The Many Worlds of Dean: Book 1 - Mars (7 page)

“Captain Rogers, come in,” he tried once
more. Again, only static could be heard emanating from his radio.
“This is really bad,” he muttered to himself.

Looking back, he could see the tunnel exit
he had just fallen from about four meters up on the wall. Studying
the smooth surface of the wall, he decided there was no way for him
to try to go back the way he came. The only thing left for him to
do now was to head towards the light in the distance and see if
that proved to be a way out. He took a deep, steadying breath and
began walking.

As he walked along, he started to notice
details of the cave he was in. The floor, like the walls, was
completely smooth and level. There was none of the rocks or Martian
dust that had dominated the landscape above. The more he thought
about it, the more he realized that whatever he was in had not
formed naturally. He knew he had to find a way out. The crew needed
to know about this cavern. Its mere existence hinted at the
possibility that Mars had been visited by someone, or something
before. This was a monumental discovery. Not only would he go down
in history as the first human on Mars; he may very well be
attributed with discovering proof of intelligent alien life.

As he continued walking towards the glow of
light, a strange object slowly began to resolve itself as the
source of the light. As he moved closer, more details became
visible. He saw an archway made of some smooth, highly polished
metal sitting on a short platform of the same material. The metal
had the look of chrome, or mercury. Dean could see himself
reflected from each surface. The platform was square, and stood
about thirty centimeters in height. A thin band of bright light ran
along the outer edge of the platform. It was shining upwards and
reflected off the polished surface of the archway. The entire
structure stood about three meters tall. The arch itself looked
like a square tube about twenty centimeters in diameter. The
opening through the arch was just large enough for two people to
move through side by side. It resembled a large, horseshoe shaped
magnet, mounted upright on a pedestal.

Dean heard a beeping sound echo inside his
helmet. He looked down at the computer display mounted to his left
arm. He had two minutes of air left. Looking up and past the
mysterious arch, the cavern continued on until it faded into the
darkness beyond. He felt a moment of panic as he realized he had
not found a way out and would die a slow, agonizing death in just a
couple minutes.

Taking heart that he would be remembered for
accomplishing something grand, he resolved to spend the last
precious moments of his life trying to understand what it was that
sat before him. He slowly began to walk around the object, studying
it closely as he did so. He noticed faint symbols etched into the
surface of the arch. He had walked about three quarters of the way
around the object when an idea struck him. He knew it would be
painful, but as he was about to die anyways, he wanted to feel the
object with his bare flesh.

He grabbed ahold of his right glove with his
left hand and twisted, releasing the wrist seal. The glove came off
and dropped to the ground, instantly forgotten. As he had feared,
the pain was intense. His hand began to swell and the incredible
cold started to work its way up his arm. Before he lost all
sensation, he reached out and gently stroked the side of the arch
with his fingertips.

He jumped back as several different things
happened at once. The object began to hum loudly and the light
coming from the platform suddenly increased in brightness, nearly
blinding him until his eyes adjusted. The opening in the archway,
where before he could see through it, now had what appeared to be a
shimmering silver curtain drawn over it. Finally, hovering in
mid-air, about a meter in front of the object, was some sort of
display that closely resembled a computer keyboard but made of
light instead of plastic.

He moved the rest of the way around the
object and came to stand in front of the hovering display. He was
momentarily mesmerized until the beeping sound in his helmet became
utterly insistent. He was out of air and out of time.

His hand had long since lost all feeling,
but he reached up in an attempt to touch the display anyways. He
couldn’t quite reach it, so he took a step forward. The oversized
boot that was part of his suit caught on the back of his other
foot. He began to fall forward. He threw his right foot forward in
an effort to catch himself and as he moved, his right hand brushed
across the display. Several symbols on the display were suddenly
lit more brightly. Dean didn’t notice this as he continued to fall
forward. He stumbled over his right foot, momentum still carrying
him forward. He thrust his left foot forward in a second attempt to
catch himself, but it caught on the edge of the platform.

Dean continued to fall forward and went
right through the shimmering silver curtain that made up the face
of the archway.

Part II

He saw the image only briefly. It was a
quick flash across his consciousness. He was floating in a dark
space. Off to his left was a ball of light floating in the air. It
closely resembled those heavily filtered images of the sun he used
to see on the science shows he had loved to watch. He could just
make out arcs of light in the far distance. He had a sense of
substance all around him. His eyes told him he was floating in a
void, but the rest of his body insisted he was wading through a
viscous liquid.

The image vanished in a flash of bright
light and Dean found himself stumbling across a floor before
finally falling to his knees. He tried to draw a breath and found
little of substance to fill his lungs. He began to panic. He fell
onto his side and began clawing at his helmet. He was in such a
state of shock that he failed to realize it when hands grasped his
arms and rolled him to his back.

He felt something pull on his head. His eyes
snapped open. He saw faces; strange faces.
I must be
delusional
, he thought to himself. He felt his head being
pulled again. His vision was beginning to go black at the edges and
he saw spots dance in front of him. He reached up with the very
last of his strength, grabbed each side of his helmet, and
violently twisted it to the left. He then promptly blacked out.

Dean awoke with a start; confusion and fear
warring in his mind. Wait…why was he afraid? He laid back and took
a huge breath, silently demanding his mind explain the errant
emotions he was experiencing. Slowly, images began to form and a
chain of events started to coalesce.

He remembered the cavern and the strange
object sitting within it. He recalled how the object had reacted to
his touch and the strange symbols floating in mid-air. Then it
struck him; he had run out of air. How was he still alive? He
continued to concentrate, striving valiantly to find answers in his
tortured mind. He saw an image that made little sense and then the
light. He had been blinded by a bright light and had fallen to the
floor. He remembered gasping for breath and then there were faces.
Surely he was remembering something wrong. The faces were not
right; they were not…human.

Dean turned his head sharply when he heard
an odd, swishing sound. He saw an open doorway. And standing in the
doorway was the same face he had just been attempting to refute in
his own mind.

“Ah good, you are awake,” the face said.

Dean realized it wasn’t just a face. The
body that went along with it was wrong as well.
Alien
, his
mind screamed. He knew he needed to calm down. He knew there was a
rational explanation, if he could just calm down. He took a deep
breath, sat up, and looked at the creature closely. He saw a being
that had six legs attached to a bulbous rear end, a narrow torso
and a small head with a face covered in fur. The creature had two
eyes and a strangely shaped mouth, but no discernable nose or ears.
It had two spindly arms ending in four fingered hands.

The creature continued to speak, “I know it
can be strange when you first walk The Path. I am here to answer
your questions and to aid your species in its integration into the
community of worlds.”

“Who…who are you?” Dean stammered out.

The creature walked closer to the bed Dean
was laying on and said, “My apologies. My name is Quillitonoxic of
the Garroshtic. And who might you be, good being?”

“Ah…my name’s Dean. Dean Danforth.”

“It is a very great pleasure to meet you
Dean Dean Danforth.”

“It’s just one ‘Dean’,” he told the
creature.

The creature, Quillitonoxic, turned its head
sideways for a moment and then replied, “I believe I understand.
The translation devices are sometimes problematic when inserted
into a new species.”

“What do you mean inserted?”

“I took the liberty of implanting a
translation device while you were unconscious. It is simply a small
machine implanted just behind your ear. Your anatomy is really very
simple; there was no risk. I would be happy to remove it if it
causes you discomfort. Of course we will not be able to communicate
if I do.”

Dean reached his right hand up and found a
small lump just behind his right ear. Running his finger across it,
he could feel no evidence of an incision. He worked some moisture
back into his mouth and said, “This is all just so confusing. I
don’t even know where I am.”

“I understand. Some species fail to
investigate the information stored within The Path before stepping
through.”

“You keep saying that. What is The
Path?”

The creature looked surprised for a moment
and the said, “Perhaps we should continue our conversation once you
have rested some more. You seem to be very confused. Perhaps the
lack of air has affected you more than I had thought. You are quite
safe here. Rest and we will talk later.”

With that, the creature turned and walked
out of the room. The door swished shut behind him and Dean laid
back on the bed. He figured the creature was right; some rest was
probably a very good idea.

Dean awoke to the sound of the door opening.
Squinting his eyes against the harsh light, he was just able to
make out Quillitonoxic standing in the doorway. At least he assumed
he was looking at the same individual he had spoken with earlier.
For all he knew, every member of the alien’s race could look
identical. Having only met one alien, he had no way to know.

“Quillitonoxic?” he ventured.

“Yes,” the alien answered. “You are feeling
well I hope.”

“Yes, I am feeling much better. Thank
you.”

“Very good. I came to offer you food and a
tour of this facility, if you are feeling capable. You are free to
utilize the sanitation facilities first if you would like.”

Dean looked around the small room. It was
square in shape with four plain, white walls. There was the small
bed he was laying on and a small table set in a corner. There were
no light fixtures that he could see; instead the entire ceiling
glowed brightly. The only door was the one Quillitonoxic had just
entered. He hesitantly answered, “I would love to use
the…sanitation facilities. Where are they?”

As soon as the question had left his lips, a
doorway opened on the wall opposite the main entrance. He could
have sworn there had not been a door there before.

“This room, like the rest of this facility,
is controlled by a computer,” Quillitonoxic explained. “Just like
the translation device you have implanted, the computer is capable
of understanding your language. The sanitation facilities are
through that doorway,” he said as he indicated the new opening. “I
am unaware of your species’ particular cleansing practices, so just
ask aloud any questions you may have concerning the facilities and
the computer will explain how everything functions. Once you are
finished, simply inform the computer and I will return.”

Without further comment, the alien turned
and exited the room.
Not much on small talk
, Dean observed.
Pushing himself up from the edge of the bed where he had been
sitting, Dean turned and walked into what he hoped was the
bathroom.

Disappointment flooded him as he stared at
three blank walls. Did the aliens simply urinate on the floor? For
that matter, did they even urinate? Dean’s bladder began to become
more insistent as he tried to figure out what he should do. Then,
remembering the computer, he asked aloud, “Ah…where do I dispose of
bodily waste?”

A voice, with a distinctly mechanical tone,
seemed to echo from all around. It asked, “Is the waste to be solid
or liquid?”

“Liquid,” he answered. Dean was
simultaneously shocked and grateful to see a bowl shape emerge from
the back wall.

“You may deposit the liquid waste in the
provided receptacle,” the computer informed him.

Greatly relieved, Dean did just that. Once
finished, he turned his mind to the question of a shower and clean
clothing. He had awoken to find the outer portion of his pressure
suit gone. He had been left wearing only the uncomfortable, long
underwear style undergarment that was worn under the pressure suit.
He decided to address the question to the computer once more.
“Computer, how can I go about taking a shower and getting some
clean clothes?”

The wall to the right of the entrance opened
up revealing a cubicle that resembled a shower stall. There was an
obvious drain on the floor but there didn’t appear to be a shower
head of any sort. “Rinsing with water is a common practice for many
species,” the computer informed him. “At what temperature would you
like the water?”

Dean considered for a moment and said, “How
about thirty eight degrees Celsius?”