A story in the round written by members of SFNovelist.com
Edited by Victory Crayne
Copyright 2009
Gundar Olafson arrived with Sunta Garcia, his female reporter partner for CCB, the international news organization, at the spaceport at Zubrin, the capital city of Mars named after Dr. Robert Zubrin, the founder of the Mars Society on Earth. They had been sent from the United Earth (UE) Development Organization (UNDO) as undercover agents to find out if there is a conspiracy to overthrow UNDO’s control of Mars.
Sunta commented, “I’m looking forward to seeing if I’m one of the few women who are sensitive to transformanium trioxide (TTO) ore. I’d like to be able to see into the future, even if for only one minute.”
Gundar whispered into her ear, “Just remember our cover story of reporting on the alien artifacts discovered here last week. Rumors at HQ are that even though the artifacts are two million years old, they might lead to the development of weapons.”
Before Gundar could say any more, he noticed the cordon of eight Zubrin Security who greeted them as they carried their luggage off the space ship. “We are reporters for CCB and have right of passage guaranteed by UNDO.”
A serious looking officer with a goatee and dark skin extended his hand palm up.
Apparently he’s been out of the dome often enough to get that rich tan. That’s a bit unusual for an urban cop. Doesn’t talk much either.
Both reporters took out their passports and CCB ID cards. After the officer scanned all four cards at the kiosk, he barked, “Follow me!”
“Where are you taking us? We have right of free passage!” demanded Sunta.
“Governor Alexis Barg,” replied the officer.
As they stood on the moving walkway that connected the spaceport with the secure city of Zubrin, with a cop in front and another behind them, Sunta became aware of three things. First, that by Earth standards, Zubrin was small. She could see the entire domed structure through the walkway’s transparent enclosing tubing. Second, the place seemed sparsely populated. A walkway like this, back on Earth, would have been crowded. Third, that skirts, which she had deliberately selected to emphasis her feminine charms, were a bad idea. They tended to billow in the slipstream of the walkway and didn’t fall back into innocuous drapes due to lack of gravity. She had to pinch the cloth between her knees to remain decent.
The walkway moved them quickly through a second airlock, and Sunta felt the city air was heavier with oxygen and smelled more of people than the spaceport atmosphere had. There was no longer a covering tube and the walkway now had numerous exit points, which their guides ignored. But still only a few people were visible walking between the buildings, which were uniformly squat and cube like.
One was painted bright yellow, and the cops hustled them into its portals, nodding to the police who lounged in the foyer. They were led up some wide stairs, along a corridor, and into a reception area. A robot guarded the inner sanctum. The sun tanned cop fed a ticket into its mouth, and the door behind it opened, admitting them into a generous office.
Governor Alexis Barg, in a military uniform and wearing an obvious wig, sat behind the desk. He was prodding, with a cautious finger, two United Nations Development Organization (UNDO) passports. Gundar and Sunta’s.
“They’re forgeries,” he snarled.
Barg glared at Gundar and Sunta like he was examining something extremely distasteful. "Forgeries this good are not easy to come by. Which means that you people are not who or what you claim. So, I want to know who you are. Why are you here?"
"We…" Sunta started.
"What she means to say is we have no idea what you are talking about," Gundar interrupted, knowing that they dare not reveal their true identities or mission to Barg. Until they knew if there really was a conspiracy, they had no way of knowing who they could trust, or who was involved in any Martian conspiracy. "Governor Barg, those passports were issued by the UNDO Consulate in Nuevo-Santa Barbara, and are absolutely authentic."
"Really?" Barg sneered. "I suppose my UNDO Passport Control security scanners are wrong? Perhaps someone has tampered with my security systems, Mr. Olafson? Or, perhaps, Gundar Olafson isn't your real name? Perhaps you're a pair of agent provocateurs attempting to infiltrate Zubrin?"
"Governor Barg, that's ridiculous," Sunta replied. "Why would anyone go to the effort to infiltrate Zubrin? Do you think we'd try to steal the secret of transformanium? Come on. Everyone knows that transformanium is found in ores here. There’s nothing to steal."
"Exactly," Gundar continued. "We're reporters, just like our passports and credential say. We have nothing to hide, and certainly no reason to use forged papers to come here. We're here to tell the story about the remarkable growth of Zubrin. Yes, we are here to gather information, we admit that. But we are not stealing anything."
"Excellent. I'm so happy to hear you say that," Barg said, as he nodded at a pair of nearby security officers, and added, "Then you won't mind us doing a DNA scan and background search, will you?" He looked at the security detail. "Lock 'em up until we find out what they're up to."
Although his mouth was instantly dry, Technician Sam'l Phle'tat swallowed hard when the two Zubrin Security guards stepped into his office. Things were progressing just as the mysterious woman, who had chimed his hatchway a week ago, told him they would. Two blood samples that needed immediate DNA verification would show up on his desk within the month. Now, here they were.
He looked to the picture of his parents and touched the edge of the frame. He hadn't been able to speak with them since the strange woman had visited. She told him that his parents were still alive and would be okay. If, and only if, he followed her instructions.
He swallowed again and prayed he could trust her.
He carried the tubes to the laboratory and called up the menu item that started a new analysis on the DNA Resonance Neutralizer and Imaging Turing machine (DARN-IT). However, instead of drawing blood from one of the tubes, he pulled out the small capsule that the woman had given him. He broke it open, let the blood inside drip onto the receiving disk of the machine, and started the analysis.
As the machine broke apart the blood's chromosomes and analyzed four-hundred-thousand individual DNA pairs, he remembered his father--who he hoped was still alive. He had said that it was a boondoggle, traveling to Mars. There was as much wealth there as there had been in the Arizona Radium Rush (ARRR) of '66. His father had been right. Sam'l hoped he would be able to tell him so.
The machine's chime broke him from his recollections. It read Sunta Garcia.
Sam'l hoped he wouldn't regret his actions as he forwarded the results of this test to Zubrin Security and started the second analysis on the other capsule of blood.
Sergeant Patterson turned from the vid screen and looked up at Captain Gomez.
“It’s just as you said, sir. He’s switching the blood.”
Gomez stroked his goatee absently, while continuing to watch the technician on the surveillance. The young man’s hands were shaking and he glanced furtively at the door every few seconds. He almost dropped the second vial as he inserted it in the machine.
“Shall we arrest him now?”
“No, let’s leave him be, but keep tabs on him. He may lead us to a bigger fish. Keep me informed of any developments.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gomez left the security station and walked back along the corridor to the Governor’s office. The door was standing ajar, and Barg looked up as soon as he came in.
“Well?”
“The witch gave us good information again.”
Barg frowned.
“She’s a teller, Captain, not a witch.”
“As you say, sir. Shall I bring them back in here?”
“No. It would be best if we just showed a complete lack of interest once we got the positive test results. It might lull them into a false sense of security.”
Gomez nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.
***
“I’m sure the good Captain is capable of showing an excellent display of disinterest,” said a gravelly woman’s voice from the dark doorway of the back room.
“You just don’t like him because he calls you names, Miranda.”
She chuckled throatily as she moved out into the light of the office.
Clad in a long black robe and with long straggly white hair, Barg could see there was more than a passing resemblance to a classic witch. But it was the eyes in the wrinkled and haggard face that always gave people pause. White. Milky white. Even though bequeathed second sight with TTO, her natural vision had failed many years previously.
Gundar watched the tall, pale youth striding easily in the low gravity to intercept them. The kid came to a seemingly effortless stop.
“Ho, fem 'n mally. You new pops lookin' for something?”
Gundar had tensed at the approach, and now chided himself. First for being fearful of this fellow his own height but half his weight in this relatively open concourse, and second for not making sure his own combat skills were tuned to the low gravity. “What makes you think we're new?”
“Lookit you walk, mally!” The youth grinned. "You be here three day, tops."
“A week, actually,” Sunta said.
That week had been spent mostly in detention, until they were turned loose with little comment.
"So what be you lookin' for?
No one spoke immediately. The white-haired kid provided his own answer. “Info.”
Gundar tried to keep his face neutral, but the boy smiled at his reaction. And suddenly, the fellow didn’t seem quite as young as Gundar had first thought.
“And maybe fem would like a little exposure? Sure.” A pallid eyelid gave an exaggerated wink at Sunta.
Exposure to TTO? Gundar was intrigued, and knew that Sunta would be, too. “What do you want to tell us?”
“Not me,” the skinny one said. He quickly glanced around. “But I take you somewhere. Call me Ghost.” He turned and loped away, aiming for a slot between two squat buildings.
Sunta glanced at Gundar, and he shrugged. They followed, moving slowly and conscious of their gait.
Down the alley, Ghost ducked into a door on the left. Seconds later, he reappeared with a pair of shears. The agents skidded to a halt.
“You gotta problem,” Ghost said. He snipped off a corner of Sunta’s tunic, and thumbed a small transmitter out of the synthcloth.
Gundar glanced at Sunta, and saw the fear in her eyes. Barg had surreptitiously put that chip there on a visit to their detention cell, saying under his breath "Leave it there. It may save your life." Then gave them the prearranged signal to identify himself as a member of their group.
Now we're on our own. Gundar followed the Ghost, with Sunta in tow, down the narrow alleyway. No one spoke further, until they came to a tall doorway, and Ghost shoved them inside, saying "Wait here.” Ghost closed the door, and the muffled click they heard proved to be a lock engaging. Gundar got up and tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge.
They sat in silence for the next ten minutes, and then Sunta started to say something. Gundar shook his head and put his finger in front of his lips. Sunta lapsed into silence again.
An hour went by, and then they heard a scrabbling at the door that put them on alert. It swung open and a very small man stood there motioning for them to follow him. They went on down the alley out onto a wider street. The small man stopped at a square vehicle parked at a short distance from the alley entryway and swung the door open, motioning them inside it. This was one of the vehicles that were used for travelling the dry Martian countryside. They hopped in after the man and sank down onto a couple of cushions on the floor of the vehicle.
They watched as the man jabbed his fingers into a cube that was resting on a table in front of him. Suddenly the vehicle lurched forward and took off at a breakneck speed down the street, through one of the airlock gates and out into the Martian countryside.
They had been travelling about an hour when Gundar noted through the forward viewer a small mound in the distance.
***
He nodded to Sunta and she looked at it, noticing it seemed to increase in size the closer they came to it.
Ahh, we get to see the TTO, and sooner than I thought. Now how did I know that? She glanced at Gundar and gave an affirmative nod.
Sunta spoke first. “Who are you and where are you taking us?”
“Be quiet,” said the man. “When we are there, you will know.”
Sunta didn’t like the mystery and let their driver know it.
“Hap you wanna tourney?” Or perhaps it was “Hap you want attorney?” Either way, Gundar knew the small man was mocking Sunta in Marsay, asking her in one sentence whether she wanted to return to the cell or actually take her complaint into the open. Neither one would have served their purpose and would have blown their cover. Like it or not, the two were stuck with him.
He drove them in silence to the mound, which was a lot larger than it had looked twenty minutes ago. Once there, he stopped the vehicle, removed and pocketed the directional beacon, and motioned for them to get into enviro-suits. He popped the hatch. Gundar could feel the pressure and temperature change, and there was a metallic tang that smelled like electricity. Dust.
The man dug into the clinging red fine dust and found a buried round door leading down into the mound. He knocked on it twice and waited until the hatch opened. The three went inside, pressurized in the lock, then went down a hallway, down another level, and the man closed a heavy iron door behind them.
“Sorry,” he said. “Can’t be too full watchy here.” He began taking off his suit. Gundar and Sunta did the same. When they were back in their street clothes, he introduced himself. “I’m Steven,” he said, grabbing a plastic cup out of a storage unit. “Wanjava?”
“Who do you work for?” Sunta demanded.
“Cream and sugar, thanks,” said Gundar. “Sunta, don’t be rude.”
Steven stared forward blankly. “Mars,” he said. “And UNDO. And… no one. It’s complicated.”
Steven handed a cup of hot, black liquid to Gundar, pointed to a small table that had several containers on it. Gundar assumed the “C” container was cream and the “S” he was hoping was sugar and not salt. “Good java,” he finally said after tasting, as he motioned to Sunta to have some.
“You curious about TTO, I thinky,” Steven slyly smiled at Sunta. “Just like dune spice of oldie stories. You read?”
“I don’t understand, but yes. I am curious about the effects of TTO.”
“Wanna be witch? Crazy in head?”
Gundar did not like the tone of the little man and Sunta was forgetting their purpose. He tried to change the topic and come to the point. “You have us where you want us. What now?”
“We wait.” Steven pointed to three chairs. All they seemed to have done since arriving on Mars was to sit in silence.
Gundar could see that Sunta was agitating to ask more about TTO, so he broke the silence in a different direction. “The little I’ve seen of the surface reminds me a lot of my homeland of Iceland. Very barren, almost alien...”
“Alien, yes,” interjected Steven. “All connected, maybe? Wanna know do you? Witchy dust and boogie men from space.” Steven laughed and slapped his leg.
Gundar felt uneasy, almost sickly. It was too late when he realized his coffee was drugged. He tried to slap away Sunta’s cup from her but ended up slipping from his chair. Sunta was unable to move and could only watch in fear as she watched Gundar’s body crash face first onto the floor.
“Gonna love this,” Steven grinned as he brought what looked like a piece of red chalk close to her nose. “Breathe, my pretty. . . and see all.”
Sunta pulled back as her eyes focused on the red tube. Steven waved it slowly in front of her face, his eyes bright with expectation. Sunta’s nose wrinkled as she detected…something. She lifted her gaze to meet Steven’s.
“What’s that cologne you’re wearing?” she whispered.
“Co-loan? You mean sweety-sweat juice? No use ’em. Joost me natural oils!” He cackled and shoved the tube at her again. “Breathe deep!”
Sunta swallowed, her pulse pounding. “Is that…TTO?”
He grinned wider, his fingers spinning the tube back and forth in her face. “The same,” he said. “Raw TT-Ore, fresh minted. Be you one o’ the luckies? Wanna be witchy-witch?”
Sunta’s knowledge of the stuff was limited, mostly legend and lore. To most people it was harmless, completely benign. But in certain females, a rare combination of DNA codes and blood chemicals could bond with its properties to open a portal in the mind. In some circles it was nicknamed the Oracle Drug. The shrinks at UNDO had cleared Sunta for this mission because they believed she was one of those rare individuals.
She felt her heart pounding as she lifted a shaking hand to reach for the tube. “Let me,” she said.
Her fingers closed over the tube and Steven stepped back, letting her have it. He watched her closely. Sunta brought the tube to her nose and swallowed hard. This was the moment she had half wanted, half dreaded. Closing her eyes, she took a deep sniff, letting her head tilt back as the earthy smell of the ore penetrated her nasal passages.
For just a moment she felt nothing…then, faintly, a kaleidoscope of colors swirled at the periphery of her vision. It lasted only a second, and she blinked. In that instant, the future was clearly revealed in her mind. Slowly she stood, gazing intently at Steven’s face.
“Machine oil,” she said.
“Wh-huh?” He stepped back, his lips parting as his eyes widened in alarm.
Sunta’s right hand closed over a stirring spoon near the java containers and, in one swift motion, drove it into Steven’s eye. Sparks and smoke boiled out of the socket; his sharp scream degenerating into a garble of static. He fell back in confusion, twitching, and sat down abruptly.
“Your cologne,” she repeated. “It’s machine oil. You’re a goddamn spy-bot!”
Sunta pushed Steven hard. He fell to the floor and twitched in electro-mechanical paralysis.
On her own for the first time since this mission had started, she scrambled to recall her medic training. She approached Gundar and checked his pupils (dilated), his pulse in his carotid artery (racing), and his temperature (cool). He was panting. That’s odd. He should be hot. His symptoms reminded her of something. In a flash, she remembered.
A glance at his fingers showed them twitching. Serup-8! Knowing the drug in his system was half the problem. The other was finding a quick antidote.
She looked around. They were in a small kitchen-dining area. Frantically she pulled open drawers and doors. Under the sink, she found baking soda. She opened a cupboard and exclaimed, “Great Jupiter!” There stood a bottle of white vinegar.
With hands shaking, she poured a half cup of baking soda powder into a small bowl and placed it close to Gundar on the floor. With both hands, she turned his head so his face was next to the bowl. His panting stirred up the powder.
“This had better work!” She opened the vinegar and poured a generous portion into the bowl. The combination hissed and splattered foam up over the edge.
She watched as Gundar’s panting forced him to breathe in the fumes. Come on, damn it! Wake up!
His breathing slowed. He squinted and pulled his head away from the bowl. He looked up and their eyes locked. “What were you trying to do? Kill me?”
She grinned. “The carbon dioxide from the bowl counteracted the Serup-8 in your coffee.”
As she helped Gundar to his feet, the door to the kitchen burst open.
A dark-skinned man rushed in. A tag on his chest said he was Technician Sam'l Phle'tat. “I followed you here. Are you all right?”
Sunta grabbed the tube of TTO as they left.
“Wait,” Gundar barked.
“No. Must hurry.” Sam’l attempted to drag him from the room.
“You said you followed us here. But Ghost cut off the Governor’s transmitter.” He pointed to the slashed corner of Sunta’s tunic. “You knew we were here! Whose side are you on?”
“Explain later. Come now.”
“No. Explain now.”
Sam’l looked at Gundar’s determined face and Sunta, who was moving into a flanking position, and made a quick movement.
“Right,” he said. “Plan B.” He took a luminous device, somewhat resembling a deformed carrot, from his pocket and triggered a switch. A high shriek pierced the room. Both Gundar and Sunta clapped hands over their ears as they slowly subsided into a paralytic state.
“This is the ancient artifact we found,” explained Sam’l. “It works on the brain. You’ll recover in a few minutes.” He produced some complicated wire thingies and began to tie them around Gundar. “After I’ve attached this remote controlled electronic prod.”
Gundar grunted and struggled against the effects of the weapon, slowly feeling control of his muscles returning. Sam’l backed away and fingered the prod’s control nervously.
“You do as you’re told and you won’t get hurt,” he blurted the cliché without conviction. “And that applies to your partner as well.”
But Sunta was still comatose, lying awkwardly across the carcass of the smoking spy-bot. Her eyes were fluttering and a small whimper escaped her twisting lips.
***
The combination of the TTO she’s taken and the brain weapon was dynamic. Pictures flowed across her closed eyes faster than her astounded mind could comprehend them. A black clothed women with staring white eyes, waving a wand and then bursting into flames; the dome of Zubrin cracking and plumes of white atmosphere climbing into the sky; people panicking; Governor Barg commanding a line a red enviro-suited police brandishing carrots; and Gundar and herself writhing in agony.
The small tube of TTO rolled from the unconscious Sunta's partially open hand, then lodged against a hot spot on the spy-bot's smoking carcass. As the spy-bots internal systems slagged into a useless blob of fried nano-circuitry, the released heat caused the tube of TTO to soften and then flow like warm wax from a lit candle. The melting TTO released gently rising fumes that wafted upward, following the gentle air currents created by each of Sunta's inhalations.
The TTO fumes drifted into her nostrils, and were absorbed directly into Sunta's blood and carried to her unconscious mind. As the TTO effect grew, her dreams became wilder and wilder. Strange beings walked the surface of the heavily forested red planet. She watched in wonder as the forest receded to make way for a dazzling sea. A beautiful city with high, gossamer arches sprang up on the shores of the great sea. A brilliant yellow sun flashed repeatedly across the scene. Suddenly, towering mushroom clouds boiled into the sky. Lightening streaked from the malignant billowing smudge. The sea boiled up in billowy steam that merged with clouds. On the ground, virulent devastation spread across the land. The lush forest flashed into ashen desolation. The creatures that had walked the cities disappeared.
Sunta's body spasmed painfully as the cataclysmic images flashed through her mind. She watched the strange people slowly reemerged and walk the world, though the sea no longer shined brilliantly. After a time, a new lacy framework sprung up on the site of the lost city. After a time, she noticed that a seemingly endless procession of the strange beings approached the framework, stepped through, and disappeared. The sun streaked across the sky. The framework drooped, and then slumped to the ground, where it was covered by drifting red dust forming a mound.
Sunta gasped in recognition of the mound. The same mound that Steven, the spy robot had brought them to. As the TTO fumes began to clear from her nostrils, she recognized the alien technology that mound concealed, and more importantly, what the contents of that mound would mean to UNDO.
Hearing the voices of Sam'l and Gundar behind her, she slowly opened her eyes and raised her head.
Gundar stared at her. "Thank goodness you're back. You were mumbling nonsense. Are you all right?"
Sunta's head still spun, but the swirling images polluting her brain retreated to her peripheral vision. "I think so." She shook her head, but that only made her head spin worse. "Where is Sam'l?"
Gundar looked to Sam'l, who was lying on the floor, his eyes rolled back into his head. He was chanting something about cotton-candy furniture and wooden fruit.
"What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know, but you were doing the same thing."
"It must be the TTO. He's sensitive to it as well."
Gundar shook his head. "Impossible. Only women are sensitive to it."
She pointed to Sam'l's writhing body. "Then explain that."
Before Gundar could answer, a burst of flames flooded the room in an orange glow. As the fames extinguished, a woman with white eyes materialized in their place. Sunta recognized the woman as the same one that was dressed in black that appeared in her hallucinations.
The woman produced an artifact, similar to the one that Sam'l had used on them before, and pointed it at Gundar. He screamed and collapsed.
The old woman smiled at Sunta, revealing yellowed teeth. "Finally! A worthy successor presents herself." She held out her hand. "Come, my dear. Your training must begin immediately."
“Training? What training?”
But the old woman said nothing and started pulling Sunta away with surprising strength.
“No, wait, I mean… I can’t just leave him.”
The woman suddenly pushed herself close to Sunta’s face and croaked, “Ah! But you already have, haven’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve seen too much, now. Of the past. And the future.”
Sunta stood transfixed by the woman’s blind gaze, shaking her head hesitantly.
“I…No, I can’t see anything. It’s gone again.”
“That’s why you need training, Sunta. To capture it, channel the effect while it lasts. To be useful.”
“To be useful? How?”
The old woman cackled. “I’ll give you a demonstration. Listen!”
The sound of many booted feet could just be heard, getting louder by the second.
“In ten seconds time, a party of Barg’s finest are going to burst into this room.”
“And?”
“And we won’t be here!”
As she raised the orange artifact in front of her, Sunta let out a gasp of sudden recognition.
“P-protar!” she blurted.
The woman gave a satisfied grunt and pressed a button on it.
***
Gomez saw the golden flash from down the corridor, but arrived too late to do anything. He caught a fleeting glimpse of Miranda and Garcia, and then they were gone, disappeared into thin air. He gaped in disbelief.
“The other one’s over here, sir! Phle’tat too.”
He turned to the officer who had called him. Olafson was lying on the floor, groaning and beginning to stir. His eyes moved to the technician, narrowing as he saw the…the zanahoria, damned carrot, still held limply in his hand.
“Give me that at once,” he snapped. “Someone is going to pay for letting this get out of the proper hands,” he added, stuffing the artifact into a pocket of his enviro-suit. He activated his comm and called the Governor.
“Miranda was here, but she disappeared somehow…Yes, literally vanished in front of me. I don’t know how, but maybe that’s how she got away from the city. And she took the woman with her, too…What do you want me to do now?…The Mound? Right, sir.”
He broke the connection and raised his voice. “Right, we’re moving out. And bring that sorry pair with us.”
Gomez looked at the technician and the agent recovering from the stun.
Minutes would be wasted stuffing them back into enviro-suits. He made a decision. "Bring the suits, too--but we're going in from here."
The pair of prisoners were manhandled to their feet. His own officers looked apprehensive. They were wary about being at the mound at all, but this new territory made them nervous. Too bad.
He led them in. This didn't look much like the front entrance. It was cleaner. They passed quickly through the human-scaled corridors into one with a much taller ceiling. The black walls were cracked and bent, barely reflecting their hand-lights. Openings on the right were revealed to be down-sloping ramps, with ends too far to be visible in the poor light.
He took the first one. The surface wasn't slippery, and the slope was reasonable. In two minutes they arrived at another similar hallway.
It took several seconds for him to realize what was different. "Lights off," he said to his team. The waving spotlights blinked out, replaced by a soft, purplish glow coming uniformly from the ceiling and walls.
It was more evident as their eyes adapted. This place was alive!
Another set of ramps. Again Gomez stepped on the first one to the right. A force gripped him and held him rigid and alarmed. It carried him down at high speed and deposited him at a platform some distance below. He stared back up the slope for a moment, seeing nothing in the gloom. Nobody had followed.
With an ominous hum, lights came on behind him.
Sunta was momentarily blinded by the brilliant flash of light and felt the floor drop out from under her. Her descent was cushioned by an upward flow of air and she landed with a soft thud. Her eyes cleared and she saw Miranda grab for her and ducked. With a back flip that would have made a teenage athlete envious, she landed on her feet again and took off running.
She came to a hallway about fifty feet from where she landed and charged into it. She couldn't hear Miranda following, but knew she was somewhere behind her. With a quick catch of her breath, she sprinted toward a purple glow at the end of the long hallway. With the lightened gravity, she made the distance in about two minutes, stopped, then looked into the room ahead.
I'm supposed to wait here. She slipped into the room and stood behind the door opening.
In a few minutes, she thought she heard voices, and pressed herself against the wall, ready for any necessary action.
***
Gundar had noted the fine line in the floor as Gomez's men shoved them out of the room. That's what happened to Sunta. That floor has a trap door!
When he saw Gomez being propelled down the ramp by a force field, he took the opportunity and ran in the opposite direction. The men stared after Gomez and didn't see him take off until too late. After another fifty yards he saw another tunnel branching to the left. He could see a faint purplish glow ahead of him, but kept running till he reached the end of the ramp and another doorway. He ducked inside and leaned against the wall, when he heard voices.
The purple glow was so dim that it was almost impossible to see anything. For the moment that worked to Gundar's advantage. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. “Sweet Mother of Jesus.”
“Gundar?”
“Sunta? I thought I’d lost you.”
“So did I.”
“What happened to you?”
“Miranda – that’s the witch – thinks I’m the new Queen of the Martians or whatever. She popped the two of us out of the room using some kind of handheld transporter device. It belongs to this building, I think.”
“That makes sense,” said Gundar. “When Gomez and Barg where chasing me, Gomez got sucked down through a trapdoor. I ran the other way.” He followed the sound of Sunta’s voice, clambering over an unrecognizable jumble of clutter that might have been machinery, until he could see her.
“This is their ancient city,” continued Sunta. “There was a war, and this is all that’s--”
“My god,” whispered Gundar. He reached a hand forward cautiously, gently touching Sunta’s face.
Sunta stopped in mid-sentence. “What? Gundar, are you OK?”
“Your face,” he said. “Your eyes, your hair. They’re white. You look like a ghost.”
Sunta sighed. “I guess that’s the TTO.”
“What did you see… when you were… ah, ‘under’?”
“Everything,” she said. “Barg. Gomez. Sam’l. Ghost. You. Them. All of it. Even though he was a bot, Steven was right. The artifacts, the machinery, it all belongs to them. Not belonged—belongs. The Martians aren’t on Mars any more, but they’re here. That is, they’re beyond some kind of doorway. They’re waiting until the planet is habitable again.”
“That’s nonsense,” said Gundar. “The planet’s not habitable without enviro-suits.”
“Maybe not for us, and maybe not now,” said Sunta, “but that’s about to change.”
“Tell me what you saw.”
Sunta told Gundar everything. As their eyes adjusted to the dim purple light she could see him studying her face. When she finished he smiled.
“I think I know what’s happening. The TTO isn’t giving some people clairvoyant powers, it’s attuning the human mind to the alien’s consciousness. What you saw happening was their memories. What you think is to be the future is only their hopeful projection of the future they want, or trying to manipulate we humans in providing that future.”
Like a bolt of lightning through her brain, Sunta understood that Gundar was correct. “What do we do?”
“First, we isolate the TTO exposure. Second, we round up Miranda and her cohorts. A person like her, given what she believes is a second sight, it’s not hard to imagine a cult growing around her, wanting to undo UNDO. That’s the conspiracy we were sent here to uncover. Third, we put together a team of specialists to examine this mound and it’s former inhabitants. Isn’t that right, Captain Gomez?”
Out of a shadow the security officer emerged. He pointed a weapon in their direction. “It is not just the witch that wants UNDO off of Mars.”
“I know, Gomez. Governor Barg will be taken care of. You have a choice, Captain. We work together to get out of this mound, or we fight it out here and now.”
***
Gomez lowered his weapon. He weighed the options in his mind. He could hedge his bets by joining in with Gundar to mitigate any penalties to him if UNDO was successful. If Barg won, he could say he was just improvising under the circumstances. Or he could stay loyal to his boss.
He was about to answer when Sunta suddenly shouted, “The aliens are emerging!”
“It is decided.”
The humans stepped back, shock in their eyes, as three aliens emerged from the wall of the tunnel. They were extremely tall and slender, ten or twelve feet high, humanoids. They shimmered slightly, suggesting they weren’t real, but holograms. Sunta licked her lips nervously.
“What?” she said. “What has been decided?”
Gundar glanced at her as if she was mad. “What?”
“I was just asking what they meant.”
“What d’you mean? They didn’t say anything!”
It must be the TTO, Sunta realized. It opened her mind to their thoughts. She turned her eyes back to the aliens as fresh verbal impressions arrived in her head.
“We have been monitoring you.”
“Monitoring us? How?”
“The planet speaks to us. The planet is us. Your friend has evaluated correctly. The future is in your hands.”
“Why didn’t you approach us before now? We’ve been on Mars for decades!”
“We are patient. Time, as you understand it, is meaningless to us. We have communicated sparingly with those who have the vision. As you have the vision.”
Sunta thought she understood. “Those with TTO vision?”
“As you say. We have evaluated those few, but found them wanting.”
“Wanting? In what way?”
“In character. In pureness of intention.” The center alien stepped forward. “In you, we have found sincerity. You are the one to receive the gift.”
Gundar and Gomez glanced from the alien to her and back again, able to hear only one side of the conversation. Sunta ignored them.
“What…gift?”
“Excavate the mound. Then you will understand.”
It lifted a hand. Suddenly Sunta’s head exploded in a burst of light. She found herself alone in the blackness of space, everything swirling around her. Millions of planets, swirling galaxies, bursting novas…the entire universe at her fingertips. She felt no pain, heard no sound, but the images burned deep.
The light vanished. Sunta opened her eyes to find the others bending over her. The aliens were gone. A thin film of dust hung in the air.
“What happened!” Gundar demanded. “Are you all right?” He helped her to her feet.
“It’s okay,” she gasped. “The alien gave me a vision.” She gripped his arm. “You were right. We have to excavate the mound.”
“Why? What’s under it? What did you see?”
“Technology. For the future. The aliens were waiting for us to find it.”
Gundar shook his head in confusion. “If they knew it was there, why didn’t they find it for themselves?”
“You don’t understand,” she said breathlessly. “They’re a dead race. It isn’t for their future. It’s for ours!”
The End