Because he was there and there was no one else. The answer was so clear it could have been branded to his arm. The others were now counting on him. No one else knew the dig like he did.
The thought strengthened his resolve and Othello kept his watch.
* * *
Grant cautiously crept away from his landing crater to explore the cave. The clearance was only slightly over a meter; standing was a fantasy long left above.
The stone beneath his feet was not chiseled by hand but simply cleared as if the rock had settled out of place eons ago. There were no stalactites above or distinct formations to suggest running water. He didn’t expect it on Mars but the void remained a vexing occurrence.
His helmet’s vision processor provided a picture of the closer surroundings but farther out everything faded into darkness. There was no real sense of direction, so the soldier followed a sloping grade down deeper into the Martian crust. At least he knew he could crawl back to where he started. Grant almost laughed. That was a lie.
Before the ground gave way to a straight ledge which he again found odd, to say the least, he peered over saw rock below, and took a chance.
Sliding out of the crawlspace, his feet touched solid ground, and he stood upright for the first time. The floor caught his attention first. Looking down again, Grant saw the dusty bottom of the cave was cut and polished. The edges were squared off. He shook his head. The miner must have lied to him. They must have been digging down deeper and branching off from the other major holes.
Traps notwithstanding, the revelation was comforting. At least he knew someone had been through with a purpose. There were still no signs of the aliens so he picked a direction and continued onward. At this point, survival needed to come first.
The rock vein above, which he had just entered from, branched away, leaving him in a passage maybe two and change meters high and four wide. So strange, Grant thought as the hall cut back and forth. Why would they carve this whole mess out?
Ahead the helmet refused to render the walls and instead returned a black nothingness. He slowed his jog and stayed to the side, clenching his jaw and waiting for the worst. ‘Expect a landmine’ was now a permanent addition to his mental checklist.
Grant stepped forward and was greeted with silence. The darkness ahead opened to a massive cavern, which was nearly the size of the dig site constructed on the surface. Tracing his weapon around, he looked for any sign of possible threats while processing his surroundings. The floor was polished flat like the passageway. What the hell is all this? He asked himself again.
Low walls protruded behind him and extended upwards to the ceiling. The ceiling was a perfect semicircular dome. If he had been on Earth, Grant would have assumed he had just stepped out onto the field of a massive Olympic stadium. Questions continued to pile up.
Broken crates, boxes, and nameless piles of scrap were strewn about the floor. He approached the closest one and saw it was riddled with bullet holes. A battle had taken place here, he thought.
Everything was again coated with powdered dust of the ages. Some twisted metal parts bore thick rust but looked more forgotten than anything else as if they had been run through a compactor and dropped down the hole for a millennium.
Another step; he felt a protrusion in the floor and a discernable crunch from beneath his foot. Reaching down, Grant found the object and pulled it before his face.
A brittle flake of metal, probably brass, now corroded beyond repair, filled his palm. It had been a tube before he stepped on it, Grant guessed as he rotated the object about. The ends had collapsed and he examined them closer. A circular structure was attached at one end and the two sides of the veteran’s brain were instantly at odds. It was a primer. The object was a bullet casing.
His eyes adjusting and staring in disbelief, Grant looked about the floor. A hundred more were strewn in every direction. Some alien battlefield? He thought. They could have evolved in similar fashion to us depending… His mind bounced through more contingencies trying to avoid the worst question of them all. How did our equipment get here?
Grant continued scanning the floor, looking for answers. He noticed closer up the floor took on two distinct tones around the alien wreckage. Again, his brain fought the conclusion. Dried blood, he thought. Something was drug here while it was bleeding out.
Almost absent-mindedly, Grant opened his first aid kit on his waist and withdrew a small probe hardly bigger than a nail. He touched it to the computer screen on the inside of his arm to sync, and then gently pressed the end into the dried, flaky material. The screen flashed “Identifying…”
The response took only a second. “Human Blood: Type O-Positive. Estimated Age: Unknown. Heavy Unknown Pathogen Content…Decoding Genetic Residue...Owner in Service.”
If his head wasn’t spinning before the last line, it was now. The word ‘Identifying’ flashed a few times on the screen before returning the picture of a young recruit, looking solemnly at the camera. Grant froze as he stared back at his own picture, now going on five years old. He opened his mouth to calm himself but only air escaped. “No…” was all he managed to say. He looked at the metal cylinder in his hand. He could just barely make out the numbers 3-0-8 on the base.
In an instant, the soldier felt a column of energy surge through his body as if a bolt of lightning hit the back of his neck and shot through every nerve ending in his body. Grant’s body froze and his consciousness was stripped from the room, the planet, and the universe around him. All at once he could see the heavens open before his eyes.
He was floating in space, alone and without a pressure suit. Before him stretched the Milky Way galaxy from one side of his field of view to the other. Not from behind a foot of glass or through a computer screen, but expanding out in every direction. The detail was astounding, beyond anything he had seen from his fighter or in the academy’s gallery.
All together it illuminated him with the untold radiant light of a billion stars like an oasis besieged by an infinite desert. The thought of life and all its possibilities swirled through his head. Each arm sparkled with the light of uncountable systems as they radiated out from the blinding galactic core. He reached out with a hand, as if to touch the light, feeling ever so close yet so far away.
The vision changed, and Grant felt himself flung inward until out of the brilliant form, smaller structures appeared. Individual stars flew by along with clouds of gas until he came to rest before a tiny blue dot. Earth. Home.
Like the galaxy before, the insignificant planet filled his view. Thousands of visions pummeled Grant’s mind; all the pain and suffering along with every achievement endured by humanity. All endured for the speck of dust before him.
Out of the darkness beyond, from every side, Grant saw hundreds of ships appear. The black forms were unlike anything he had encountered before, but he instantly knew their purpose deep in the bottom of his soul: annihilation. They were coming to end his home.
He heard the shouts of the planet’s valiant defenders as they fell and saw a thousand pinpricks of light erupt in nuclear fires from the surface below. Earth was going to burn.
Through the vision, a thought permeated. If destruction was inevitable, why was he here? Grant didn’t know who or what was there to answer but he didn’t care. Maybe he was already dead and this was the final firing of the synapses in his brain, trying to make sense of the impending oblivion.
From the enveloping terror, he still felt hope. “What can I do?” he asked the universe.
The feeling of eternal hope broke through and the soldier had his answer. For the first time in what felt like eons, he heard her voice. “Jeff…” His mind refocused and the universe pulled back. “Jeff…” He felt her soothing voice again. “RUN!” she screamed with a voice to collapse the walls and wake the dead.
Like a dive through an icy waterfall, Grant snapped back, still standing in the middle of the abandoned arena. The voice echoed within his head again, “RUN!”
Grant heard gunshots ring out from unseen foes, so he did as she told and ran. Another passage led off from the field before him and he made straight for the entrance. Holding his rifle against his chest, he sprinted as fast as he could while trying to outrun the shots and alien voices echoing about the dark chamber.
The vision was burned in his head; he would never forget it. But what did it mean? He couldn’t possibly do what it asked.
Leaping over a fallen alien corpse that was decomposed to nothing more than bones and armor, Grant didn’t stop for any more investigations. Whatever the hell was down here could stay forever. He was riding on wings of fear to not share their fate. Where was he going? Forward. Anywhere but where he was.
More shots exploded off the walls behind him, and Grant heard the voices shriek loud enough to raise the hairs on his arms.
22
“Will that work?” Othello asked the soldier standing precariously at the edge of the precipice.
“It’s why we brought them,” the other man replied and lightly tossed the half dozen mines in his hand over to the far side. “They’ll blow if anything comes too close. It might not be enough to kill them all but it’ll give us some warning.”
Othello nodded and watched the small metal boxes sail across the chasm. Of all the things that had been dropped on him the last few days, nothing ate his mind like the thought of alien invaders knowing more about his base and his dig than he did. How did they know the hole was only a meter away from theirs? Then the real kicker: If they did half the digging for them, did his team attract them? No, he couldn’t live with that kind of blood on his hands.
“We’re secure,” the soldier stated and hit a button on his control panel to arm the mines. “We can pull back to the landing.”
Othello nodded and rested his rifle upon his shoulder as he turned towards their target. “Let’s go before those things get the drop on us.”
He casually walked back to the dig where they had left the others. The soldiers were still at the ready but the trio of other miners were circled around the mechanic at one of the control panels by their main RF rig. This can’t be good, he thought silently as he approached.
The mechanic turned back before he could inquire. “Do you know your scanner can’t see through the rock?”
“What?” The question came at Othello out of nowhere.
“Well, it’s still calibrated for the surface. There are extra contaminants this far down that were never compensated for. Could you see anything at all?”
Othello thought through what the other man said. “No, that can’t be right. We were able to navigate building all the tunnels,” he said with authority. But could he be wrong?
“I can see the shaft that Private Grant fell down from here. The bottom is out of range, but how else did you miss it?”
“He’s right. We’ve been drilling blind. It’s dumb effing luck that we didn’t bore straight into the whole complex,” one of the miners added.
“Okay,” Othello said, shaking his head. “I don’t believe it but fine. Can you see any other shafts?”
Scott turned the transmitting array. “I can see sixteen more. Well, the tops of them. They don’t look machined.”
Othello looked over his shoulder at the screen. “Those look like vents. Maybe they shifted over time. Are we really digging to an alien base?”
“I’d believe it. It’d explain their interest in the site.”
“Jesus.”
“Don’t lose it yet,” Othello said, trying to be the voice of sanity. “We’ve got some better scanners around here, right? Can we focus down on what’s beneath us?”
* * *
The tunnel turned left and right through the endless expanse of ancient rock, and Grant continued rushing onward still not risking a glance behind him. He couldn’t go much further but he needed to turn the tables on the freaks. A confined place didn’t suit his purposes at all.
More passaged branched out every now and then with no discernable features between them. Grant sprinted along, navigating by guessing alone. The voice still rattled him: “RUN!”
He tripped and went to his knees, sliding about the dusty, slick floor. He grasped for the wall, pulled himself up and kept moving. Grant felt his heart racing and his breathing and perspiration had nearly overwhelmed his mask as a hint of fog began to form behind his visor.
In almost answer to an unsaid prayer, the tunnel again turned to black, and he ran into a massive expansive cavern. Runway? Roadway? Whatever it was, it was big enough to park a carrier. Crumbled, twisted piles of metal were spread about, long since abandoned.
Straight ahead, a single pile of rock jutted up from the ground. Grant judged it to be a rough-hewn support but one way or another it was cover. He got to the base, climbed up on a steep grade until he could brace himself along the back. He froze, waiting for his heart rate to drop and for his pursuers to arrive.
It only took moments before he heard their clamoring about. They had stopped blindly shooting but still growled and shouted in an alien language that he could only describe as animalistic at each other. Grant peeked around the edge of the rock to see what was coming.
A squad of five of the black aliens was approaching, smoke pouring off their armor concealing their movement. Even so, the lone human could see they kept a tight spacing. It would be a close call, he decided, but doable unless they pulled out any more new maneuvers.
Before he could make a move, Grant felt a grinding in the rock and the sound of stone grumbling above; it was a distant vibration but one that steadily grew louder. He looked back. The aliens felt it as well and scanned around for the source.
More grinding, and then he heard a sharp crack. A few small chips of stone fragmented off the ceiling far above and dropped down on the aliens’ heads. Stunned, they looked up in time only to see the roof above them crumble to bits and a roaring, spinning, two hundred ton drilling rig crash through. It gained speed as it descended in free fall, and the entire chamber echoed with the deafening impact of the machine onto the rock below.
The shock knocked Grant back off his perch and he tumbled to the ground in a sea of dust and powder. He rolled back over, pointed his rifle back where the aliens had stood and charged in. Even if they were still there, he wouldn’t get a better diversion.
Only one still moved. The alien to the right had unluckily been standing right at the edge of impact. Half its body had disappeared beneath the smoking wreckage. Most of its internal fluids had spilled onto the ground but still it fought, clawed, and screeched to free itself.
It saw Grant approach, tried to reach for a weapon, but was too slow. The human put a burst straight through its skull, blowing what remained into a paste.
Grant slewed his gaze to the hole above to see a single soldier swinging from a climbing rope at the edge. “Mr. Grant!” he shouted, illuminating the cavern with a small light on his visor. “Can you hear me?” he said and tried over the radio immediately afterwards.
“Down here!” he replied over the comm channel and flashed his rifle’s light in his direction.
The hanging soldier braced himself inverted against the edge of the borehole and checked Grant over, muzzle first. Satisfied by the post-destruction-serenity, he let the rifle hang and worked to loosen the rest of the rope. “Hold on, I’ll get you up.”
Grant waited beneath, anxiously preparing for another attack. He grabbed the nylon coil before it even fully extended, clipped it to his waist and gave his rescuer a thumbs-up. “Let’s go.”
The other soldier relayed the message to someone else unseen and the line lost its slack and pulled them out of the chamber.
Slowly rotating on the ascent, Grant watched his world turn black once more. The room below was a distant memory, a void shrinking beneath his feet. Endless striations of rock passed by, counting back the millennia since they had tasted the air. Far above, the only hope that remained glowed as a tiny spot of light, filtering down through the newly-minted dust.
The walls of the shaft first felt calming as if he was saved from all his sins for a few short minutes. The feeling of solace gave way again to fear as Grant felt his vision again and again slam before his mind. The words and pictures echoed on to infinity.
Stone comprising the walls looked to slide inwards, choking him to the point of suffocation. He had chosen a terrible time to explore the wonders of claustrophobia. By the time he reached the surface, he could have charged a dozen of the aliens if it meant escaping that tomb.
Othello grabbed the cable above Grant’s head and in one movement, swung him over the ground and released the clasp. He watched the soldier tumble to the ground, shaking as if in shock. The fall hadn’t caused any visible injury, so he knelt to inspect him closer.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “What happened?”
“Nothing. It’s fine. Nothing. No, everything!” he shouted, still shaking. “We have to leave. I have to get out of here!” He flailed about, trying to focus his torrent of thoughts.
Othello ripped the visor up from the soldier’s face and caught his arms. “What happened?” he sternly asked again, their gazes meeting halfway.
“I-I saw something. It’s crazy I know, but trust me, we have to get back to Earth.”
The miner released Grant as he seemed to calm down, having dropped a weight off his chest. “What about the colony? We have to get the rest of the aliens and secure the surviving colonists.”
Grant struggled but got back to his feet. The pair had now grown a crowd. “There aren’t many left, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. We need to get back to Earth.”
The other colonists, miners, and security forces around were red-lining near exhaustion as it was. They stood around waiting for the next order. “What do you need us to do?” the engineer spoke first.
“Let’s get back to the main floor and to the line. The only way we’re getting back is through the Corps. They have the ships.”
MissionSRX: Ephemeral Solace Page 13