The Caverns of Mare Cetus (46 page)

   Renata spit on the ground again. "Would you get to the point already?"

   "So, the only difference we could see between Arielle and us guys was that she had been on the OPPs since her first asthma attack," said Edison.

   "We could only conclude there's something in the air we can't detect with our scans, and we've been breathing it in ever since we got down here," said Trent. "I should have listened to you—both of you. I'm hoping if we give you oxygen for awhile, we may be able to block out what's affecting you."

   "You're lying," said Renata.

   "There's one more thing that makes us think it's in the air. I checked through all the missions to Mare where odd incidents occurred or where there were significant equipment malfunctions. An interesting trend came up. Arielle noticed it. We just had two tremors a while ago. Remember? Well, most of the incidents were preceded by a marequake of some kind. Maybe just hours, maybe days, and not in all the events, but in most of them. Since the Severon Incident, 113 missions in over thirty caverns have logged fatal or near-fatal accidents, serious behavior issues, missing explorers, and even murders. Twenty missions on Kallana, and the rest on other continents. The most significant anomalies follow marequakes though. In fact, there was a magnitude 8.2 quake in this area about twenty Mare days ago, and a number of large aftershocks have followed it. The quakes we felt were probably just aftershocks of that big event. It seems like the marequakes are a trigger of some kind, maybe stirring up the air somehow, I really don't know…"

   Edison, who had slowly moved next to Renata while Trent had been talking, sat down beside her and pulled her close to him with his arm, his other hand held on the back of her head. As she struggled against him, Arielle came up to her and pushed two OPPs into her nostrils. Then Arielle moved to Richelle, who was now being held by Trent, and pushed two tablets into her nostrils, apologizing for hurting her because of her broken nose.

   As Edison pressed down on Renata, she began to frantically gasp, trying to breath in air from the cave, but the tablets made that impossible. She shook her head, trying to get the tablets out of her nose, but it was much too late. After a moment, her breathing slowed. She began to calm. Her eyes became transfixed on the ceiling of the cavern. Then she closed her eyes.

   When Renata opened her eyes, Edison was no longer holding her down. She sat up and saw the three sitting across from her. At once everything that had happened crashed into her thoughts, every memory crystal clear. "Oh, my God," she said. "What have I done? Oh, God, please forgive me." She began sobbing and placed her head on her knees.

   Richelle, who was sitting up, leaned on Renata. "I almost killed you. I am so sorry."

   Arielle stooped in front of them. "Feeling better?"

   "No," sobbed Renata. "I'll never be able to live with what I've done to you."

   "I know it wasn't you," said Arielle, consoling her. "There are a lot less spikes on the scans we've just run. The OPPs must be working; it can't be anything else."

   "They're not the answer," said Richelle, raising her head. "It's only a patch. Once you're really infected, it spreads. You can't get it out."

   "We don't know if that's true," said Trent, coming up behind Arielle. Edison was beside him, brandishing an Iravano.

   "Let me see the Vimap," said Renata suddenly. "Let me see the poem."

Trent called up the poem and showed it to her.

"Well, I'm still crazy because I still see Devon's BIO."

Richelle looked on. "I do too."

   Trent shook his head. "I still see a poem. I don't understand how both of you could still be having that delusion. Richelle may be right. Whatever is affecting us is way beyond me. Maybe we're not just breathing it in. Maybe it's being absorbed through our skin. This is troublesome."

   Richelle raised her left hand, pulling Renata's hand up with hers. "Cut us loose, will you?"

   "Can't do that," said Edison, shaking his finger at them. "We can't risk you two flipping out again."

   "We need to do one thing before we get out of here," said Trent. "While you were out, Explora finally responded. You need to see what they said."

   Edison grabbed the two women by their attached wrists, pulled them to their feet, then led them to the RT's screen.

   Trent began replaying the transmission.

   
Receiving Transmission
flashed on the screen. A picture formed, and Renata immediately recognized the graying, bearded man. It was Dr. Arthur Kalo. Despite his elegant bluish-gray suit, he looked haggard and sullen, and there were dark circles beneath his pale blue eyes. On one side of Dr. Kalo sat Keyes, and on the other was an attractive middle-aged woman with short, straight blond hair, a thin face, and a gleaming smile. She had on a delicate white silk blouse and an exquisite gray suit, her neck adorned with a stunning diamond necklace.

   "Who's she?" asked Richelle.

   "Lysandra Marsh," said Trent. "VP of Science Services."

   "Transmission open," said Keyes, fiddling with the equipment in front of him. "Go ahead, Dr. Kalo."

   "Renata," he said, "we realize your predicament, and we our deeply saddened by the loss of the members of your party. Your claim the Kalo has altered its programming is being looked into, but I can assure you the Series Seven line is incapable of such actions. Granted, Series Seven is state-of-the-art, but acquired sensory capabilities would be unprecedented. We're currently analyzing your data…"

   Keyes suddenly turned around, apparently distracted by something happening out of view of the screen. He stood up and walked behind Kalo and Marsh, and then out of view.

   "We are concerned at Kalo Corporation that such an incident has occurred," said Dr. Kalo. "We will do everything in our power to remedy the situation as quickly as we can…"

   "What's he trying to say?" asked Renata, motioning with her right hand and pulling Richelle's up with hers.

   "Chill," said Trent. "Watch what happens next."

   Suddenly Keyes came back into view. He walked up to Marsh and whispered in her ear. She turned toward him, and he pointed offscreen.

   "Excuse me, Dr. Kalo," she said. "I'm needed for a moment."

   Kalo nodded.

   She got up, and both she and Keyes moved out of view.

   Kalo continued talking in his monotone voice as he began working with something in front of him with his hands, but they couldn't see what he was doing. "The key for you now, Renata," he said loudly, his voice seeming to take on new life, "is in the Vimap technologies. If you take a look at the Kalo interface, you'll see what I'm talking about."

   "I ask again," said Renata. "What is he trying to say?"

   "Keep watching," said Trent.

   Kalo continued talking about the Vimap capabilities.

   "He's not telling us anything," said Renata after a moment.

   "That's what I thought," said Trent, "but then I noticed my Vimap was on data receive."

   "A data transmission?"

   "An unauthorized data transmission," said Trent. "And he finished it just in time. Look."

   Renata watched as Keyes and Marsh returned to the screen. Marsh appeared to be chewing Keyes out.

   "I'm sorry, Mrs. Marsh," said Keyes. "I don't know why that programmer bothered us with that stuff. Bradbury knows better than to interrupt us during a punch out to Mare."

   Marsh put her finger to her lips, silencing him. Keyes and Marsh sat back down, Marsh placing her elbows on the table, clasping her hands together.

   "What kind of data did he send us?" asked Renata. She raised her right hand again.

   "We'll talk about it," said Trent. "It's addressed to you anyway."

   "Cut it out already," said Richelle, yanking Renata's arm toward her, Renata pulling back.

   "Well," said Kalo, "if you use those routines in the specified manner and follow my guidelines, you'll be able to head off any more malfunctions with the Kalos." He looked at Marsh. "I'm through. Go ahead."

   "As Dr. Kalo has stated," said Marsh, "we are currently examining the information you've transmitted. Again I want to express our condolences on the loss of your party members." Her eyes suddenly hardened. "Renata Stone, we are aware of the tremendous responsibility that has been placed on you. Hunter was a preeminent explorer, a natural born leader. We don't expect you to try to live up to that."

   "What the hell…" said Renata.

   "We understand the stress you're under," said Marsh, "and will forgive the attitudes we noted in your transmission. We also understand your decision to abandon the mission, but we'd like you to reconsider." Marsh began playing with her wedding ring. "The velandrite is of extreme importance to the interstellar medical network. Because of the virulent GPK plague that has broken out again on Earth, they're in dire need of Velandrite-BC antibiotics. Explora is the only company with the means to successfully mine the velandrite and quickly process it. If another firm stakes the claim…"

   "That's the part where I handed in my resignation," joked Arielle, putting her arm around Renata's shoulders. "I handed in yours too by the way."

   Trent jumped the transmission forward. "Most of what she says here is company propaganda, which frankly bothers me. I can't remember Lysandra acting like that—ever. Interestingly, she never mentions Danielle or the robotic landscaping snafu—nor did Kalo. Look at this though."

   "…we'll be waiting for your reply. Be aware we are currently pushing the clearances through for a rescue and assistance ship."

   "Once we get clearance, it will be at Mare in about twenty," said Keyes.

"Now watch this," said Trent.

   Keyes abruptly turned from the screen. He stood up and walked out of view as Marsh talked about the assistance ship. Then she too turned and sat silent for a brief moment, as if watching something. There were the sounds of some type of commotion coming from the direction she was looking. She abruptly stood up and hurried out of view.

   "Godspeed," said Kalo. He abruptly stood up and left the screen.

   "Keep watching," said Trent.

   After a moment, Keyes rushed back into view and put his face right up to the screen. "Renata," he whispered. "You've been sold out. Nothing will ever be the same. Devon Snow. I can't explain now. Trust me. Forget the velandrite. Get out—now! All of you! Run as fast as you can. Don't expect any rescue ship from us. Run! Run!" He turned his head as if to look at something out of their view, and as he did he cut the transmission.

   The screen went blank.

Chapter Eleven

   Entry from the diary of Durjaya Vjas, pioneering paleontologist from Earth who studied Mare Cetus between the Novian years 59 to 90 (Earth calendar years 2138 to 2158)

Date NV 82/2/17* (Earth Year 2152) Three days ago my life was
changed in a way I could never have foreseen. Forgive me for not writing,
but tragedy has struck. Vasanta has been taken, and my heart cannot
overcome my grief. She was my wife, my friend, my love, and my
companion for all these years we have come here. Now I must put into
words what has been assailing my mind these past three days, before the
potency of my thoughts has been diminished by time. I am angry with you,
Mare Cetus. You are a riddle, an enigma, a paradox. You are an
impossibility. Tell me, Mare, why do you exist? To haunt me? To torture
me? We have always shown you patience and respect, but you have given
none in return. We have climbed your mountains, crossed your valleys,
walked across vast stretches of your history, but you have paid us nothing
for our sweat and tears. We came here to learn from you, but you have kept
all your secrets to yourself. For millions of years, you have provided
everything for life to grow in, yet no life has ever grown from you. Do you
truly know how lonely it is here? I realize now that through the eons of
time it has always been lonely here. When trilobites swam in the seas on
Earth, you were lonely. When dinosaurs lived, you were lonely still.
While all the wonderful life grew on your sister world Novia, you
remained shadowed in silence. Even when men walked the face of the
Earth, you continued to hang on to your despair. And yes, you are
beautiful, Mare, but until we came to you, nothing was able to share in
your beauty. But as I know now, even your beauty is fraught with
deception. You offer everything—but have nothing. Vast stretches of rock
you have shown us, but there is not a worm, plant, virus, or bacterium to
be found. And now in return for what we have given to you, you have
taken life from the woman I cherished above all. She always held out hope
for you. She always told me we would find something over the next hill
or mountain. But she was wrong. Terribly wrong. And I was wrong for
bringing her here because you have taken her from me in a most horrible
way. I tell you this. You will never be like your sister Novia. There is
something wicked within you. You have been cursed, and you curse all
who partake of your charade.

   
* (Novian Calendar—82 year, 2 month, 17 day; there are 10
Novian months in a Novian Year, each month consisting of 20 Novian
days).

   
An enormous crack of thunder shattered the stillness, sending a lowpitched, reverberating rattle though everything around him. He jerked
forward and opened his eyes, staring ahead blankly. He put his hand to
his head. It felt as if he had been hit with a sledgehammer. At once there
was another pounding blast nearby, its shockwaves again sending
reverberations through everything around him. As he looked around, he
realized he was sitting on the floor of a cramped, stuffy, box-like gray
metal vehicle.

   
Above him were two hatches. One was round and open—he could see
rays of sunlight filtering through it, lighting up the dust that seemed to
permeate the air. The other rectangular hatch was larger and closed,
having two metal doors. Extending through the roof of the vehicle near its
front was a simple periscope. There were two black military radios
attached to the walls, one of them mounted on the forward wall, close to
the periscope, the other mounted on a wall to his right. Behind the
periscope was a low olive green seat that had clutches and operating levers
beside it—it looked like some kind of driver's seat. To the left of the
periscope was an old-style machine gun that was mounted through a ball
mount high up on the inward-sloping, massive front plate of the vehicle,
which he now realized was a tank of some kind. Most impressive though
was the large short-barreled howitzer that was fitted through a ball-type
mount on the forward plate. There was a thick metal sleeve protecting the
base of the weapon, looking like a giant ring placed around the end of a
giant pipe. To his right were green metal racks with several rows of sizable
rounds of ammunition stored on them. As he tried to fathom the
significance of his surroundings, what amazed him most was everything
looked so old and so new at the same time.

   
At once he heard voices. Russian voices. And he understood every word
they spoke, though he didn't know a word of Russian. Then he saw them.
There were two men at the rear of the howitzer, loading a round of
ammunition into its chamber, and there was a woman standing at the
periscope, gazing through it, her back turned toward him. All three were
dressed in green Soviet World War II military uniforms.

   
As the woman continued to press her gaze into the periscope's view port
while shouting out orders to the soldiers, his eyes were drawn to the
brownish-black hair hanging out from beneath her cap.

   
The two soldiers finished loading the round of ammunition.

   
The woman lowered her index finger. "Fire!"

   
The gunner pulled on the fire mechanism, the howitzer ringing out
with a whooshing thud. Within a moment there was a distant explosion.

   
"Direct hit," said the woman. She turned toward him. "Commander,
what's our next target?"

   
"Devon?" asked Hunter, blinking in confusion. "What are you doing
here? Where are we?"

   
"They're breaking into our sector, Commander," she said. "Several
platoons. With at least three Tiger tanks in support. We need your
leadership. Now."

   
"Where am I? Why are we speaking Russian?" Hunter looked at his
clothes. He was wearing a Soviet uniform too, with a colonel's insignia.

   
"We're not," she said. "You're inside a Brummbär. The Grizzly Bear.
Also called the Sturmpanzer IV. It's a heavily armored, close-range
assault vehicle with a 150 mm gun, propelled on a Panzerkampfwagen
IV chassis. It was an effective weapon used by the Germans in World War
II, except during Operation Citadel. After Citadel, it was refitted with a
lighter 150 mm StuH gun and a ball-mounted machine gun for
protection. It weighs about thirty tons. Why am I telling you this? You
know all these things."

   
"Brummbär?" he asked. "That's a German tank. We're Russian. Why
are we in a German tank?"

   
"I don't make the dreams. This is your weird concoction. We're in a
Brummbär because you're in a Brummbär. You need to figure that out—
not me." She returned her gaze to the periscope.

   
"Dream? If this is a dream, then let me wake up."

   
Like a cymbal had just crashed, the sounds of war could be heard all
around—machine guns rattling, rifles popping, the whooshing of
artillery shells being lobbed at their targets. There seemed to be explosions
occurring on all sides of them now.

   
"Commander," said Devon. "How do we get out of here?"

   
Hunter heard two loud clangs above him. He looked up as another
officer slipped down into the hull through the rectangular hatch. It was
Renata, dressed in a Soviet uniform, most of her hair pulled up under her
hat, but there were some locks of hair still dangling on each side of her
face.

   
"Captain," said Devon, turning from the periscope. "This is because of
you, isn't it? Then you know what we're up against." She put her eyes to
the periscope again. "I see three Tigers, a Jagdpanther, and a…" She
hesitated. "A Sturmtiger?" Her voice cracked. "He has got to be kidding.
That's a monster tank. It's carrying a 38 cm rocket-assisted mortar. It's
going to annihilate us." She looked at Hunter. "You really dislike some
things about yourself, don't you? You know we don't stand a chance
against those tank killers. You're making us Soviets, so why didn't you
give us Soviet armor for support?" She began motioning with her hand.
"T-34s, SU-122s…maybe some KV-2s. Hell, even some Katyusha rockets
could help here." She returned her gaze to the periscope. "The
Jagdpanther. It's closing. Range about seven hundred meters. Supported
by infantry on foot."

   
"Your report is accurate, Lieutenant," said Renata in Russian. "We do
have some armor, but it's currently engaged in other skirmishes." She
turned to Hunter. "Commander, you need to work out the more serious
problems first. Like if you love me, why can't you tell me?"

   
At once an explosion hit right outside the Brummbär, the tank's
superstructure rattling from the concussion.

   
"It's the Jagdpanther," said Devon. "Now it's dead ahead. It's about
to fire again!"

   
"Commander," said Renata. "Why can't you tell me you love me? Are
you afraid? Then you have to ask the question—why?"

   
"I don't know why," said Hunter. Suddenly a tremendous explosion
ripped through the tank—heat, concussion, searing light, shattered metal
enveloping them. Hunter was thrown to the side, his head hammered
against an ammunition rack. His head throbbing with pain, he pulled
himself up to a sitting position. Devon was in front of him, sitting crosslegged, blood streaming from her forehead and across her face. Renata
was on the floor, lying on her back, her eyes pointing skyward through
what remained of the demolished hull. A large piece of jagged shrapnel
was lodged in her chest, a spreading spot of blood on her uniform
surrounding it. Her breathing was labored; her arms and legs were
twitching.

   
Devon put her hands on each side of Hunter's head. "Indecision.
Always indecision. But that's your problem, not mine. I need you to look
at me. Look at me." Her green eyes seemed to be shining like they were on
fire.

"Wake up. Wake up, Hunter…"

   Hunter's eyes opened to the light of symotes. His back was propped against a passage wall, his head feeling like a sword had been run through it. Devon, her hardhat off, was kneeling in front of him. Her body and clothes were covered with splotches of grayish-white dust. There was dark red blood oozing down the right side of her face from a gash on her forehead. Her hands held on each side of his head, her fingers pressing on him, she looked deeply into his eyes. "Your skull is fractured," she said softly. "I know you're in pain."

   Hunter suddenly got a light-headed rush, as if a gigantic floodgate had been opened and water was pouring into his head, but it wasn't water, it was an alcohol that was both pleasant and warm. It felt good, but it also felt bad at the same time, and that puzzled him. As he stared into Devon's eyes, he thought he could smell something too— distinctive, exhilarating, yet confusing. Then he thought of a woman. He breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of her skin, her hair, every odor from her body. Some were sweet like perfume, others foul like sweat. At once he thought he could taste her too. He licked his lips anxiously, relishing the taste of her sweat, her skin, her blood, every salty tear from her eyes. Devon's eyes.

   Devon took her hands off his head. "Done," she said softly. "I've done what I can."

   Hunter's pain had vanished, but there seemed to be a pressure surrounding his head, like her hands were still pressing on him.

   "Wow," she said, falling back on her butt, melondite dust spewing out around her. She sighed deeply, almost moaned. She wiped some of the blood and dust off her face with her hand and stared at her fingers. "I don't do these things. You get what I give. I'm no healer. Don't think I can't turn against you. I can. In the blink of an eye." She sighed again. "You have no idea how distasteful this is for me."

   "What have you been doing to him?" asked Ramon. He was lying nearby on his side, his hardhat and two backpacks next to his legs, scores of shattered melondite nodules surrounding him, his face and hair coated with melondite dust.

   "Cheating," said Devon who was now sitting cross-legged. "I'm keeping his brain from swelling from the skull fracture he has. I've taken on his damage. Just like I've taken on yours. Your femur in your right leg. It's badly cracked. Without me, you wouldn't be able to stand."

   "Are you saying you know my femur's broken—and you fixed it?" He chuckled and rubbed his leg. "It feels just fine to me." He spoke into his com. "Renata! Come on already! Answer me!"