Ghent: Finally, some good fortune!
The rope is well covered in all manner of aquatic life, as is generally the case after something is submerged for a while. After several moments of working toward getting at the rope, Ghent clasps the rope with his left hand and tugs firmly on it to test its steadfastness. The rope remains firmly attached to something far above him. His other hand reaches for the rope, yet something within him prevents this. His attention is inexplicably moved from the lifeline in front of him to the utter black depths below him.
He looks down from the submersed ledge into the abyss below. Intermittently, a bright, flashing light begins to pulse out of the darkness below, illuminating the condensed water on the inside of his helmet. Dozens of meters below, a sheet of white light, suspended perfectly in the depths, glows with an intensity that rivals that of the sun. Its light pierces through the murky mass of water to blind Ghent. Ghent pulls his arm to shelter his face from the blazing intensity below. Flashes of shadow and illumination pulsate across the expansive spaces in the submersed abyss. Several suspended objects become obvious as they cast their shadows through the cloudy water.
As the shimmering spectacle seems to drift aimlessly through the depths, the color from within it begins to change to a deep, blood-red. The decreased intensity of light allows Ghent to look on with perfect clarity. Before his eyes, a long, snake-like creature seems to erupt from one side of this anomaly. The long water-snake moves back and forth through the water. The head is difficult to see, but the overall direction of the snake’s course is not.
Ghent drags himself away from the edge by pulling himself along the outside of the smaller tunnel one handhold at a time. His legs resettle on the bottom and he presses through the thick resistant water.
His glove reaches out to the tunnel wall and rubs the smooth rock, forged long ago in the volcanic mountain upon which they now live. Minutes pass, and his legs continue to trudge through the silt-laden bottom. Ghent focuses intently on collecting every ounce of will and self-mastery in an effort to preclude any further sojourn down the passage, curiosity wins the day as he continues. The upward incline in the tunnel ahead of him seems to be slowing his pace, if only slightly. The light from his lantern strikes the surface above him; ripples on the surface diffract the light and reflect it onto the dry ceiling above. As Ghent ventures further, the surface of the water draws closer and closer to the floor of the tunnel.
Emerging slowly from the water within the tunnel, Ghent’s head lamp shines into the air-filled cavern ahead of him. Ghent pulls his hand-held lantern up above the surface, pointing it in every conceivable direction to determine the size of the cavernous opening.
Condensation inside his helmet obscures much of his view initially as he emerges from the water-laden tunnel. The walls are smooth and glisten in the light of his lantern. Small rocks litter the floor of the cavern. Larger rocks seem to have been arranged around the edges of the tunnel, as if placed there deliberately.
As Ghent pulls his hand-held lantern out of the water, the light shines through the sheet of water, displaced by the ascending lantern. As the light ascends, it scatters a luminescent pattern across the ceiling and walls of the air-filled cavern. After taking a moment to survey the surrounding area, Ghent shines his lantern down the tunnel, illuminating the unforeseen distance.
As the dim light scatters its light back to the flooded portion of the tunnel behind them, the shimmering on the wall attracts his focus. An odd grey substance on the wall attracts his gaze. As he begins to reach for the wall, a sound from his right, further up the tunnel, attracts his attention and he withdraws his outstretched hand.
As a reflex, Ghent shines the light down the tunnel in the direction of the source of the sound. A tumbling rock creates a loud raucous as it rolls down the stone laden incline toward him.
The small tumbling rock slowly comes to a stop in front of Ghent; where he promptly places his foot on it, which brings it to a stop. With the focus of his light fixed upon the rock, Ghent bends over to pick it up off of the stony floor. Just before touching the rock with his gloved hand, Ghent pauses, yet again. Through the top of his visor, a newly arrived figure stands before him.
A silent figure, all light gray and large in stature, stands about eight meters in front of Ghent. Ghent slowly moves his light upward toward the figure. The sound of air rushing in and out of Ghent’s flared nostrils precludes any other sound from outside of the suit from being heard. Malevolent and imposing in appearance, yet amiable in posture, the figure stands motionless. Ghent squeezes his eyelids together to better discern whether or not this figure is simply a rock formation that he had not noticed a moment ago.
Two perfectly rounded pillars appear first with the focus of the light as the focus moves from the floor. As the light continues to elevate in focus, a rounded torso finds the legs attached in a somewhat human form. Further up, two stub arms appear to protrude from the torso at the shoulders. A simple rounded head sits firmly atop the figure. No eyes, no nose, no ears or mouth are visible at all.
The first impression that Ghent has of the figure is that of the figures painted on bathroom signs. As his light remains fixated on the singular figure in front of him, his mind begins to compensate for the experiences of the past days. Ghent thinks back to yesterday; the creature among the rocks by the pond had a very similar appearance to what he is now staring at. Is this a figment of the imagination? Has hallucination claimed his reason? His hands quiver steadily despite his attempt at resolving his fear.
Ghent slowly stands upright, his eyes perfectly fixated upon what stands in front of him. A moment of silent observation shows Ghent absolutely no movement in the figure. Ghent begins to slide his left foot backward, preparing to walk away. Just before he begins to turn around, he notices an exact mirror of movement from the figure as it drags its left foot forward toward him.
Ghent: Hello?! Who are you? Can you understand me?
No visible response is given to him at all. Motionless, Ghent watches carefully for any mirrored movement from the subject in front of him. Ghent begins the process of walking backward, slowly. His stride is matched exactly by his observer, step for step. Eight meters spacing is exactly maintained through this accurately choreographed mimicry.
The retreat back into the water is finally realized as Ghent’s boots splash through the surface of the rising water. Ghent quickly turns and dives headlong into what he hopes will be his liquid escape. Ghent returns his handheld lantern back to the fastener on the belt, to gain some speed in his swim back to the entrance of the tunnel. Through his helmet, he can hear the faint splashing sound behind him.
The experience is made infinitely more terrifying as it is had in utter black. A dimly lit column of water in front of him is the only indication that he is not about to collide with the edge of the tunnel and succumb to whatever fate might await him. His heavy breathing begins to fog his visor again, obscuring the view of walls and floating particles as Ghent struggles against an absolute fate.
A struggle within him to fight off the paralytic, yet energetic fear overwhelms Ghent increasingly. A hope beyond hope appears in the distance through the water droplets forming on the inside of his helmet, once again the rope dangles in front of him.
A single grasp of his hand secures Ghent’s ascent. A jolt of uncontrollable energy renews Ghent’s strength. Ghent climbs up the rope, hand over hand, never looking back down below. Above Ghent, the sight of small rays of sunlight seem to penetrate Ghent to his core, warming him with the prospect of escape from a terror, real or unreal as it may be, it is still terrifying. Coming up to the shallow end of the pond, Ghent grasps the end of the rope as it is anchored about two meters below the surface. The slope of the incline is welcoming enough for Ghent to climb up and emerge out of the depths of blackness below.
Crawling out of the pond, Ghent grabs his helmet with both hands and twists it off, and then he throws it off to the side, as if the helmet embodies the struggle w
hich he had just overcome. Several full refreshing breaths are enough to reassure Ghent that he is not dreaming. He would prefer that he had been. Ghent’s increased pulse and increasing desire to vomit reminds him that he needs to invest some more time in exercise.
Ghent lies on the beach, on his back looking up at the mid-day sun, grateful as he had never supposed he might be, to be back on the surface of Mars again. The sun’s faint warming rays seem to press against his skin with the comfort of an utter relief. Large bubbles of air rip through the stilling water, rushing to the top. The surfacing of these bubbles once again compels Ghent to rise to his feet.
Chapter 18
Mendez inserts tweezers to remove the last stinger from the inside of Cardiff’s nose. Cardiff’s fair complexion is now thoroughly complicated by red blotches where she had been stung. Her recent experience in assisting Doctor Ghent has proven to be quite painful. A syringe filled with anti-histamine lay on the table in the mess hall next to Cardiff. Cardiff’s uncomfortable position on the bench adds to her discomfort, if the assortment of bee stings weren’t enough to make her uncomfortable enough. Doctor Mendez grabs the vial and carefully administers the medication.
Doctor Ghent rushes into the mess hall. He bends over, placing his hands on his knees to prop himself up while he catches his breath. Just as Cardiff opens her mouth to talk, Ghent raises a single finger in a “just one moment” manner. Still out of breath and exhausted, Ghent sits down on the bench, about an arm’s reach away from the women.
Ghent: The reach of human understanding undergoes certain amendments from time to time. The situation that now commands my attention requires me to put off my empiricist discipline.
Cardiff: What are you trying to say? Stop being so cryptic and just get to it already.
Ghent: It has become quite clear that we are not alone in our sanctuary within the dome. We share it.
Mendez: Can you elaborate a little bit more on that for me?
Ghent: Certainly. We came here under the preconception that we would determine the manner in which we operated here. I have stumbled upon a discovery that will change everything about how and why we are here.
Cardiff: Let me make this simple enough for you to understand Doctor Ghent. I do not enjoy listening to people babble on in riddle. I just need to know what it is that you know. Try again, this time without the pretentious philosophical discourse.
Ghent: There are several creatures here that did not come out here on some freighter from Earth.
Mendez: Aliens?
Ghent: Um, no. We are technically the aliens here.
Cardiff: Don’t split hairs here. Just tell me what I want to know. What are you talking about?!
Ghent: There are tunnels beneath our feet. Inside one of these tunnels, I saw an “alien”. I saw almost exactly the same thing yesterday too, but in that case it was over behind the big boulders on the opposite shore. They seem to be able to mimic us, to look like us.
Mendez: Okay, I would like to believe you. Really, I would. It just doesn’t make any sense that there is something else here, something native. There hasn’t been any liquid water here for eons. Nothing here inside the dome is “native” to Mars.
Ghent: Don’t talk to me like I’m a simpleton! I understand the factors that preclude such a thing from being so. There was some brilliant source of light in the depths of the pond. It reached out to me. Maybe it is some sort of portal to a place where life already was.
Mendez looks on at Ghent; her drawn eyes indicate her depth in thought. Mendez stands up and walks to the other side of the table from where Ghent sits and places her hands together in a sensible manner. After coming to a rest, she leans forward, closer to him.
Mendez: So, where did you go?
Ghent: I jumped into the pond to save the captain. I sank, like I mentioned a moment ago. My descent was interrupted by a ledge protruding out of a tunnel passage, which was also flooded.
Cardiff: How do you know it was a tunnel?
Ghent: Well, I managed to make my way through the flooded portion.
Mendez: Some of it was dry then?
Ghent: As I was about to say, after a substantial swim in my pressure suit, the tunnel rises out of the water.
Mendez: Alright. So you saw something at the end of the tunnel? Someone maybe?
Ghent: I am afraid that it is slightly more complicated than that.
Mendez: It chased you out of the tunnel?
Ghent: Yes, but it didn’t start to move until I did. It was as if it was meant to stay at a specific distance behind me.
Cardiff: One thing is certainly clear.
Mendez removes her intent attention from Ghent to Cardiff at the end of the table. As she listens she withdraws her opened hands from the table to her own lap.
Cardiff: So, I have my own theory about what is happening here. We aren’t really in the presence of any alien race.
Ghent: Well, they weren’t cardboard cutouts!
Cardiff: I believe that the first team was killed through a series of computer-controlled ‘errors’.
Mendez: Okay, well what evidence do you have about that? Do you know something that I don’t?
Ghent: Forget about that. This is completely unrelated to my discovery. Ignoring this find could result in our demise.
Cardiff: You haven’t discovered anything Doctor. You’re delusional, plain and simple. The same thing has happened here before.
Mendez: Well I think that is a premature…
Ghent: I am not delusional. I’m not. I have been given information that they have not seen fit to give to anyone else. There is a fine line between inspiration and delusion.
Cardiff: Get ahold of yourself Ghent, you’re on the wrong side of that line now. At least my theory makes some sense; think about it. An uplink to the solar rover allowed it to be moved out of sight. The computer controls the environmental controls, the utilities and all communication. What we now see is the product of our imaginations gotten away from us as a result of an elaborate alteration of logs and security feeds.
Mendez: Well, I am not entirely convinced that what we have seen has been altered per se.
Cardiff: So, you would want me to think that we are all crazy then? You saw what I saw; it simply isn’t possible is it? Our imaginations are taking us on this crazy ride.
Mendez: No, I don’t know if we are psychotic. I am just saying that there are other psychological factors that need to be explored before we can assume that we have it figured out.
Cardiff: So, that’s a yes then. Tell you what Doctor Ghent. Why don’t you run some tests on the samples that we’ve collected and I will see if I can find a way to test my own theory.
Ghent: Doctor Mendez, what lies beneath the sleeve of your suit, on your right arm?
Mendez slowly moves her left hand and grasps her right sleeve between her finger and thumb. Without much deliberation, she pulls it away from herself to cover the burn mark that had been left during her unnerving dream.
Ghent: I thought as much. Surely you can see the writing on the wall here. We aren’t alone.
Mendez: I am thinking that it is some form of a psychosomatic…
Ghent: Yes, yes… body with mind. I am sure that you would like to think so. Remember though, it is no stomach ulcer.
Ghent smiles as he turns for the hallway. Just before disappearing down the hallway he pauses, and then turns slowly to face Cardiff.
Ghent: Oh, I am glad that you are alright Captain.
Cardiff: Thanks. Oh, by the way, where is your helmet? We usually carry them around while we are in our pressure suits.
A simple half-grin is his response to her query as he turns back down the darkened hallway.
Chapter 19
A large cloud of fine dust swells up off of the plain about 150 kilometers west of the dome. A large plateau, oddly devoid of the customary rocks, is traversed with speed as Doctor Long strays further from base in the heavy rig. With his arms relaxed at his sides in the driver’s se
at, Long manipulates the control panel, altering music, speed and direction. The satellite’s camera overhead follows the vehicle as it travels; the satellite feed is relayed to Long’s control panel, and he can see obstacles coming from much farther out than he otherwise could.
As he presses closer to the edge of the Olympian plateau, the impending drop-off comes into clear view, not only on the dash but on the horizon as well. The small-looking sun shines above him in the late-morning sky.
The large metal wheels roll rapidly through the thinning sand. The wheels sound out their arrival on the bare rock surface as he slows to a stop just before driving off of the two thousand meter drop-off onto the Martian plain below. The satellite guidance system, which is installed in the cockpit, signals the arrival at the intended destination. Heavy boots settle decisively on the firm, rust-colored rock, just two meters away from the sheer drop. A harness of yellow nylon weave is wrapped around his legs, shoulders and chest. A heavy metal loop is attached to the back allows for secure attachment to the steel cable. After climbing into the harness, Long climbs back up the side of the rig. He presses the control panel one last time. A large metal boom begins to fold out of the heavy rig, almost as if it were an oversized Swiss-army knife. The long metal boom, which resembles the long arm on a crane now, is anchored surely at the front of the rig. A heavy steel cable is lowered down to Long from the top.
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