by Adam Carter
Closing the door, she tried another and found a short corridor which ended in a narrow stairwell. Deciding to climb this, she noted it too was built of stone. Indeed the entire building was well constructed and hardy. It would have taken some time to build this place, and certainly it had been meant to last. But for what purpose had it been built? Why would anyone want to build such a structure down here?
Perhaps it was not down here initially, and had only submerged through quakes. But then, if such was the case it would be a partial ruin, where in actuality there was nothing wrong with anything of what she was seeing. For someone to have constructed an underground lair like this seemed strange, considering the entire world was off-limits. Hiding on the surface would have been just as effective as hiding underground if there was no one looking for you.
The stairs ended at a landing and she could see several bulbs were glowing on a low setting. How long they had been doing that for, again, she could not say, but bulbs nowadays were designed to keep powered indefinitely unless switched off. Flicking a switch, she cast greater light through the landing and discovered yet further doors. She checked the first and it revealed a sleeping chamber, and she hoped it might reveal some indication as to who might have been living here, and why.
It was a small chamber, but homely, with several personal possessions scattered about. There were books lining one shelf, various small ornaments atop a cupboard, and a teddy bear lying on its side on the bed. Garrel checked the books and found they were editions published ten years earlier. That gave her a date to work with, and also meant there was a chance whoever was living here might still be alive. It also meant the equipment downstairs, which she had dated as fifty years old, was outdated even when it was being used. But if it worked, perhaps whoever worked here was not particular about having state-of-the-art technology.
There was little else of interest in the room, and no sign of a diary. She did however find a well-worn Bible and wondered whether this place was a research base for one of the various religions in the Jovian system. Perhaps someone had been conducting research similar to that of Professor Travers, but had approached it from an entirely religious point of view. Reaching the truth was always the goal, and Garrel was beginning to think that it did not matter the path one took to reach it, since there was only ever one truth.
Putting aside her own philosophical speculations, Garrel left the bedchamber, taking care to close the door behind her, and continued down the corridor. If there were answers to be found here she would find them, no matter whether they came from a scientific or religious background.
She continued her exploration of the building, finding several more bedchambers but very little of interest in them. She came at last to another stairwell, and followed this to emerge in the centre of a large room. It was domed, and as she flicked on the light was amazed to see that the roof was formed of rectangular panes of glass, each an amazing work of stained glass. She could see depictions of Biblical scenes and various saints throughout the ages, with a scattering of mermaid iconography which had decorated church carvings for centuries. There were candles standing in rows, unlit, leading to an altar, and Bibles set out upon individual chairs. She surmised there may have been pews set up here if they could have been brought up the narrow stairwell.
Any doubt Garrel had held about the occupants being religious were thrown to the winds in that moment, but it still told her nothing of their purpose for being there. It was possible they had arrived only ten years ago, if the date on the books was anything to go by, but it was also possible that this temple had been erected at the construction of the world and that over the generations new occupants had arrived. But where had they come from? Or had people stayed here for generations and there were now officially people born of Ceres descent?
It was frustrating not to have answers to any of these questions, yet she was not here to study anything. Now that she had surmised at least some of her surroundings she needed to find a way back to the surface.
Moving to the stairwell, she ignored the upper floor, since it consisted only of bedrooms, and headed back downstairs. She noted there were still no animals wandering through the open doorway and could only assume there had been some repelling force built into the building itself, since the machines were all turned off. Either that or faith was keeping them back, which was a little bit of a stretch of the imagination.
Checking the remaining doors, Garrel eventually happened upon something which really interested her. It held several pieces of machinery she recognised as a communications system. There were no artificial satellites orbiting Ceres, so signals could not be bounced from orbit, and there was something in the atmosphere which jammed most attempts at radio communications. However, they would not have kept this equipment here if it did not work, so Garrel sank into a chair and cracked her fingers. She had tinkered before with equipment very similar to this and with any luck could get it working.
She was just thinking about what she could do when she noticed a disc sitting beside the communications system. She picked it up, turning it over and seeing there were some numbers scrawled on one side. She had no idea what might be on it but shoved it into her belt and gave it no mind.
Returning to the tool cupboard she fetched some screwdrivers and set to work on the equipment. First she tore apart almost everything before her, but as she began to put it all back together, she was able to cannibalise enough parts to produce something of what she hoped was a working device.
At last she felt she was ready and, saying a quick and silent prayer, she thumbed on the machine and listened to its sweet hum. She had even built a handheld crank into the machine in case it began to lose power. The crank was fortunately not needed at present, but since she did not know the energy source this device used she could not say how long it would be before it conked out on her.
Garrel scanned through the frequencies until she found the one they used for their radios. Hoping there was someone out there to hear her, she depressed the transmission button and said, “Allen!” Releasing the button, she listened for a response. She heard something rather odd. It sounded as though his radio was transmitting, but she heard an immense crash, as though the system had collapsed. It sounded oddly familiar to her. “Allen, you hear me?” she said, but there was no response now at all.
She did not know why she had contacted Allen before anyone else. Travers would have been a better choice considering the Professor was still back at the camp. But Allen had been foremost on her mind, and she did not like to think what he would have said to that were she ever to tell him. She smiled at the thought, just hoping she would have that opportunity. There were worse people in life than Tom Allen, she had to relent.
Next she tried to contact the radio in the buggy, but received only a dead line from that. That was not a good sign, although she did not lose hope and contacted the camp directly.
“Garrel to camp. Professor Travers, do you copy?”
There was a moment of static as Garrel released the button.
“Garrel?”
Garrel’s heart leaped. “Travers. Are the boys back yet?”
“Monroe’s back,” Travers said, concerned. “How are you getting this signal through?”
“Powerful equipment.”
“Where are you?”
“In a temple, I think.”
“Come again?”
“Where’s Allen?”
“Looking for you. He found your bike.”
Garrel’s grin faded as she realised where she had heard the sound before: the explosion-like sound which had come from Allen’s radio. It was identical to the sound of her bike crashing when she had come off it only a short while earlier. Allen had been riding and she had brought him off the bike with her sudden voice.
Travers tried to say something else but the transmission began to die. Garrel frantically grabbed the crank and savagely yanked it again and again to get the power flowing once more.
“Say again,”
Garrel said.
“... said we should go looking for him, but all we have left is the copter.”
“Stay where you are,” Garrel said. “The floods are bad enough, and that’s even without the dinosaurs. I’ll get out of here and go after him myself.”
“All right. We’ll wait for you to contact us again then.”
“Good. I’ll be in touch.”
She cut the transmission before the power could fail once more. The thought of going after Allen herself was only hampered by the fact that she was trapped underground, but whoever had lived in this temple would have had a means in and out, and Garrel knew she only had to find it. She could not understand why she felt so anxious about Allen and reasoned it was because she had been the cause of his crash. If not for her, he would have been happily riding around on his motorbike; and he was only out there to begin with because he was searching for her.
Even if she hated him, she was responsible for him and would rescue him.
And she did not hate him at all.
CHAPTER NINE
“We’re not really going to sit here doing nothing are we?”
Travers looked up from her work. After Garrel had contacted them she had just gone back to work since she had such tight deadlines. Monroe had taken to pacing the room, which was proving somewhat irritating.
“You heard her,” Travers said. “She wants to go after Allen herself. Besides, we’re not doing nothing. We’re working. Now make yourself useful and pass me a tongue depressor.”
Monroe looked blankly at a row of equipment and tools and Travers shook her head, fetching it herself.
“You really don’t know anything about archaeology, do you?”
Monroe shrugged, still looking very uncomfortable. “I feel responsible for the lad.”
“Good. You should, considering you took him out under false pretences. Hand me the ... Never mind.”
She brushed past Monroe, fetching what she needed and making sure he knew she thought he was useless. Travers needed to focus on her work, for she was now more than ever fighting her deadlines. She did not know Allen too well, but he was a bright lad and the most eager of her students. That he was infatuated with Sara Garrel would have been obvious to a dead turkey, but it had never done any harm. Garrel was not interested, and so long as Allen didn’t annoy her too much the young woman was willing to simply ignore it. Travers herself had paid no more mind to the infatuation, harmless as it was. But then Monroe had taken the boy off on some grand adventure. Travers did not know the specifics, but without a doubt had Monroe promised him something. Maybe they were hunting the claw of a tyrannosaurus rex or something. Whatever the specifics, Monroe had deceived the boy into accompanying him, and now Allen was lost.
There was no way all of this wasn’t Monroe’s fault.
“I’m going out after him,” Monroe said with stern resolution.
Travers laughed dryly. “And take the only remaining vehicle, since you’ve lost the other two?”
“What can I do then to make amends?”
“Nothing.” She set down her tools so she would not ruin her work, looking him square in the eyes. “There’s nothing you can do, Albert. You screwed up, and now we just have to wait around until Garrel contacts us again with some news. Now, either make yourself useful or get out of here, because I have a lot of work to do.”
By the look on his face it seemed Monroe intended to offer his services, but they both knew he would be more of a hindrance than anything. He hung his head. “I’ll get out of your way then.”
“Sensible.”
She heard the door close quietly and returned to her work, but her mind refused to focus, her hands were shaking, and she set down her tools once more and sank her head into her hands. Before coming out here there had been concerns about the threat from the dinosaurs, but it was turning out that they should have been more concerned with the way they intended to treat each other.
*
Throughout his life Monroe had never had to work for anything. It had been so good knowing he would never have to worry about money or what people thought about him. His family were wealthy enough to socialise in the circles wherein he could be put in contact with all the right people, whatever he wanted to achieve. Nor had there been any shortage of servile yes-men willing to accede to his every demand and forever tell him he was right. It had allowed him to rise to adulthood thinking he was indestructible, both in spirit and in morals.
But now he found himself on a world with only three other people, none of whom were going to suck up to him, none of whom regarded his position as anything other than the sham it was. He had continued to act as though he was going to have people falling over themselves to please him, and none of his companions had taken to it very well. They had, however, done the worst thing; and that was ignore him. They knew his money was funding this venture and likely thought it gained him a little leeway. But he had taken advantage of his position and now a young man was paying the price.
Monroe had been told to do nothing about the situation he had created, but he had never been very good at doing what he was told. He had placed his own selfish desires to see some dinosaurs ahead of the welfare of his companions, and that was something he was going to have to correct. He may not have been good at archaeology, may not have been good for much of anything in fact, but he knew the route Allen would have taken on his way back and if he had to follow it on foot then that was just what he was going to do.
But he did not have to go on foot. As he walked into the outside air he thought about that copter they still had left. It was indeed their final vehicle and for him to lose that on top of all the others would have been terrible; but if he could rescue Allen it did not matter how many vehicles they lost. Besides, they still had their space-faring craft to get them off Ceres, and if he could bring both Allen and Garrel back to the camp they could always send for more land transport. Whether they would be allowed to receive any more was another matter, for that would entail allowing someone else to land upon Ceres; but that was something they could deal with once everyone was safe and secure.
No longer thinking along the lines of his having paid for all this equipment, all Monroe cared about was locating young Allen, and with this thought in mind he approached the copter. It was indeed a strange-looking contraption. There was a basket reminiscent of that which a hot-air balloon would utilise, while above there hung a powerful lightweight engine, attached to which was a propeller. There were metal supports either side of the basket, although as with the buggy these were skeletal and designed to be entirely utilitarian. He had never before flown one of these things, although when they had initially landed upon Ceres Garrel had insisted they run through various aspects of survival training, which included basic instruction for each of their vehicles. Reluctantly Garrel had even shown them how to operate the main craft, as though she feared one of them would take the thing and flee, abandoning the others to a life without hope of escape.
Stepping into the basket, Monroe found the control panel and flicked the appropriate switches to run power through the contraption. A steady hum built within the engine and he pulled the lever which would take him into the air. The basket shook as the engine began to vibrate and he watched as slowly the propellers powered up. Within moments they were spinning so fast it appeared the four blades were actually two dozen, and shakily the basket rose. It jolted, pitching Monroe forward, but he recalibrated the controls and was once more rising. The downdraft from the rotors was not quite as bad as he had expected, and he could imagine the engineers designing such a thing growing with excitement as they worked out ways of making the copter as aerodynamic as they could, while not sacrificing any of the necessities. Nor did the blades make too much noise, and he could imagine Travers still intent upon her work, not even realising Monroe was taking the thing out. With any luck he would even be back before she noticed he had gone against all orders, and perhaps he might even be forgiven some of his faults.
&n
bsp; The copter rose to a height of around fifty metres. He could easily have gone higher, but if Allen was lying wounded somewhere he did not want to miss sight of him. Flying towards the woodland, Monroe knew he would not be able to see anything through the trees, so veered off for the route Allen would have taken were he able to get the motorbike working. From what Monroe had seen of it prior to leaving Allen, the bike had not appeared irreparably damaged, but he was no engineer; all he had really seen was that the wheels were still attached, and to his non-mechanical mind that was surely all that was needed for a motorbike to be stood upright and mounted.
A flurry of animals took flight beneath him, and immediately he watched them, but could not tell what they were, let alone whether they were dinosaurs. His heart was racing at the prospect of seeing something that wasn’t a prehistoric mammal or bird, but the things disappeared into the woods before he could properly identify them.
But he was not up here to compound his mistakes by seeking out further dinosaurs. Slowly, painfully, he forced himself not to look at the trees to glimpse the animals, but concentrated his efforts on locating young Allen.
He drifted on, although in reality was moving under his own power. The juddering, jerking movements of the basket gave the impression that he had no control over his own direction, as though the wind was his master and tormentor. In reality the copter was a sturdy, trustable companion, only disguised as a ramshackle mess. From above and looking down it appeared as though the land was moving slowly, as though he was nothing but an extension of Jupiter’s army of clouds sent to watch over the unnatural denizens of Ceres. He knew the view was deceptive, that he was in fact travelling across the lands far faster in fact than if he had taken the buggy or perhaps even the motorbike.