‘For God’s sake, be careful!’ Greg shouted. ‘You’ll have someone's bloody head off with that thing.’
When they had all calmed down a little, the device was examined more thoroughly, and the general opinion was that when a dial was turned on the side of the ‘drill’, it changed the size of the hole.
Hans looked at the device, and then looked up at Greg, his eyes asking the question.
‘All right, but be careful what you point it at.’ Greg reluctantly said, stepping back a pace.
Hans reset the dial, lifted the device over the metal bench and pointed it downwards, and then pressed the knob.
As the beam of light lanced out from the end of the device, a neat hole about six centimetres in diameter appeared in the bench top, followed by a metallic ‘clink’ as the disc of metal, sheered from the bench, hit the floor beneath.
With some difficulty, because of his gloved hand, Hans reached down and picked up the metal disc.
‘Now look at that. It doesn’t just punch a hole in things, but actually cuts them out, and it’s not even hot.’ Hans offered the disc up to the hole in the bench, and they were all amazed to see that the actual cut line was paper thin.
‘Look, there’s a couple of what might be sliders on the other side of it.’ said Ben, pointing at a raised portion of metal on the side of the ‘drill’. ‘Give them a tweak, and see what happens.’
Hans was in his element now, and the sliders were ‘tweaked’ as suggested, and the device pointed at the bench again. This time the hole was ovaloid.
‘That tool isn’t so advanced, we have lasers back on Earth which can punch holes in metal.’ said Paul.
‘Sure we have, but look how big they are, they’re massive machines, and they can only smash a hole out of things, not cut it out neatly and with precision, like this thing.’ Hans replied defensively.
A faint haze had begun to collect around the bench, due to the vaporized metal from Hans’s experiments with the ‘drill’. A soft whirring sound took them all by surprise as the ventilation system sensed that all was not well with the quality of the air, and began to remove the offending metallic haze through its extraction vents high above them.
‘Let’s see what else we have here,’ said Greg, ‘but bear in mind our time’s limited, we’ll soon have to change over oxygen cylinders, and then it’s back to the Lander.’
Hans was reluctant to lay down his new found tool, and had cut several more holes of various shapes and sizes before an exasperated Greg drew his attention to his vandalistic tendencies, and suggested he desist from wrecking the place.
Many other devices were examined, but their uses and means of control were beyond the comprehension of Hans, let alone the others.
They left the workshop with its wondrous tools, and tried to enter the next room down the vast cavern, but entry was denied them for the next four attempts.
Either the door mechanisms had failed through time, or they were not considered to be the correct persons to gain entry to whatever lay beyond the access ways.
The fifth attempt proved more fruitful, and the door slid obediently to one side, allowing them to enter what appeared to be a stock room of metallic materials. Rods, square and round, sheets and tubes, in every size imaginable from minuscule to enormous, lay stacked neatly on racks lining the walls.
‘Why don’t we take one of these sheets of metal, and put it over the illusion hole near the entrance to the tunnel, it would save us having to hump the trolley over the gap each time we come back.’ Hans was thinking ahead, and hoping for many more visits.
‘Good idea,’ said Greg, ‘let’s see if we can get one out, the door mechanism may not allow it though, we don’t have the necessary paper work.’
A laugh rippled around their audio units as the bureaucracy of Earth was transposed to that of an alien world.
They selected a sheet of metal, not knowing what particular metal it was, and dragged it to the exit. The sliding door slid, and they were out into the main cavern with their booty.
Several more doors opened to them, but the contents of the rooms gave little clue as to what they were intended for, except one, which seemed to be for the injection moulding of some form of plastics material, although they weren’t too sure about that even.
Row upon row of machines stood along one wall of the room, like a line of metallic statues, each with a gaping maw in its front, into which it was obvious that something was to be placed.
‘I’m sure these machines are for making mouldings or castings of some sort,’ commented Hans, who knew about such things, ‘but there’s no sign of the materials they used.’
‘Nor of the moulds which would go into those slots.’ added Ben, sounding disappointed.
They left the ‘moulding room’, if that’s what it was, and tried several more doors, none of which would respond to their presence, and then turned to cross over to the other side of the great cavern to try their luck there.
Paul stood gazing at the twin rail track which ran down the length of the cavern, as if mesmerized.
‘What’s on your mind?’ asked John, who had little interest in things mechanical.
‘I’d like to know where these rails go, and what went on them,’ he replied, ‘it must have been enormous if the tracks are anything to go by.’
Only one door of the many more they tried responded to their presence, and that only opened to reveal a long dark corridor, the lighting system having failed completely.
‘We could explore that passage on our next visit, if we’re allowed in again, but regrettably it’s time we headed back to the Lander,’ Greg announced, ‘so let’s collect our sheet of metal and go.’
It took four of them to carry the heavy metal sheet towards the exit of the great cavern, with Greg leading the way and pulling the trolley.
When they had crowded into the airlock, shuffling around the sheet of metal while trying to keep it in an upright position, Greg looked around for the activating triangle, but couldn’t see one.
‘Wonder how we turn this thing on?’ he asked, but before anyone could answer, the vibration began, and the wall slid around encasing them. This time there was an ominous grating sound, which set their teeth on edge.
‘Hope the bloody thing doesn’t pack up with us in it.’ commented Paul. ‘Perhaps Hans should have brought his drill thing along, we could at least burn our way out.’
The hissing sound began, and they knew the atmosphere was being withdrawn. After what seemed like eternity, the other section of the wall revealed the tunnel they had come in by, the roof luminaries flashing on obligingly as they turned around and left the airlock.
‘I don’t think there are two wall sections sliding around us, I reckon it is a cylinder which rotates, that’s why we were facing the other way when it stopped,’ observed Hans, ‘but how do they seal the stone edges?’
‘Perhaps it’s not stone, but only looks like it.’ John added.
They continued to argue about the apparent stone airlock, and why anyone would want to make it look like something it wasn’t, while they headed for the exit.
The roof luminaries lit their way as they marched along the tunnel, obligingly extinguishing themselves behind the troop, until they reached the section where all the lights had failed, then they had to use the trolley lamp mounted on its pole until they thought they had reached the floor trap area.
Greg now led the way, pulling the trolley with one hand and holding a lamp in the other to light the floor area, so that they didn’t fall down the illusion covered hole.
The journey out of the tunnel seemed to take far longer than it should have, and they were beginning to wonder if they had inadvertently gone down a side turning when Greg stopped.
‘Here we are. Slide the sheet over to the mark, it should overlap by about half a metre by the look of it. Turn your audio pickup units down a bit, it’s going to make one hell of a bang when it hits the ground.’
They wriggled the sheet of m
etal around until they had it in what they thought was the right position, and then Greg gave the word to let go.
The ensuing crash as the metal hit the floor reverberated up and down the tunnel for some minutes, the most unexpected result of which was that one of the failed luminaries over head lit in a series of flashes, and then held steady.
‘Isn’t there an old Earth saying about an ill wind?’ asked Ben, looking up at the glowing rod in the ceiling, and the tension which had built up over the past few hours was released in gales of laughter.
Greg very gingerly stepped onto the metal sheet, took a couple of paces and then jumped up and down energetically,
‘Seems stable enough, but come over one at a time just to be on the safe side.’
It wasn’t long before they reached the exit point, and carefully surrounding the trolley, walked out into the light.
So far, they had defeated the unit’s defence system, penetrated the complex, vandalized one of its workbenches, purloined a piece of alien equipment and escaped unharmed onto the surface of Mars.
They were expecting to see the phantom wall again, as they made their way up the valley to the slope where they had come down, but there was no sign of it. In fact, there were no signs of anything hostile on their way back to the Lander, so they only had to contend with the chore of dragging the trolley with its load of equipment up the slope to the plains above.
Soon they were back in the Lander, space suits off and able to move around unrestricted. The oxygen-water plant was checked, and to their surprise it had switched itself off, the holding tanks being full.
The space suits were given a burst of nascent oxygen to keep them fresh, and the effluent bags were emptied and sterilized, leaving everything ready for their next sortie.
After a shower, followed a good meal, everyone relaxed and a discussion of the day’s extraordinary events began.
‘So who or what, do you think, tried to impede our progress?’ asked Greg, looking from one to the other.
‘I think it’s purely mechanical, or robotic, if you prefer that term,’ said Hans, ‘as there were no signs of life, or having been any, for a very long time. Either they were very tidy minded, or left the place expecting to come back to it one day, although I somehow doubt the latter.’
‘They must have been expecting some sort of aggression, or maybe just trespass, from some other creatures, otherwise why the illusion barrier, and that hole in the tunnel?’ Ben asked, knowing he wouldn’t really get an answer, just a theoretical opinion.
‘Maybe there were two races here.’ said Paul. ‘One more advanced than the other, and the clever boys didn’t want the others muscling in, although the hole trap in the tunnel isn’t a very sophisticated way of stopping anyone.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ John said, ‘it nearly got one of us, and if it hadn’t been for the powerful lamp we had and the ultrasound probe, it could have caught more. No, I disagree, I think it worked rather well. What we could do is send a camera down there, to see what’s at the bottom, I’ll bet it’s a big pile of bones.’
‘And then perhaps we can see what they were so afraid of.’ added Paul. ‘I’d like to see that for a start.’
‘All right, we can do that. It shouldn’t take long, and it would clear up one of the mysteries.’ Greg was just a keen as the others to see what forms of life had existed on the planet.
‘What do you think the rail track in the main cavern was for?' asked Hans eagerly. ‘It must have been very large by the width of the track, and where is everybody? If they’d just died out slowly, you’d expect there to be more rubbish and unfinished products lying about, and there aren’t any.
‘So did they all go somewhere else, and if so where? And how?’ He thought he had better stop there, as there were enough unanswered questions flying about.
‘Well, we can follow the track to see where it leads.’ said Greg. ‘As for the people who lived here, and I assume they were people as we know them, because of the bench height and the symbols over the doors, it looks like an orderly exit to me. They’ve left the place all spick and span, so either they intend to come back to it, hence the traps to keep nosey humans and others out, or they were just a very orderly people, and didn’t like the kind of mess we have left around for the last couple of thousand years. Where they went is anyone's guess, but we may get a clue if we can get at their records, and being as meticulous as they are, there are bound to be plenty of those.’
A thin keen whining sound distracted them for a moment, and Paul went over to one of the Lander’s viewing ports to see what was going on outside.
‘Bit of a wind brewing up, just look at that sand move.’
The others crowded around the port to see one of Mars’ famous wind storms winding itself up into a fury.
It wasn’t long before the whine had increased to a full blown howl, shaking the Lander despite the anchor bolts which had been fired deep into the bedrock of the planet.
‘Wouldn’t stand much of a chance out in that.’ commented Ben, pulling a wry face.
‘Don’t forget the lower gravity here, therefore mass will be lower, so it may not be as bad as you think.’ said Hans.
The conversation continued on for some time, interrupted by the occasional extra heavy buffeting from the hurricane force winds. Having decided what they would do next day, the crew retired for the night and slept well, despite the raging forces outside.
During the night, something tried to nudge the orbiter out of position, but the orbiter was programmed to hold a steady orbit around the planet, and the stabilizing jets brought it back on track.
After several more attempts, whatever it was, gave up, and the orbiter continued to shine like a tiny star in the sun’s weak light, a comfort to those below, and a transmission link to Earth.
Although the Martian year comprised nearly six hundred and ninety days, the actual day was only half an hour longer than Earth’s, so the crew didn’t have to adjust their normal patterns of work and rest.
As the distant sun burnt off the hoar frost which had collected in the hollows, the crew were about their business.
The equipment trolley was checked over and an extra long lead for the camera was included at Hans’s insistence, he wanted to find out what lay at the bottom of the ‘illusion pit’.
The sub zero temperature of night had not noticeably risen by the time the team left the Lander, so the suit heaters were working at full power until their own bodies generated enough heat through exercise to supplement that of the heaters.
‘I wonder if the wall will appear again.’ said Paul. ‘I’m looking forward to walking through that illusion once more.’
‘Whatever powers your rocket,’ replied Hans, ‘there’s no accounting for taste.’ They were in jocular mood as they set off for the valley.
The long slope down to the bottom of the rift didn’t seem to be in the same place as it was the previous day, and the team paused for a while to try and figure out if they had made a mistake, or something else was afoot.
‘I’m sure we didn’t have to walk this far along the ridge before we came to the slope.’ Greg sounded worried. ‘Let’s go back to where we think it was.’
Several hundred metres along the rim, Paul called out,
‘I recognize that lump of lava, that’s where we went down yesterday, unless something’s moved it.’
‘I think you're right. Something’s having us on again.’ Greg paced up and down the place where they thought the slope began, testing the edge for stability with his foot, and suddenly it was there, inviting them to descend to the valley below.
‘I don’t trust this place, pass me the cord and hold on tight, I’m going down first.’ Greg lashed the cord around his waist and began the descent.
At the full extent of the cord, Greg stopped, and turned,
‘It seems safe enough, come on down one by one, leave about ten metres between you.’
‘I wonder what would have happened if we had gone
down the other slope?’ asked John, for something to say.
‘Probably gone arse over tit right to the bottom.’ someone replied, but no one was sure who it was.
Reaching the valley floor without incident, they looked back for the other slope, but there was no sign of it.
As they neared the rock face, the ‘illusion wall’ flickered into existence for a brief moment, and then was gone.
‘Sorry Paul, you’ll have to do with the ‘hole illusion’ for now, perhaps it’ll come back next time.’ someone said.
They passed through the rock face and into the tunnel with an air of confidence bordering on dangerous, and soon reached the ‘illusion hole’. After removing the bridge plate, a camera was attached to a long extension lead and lowered over the edge.
At first there was nothing to be seen on the monitor except a greyness as the camera passed through the illusion field, and then it was into normal space again. The walls of the shaft had been cut cleanly out of the solid rock, and were as smooth as glass, reflecting the light from the camera’s luminary as it descended into the depths below.
Almost at the full length of the extension lead, a picture began to form of the bottom of the pit.
‘There you are, I was right.’ exclaimed an excited John, ‘can we retrieve some?’
There was no telling how deep the pile of bone was with the camera, but it covered the bottom of the pit completely. There was no sign of clothing, fur or flesh, so what the bones belonged to was still a mystery.
‘I could probably knock up a grapple of some sort.’ said Hans. Greg nodded his approval, and Hans set about constructing a device to retrieve some bone samples. If successful, this would hopefully put their minds at rest about what happened to their predecessors from the earlier visits to Mars. That’s if they could identify the bones.
Hans finished his construction, tried it out on a spare hand lamp, and found with a few simple modifications, it would pick up just about anything.
The device was lowered down the shaft on a cord, with another cord acting as the operating link. At last it came into view of the lowered camera, and the task of picking up a bone began. It proved to be not so easy as theory had predicted, the distance down the shaft plus the lack of positional control making it rather like one of the old fairground games of yesteryear.
The Martian Enigma Page 6