by Vincent Vale
“Well, whatever their function, they’re sucking the life out of you.” He pulled the sensor off my forehead. “You’ll live for now, though. Relax while I revive the others.”
“Others?” I asked.
Orsteen attended the first of two similar stasis vessels. He opened a control panel and minutes later the lid slid open to reveal a man. Orsteen tried to remove him but couldn’t. The half-conscious man stubbornly gripped a large diamond-fiber case lying beside him. In one great heave, Orsteen lifted the man and case out of the vessel and onto the floor. The man pulled the bulky case closer to his body as if to protect it from theft.
From the second vessel, Orsteen removed a man I recognized. It was Morion Morpheme of the Mars Elitists. He too had come alone and was traveling with a case, although one of even greater size. Orsteen grunted as he lifted the large case from the vessel.
I rose unsteadily to my feet. “Why are we all here, Orsteen?”
Before Orsteen could answer, Morion spoke frantically: “This slime! It’s suffocating! It’s vile! Get it off me!”
“I apologize,” said Orsteen. He walked past Morion and lifted Allienora off the floor. “I shouldn’t allow Allienora’s beauty to be soiled another minute.”
Orsteen took us into the living quarters of his estate. Nano-intelligent matter rose up from holding cisterns and formed four female-gendered simulacra. They took us to a decadent washroom of sonic showers and dermal regenerative baths. It was an unexpected treat after all the recent stress we’d endured. As the simulacra applied nourishing oils to our skins, I couldn’t help but look at Allienora’s nude figure. Her skin had a soft sheen like silk. My heart beat faster as I looked from her breasts to her abdomen to her shapely hips and down her perfect legs. I looked up and found her blue eyes peering back at me.
I turned away. How long did she see me spying?
I looked back and found her smiling. She looked down at my own nude body, and then shrugged her shoulders in a joking way.
I smiled back at her. We hadn’t known each other long, but I felt a strange comfort around her.
Once dressed, Orsteen led us to a living room. The walls displayed a hyper-real tropical setting. It was as if the room was in the middle of a beach, with waves crashing on one side and palm trees swaying in the wind on the other. We sat in fluffy chairs around a holo-projector.
A simulacrum that looked like a native islander, presented Orsteen with a levitating tray of five glasses and a bottle of clear liquid. Orsteen poured the bottle and handed out the glasses.
“This should prove an effective stimulant,” said Orsteen. “Drink up.”
I inhaled the beverage without concern for flavor. “Why have we been brought to Mercury?”
Orsteen activated the holo-projector. It showed a recording of the Obelisks landing on Earth. “As you all should know, the solar system has been visited by a fleet of mysterious Obelisks. They currently sit inactive on Earth. Before they landed, the Earth government sent out their warships to intercept the Obelisks. Unable to communicate with them, the warships implemented all their great weaponry to destroy them. However, the attack was unsuccessful. The Obelisks appear to be untouchable by physical force. Shortly after the Obelisks landed on Earth, I received a secret communication from a group calling themselves the ‘Scions of Sensimion.’ They told me they had a plan to eliminate the threat of the Obelisks, and that I should wait for your arrival.”
Morion Morpheme stood from his chair in objection. “The Scions of Sensimion?” He turned to me and pointed to my eyes. “Is this the same Sensimion that Theron Mobius helped sabotage the Brahman Station? It’s this league of underhanded men responsible for the Obelisks. They’re assassins and anarchists.”
“Ridiculous!” I replied. “You think Sensimion’s colleagues are behind the invasion of Obelisks? First, the Obelisks appear to be out of phase with normal dimensions, a scientific feat unexplored by humankind. Second, the amount of resources needed for such constructions would be extraordinary. Do you believe that any human association could build such a fleet without the notice of the rest of the solar system?”
Orsteen nodded in agreement. “The Mercury Miners would be the first to notice, since it would take all the precious elements of Mercury to construct such a fleet. It would seem logical that the Obelisks aren’t born of our solar system.”
Morion didn’t reply and sat back down.
I briefly admired Allienora, who tugged awkwardly at the over-large clothes she’d been given. I then focused on the stranger sitting next to her. He had thin features, a sliver of a nose, and sharply angled eyes.
“I’m curious as to everyone’s purpose,” I said. “I’m acquainted with everyone except you, sir. You’ve been sitting quietly, assessing the situation with paranoid eyes. Who are you and what’s in your diamond-fiber case?”
“I’m Thirm Bastile. I know nothing of the Obelisks, or the Scions of Sensimion. I’m not here to save the world or fight off villains. I’m merely an arms dealer from the Lunar Colonies, here to deliver my merchandise to an anonymous buyer.” He indicated his case with a delicate touch. “Now, which one of you is to take delivery of this case—and, more importantly, pay me my one billion notes?”
“One billion notes!” said Morion. “We’ll need to know what we’re purchasing, first.”
Thirm Bastile looked cautiously to everyone. “If I’m betrayed, there’ll be consequences.”
“Get on with it!” said Morion.
“Within this case is a Level-4 Quantum Bomb.”
Orsteen scooted away from the case. “Possession of such a device is highly criminal.”
“I’m an honorable man,” said Thirm Bastile. “The criminal isn’t the arms dealer who delivers the weapon, the criminal is he who’d dare use the weapon. In all my life, I’ve killed no one. What you do with this device when my bounty is paid is between you and your god.”
I pointed to the hologram between us. “Even with such a destructive weapon, there’d be no effect on the Obelisks. Not to mention, we’d need one for each Obelisk.” I looked to Morion. “Why are you here? I saw you also brought a case.”
Morion lifted his head to a proud angle. “I wouldn’t have come if they had identified themselves as the Scions of Sensimion. However, like with Thirm Bastile, they chose to remain anonymous. They said that I, Morion Morpheme, Prime Elitist of Mars, was invited to be a part of a secret mission that would save humankind from the Obelisks. This was an irresistible proposal, since I’ve always craved a life of heroics.” Morion stared dreamily into space. “Once I’ve walked the path of a hero, I’ll bask in the glory of my deeds and live forever in legend. Even in death, I’ll be remembered.”
“Putting your dream of glory aside, what’s in the case?” I asked.
“They wanted me to bring one of my people’s failed endeavors—an artificial black hole generator. It’s a fairly worthless device. Why anyone would find it useful to create a micro black hole for less than a millisecond is beyond me.”
“Impossible,” I uttered.
Allienora touched my hand. “What is it, Theron?”
“Before the dimensional gateway was a glimmer in my mind, I conceived a doomsday weapon.” I gestured to Morion. “You see, Morion’s device warps space much like a black hole. Yet, it’s not a true black hole and doesn’t have the same destructive properties. However, I theorized if you directed an explosion of enough energy into this quasi-black hole, it could gain enough gravitational force to draw in an entire planet. Since the mass of a single planet couldn’t sustain the black hole, it would quickly collapse into normal space and spit out the remaining worldly pulp.”
“I’m confused,” said Orsteen. “Even if such a weapon could be assembled, it wouldn’t be the logical weapon. It would destroy Obelisks, Earth, and all.”
“You’re right,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Morion refilled his glass. “Thirm Bastile and I are here for obvious reasons. What’s y
our part in all this, Theron? Moreover, what could the Prime Minister of Earth possibly contribute to this situation?”
“Your tone’s insulting, Morion.” Allienora stepped in front of him, grabbed his drink, and chugged it down. “Theron and I know the true mastermind behind both the Obelisks and the sabotage of the Brahman Station.”
“This is significant information,” said Morion, frowning at his empty glass. “Who’s responsible?”
Allienora turned to me. “Tell them, Theron.”
I told them of the Fume and his exotic energy within the unnatural dimension around Earth. I told them of the manifestations posing as human beings to manipulate the human race. I felt, however, that it was in my best interest not to tell them of my long association with the Fume, beginning in the sanitarium of my youth. As well, I wasn’t going to tell them about the Fume’s memories that cursed me.
When I had finished, the group looked at me with disbelief.
Orsteen was first to respond. “If there is some otherworldly entity on Earth, driving humankind’s evolution to an unknown end, why now has it chosen to bring down its final plan? If that’s what the Obelisks indicate.”
“I believe the Fume’s been forced to act since Sensimion discovered his presence and developed the means...” Here I indicated my synthetic hyper-blue eyes. “...to see his various manifestations.”
“I want nothing to do with these disturbing events,” said Thirm Bastile gruffly. “Give me my one billion notes and I’ll be headed to a location of far-off safety.”
Orsteen topped off Thirm’s glass. “I apologize for your inconvenience, Thirm, but you must collect your money from the Scions of Sensimion, since your deal is with them.”
“Where are they?”
“We’re meeting them in the underground city of Ironwrought.” Orsteen pointed to a three-handed clock. “We better leave now, since the sun sits just below the horizon. When daylight comes, we must be gone from the surface—temperatures will become smoldering.”
I looked out a window at the light on the horizon. Mercury was slow on its axis. Nighttime remained for eighty-eight Earth days, the same length as daytime. During this long day, the Miners take refuge in the underground cities, where they mine precious ores.
Thirm Bastile grumbled, as if to stress his inconvenience.
“I don’t have your money, Thirm,” said Orsteen. It’s only a short journey to Ironwrought—there you’ll find your riches.”
The group boarded a small craft that, despite Orsteen’s great wealth, was dented and old.
Morion touched a finger to an unsettling crack in one of the windows. “Don’t you own a less dangerous craft?”
“Don’t worry,” replied Orsteen. “She’s an ugly can, but flies true in all directions.”
We disembarked and flew along the great Scarp of Mercury, which meandered into the distance for over a hundred kilometers. Embedded in the steep face of the Scarp were many homes, perched high like the nests of cliff-dwelling birds. At the moment, a great migration was occurring—Mercurials abandoned their homes as the season of night came to an end. At the upper plateau of the Scarp sat foundries, acclimation centers, and a spaceport that sent the minerals off-world. Empty air scows embarked for the underground mines, where they’d become full with the precious ores of Mercury.
My attention focused upward. My heart raced as I saw shimmering lights coming from the sky.
“My synthetic eyes are detecting something!”
“Don’t worry, Theron. It’s not the Fume. It’s an aurora effect. We’ve been working on a large project here on Mercury. We’ve been trying to generate a magnetic field strong enough to counter the radiation of the solar winds. We’ve so far created a twenty-kilometer dome—a mini magnetosphere. The power required is enormous.”
“I had no idea you were working on such a bold endeavor. How strong is the field?”
“About fifty percent of Earth’s.”
“How are you powering it?”
Orsteen made a long pause. “We all have our secrets, Mr. Mobius.”
Orsteen took the craft down to the base of the Scarp and flew toward a huge hole. Above it sat an enormous sign of twisted metal displaying the name “Ironwrought.” We entered the hole with speed, plunging downward into the depths of Mercury. After a ten-kilometer descent through darkness, we came to a series of force fields. Orsteen explained how they acted as atmospheric containment gates.
Once through, our craft entered an expansive cavern. It was unbelievably large and was illuminated by the ambient glow of the city Ironwrought—a place reminiscent of an earlier time in Earth’s history. The city’s cobblestone streets separated intimate city blocks occupied by modest stone structures, all artfully built. Homes, taverns, bistros, and storefronts each presented their own unique character and sophistication.
Orsteen pointed to the perimeter of the city. “We’re in Ironwrought’s main cavern. From here, tunnels radiate outward, leading to smaller communities and mining complexes.”
An anti-gravity field about twenty meters thick lined the domed wall of the cavern. Hundreds of drones hovered on guard, removing fallen rocks and boulders that collected in the anti-gravity field.
Orsteen landed the craft on one of the city streets near the edge of the cavern, and we got out. The air was cool and carried a rich mineral smell that seemed almost therapeutic. I took a few deep breaths and looked to Allienora. She was grunting in annoyance as she pulled up her sagging pants. At last, she ripped off the base of her shirt and tied it around her pants like a belt.
Thirm Bastile continued to carry his diamond-fiber case in a paranoid manner. He looked suspiciously at passing Miners on the street. “Why do they stare at me?”
“They probably find you interesting,” said Orsteen. “We don’t see many foreigners in our cities.” Orsteen removed Morion’s black hole generator from the craft and attached an anti-gravity node to it. He pushed it through the air to Morion. “I leave you in charge of your case.”
Morion reluctantly accepted it.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing down the street, where marched a parade of giant, monster-like puppets. Long poles, driven by Miners, animated the creatures with thrashing limbs and gnashing jaws.
“They represent demons and long-toothed monsters fabled to dwell in Mercury’s depths,” explained Orsteen. “The Daylight Festival will continue for the next few Earth days. It would be smart to stay by my side. Drunken Miners are quick to brawl.”
“How can they celebrate in the streets when we’re faced with invasion?” asked Allienora. “Aren’t they concerned about the safety of humankind and the threat of the Obelisks?”
“It’s by my instruction that they carry on with their normal routines. But don’t underestimate Mercury’s preparedness—on a moment’s notice, we’ll be ready for anything. If the Obelisks spill forth hordes of alien conquerors, have no doubts, the Mercury Miners will be there to smash heads with the best of them.”
Allienora didn’t seem convinced, until Orsteen removed a small holo-projector. “Mercury is more ready than you know, Prime Minister.”
He displayed a holo-image of a thousand ships of unfamiliar design.
“We have an armada of anti-relativity warships waiting to be launched from a nearby military base.” Orsteen looked thoughtfully through the streets. “These are just citizens. Unfortunately, I can tell the Obelisks weigh heavy on their minds, as the festivities appear unusually lame.”
Orsteen led us through the streets, which presented six hundred years of Mercurial culture. We passed stone effigies to old leaders and small monuments made of twisted metal paying homage to some past achievement. The physiology of the people also told of their history. Their considerable stature and rugged features alluded to the harsh beginnings on Mercury, when only the strongest could tolerate a Miner’s life.
We at last approached the outer envelope of the city. I marveled at the cavern’s towering rock dome. A beautiful coll
age of figures was carved into its surface. The stone portraits stared with proud expressions toward the great city of Ironwrought.
Orsteen held a respectful hand to his heart. “It’s tradition that when a Miner dies, they’re immortalized in stone, so to become a part of Mercury. It’s believed their eternal vigilance protects the city from cave-in.”
“Quite romantic,” said Allienora.
I noticed children among the portraits. “So many young.”
Orsteen shook his head. “There were sad times in the beginning.”
“Unfortunate,” I said. “But there are always risks when conquering new frontiers.”
Thirm groaned impatiently. “Where are you taking us, Orsteen?”
Orsteen indicated the mouth of a small tunnel in the rock wall ahead. “It’s not far.”
We entered a tunnel filled with an intoxicating odor of sweet organic matter. Our way was lit by small but brilliant light sources scattered about the tunnel walls.
“What are these lights that guide our way?” asked Morion. “They’re like gems filled with internal fire.”
“Their beauty is beyond words,” said Allienora.
“They’re bioluminescent slugs,” said Orsteen. “They live in these tunnels, surviving on the chemosynthetic moss that grows beneath their feet.”
I was a bit mystified when a tiny robotic spider approached one of the slugs and scanned it. It then gently picked the slug up and carried it away.
We continued deeper into the surreal environment of slug and moss. Orsteen navigated us through tunnels that split again and again into smaller and smaller passageways. At last, our tunnel ended at a round metal door on enormous hinges. Above it, a holo-sign advertised “The Scented Slug.”
Orsteen swung the door open, and we entered a tavern full of loud-mouthed and beer guzzling Miners.
Orsteen sang in a deep baritone, “The mighty men of Mercury, we toil our hands and our fingers bleed. The sun’s harsh glow takes us below, but our retreat is no defeat. We drink! We eat! We never sleep!”