The Season of Passage

by Christopher Pike

  A compact elevator lifted them to the next level, a living area. Sitting on a low table was a chess game, in remission. Lauren began to perspire in her suit. Black was playing black. There was no doubt who was going to win.

  The living area branched into three tiny bedrooms. One for each of them. Welcome Earthmen. Bill said they should check them out. He disappeared into the one on the left. Jim took the one in front. Lauren wanted to chase after them, and plead with him that they shouldn't separate. But she was afraid to look stupid. They would only be on the other side of the wall, for godsakes.

  Yet her short meeting with Carl had taught her a thing or two about being alone. Even an instant was long enough for the hand holding the jagged sliver of mirror to reach out and lay her open like a cow on a butcher's block. Yes, her meeting with Carl had been instructional in every sense of the word. He had put things in her head she was never

  going to get out. Whispered words of love. She was sure Carl would have tried to kiss her even when his blood was gushing out of his neck.

  Lauren stepped quietly through the doorway that led to the right-hand bedroom. Almost immediately she let out a sigh of relief. The room was not much different than the bedrooms aboard the Nova, except that the Russians had had bunk beds. Both bunks were unmade, with the blankets piled indiscriminately on the lower bed. Best of all, the room was empty. She loved empty rooms that didn't have corpses in them.

  Then Lauren noticed something odd. There seemed to be a lack of circulation in the lower sections of her suit. Cold was seeping from the floor into her legs. Quickly she consulted her suit indicators, but everything was as it should be. Then she noticed a bad smell, which should have been impossible inside her suit. The odor was both familiar and elusive at the same time. It was definitely a stink of decay, but whatever was rotting was totally foreign to her.

  Lauren convinced herself she was just imagining things. She crossed to the desk and picked up a family picture. The woman was tall, of slight build, with long red hair and sad gray eyes. The children, a girl and a boy, were both dark-haired, and the man standing behind them was the commander of the Gorbachev, the first human being ever to step on another planet. She was in Dmitri Maximov's quarters, and the realization saddened her. Such a wonderful man, she thought. She sat in the chair by the desk and opened the top drawer. Inside she found a thick book. She leafed through the pages. It was Dmitri's diary, recorded in Russian, in a firm graceful hand. She decided to take it back to the Hawk and have Friend translate it.

  As Lauren closed the diary and prepared to stand and leave, she caught the slightest trace of movement at the

  limit of her peripheral vision. It came from the lower cot, and it made her freeze so solid she could have turned to stone. It was just her imagination running away with her, sure, she knew that. But was there just a one in a million chance there was someone under the blankets?

  Come look, come peek. You know you want to, Lori.

  Lauren thought of calling Jim and Bill. They were just in the other rooms. She was having trouble speaking, though; it had something to do with her dry throat. And even if she could talk, she had to wonder whether she wanted to make a fool of herself again, as she had with Carl. Of course it was another Carl she was worried about. Good old Carl. He seemed to be with her now, giving her advice. There really was no other way to explain why she was standing up and walking toward the bed. There was no other way to explain the voices in her head. She was getting kind of used to them by now, although she knew they weren't really there. Still, it annoyed her the way they kept calling her Lori when her real name was Lauren. So what if Gary called her Lori? He was her friend. Carl wasn't.

  Nor were Carl's partners.

  The only light was from her headlamp. It filled the room with shadows. Lauren knelt by the bed. There was definitely something beneath the blankets. It could be another blanket. Or maybe a pile of clothes. Clothes were often put beneath blankets, she thought. She put them there herself sometimes. Once she put a whole pile of laundry beneath her blankets on Halloween in an effort to convince Terry that there was a body sleeping in their bed.

  A body, Lori.

  Lauren touched the blankets and began to peel them back. She told herself it was her duty to do so, and a voice said inside her head that she should enjoy her duty because it might just...

  Get me killed.

  Lauren dropped the sheets and sprang to her feet. She had to fight with every nerve in her body to stop trembling, and it was a fight she won for about two seconds. Then she began to scold herself, as was her habit when she was afraid. So the wind was blowing like it hadn't blown in a million years. So Carl had winked at her. So black was playing black. She was a fucking astronaut. She didn't believe in ghosts. If there was a body under the blankets, then fuck it. It was dead. It wasn't going to bite her. It wasn't going to drink her blood. Carl hadn't tried to drink her blood, even if he had talked about it.

  Come on, Lori, we did a little more than talk. Admit it.

  There is no one there!

  Lauren put her finger on the laser trigger and aimed it at the bed. Using the tip of her right boot, she began to ease the blankets away. It was not so terrible. It could have been a lot worse. She knew that from experience. There could have been blood. There could have been dangling nerves, floating eyeballs. Yuck! Here there was just blond hair, pale skin, closed eyes, a frozen grin, a bony chest, gray shorts, skinny legs, and a dead Russian.

  Call Jim. Call Jim. Call Jim!

  Lauren didn't call anybody. She was under a spell. She was no longer breathing, although blood roared in her head. She knelt beside the dead Russian. She touched his abdomen and studied the texture of his skin. It was not frozen. It was soft, too soft to make sense in the sub-freezing temperature. Increasing the reception of her vocals and tilting her helmet to the side, she pressed her head down and listened for a heartbeat. It was a dumb thing to do with a two-year-old corpse, she realized, and naturally she didn't hear a thing except her own pounding heart. She straightened up and then leaned over to study his face.

  He opened his eyes and smiled at her.

  'Jim!' Lauren screamed. She fell on the floor and scrambled away. 'Jim!'

  The corpse sat up slowly and faced her, still smiling. Lauren ran backward into the desk. The corpse stood and looked down at her, then took a step toward her. Lauren shoved desperately back against the desk, but it had nowhere to go, and neither did she. The corpse took another step in her direction, and then another. Coming. Coming. Please, Mummy, tell me that it doesn't mean anything, that it's only a story.

  Lauren found her laser - it was still around her neck -and aimed the muzzle at the Russian. She put four pounds of pressure on a five-pound trigger and swore in her mind for it to come no closer. Four hundred million miles to rescue you, buddy, but if you touch me, I'll blow your goddamn guts all over the wall.

  The Russian's teeth glinted in her head lamp.

  It bent over and reached out its hand.

  Stop!

  'Wait!' Jim called from the doorway. Bill crouched by his side, his own laser aimed at the Russian. Jim stepped into the room. He spoke softly. 'Wait.'

  The pale Russian turned his outstretched hand in Jim's direction. They shook hands. Lauren thought she was going to faint. She was pretty sure she had wet the flannels inside her suit. That was OK. Pee smelled a lot better than the room did.

  'You're Ivan Zossima,' Jim said, his voice no doubt clear to Ivan even through the faceplate of his helmet. There was plenty of air inside the Karamazov, even if it was cold. 'I remember your face. My name's James Ranoth. We're the

  American expedition. We're happy to see you're alive.'

  Alive. Ivan nodded his head at the mention of the word. Lauren realized she had almost committed murder.

  'Hello,' she said gamely to Ivan. 'I'm sorry about my reaction. It's just that I thought you were dead.' Ivan smiled. She continued, 'My name's Lauren Wagner. Can you speak English?'

&nbs
p; Ivan shook his head. Bill stepped into the room, his laser still held ready. 'Where are the other members of your crew?' he asked.

  Ivan grinned. His irises were like green marbles.

  Lauren whispered to Bill and Jim, 'He looks like he's in shock. When I found him he was lying so still. I ain't kidding, I thought he was dead.'

  'If I'd been lying here for two years, I don't think I'd look much better,' Jim said. 'What temperature do you have in here, Lauren?'

  'Same as the monitors said downstairs. Just below freezing. He must be cold.'

  'He's not shivering,' Bill said. 'Could he have adapted to this temperature out of necessity?'

  Lauren nodded. 'There have been cases where people have survived lengthy exposure to cold with little or no protection. Our physiology is remarkably adaptable.'

  Ivan stared at them as they spoke. He was exceptionally pale, although he was not emaciated. His eyes were a puzzle. He watched them, yet he did not give the impression he actually saw them. He did not blink.

  Jim indicated the picture on the desk. 'Ivan, where is your commander? Where is Dmitri? Do you understand me?'

  Ivan nodded. He pointed out the door. His nails were long.

  'Anything in the other rooms?' she asked Bill and Jim.

  'No,' Bill said. 'I'm going to make a quick inspection of the rest of the ship. Lauren, do not get so close to him that he could take you by surprise.'

  'Bill?'

  'Do what I say.' He left the room.

  Once more Jim gestured to Dmitri's picture. 'Do you really know where the rest of your crew is, Ivan?'

  Again Ivan nodded and pointed out the door. 'Are you cold?' Jim asked. He made a shivering gesture. Ivan smiled, showing his big yellow teeth.

  'Do you know any Russian, Jim?' Lauren asked. 'I read somewhere that you can speak sixteen languages.'

  'I can speak six languages, but unfortunately Russian is not one of them. But Friend can translate what he has to say. Where did you find him? On that bed?'

  'Yes,' Lauren said. 'He was just lying there, under the blankets. He didn't get up or move when I walked in.' She paused. 'That's strange. Look at him.'

  'What is it?' Jim asked.

  'It's his body language. He doesn't have any.'

  'He's smiling.'

  'Those are not normal smiles,' she said. 'They look mechanical.'

  'You'll have to examine him.'

  Lauren nodded. 'But we can't take him back to the Hawk. He could have an alien disease.'

  'Very alien,' Jim agreed. They lapsed into a watchful silence. Ivan continued to wear his grin, and Lauren was reminded of Carl, blissful Carl. Bill returned.

  'The ship's empty,' he said. 'Have you discovered anything further from Zossima?'

  'He continues to nod and point out the door when we ask about his companions,' Jim said.

  Bill stepped past Ivan and grabbed the photo. He shoved

  it in front of Ivan's face and pointed at Dmitri. 'Take us to him,' he said.

  Ivan nodded and left the room. They followed after him, and he led them to another bedroom. There he pushed a tiny red button which uncovered a clear round porthole. He pointed east in the direction of Olympus Mons.

  'Dmitri Maximov is there?' Bill asked.

  Ivan nodded.

  'You will take us to him,' Bill said. 'Now.'

  Ivan appeared to understand. He nodded again.

  Jim gestured to their jeep far below. He made a steering motion. 'Should we drive?' he asked.

  Ivan imitated the steering motion and nodded enthusiastically. He led them to the laboratory and began to put on a suit. Bill contacted the Hawk. 'Major Wheeler?'

  'Yes, sir?' Gary said.

  'We've found a survivor.'

  'Sure, Bill. I understand.'

  'Ivan Zossima is alive. He appears to know where the rest of his crew is. There are no bodies here. We are going with him in the jeep to investigate. Notify Houston.'

  'Huh? You're serious? The dude's really alive?'

  'Yes,' Bill said. 'Colonel Brent out.'

  When Ivan finished putting on his suit, they left the Karamazov and climbed in the jeep and rolled over the white plateau toward Olympus Mons. The Hawk fell behind on their right. Ivan sat in the front seat with Bill, occasionally pointing the way. Lauren figured if they drove another half mile they would ram into a wall of solid rock. However, as they got closer, she saw a jagged black hole in the side of the mountain, the mouth of a cave. Jim saw it, too, and leaned forward and tapped Ivan on the shoulder. He pointed at the opening. Ivan nodded in his bulky helmet. He was an agreeable fellow.

  'If we go into the mountain any distance,' Jim said to Bill. 'We'll lose our communications.'

  'I know,' Bill said. He glanced at Ivan. 'We'll stay on our toes.'

  A minute later they were forced to park the jeep. The ground before them rose steeply, and it was piled with rocks. The cave loomed a hundred feet overhead. It was lined with sharp stones that bore an uncanny resemblance to teeth. Lauren did not want to go in there. She thought that if she did, she would never come out. But Ivan was leading them happily forward, seemingly gaining new life with each passing second.

  The weak gravity helped their climb up the rocks, and they were able to reach the opening of the cave without the aid of ropes or their jetpacks. They carried fresh oxygen canisters with them from the jeep. Plus flares, environmental monitors, and of course their lasers. At the door of the cave, Bill instructed them to halt. Once more he contacted the Hawk.

  'Major Wheeler?'

  'Your wife is throwing a fit,' Gary said.

  'Tell Jessie we will be careful,' Bill said. 'But there could be a danger here, a danger we are totally unfamiliar with.' He explained the terrain to Garry. 'We will be underground for a while. If you do not hear from us in eight hours, you will once again begin preparation to take off, and then leave at the next favorable positioning of the Nova. No effort is to be made to find us. I think you understand the importance of this order, Gary.'

  'Not really, but I'll do what you say.'

  'Good,' Bill said. He turned off his radio.

  'Isn't that a bit drastic?' Lauren asked.

  'Not in my opinion,' Bill said. 'But I wouldn't mind if you stayed with Jessie and Gary.'

  Lauren shook her head. 'I go where you guys go.'

  'We can't be too careful with the rest of mankind,' Jim said to Lauren. She glanced at Ivan. His grin remained frozen on his face as if it were constructed of hard wax.

  'I suppose so,' she said.

  They plunged into the tunnel, and left the snow behind. Quickly Lauren's eyes adjusted to the dimness. The cave was approximately thirty feet wide, half that in height, with smooth, black, marble-like walls and floor. The floor and walls were not made of marble, however. Not only did the material fail to reflect their lights, it actually seemed to absorb the beams. Jim rubbed his gloved hand over the substance.

  'It's of volcanic origin,' he said, puzzled. 'It's very hard. But I don't know what it is.'

  'You never told me,' Lauren said. 'Is Olympus Mons extinct?'

  'No,' Jim said.

  'I wish you'd never told me,' Lauren said. Jim smiled. Lauren continued, 'This place almost looks as if it were carved by a machine.'

  'It does appear unnatural, doesn't it?' Jim added thoughtfully, 'Still, here are places on Earth that give the same impression.'

  Ivan led them forward at a fast pace. The cave veered to the right, to the left, and then it started to go down, with an angle of declination close to forty degrees. With the exception of Ivan, they all came close to slipping a number of times. The cave kept its uniform black smoothness, and they walked on and on, without much talk. Ivan must have been in good shape, his two years of isolation notwithstanding. Lauren's thirst grew; she felt hot. Perhaps unnaturally hot. When they had been marching for close to thirty

  minutes Jim brought them to a sudden halt.

  'What is it?' Bill asked. He held his gun ready to fire, and
kept his eyes on Ivan.

  'What temperature do you have, Lauren?' Jim asked. His voice sounded loud.

  'Why, it's two degrees above freezing!' she exclaimed. 'And the air pressure is up threefold. It's at thirty-one millibars.' With the denser air, it was no wonder they sounded loud. They were going to have to turn their vocals down.

  'How is that possible?' Bill asked Jim.

  'A shift in temperature is to be expected as one goes underground, especially into a volcano. But the pressure is another matter. I've never seen anything like it. It's possible the tunnel is being fed with a constant supply of gas. But I haven't noticed any drafts. I really don't know, Bill.'

  'I see,' Bill said.

  They continued their descent. Another half hour of vigorous walking passed, which brought them to a distance of approximately three miles from the plateau. If they did not reverse their course soon, Lauren thought, they would be pressed to meet Bill's eight-hour deadline. It was going to take them much longer to climb out of the cave. For all of her powers of endurance, Lauren was exhausted. More than anything else, she would have liked to stop and drink a big glass of water. Jim trudged by her side, his head bowed, his breathing hard. Of course he never complained. Bill and Ivan pulled a short distance ahead. Incredibly, the air pressure tripled once more, and the temperature crept five degrees above freezing.'

  Abruptly their commander stopped and shouted something. Jim and Lauren caught up a minute later. Her first impression was that the cave had dead-ended. Bill and Ivan

  stood before a circle of featureless black. Then she realized that a few feet in front of them the walls and the floor vanished. They pointed their lights in every direction and saw nothing.

  'You're lucky you didn't walk off the edge,' Jim said.

  'No thanks to our friend here,' Bill said. 'Do you think it's safe to shoot a flare?'

  Jim considered. 'From the sound of our voices, yes. This space must be huge. But set the fuse for proximity detonation.'

  Bill unhooked the flare launcher from his belt and adjusted the fuse. Then he raised his arm and fired. Lauren began to count. When she got to two the place exploded in a dazzling shower of white light. What she saw made her stagger back a step, overwhelmed by the titanic scale of what the flare revealed.