‘A few moments later he stood facing the block. His gloved hand reached out, but met solid stone. We thought that would be the end of it, but he began running his fingers over the stone surface, trying to trace out the hidden pattern. He must have got it right, for the next thing we saw was the opening appearing in the middle of the stone, and our man walked straight in without hesitation.
‘We watched the scene for about two hours, when he walked out, picked up the spare oxygen cylinder he had left behind, and returned into the stone block.’
‘That was the last we saw of him. Someone was on duty here twenty four hours a day in case he returned to the valley, but after three days we gave up. He must have died long before that, as his oxygen would have given out, even with the extra cylinder.
Why he decided not to stay in communication with us, or why he entered the stone block and stayed inside for so long, we have no idea. The cameras continued to send back pictures of the valley and the Lander for another couple of weeks, and then one by one the transmissions failed, the orbiter being the last to go off line.’
‘And you would like us to go to Mars and find out what happened to the two previous crews.’ Greg made it a statement rather than a question.
‘Yes, that’s about the size of it. We can’t order you to go, it would have to be on a voluntary basis,’ the Director replied, ‘as the chance of you all returning is remote to say the least. What I have related to you is of a confidential nature, and restricted to only a few here at the centre, although it would seem a little has leaked out and been added to, according to the rumours which abound.’
The long ensuing silence was almost as tangible as it was embarrassing to both parties, as neither knew quite what to say next. Greg looked hopefully to each of his group in turn for inspiration, and it was their electronics engineer, Ben, who finally got the stalled conversation rolling again with,
‘What you have told us automatically implies that there is some form of intelligent life up there, which doesn't want us poking around its domain, and is prepared to kill to that end. Also we would be up against a technology either more advanced than ours, or certainly different. What chance do you think we would have?’
‘We aren’t sure if whatever is causing us so much grief on Mars is actually alive in the sense we use the term, or if it’s some sort of automatic robotic device, to stop any exploration of the area. Life as we know it, couldn’t exist there without a lot of support.
The oxygen level is only point one five, and the surface pressure is only one percent of Earth’s atmosphere pressure measured at sea level, so, quite apart from the low temperature, it’s a pretty hostile place, and that’s without the efforts of whatever it is that’s trying to stop us exploring it.’
The Director looked from one to the other of the assembled five, hoping that someone would jump at the opportunity of sacrificing themselves on the altar of progress.
‘We can assume,’ began Paul, ‘that Mars once had a reasonable atmosphere because of the bone fragment that was found, so life of some sort must have existed there.
‘Then there was that lump of metal oxide one of the probes brought back, and that was considered to have been the remains of a manufactured piece of metal because of the metallic elements it consisted of. I think there was life there, albeit a very long time ago, and that could well be responsible for the troubles we’ve been having.’
As far as we know, none of the probes have been attacked, unless of course they were in an area considered to be of importance to ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ is.’ The Director was desperately trying to keep the conversation going to find out how the team really felt about the forthcoming expedition, and if they could be persuaded to man it.
‘How do you really rate our chances,’ asked Greg, ‘bearing in mind we now know about the mental interference, the extra training we have had compared to our predecessors, and a much bigger orbiter and extra supplies?’
‘I must be honest with you, not as good as we would have liked it to be. The only thing we can do is to arm you with every bit of information we have, give you the best of our equipment, and a somewhat unconventional suggestion from one of the psychologists. He thinks we could give you a ‘mind plant’ using hypnosis, such that if anything tries to interfere with your normal thought processes, it will cut in and override any extraneous suggestions you might be given, helping you to ignore them. Whether it will work, we don’t know, but in theory it should.’
‘That’s quite comforting,’ commented Ben, rather sarcastically, ‘someone is going to fiddle about with our minds and then something else is going to have another go on Mars, and we shall be left to try and sort out reality from fantasy while trying to survive on a hostile planet which doesn’t want us there in the first place. Is there no way of testing this ‘mind plant’ thing before we go, just so that we can get some idea of what we’re up against?’
‘Unfortunately, no. We don’t even know what kind of interference the others were subjected to,’ replied the Director, somewhat testily. ‘Except that it made them do things which were contra survival in the extreme. Somehow their minds were ‘got at’ such that they couldn’t tell reality from whatever ideas or pictures they were exposed to. If we could solve that problem, then you would stand a much better chance of surviving yourselves, although we don’t know what other tricks Mars may have in store.’
‘Is there anything else you haven’t told us?’ asked Greg, wondering what other horror story might be forthcoming.
‘Yes, there is, but we don’t understand it and therefore don’t put much credence on it. I don’t think it’s even worth mentioning, which is why I haven’t so far.’
‘I somehow think you’d better mention it, after all, it’s us who are going to Mars.’ Greg said firmly.
‘Oh, it’s nothing to do with the planet itself, but I’ll tell you anyway. For sometime now various departments have been receiving memos intended to spread doom, gloom and despondency on the project. At long last we tracked down the culprit, and gave him a good grilling.’
‘I’ll just bet you did.’ Ben muttered under his breath, but not quite ‘under’ enough.
The Director paused, turned his head towards Ben and forced a smiled, before continuing.
‘Although his memos were many, varied and phrased differently, they all boiled down to three basic things. One, we wouldn’t like what we found on Mars. Two, there was a tenuous link between Mars and Earth which mustn’t be revealed, and thirdly, we would be dealing with forces we wouldn’t be able to understand.’
‘Well, he got the last one right,’ Greg commented, ‘although it could have been a lucky guess, or engendered by some of the rumours which have been flying around.’
‘That’s what we thought, but when we checked back through the old records, it had been going on since before the first manned trip.
‘In anticipation of your next question, he said he got his information from vivid dreams he had been having, so he was removed from the project and is now being looked after in a special unit by those who specialize in caring for the confused and bewildered.’
‘Poor sod.’ commented Ben, voicing the feelings of the rest of the crew.
‘I think we'd better see him,’ said Greg, just to be on the safe side, can this be arranged?’
‘Yes, of course, if you wish it. But I don’t see what help it will be to you. They’re only dreams, as I’ve said.’ The director was looking more despondent by the minute.
‘What about weaponry?’ asked Hans, the fourth member of the group, being the engineer who would be relied upon to look after all things mechanical.
‘What are you going to shoot at if you can’t see what’s causing the trouble?’ asked the Director, feeling he’d scored a point at long last.
‘I’d just feel a lot happier if I had something to argue back with if we get into an argument with something physical, that’s all.’ Hans was adamant.
‘As you wish.’ the Dir
ector was looking a little happier now. ‘We can supply a neat little hand held laser unit which packs quite a punch, and the Lander can be equipped with one of considerably more power.’
‘What about the good old fashioned projectile type, you know, one which fires bullets?’
‘Yes, that too, if you must.’ The Director was losing his cool calm attitude again, and tried to correct it.
‘I think you gentlemen should go away and talk things over for a while. There’s a lot at stake, and you have a lot to consider. We’ll meet again when you have decided whether to take up the challenge or not, or when I have anything else to add to your decision making processes.’
The Director rose from his seat, stretched to his full height, smiled as only he could with his flashing white teeth, and made a point of shaking everyone firmly by the hand, especially Ben, who, in the Directors estimation, was most likely to cause dissent.
The meeting was at a close, the crew retiring to the canteen to replenish their reserves and decide their next move.
They gathered around the shiny stainless steel table with their steaming hot cups of coffee and a large plate of dubious looking sticky buns.
‘Christ, what do they make these from, reconstituted drinks bottles?’ Ben muttered, as he wrenched a bite from the highly coloured confection. The others grinned, Ben was in good form again.
After demolishing most of the garish offerings on the table and raising their somewhat depleted caffeine levels, it was Greg who finally got the conversation under way again,
‘I think the first thing we should do is visit this poor unfortunate who has been upsetting the Director’s apple cart.
As his warnings have been going on for so long, I don’t think it can all be put down to rumour, there just might be something else involved, and I think we should check it out to be sure. We need every bit of information we can get our hands on if we are to return in one piece, assuming that we go in the first place, that is.’
‘I don’t think there’s very much doubt about our going.’ Paul interjected sharply. ‘I think it’s just a matter of when and with what.’
Someone had finally said what they all felt, and having made the statement, the team visibly relaxed in their manner as they consumed the rest of the somewhat doubtful refreshments.
As there were no further tests or training schemes for the crew that day, Hans was elected to find the whereabouts of the man who had been forecasting problems with regard to the Mars project, while the others went to see the psychologist who was purported to have mind bending skills, not that Ben gave much credence to the theory of the ‘mind shield’, he being of a more practical bent.
The team or crew, depending on who’s view point was taken, had been ferrying up components for the Mars expedition for some considerable time, and as the construction of the ship, complete with its Lander took shape, they tended to consider it to be their ship, as they had been involved in the assembly of its component parts and the testing of the various systems which made up the life support module.
Although prior to their meeting with the Director, no one had said in as many words that they would crew the expedition, it had been an unspoken foregone conclusion among them that they would. The meeting had consolidated the team in so far that it was now official, if they took up the challenge.
Finding the psychologist proved a little more difficult than they had anticipated, and getting an interview arranged with him stretched everyone's tolerance level almost to breaking point. As they trundled from office to office, trying to get some constructive sense out of poe faced secretaries whose sole purpose seemed to be creating obstacles for others to stumble over, Ben summed it up in his usual erudite way,
‘It would be a bloody sight easier to get an interview with God, than this mind basher.’ He often vocalized what the others thought, which was probably one of the reasons why he was so well liked among them.
At long last, an interview was set up for the following day, and the four returned to their quarters to see how successful Hans had been in locating the ‘doom monger’.
Hans had a way of cutting across the normal red tape of large institutions, and a meeting had been arranged for later that evening, much to everyone's surprise. A decent meal and a change of clothes put all in a good mood, which was just as well, considering where they proposed to go.
The meeting took place in the general recreation room of the special unit, the other inmates of the institution either having had enough recreation for one day, or were otherwise being entertained by the copious number of white coated staff which seemed to drift around the place in a state of bemused fulfillment.
The originator of the copious ‘doom’ memos seemed to be as normal as most other people on the main complex, greeting them calmly and with a degree of dignity which took them all by surprise.
As Greg carefully and gently explained the purpose of their visit, it was evident from the uncomfortable facial expression adopted by the listener that he was going to be grilled yet again, and he was none too happy about the prospect.
‘They say it’s all in my imagination, and therefore valueless. I really don’t see how I can help you, sorry.’
To the surprise of the others, Greg seemed to accept the situation, and began a general dialogue about the orbiting space station, plus the general way things were going with regard to the latest developments in space travel.
It wasn’t until he gently steered the conversation around as to why the listener was incarcerated in the funny farm, that the man began to offer some insight as to what had actually happened.
Once it had become public knowledge that a manned space flight to Mars was under-way, the dreams began. At first they were of a general nature with regard to the hazards of space flight, becoming more specific as the project neared completion. The real trouble began when the dreamer sent memos to various departments foretelling of strange possible happenings which could befall those who dared to desecrate the sacred soil of Mars.
Narrated in the memos were scenes of strange creatures who threatened those who would defile the surface of the red planet, of weird looking machines with a mind of their own, who went about destroying all before them.
Veiled suggestions of a strange link between Earth and Mars permeated most memos, implying doom for those who would unveil such dreadful secrets. Most worrying of all, if any credence could be given it, was the suggestion that a force on Earth was dedicated to the failure of the project.
‘And you were getting these dreams before the first manned flight to Mars took off?’ asked Greg.
‘Yes,’ replied the man, distress clearly showing on his face, ‘I don’t know where the dreams came from, but they aren't like ordinary dreams, they are so vivid and feel so real that I used to awake shaking and covered in sweat.’
‘Why did you send memos instead of going to someone in authority, and explaining the situation?’ asked Greg, still finding it difficult to accept the narration as reality.
‘Who’s going to listen to me? Also, I must admit the dreams did seem a bit preposterous at the time. I thought that if I sent enough memos out to various departments, someone might take them seriously enough to begin an investigation, but no one did, and I wound up here.’
‘Do they treat you all right?’ asked Paul, a degree of concern sounding in his voice.
‘Yes. Well, at least they do now. At first I was drugged up to the eyeballs and didn’t know what day of the week it was, but now that’s all stopped, and I just get the odd bit of counselling every now and again, not that it ever helps very much really. I now wish I’d kept my stupid mouth shut and let them find out for themselves, the outcome would have been the same.’
By the look on the faces of the team, it was evident that they were feeling sorry for the man as beads of sweat dotted his brow, and his body trembled uncontrollably. Greg was doubtful whether he should continue the questioning, but not knowing if he would get another chance, he plunged on.
‘Don’t.’ He groaned, while his face screwed up in a series of twisted wrinkles as if some interior force was trying to take over, but was of a different shape to the host body.
‘You know what happened to the other two attempts. I don’t have any more than a few rumours to go on, but I expect you have been briefed by those who know, so you can expect the same reception when you get there.’ The man was now showing severe signs of distress, and Greg decided to end the meeting while the man still had some shred of sanity left.
They thanked him for his time, and for going through the unpleasant events of the past yet again, promising to return when the mission was ready to go, and again afterwards to relate how they got on.
It was a very subdued team which left the gaunt buildings of the mentally disturbed, wondering if their turn might come later if they went ahead with the project.
‘My God, that poor sod really went through it.’ Ben commented, as they walked down the cold grey concrete pathway leading them to the real world of advanced space technology, plastic buns, and the aspiring hopes of mankind.
‘I think we need to talk this whole thing over rather carefully before we sign on the dotted line,’ Greg said, ‘there’s still something missing, something we don’t know about the project.’
The group went back to their quarters, bypassing the canteen, as none of them felt like eating after the traumatic meeting they had just had.
‘I get the unpleasant feeling that there’s more to those dreams than meets the eye,’ Hans began, ‘I’ve never seen anyone react like he did when relating their worst nightmares, so what are we missing?’
The group looked at each other in turn, hoping that someone would come up with a reasonable answer to the unasked question of where the dreams emanated from. They had long ago discarded the idea that it was just the vivid imagination of the dreamer, so there had to be another source.
The Martian Enigma Page 3