nowhere, because then at least I wouldn’t have to wear that cumbersome suit. Anyway, this is serious out here, real life or death type stuff, and you seem to just jeer in the face of certain death. |
| Lawrence: | Laugh or cry, you get to choose. Sometimes it is all you get to choose. Anyway, death is the only certainty that we have, so “certain death” is redundant. |
| Long: | Right. Well, I don’t really understand, but I guess it makes enough sense. Not like anything else I have said makes any sense either. |
| Lawrence: | You know what they say about those who live in glass houses; this dome happens to be a pretty big glass house. |
| Long: | Yeah, I’ve been waiting for you to make a comment to me about a glass house. |
| Lawrence: | I’m that predictable, huh? |
| Long: | Let’s just say that I would have made the same comment if I were as ridiculous as you are. |
| Lawrence: | Ridiculously good looking. |
| Long: | Clever. Well, I will go ahead and submit this report. I think that this is favorable enough that they may decide to support a mining operation out here. |
P
anels of glass burst into illumination as the main control room computer starts up to greet Doctor Mendez as she enters the control center. An array of perfectly clear panels is laid out from left to right as a countertop might be. Each glass panel has a different purpose. Some display information about the environment inside the dome, others track communications and journal logs. There is one panel that displays only information relayed from the satellite orbiting overhead. Mendez is mostly interested in what has been entered via journal entries from the prior expedition. She has spent most of the past couple days reviewing footage and listening to audio.
On the whole, she finds the information quite boring, reports of minerals and the progress that the plant life in the dome had made. None of that has been very interesting to her, but she watches intently for “odd” behavior. Aside from a few odd entries, nothing noteworthy has happened.
Mendez sits down in the oversized swivel chair in front of the same panel where she has been sitting, it seems since they arrived. Cardiff joins her, turning the seat next to hers, and swiveling it back to face forward after seating herself. Mendez begins to retrieve the master listing of the recordings. Within a second, the panel fills with illuminated projections of these requested files.
| Mendez: | Did you bring the popcorn? |
| Cardiff: | Depends, did you find anything interesting to watch? Seems like we either get some weird stuff that isn’t happening, or it is so boring you want to throw yourself off of something high. |
| Mendez: | Yep. Well, I just started. We finished here yesterday, so let’s begin here… Right, here goes nothing. What do you have for us today Mr. Hansen? |
The larger pane of glass behind the smaller control panels illuminates with what has become a familiar image to Mendez, crew-member Hansen. She presses her finger on the projection to start the playback. A single brief alarm sounds, followed shortly by a system notification, “Authorized access only”.
| Cardiff: | Authorized access? Here, let me do it. I should have sufficient authorization. |
The still frame is still displayed on the main screen, awaiting the authorization. Appearing larger than life, the small imperfections on his face appear larger; his facial scars from shaving are quite obvious. His facial hair appears to not have been trimmed or shaved in several days.
| Cardiff: | Mr. Hansen, wow we really need to address this issue of yours with personal hygiene. I know that you are on Mars and everything, but your beard is so patchy. |
| Okay, here we go. | |
| Mendez: | Finally, this should be good. |
Eyes of green appear as if to protrude from the glass, sharp and perceptive. After a moment of continued pause, the image begins to move.
Video Log
Year 11, Day 173
Hansen
The weeks of isolation on this world are definitely starting to have an odd effect upon everyone here. You are probably curious about what is happening around here. Well Doctor Mendez, you will see soon enough I think.
–End of Log–
| Mendez: | Did he just address me by name? |
| Cardiff: | Oh good, you heard it too. It doesn’t seem possible though. He couldn’t have known what we were going to be reviewing his video, unless they knew that they were going to be disappearing. |
| Mendez: | I was also added to the mission roster at the last minute, long after this was recorded. It just can’t be. |
| Cardiff: | The computer is probably trying to dissuade us from accessing certain files by altering the original versions. |
Mendez slowly sinks back into her chair, remaining completely fixated on the freeze-frame image of Hansen at the end of the clip. Cardiff holds her hands in front of her, with her elbows resting on the arm rests in her chair. Her fingers are clasped together in a contemplative fashion, revealing her depth in thought.
| Mendez: | So, what is it that we will be seeing, soon enough? What does that mean? |
| Cardiff: | The best preparation is worthless if we don’t know what it is that we will be facing, or are facing. |
| Mendez: | Accounts in these logs are only partially accurate, it is apparent that there are some problems with observation; hallucinations, delusions are a possibility that we have to consider when weighing what it is that we know. |
| Cardiff: | Why don’t we take a look at the surveillance footage to see what was going on the day that Hansen logged that video? Please pull up the CCTV, so we can access the older footage. |
With a few quick movements along the glass dashboard, Mendez pulls up the array of 22 cameras hidden within the dome, and outside looking outward. The small thumbnail versions of the video sit displayed on the dashboard panel in front of Mendez, awaiting the press of a finger to enlarge on the large monitor.
Instead of pulling the video for a single camera, Mendez selects them all to view on the large screen above. Cameras numbered 1 through 15 cover the various buildings within the dome, and the other areas as seen from the ceiling of the dome.
| Mendez: | Looks like number 12 is out of order, nothing is appearing on that screen. |
| Cardiff: | That is not what is out of order. Take a look at 2. |
Mendez quickly taps the feed from camera 2 and a video of the mess hall pulls up on the main screen.
| Mendez: | Okay, who are they? Is that the first expedition? |
| Cardiff: | I know the first expedition; those men are not with the first expedition; they aren’t with us either. |
The oddity of which Cardiff is referring to is the three figures, all seated at the bench in the mess hall. All of them are dressed in the grey mission jumpsuits. Every suit looks like the standard issue with the company logo on it, yet all of the letters on the name patches are mixed up. Jovial conversation seems to be the theme under which the figures are meeting.
Laughter and animated conversation take place for a moment as the two women study the image. Each of the figures is sitting at the table, both hands in front of them. The mug that one is holding drops to the floor and shatters. More surprising than this spectacle to the two women observers is that not a single eye followed the mug in its sure descent to the floor. As if cued, they stop conversing and begin to look up toward the camera that is watching them carefully.
Their gazes seem to be concentrated on those watching them, as if to look at the viewers, themselves, through the camera. The feeling one gets when they lock eyes with someone else, this same feeling pierces them both to the core. An overwhelming desire to remain clandestine combined with a terrible feeling of exposure rushes through every nerve in their bodies, right to their very fingertips.
Confusion and disarray flee before them as panic and terror take the recently vacated places in their hearts. Cardiff manages to utter a single question in the unfolding trepidation.
| Cardiff: | Is this feed still live, or have you accessed older footage? |
| Mendez: | The timestamp shows this is a live feed. Look at that! |
| Cardiff: | It’s displaying the current time. This can’t be live feed… it must be a system glitch. Switch to number 5 please. |
The feed switches over to a section of the garden. The tomatoes, celery, carrots are all growing larger, and are distinguishable from a distance now. Oddly, in this particular feed there are four more people in jumpsuits working in the garden with tools.
| Mendez: | This is all just a bad dream. I’m going to wake up from this… |
| Cardiff: | Pull yourself together! Look. |
A moment after the feed was switched to show this scene, the people in the feed all stop working. They slowly turn around to look at the camera and stare blankly into it, just as the three in the mess hall had. All of the names printed on the patches are indistinguishable, just like the three before.
| Mendez: | This cannot be. I am just imaging this; it is all in my head. These people are not real; they are just a figment of my overworked mind. |
| Cardiff: | You can tell yourself that, but I can see them too, so what are the odds that both of us are crazy enough to see the same exact thing at the same exact time? |
Cardiff turns to the shelf behind the opened vault-like door. On the top shelf a single black polymer case sits. She reaches for it with haste; the case slides off of the shelf and is laid on the simple table in the middle of the room. With a touch of her bare finger against the latch, the case trim-work illuminates in blue.
The lid on the case pops open, still requiring Cardiff to open it all the way. Mendez sits in her chair watching her captain with great anticipation. Inside the case, a fitted foam bed cradles a matte black pistol and three shiny magazines.
| Cardiff: | Over the years I have been disappointed more times than I would like to admit. Ol’ five-seven has seen to it that these disappointments never go unanswered. |
| Mendez: | Right… the old five-seven… Did you really think that you were going to be running into a hostile force out here or something? |
| I am just saying that if we are delusional, then carrying a loaded weapon may not be the best idea. | |
| Cardiff: | Relax Doctor; I know what I’m doing. |
| Mendez: | You might know what you are doing, but the terrifying fact is that you might not understand why. |
Cardiff reaches into the case and retrieves the polymer semi-automatic pistol from its resting place. The slide is locked back and the magazine well is empty. She carefully points it at the floor next to the door as she checks the weapon. She reaches for a loaded magazine and carefully slides it into the well. A distinctive click noise sounds out the proper loading. She depresses the slide stop lever, pulling a round into the chamber.
| Cardiff: | Get ready for this. It’s about to get real. |
| Mendez: | As opposed to make believe?! What do you want me to do?! |
| Cardiff: | Where is Ghent right now? |
| Mendez: | He looked absolutely terrible when I saw him about an hour ago. I told him to go back to his dorm and get some sleep. Are there cameras in there? |
| Cardiff: | Nope, just the hallway. |
Mendez quickly switches to the feed covering the hallway in the dormitory. Ghent’s door is closed, after a few moments of looking into an empty windowed hallway through the video feed, the door to his room opens slowly. A single bloodied hand reaches through the opened door and comes into the view of the camera, followed shortly by a foot and leg.
| Mendez: | Ghent must be badly hurt. We need to find a way to get past those others to get to him. How do they know that we are watching them anyway? Is there a light that comes on when the camera is being viewed remotely? |
| Cardiff: | No, they don’t have any lights; no one is supposed to know that they are even installed at all. I am pulling all of them up again; they cannot possibly be in each one at the same time, can they? |
The video screen is again subdivided into the 22-paned window that summarizes the feed from of all of them. Mendez’s eyes blaze past one onto the next. Every single feed has at least one or two figures actively engaged in something; that is until they all turn in unison to look through the cameras at them. Mendez can feel the gaze of every single eye that rests upon her through the screen. About twenty seconds pass as Mendez is reconciling her own perceptions with what she knows cannot possibly be.
Camera 10, which monitors the laboratory building, is the next to be blown up onto the main screen above. Mendez covers her mouth in surprise and disgust. Long is bent over looking through the microscope, and Lawrence is standing next to him, bending over as if to be able to see whatever Long is looking at.
Two figures enter the camera view from the bottom of the screen. Cardiff rushes forward out of her chair, and presses the announcement button on the console and yells into the microphone in front of her: “Heads up Lawrence! There are two guys right behind you”. Lawrence is quick to turn around. He is greeted promptly by a strange liquid tossed onto him by the figure on the right.
Lawrence drops to his knees and frantically rubs his eyes, obviously trying to clear his stinging eyes. Long looks up from his microscope to see his confederate’s commotion. The other figure quickly bounds over the table in the center of the room. An oversized plastic bag is produced from the figure’s right pocket and flung over Long’s head as he tries to assist his fallen comrade. A simple tug on the bag and Long writhes in panic as it goes tight around his neck.