Shock Diamonds

by E. R. Mason

  “What the…?” commented R.J.

  “You gotta be kidding me,” added Wilson.

  “What is that?” called Catherine.

  “I think it’s a façade of a city,” replied Wilson. “It’s like a movie set. It’s not real.”

  We stared at the monitors and tried to make sense of it, a paradoxical frozen alien city, full of the images of life, with no signs of life at all.

  “R.J., show me the exact coordinates we want to see.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been looking at that, Adrian. It’s behind this section of the structures at the base of the largest cliff side. There’s a narrow slot in the cliff side that leads away from the city to a fairly large clearing with a waterfall and small lake, but it’s not big enough for us to land there. We’d have to walk in.”

  “Okay then, find us a place to put down out of sight within walking distance.”

  “Just east of the township, behind this hill and that tree line,” he replied, pointing at the monitor and looking up at me.

  “Lower us down, Danica. R.J.’s sending you the coordinates. We need to get out and take a stroll.”

  Chapter 21

  It was a long descent. I called out, “Wilson, what’s the atmosphere?”

  “A whopping 8 percent O2, no harmful gases, gravity point-eight-six of Earth’s.”

  “Adrian, the pressurization system will want to bring in outside air at eight thousand. You want to trust what’s out there?” asked Danica.

  “Tell you what. Put a hold on that. Let’s stay isolated until we land and take a closer look.”

  “Agreed,” she replied.

  The ride down was the smoothest direct descent I had ever experienced. As trees came up in front of the view ports, the ship rocked unusually hard, settling down onto rock-hard ground. We kept the stellar drive and OMS engines at idle for a quick escape, if needed. The land outside the view ports seemed strangely quiet.

  “So, does it still look breathable out there, you guys?”

  “Particularly clean air, Adrian,” replied R.J.

  I unstrapped and pushed up from the left seat. “Stay ready, Dan. The boys and I will try to be quick about it.”

  “No problem.”

  Catherine and Patrick were glued to the port windows in the habitat module. I gave Patrick a slap on the shoulder. “Patrick, you’re going to want to come along on this one in case we actually find something about Emma.”

  “Absolutely,” he answered, and he fell in behind me.

  Catherine glanced up with a half deprived, half guilty look, but she held her tongue.

  With Wilson bearing arms as usual, and R.J. equipped with an equal complement of hand scanners, we popped open the rear airlock hatch and deployed the ramp. The strangeness of the place hit us again before we even had a chance to start down. There was no wind or sound. The smell of vegetation was strangely stagnant. Beams of sunlight seemed to be hanging from the sky-like curtains. It was the most deathly still environment I had ever experienced.

  We tromped down the ramp and stepped off onto light green grass. In keeping with the oddness of the place, the grass seemed not to give way to each step. It did not feel like real grass. We stopped and surveyed our surroundings.

  “What the hell is this place?” said Wilson.

  The trees were as unmoving and silent as everything else. Not a breeze, not a falling leaf, not the sound of a bird. We started up the hill that had been used to conceal our landing.

  “This is too weird. Look, the ground is some type of sand, but we’re not leaving any footprints,” complained Wilson.

  At the top of the hill, a portion of the township came into view. Wilson moaned, “No way!”

  R.J. declared, “It can’t be…”

  From our hilltop vantage point, our view of the township was even more unmistakably bizarre. A well-manicured park separated us from a main thoroughfare. Beyond it lay the pristine white buildings we had seen from the air. People who looked nearly human in off-white, ankle-length robes were entering or leaving shops and other buildings. Their skin tone was pale, but their eyes brightly colored. Two small bubble-shaped cars with occupants were stopped at traffic lights to our right. Immediately to our left, some form of ball game was in progress. Nearby, people were walking small furry creatures that vaguely resembled shaggy dogs.

  It would have been a friendly, familiar setting except for the one arcane fact. Not one vehicle, animal, or person was moving at all. Everyone and everything was frozen in place.

  Wilson finally broke the stunned silence. “It’s like I said, guys. It’s a mock-up. None of this is real. But why would anyone do this? It goes on forever!”

  “I believe you are mistaken, Bro,” replied R.J.

  “We all see it! There’s no mistake. It’s like a movie set or something. A really big, lifelike movie set. It’s like the mock-ups we used to practice for combat missions.”

  “Nope,” insisted R.J. “But I will say it is the most incredible thing I have ever seen.”

  “R.J., what the hell are you rambling about?” stammered Wilson.

  R.J. pointed upward. We all looked up. There, hanging high in the air, was an aircraft shaped like a flying wing. It too was not moving at all.

  “That’s not all,” said R.J. “Look at the guy throwing the ball over there. Can you see the ball?”

  “Oh, now you’re really blowing my mind,” exclaimed Wilson.

  We all stood looking at a softball-shaped object, also hanging in midair and not moving.

  Patrick came up alongside R.J. “I am guessing you have some sort of explanation, R.J. I think we’d all like to hear it.”

  R.J. bent over and picked up a small stone in the sand. He straightened up, held it out, and let go. It hung in midair. He turned to Patrick, then looked at the rest of us. “Time. It’s a different constant here.”

  “Oh for cripes sake, are you trying to say these people are real?” asked Wilson.

  “Almost certainly,” answered R.J. “Time is passing here at a rate so much slower than ours, it looks to us as though everything has stopped.”

  “Prove it,” said Wilson.

  “Look at that ball over there again,” said R.J. “It has moved slightly. Just a tiny bit, but from my position I can see it has advanced. So has the aircraft.”

  We all studied the path of the ball and the flight path of the aircraft and were forced to admit to ourselves he was probably right.

  “So if that’s true, can they see us?” asked Wilson.

  “I doubt it,” said R.J. “We are ghosts here, not even leaving footprints in the sand, although I bet our footprints will probably appear some time later as the sand eventually finishes forming the impression.”

  “So, Professor Smith, you’re saying we brought our own time with us?” asked Patrick.

  “There is an old saying that all matter is actually condensed starlight,” answered R.J. “Everything here formed under that blue star. The best guess is that matter here is radically different than anything we’re familiar with. This place is a physicist’s dream.”

  I intervened. “Gentlemen, since we do not seem to be interfering with the population here, let’s get going. Nobody touch anything, and stay clear of these people. Let’s get to those coordinates and make sure we leave this place just as we found it, like we were warned to on the way in.”

  Entranced by the slow-motion world around us, we crossed the park, a field of dreams locked in time. The closer we looked, the more oddities came into view. Farther out in the game, there was actually a runner in mid-stride heading for a base. His right knee was raised, his left toe not quite touching the ground. The ball hung in the air, but it would beat him to the base. Another player, braced in the ball’s path, had an expression of total concentration as he held up a round leather glove, anticipating a catch. Ahead of us, a woman in the same light-colored apparel they all seemed to enjoy was walking a large, shorthaired dog that looked like a greyhound carved out of marble.
Three of its legs were off the ground, the fourth barely touching. The woman was also frozen in mid-step, her leash pulled tightly against her outstretched right arm. As we approached the white, sand-cement street, we realized the two vehicles were also underway. They looked like enclosed golf carts with bubble canopies. The drivers were both paying close attention to the road ahead. I glanced at my tablet map as I walked. There was an alley between two three-story adobe-like buildings that offered a shortcut. We emerged behind the buildings, where white cliff walls climbed steeply upward. On the right was the separation in the cliff, the narrow slot canyon we needed to transit. We had to turn sideways to enter, side-stepping our way along. Fortunately, the passage was smooth and unmarked. It did not seem to be well explored. The tight fit lasted for more than a mile before the walls gradually began to widen. Overhead, the divide was so steep the top was not clearly visible. It was an odd comfort that any falling rock would not be a threat.

  Three miles into the hike, the tiny canyon trail opened up into a wide expanse of lake and waterfall, surrounded by more ragged, sloping rock walls.

  “This is the strangest portrait of beauty I have ever seen,” commented Patrick.

  “Look at the waterfall,” said R.J. “It’s a snapshot in time. The water droplets glisten and the mist at the bottom doesn’t change. It’s unearthly.”

  “The shimmer on the water is the same way,” said Patrick. “It’s like tiny beads of light.”

  Wilson came up beside me. “Two kinds of landing craft have been here, Adrian. There are faint imprints in the sand.” He pointed to the left. Marks from landing skids were plainly visible. “How can there be marks in the sand? We’re still not leaving any footprints.”

  R.J. overheard him. “Because those imprints were made long enough ago that the sand has had time to catch up.” R.J. pulled out a hand scanner and waved it across the area. "Definite engine signatures left behind. There’s no doubt about it. Ships from our time constant landed here. There’s a trail of footprints, too. But all this stuff is from weeks ago.”

  Patrick spoke nervously, “So are we too late? Is this a dead end?”

  “I’m seeing a weak electronic emission coming from across this reservoir,” said R.J. as he studied his hand scanner.

  “Let’s head that way,” I said.

  We skirted along the shore of the small lake, its surface so still it looked like ice you could walk on. The rock walls surrounding the lake led upward to a strange white haze, moisture from the falls that lingered with the same pause as everything else.

  At the waterfall, there were clouds of moisture in the air, but the water did not cling to us. The spray reached out like transparent waves, making the air cooler in spots, but the falling water, like everything else, remained silent.

  “The signal is coming from behind the waterfall,” said R.J., and he looked at me wondering what next.

  “Then there we should go. Anyone not comfortable with that?”

  No one spoke.

  I pushed through the curtain of water. Droplets decorated my flight suit, but they did not soak in and did not roll off. In any other place I would have been drenched, but here the moisture was almost like glitter. I found I could brush it off, leaving it suspended in the air around me.

  Behind the falls, we found nothing but solid rock. We gathered and stood staring as R.J. worked his scanner.

  “I’m definitely showing a chamber behind this rock,” he said. “A big one!”

  “There must be another way in,” said Patrick.

  “Can you map the space beyond?” I asked.

  Wilson pulled a second scanner off of R.J.’s belt and joined in.

  R.J. added, “High ceiling in there. Maybe with a passage beyond. Can’t tell for sure. The radiations around this place are really a jumbled mess.”

  “I am seeing something,” said Wilson. This huge slab of rock does not look natural. I mean it’s been cut and fit. Oh, wow! It has a core! A composite metal shaft running down the middle, top to bottom. There are metals above and below, too. You know what? You know what this reminds me of? It can’t be…” Wilson clipped the scanner to his belt, went up to the huge slab of stone, found just the right place, and with his hand, pushed.

  The huge stone slab slowly rotated at its center and pushed open, revealing a ten-foot-wide passageway beyond.

  Wilson looked at us with amazement. “You see that? The thing has got to be nine or ten ton. I pushed it open with one hand! Absolute perfect balance! It’s just like the Coral Castle in Florida.”

  As we moved into the shadowy cavern, R.J. looked back at Wilson. “Okay, that’s one atta-boy for you, Wilson. Why didn’t I get that? I must be slipping.”

  “Yeah, but one aw-shit wipes out ten atta-boys, so it’s no big deal,” replied Wilson.

  “Still, I salute you, sir. It was a wonderful example of perception and reasoning.”

  Wilson paused and turned back to R.J. “Why, thank-you, brother. That’s awfully decent of you.”

  “Gentlemen, if you’re done swooning over each other, may we proceed?”

  The passageway was dark. I pulled a chemical light stick from my flight suit leg pocket. The others followed suit. We cracked them on, giving the cave walls an eerie green glow.

  The entrance narrowed enough that we had to side-step through again, but soon it opened to the expansive cavern R.J. had described. The place was not empty, and even in our chem light it was stunning. It was a scene from an old Earth treasure hunter movie, complete with grand Buddha-like idol on a throne at the far end, and alcoves filled with bowls of precious stones on either side. A time-frozen stream running through the place, crossed by a stone bridge, led to the magnificence of the central idol. There was a strange damp smell in the air unlike anything I had ever sensed before. There were faint sounds in the air, like the tail end of echoes dying slowly away.

  “Place just keeps getting weirder,” said Wilson.

  “Why wouldn’t the slave traders have looted this place, if they were already here?” asked Patrick.

  “Easy,” replied R.J. “We entered Enrika space legally. There’s nothing legal or ethical about those people. They’ve got a back door into this system somehow. If they screwed with these artifacts, they’d probably be detected. So they don’t dare mess with the guardians of this place, but it’s a great spot to conduct illegal affairs. Nobody can see you come; nobody can see you go.”

  “You said you had a radiation signature, R.J. I don’t see any electronics.”

  He raised his scanner. “Behind the idol. Do we dare cross that bridge?”

  Wilson joined in. “Yeah, isn’t this one of those places that spears pop out of the walls, or big rocks roll over you?”

  I scoffed, “I’ll go first, Indiana.”

  “You could probably walk right across that stream,” said R.J. “The water won’t part beneath your feet for hours.”

  “I’ll take my chance with the stone bridge, thank you.”

  It looked safe enough. A simple matrix of stone slabs held above the water by other carefully spaced chunks of rock. There was no guardrail. I led with one foot, and went up the small incline a single step at a time, noticing that my chemical light did not reflect off the water. Nothing threatening happened. At the top, I paused and looked back at my companions. They stared in earnest as though certain death lay in wait. It did not make me feel any better about crossing. I shrugged, then hurriedly half-stepped all the way down to the other side and looked back with sarcasm. “Nothing to it, ladies.”

  They stared for a moment more, then fidgeted around like the Marx Brothers and finally scurried across, stopping next to me, still unwilling to proceed any farther.

  The idol towered above us on a throne thirty feet high. The throne and image were both intricately carved. A healthy number of jewels enhanced their appearance. Carved into the walls on each side were armored warriors, complete with sword and spear. The floor was equally hand-crafted. We were standing on rect
angular cuts of smooth stone, well fit. A spray of white sand partially covered them.

  “Still nothing electronic anywhere, R.J.”

  “It’s coming from behind the throne,” he replied, and he walked behind the monument and searched. “Hidden doorway back here,” he called.

  We followed. An arched door cut into solid rock led to an antechamber of sorts. It looked like a large catacomb, and had been a busy place at one time. Mummies suspended against both side walls had deteriorated to the point that some were no more than a pile of bone and cloth on the floor. Others still stood, barely. Between each, a display of ancient weaponry filled the hall. There was not an empty space on either wall or ceiling. Carvings covered every inch, some of them bearing particularly deep stone work, most of which was filled with faded stains of color.

  Like the others, I surveyed the place, awestruck by the artistry, until something overhead captured my attention. Above each mummy position, there was an elaborate pedestal, and upon the pedestal, a life-size sculpted skull, six on the left side of the room, six on the right. Each skull was finely polished. One resembled marble, another topaz. The six pedestals led to the front of the room where the thirteenth pedestal sat in far greater decor than the others. The shelf was crystal and embellished with jewels. Beneath it was a stone plaque bearing a strange Greek-styled language. Upon this most cherished platform of them all, the skull that should have completed the collection was missing. My thoughts immediately flashed back to Danica’s diamond skull, procured from Dorian Blackwell, merchant of human slaves, renowned dealer in this sector of space.

  But the exotic beauty of the place was impaired by more than just the missing skull. Someone had been here searching relentlessly for something. They had chipped away sections of wall art, searched and desecrated the dead, and hammered holes into the polished floor. And there was the feeling from it that they had not found what they were looking for.

  “There it is,” said Wilson, interrupting the spell we were all under. He pointed to a cutout in the right corner of the far wall. There, sitting on a stone platform, was a communication station bearing a single com computer. It was still manned, in a manner of speaking. A dead body lay in a fetal position beside it, a stain of dried blood around the head. Wilson and I went for a closer look.