Rogue Command (The Kalahari Series)

by A J Marshall

  As the gap widened to more than a metre the outflow subsided. Tom looked up into the blackness and then slowly stood; he was in awe at what he had done. He arched his back and raised his head to maximum to take it all in. An unseen mechanism propelled the door, and the rumbling and vibration he felt through his feet continued until its edge – which was itself a metre thick – had almost disappeared into a recess on the other side. Silence fell upon the two men again. But a gust of wind from behind found the way in and the noise it made was like a distressing sigh from a giant whose mouth had been prised open. Tom sensed its secrets swirl around him and then disappear. He couldn’t help but be moved.

  The exposed entrance was around three metres square. Tom took a bold step inside. Only then did Paul hesitantly move forward, checking behind again as he did – but neither man spoke. A tiny red light on Tom’s utility belt flashed incessantly. He was made aware of it because of the intense darkness that engulfed him. He pulled the instrument from its slot, looked at the digital display and then at Paul, who now stood beside him. “The spectrometer indicated a high proportion of carbon dioxide and some oxygen in that escaping gas,” he said matter-of-factly – as if that was normal on Mars. Then he unclipped his flashlight, set the beam to maximum intensity and directed it into the hollow – it simply faded to nothing.

  “Better use the Illuminac, Commander.”

  Paul turned to present his backpack to Tom, who unclipped a lantern from it. The instrument was the size of a small shoebox. It had a handle on the top and the bulging front face was an integrated lens and reflector. Inside was a microchip of Uranium-235. When showered by gamma rays, an elemental reaction causes the chip to fluoresce. The result is an incredibly bright light, the intensity of which is precisely controlled by a rotary switch. The longevity of the power pack is the half-life of Uranium-235 itself – seven hundred million years.

  Tom set a luminance of one hundred per cent and a narrow focus, and at arm’s length he shone the beam into the gloom. What they saw made their jaws drop with amazement.

  The entire pyramid was hollow, but a wide walkway with a shallow incline built peripherally against the internal walls led down to ground level. The walkway was perhaps twenty metres wide and Tom and Paul walked gingerly to its edge; to the side Tom could see that it was impressively cantilevered. Below was a cavern so vast that not even Tom’s dazzling beam could illuminate its extremities.

  “Most of this is below ground, so why such enormous structures?” he asked of Paul.

  “Can you illuminate the wall behind us?”

  Tom turned away from Paul and did as requested, broadening the beam in order to see a larger area. Far from being a natural dark orange colour or blackened with age, the stone had a greenish hue.

  “I would say that these walls are covered in some kind of mould – which would indicate a level of humidity.”

  “Moisture . . . ! Maybe a subterranean source,” agreed Tom, checking an adjacent section of wall. “Let’s go and see what’s down below shall we?”

  With that the two men turned to their left and set off down the incline. Tom lit their way. Paul brandished the revolver and frequently looked behind, sometimes walking backwards to ensure that nothing followed them. Underfoot was smooth and the layer of dust was readily scuffed. Numerous small shapes on the ground, causing tiny shadows, Tom saw to be twisted and dried fronds of algae or similar. When touched they turned to dust. The path to ground level looked to be at least a kilometre.

  Inside the PTSV – simultaneous

  A light flashed on the weapons panel; Veronica gave it her immediate attention.

  “What is it?” asked Lesley.

  “The system sensed something for a split-second, but not long enough to acquire – it didn’t lock-on.”

  “Where?”

  “Above us, in the direction of the platform.”

  Lesley walked quickly over to the sensor display and assessed the data. “There is an indication of movement alright, but just briefly. Could something have slipped past us?”

  Veronica looked anxious. “It’s possible, I suppose.”

  Lesley leant over the radio microphone. “Commander Race, sir, this is Lesley, how do you read?”

  There was no reply.

  “Commander Race . . . Paul . . . come in please!”

  Still nothing.

  “They must be inside,” said Veronica.

  Lesley turned towards the rear of the compartment and to Anna who was sitting at her console. “Anything?” she quizzed apprehensively.

  Anna shook her head. “No. And their sensor ID signal has faded, too. I agree with Veronica. I would say that they are inside.”

  Lesley nodded. “Then we wait.”

  One complete circuit of the entire structure had brought Tom Race and Paul Carr to ground level. However, Tom was right in his earlier assumption that most of the ‘city’ was subterranean. There was a wide ledge that surrounded a vast, square hole in the planet’s crust. Tom estimated the rock layer at twenty metres thick and, although clearly worked, the edges were still rough-hewn and craggy. Access down through the hole was by wide steps that were much steeper than the gentle incline of the pyramid’s walkway and Paul counted 300 of them before they reached the main level. Turning slowly he cast the brilliant, penetrating beam in a wide circle; its effect revealed to Tom the true scale of this forgotten civilisation. In the direction of the plaza and towards the other three pyramids, the level was endless. And the roof of the cavern was some thirty metres above them. It was astonishing, beyond belief, and Tom felt his heart thumping. He drew a deep breath.

  “This is a common level throughout the entire complex,” informed Paul, using Tom’s flashlight to examine the wall next to him. “And look at this Commander,” he continued, shining the light into the corner between the outside wall and the ground. “There’s a deep trough cut into the stone.” Paul walked to the edge and leaned out. “A couple of metres deep and one and a half across, and there’s still some moisture in the bottom. It runs directly beneath the outside walls of the pyramid and seems to collect . . . this is an irrigation system, sir! No question about that.”

  “Let’s walk to the area beneath the plaza, Paul. I’ll take the pistol; it might be a good time to have the notebook ready.”

  “I’m on it,” replied Paul and he handed over the weapon and withdrew the tablet-sized computer from his leg pocket and energised it.

  Pistol in one hand and the Illuminac in the other, Tom led the way. Although the edges of the cavern were rough and in the main simply worked, and in some areas the ceiling curved down to the ground in a cave-like fashion, the ground was perfectly smooth. They walked for 300 metres or more through a wide expanse. To the left and right they could see openings and small doorways that led from the main thoroughfare like catacombs; there, eerie shadows played inside the adjacent rooms as the two men passed. Away from the effects of the wandering beams of light, the blackness was absolute.

  After walking for several minutes, a wide doorway loomed from obscurity in front of them. As they approached, Tom and Paul could see it had a heavy stone lintel set just a metre above head height. The powerful beam from the Illuminac enhanced an area behind; funnelled through the opening, the light became narrow and condensed. Some way in the distance, the bright beam finally petered to nothing. Tom sensed a cavern even bigger than the one they were in. When the two men arrived at the doorway, Paul ran the more user-friendly beam from the flashlight along the lintel – for at close quarters, the Illuminac made their eyes smart. Immediately apparent were a number of inscriptions. Tom recognised them as similar to those on the main door.

  “Paul,” he started, “take an image of those hieroglyphs, there by the representation of the comet or asteroid or whatever it is. Load it into the translation programme . . .”

  Paul focused the built-in imager in the notebook and took the picture; then it was a simple matter of transferring the information to the translator. “�
�Driven again are we the Atleans. Even before the despair of Homer has faded’,” he quoted. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “If I remember correctly from my brief, it said that ‘Homer’ was the name the colonists called their planet of origin. And ‘Atleans’ were mentioned as the builders of the Ancient Egyptian pyramids on Earth. ‘Driven again are we the Atleans’ . . . to me it’s referring to their fate . . . first their home planet, and then here, their adopted one.”

  Paul turned his flashlight beam onto the inscription again and then the stellar object alongside. “That’s the cause of it, Commander, that comet,” he said. “Have you ever seen a picture of the Bayeux Tapestry? It’s that famous relic telling the story of William the Conqueror invading England in ten sixty-six.”

  “Heard of it, not seen it,” replied Tom.

  “Well I studied it during my school days – I had an interest in the History of Art. There is a depiction of a comet sewn into the storyline, believed to be Halley’s Comet – always stuck in my mind. That carving is remarkably similar. The people who built this place clearly did so for a good reason. I think it was a refuge, and water has something to do with it. This place would have taken decades to excavate and with building those four pyramids . . . God only knows. It would have supported thousands of people and I’d say they had some notice as to the impending catastrophe. I mean forty, fifty, sixty years – maybe more.”

  Tom could see Paul’s face in the ambiance of the Illuminac, despite pointing it at the ground. “We know that Mars had a lot of surface water at one time. Craters forming vast seas, and networks of huge rivers, too . . . We know of the associated erosion and the classic geological features. We also know that there was an abrupt and calamitous shift in the planet’s magnetic field at some time in its history – some astronomers say by as much as forty-five degrees. It’s long been speculated that the close flyby of a large stellar object, such as a comet, would have been responsible. What if this event happened far more recently than believed – I mean as recent as ten or twenty thousand years ago . . . while there was a civilisation here. A shift in the magnetic field like that could easily have torn a hole in the atmosphere . . .”

  “Yes . . . the atmospheric gases would have leaked into space, the reduction in pressure would have caused the oceans to evaporate and over a period of time all the surface water would be lost, and then finally the breatheable atmosphere, too?”

  “If it was a relatively small tear, they might have had, well, maybe a century – they would have known what was happening . . .”

  “But it’s cold down here, Commander; they would have required a power source . . . and what about food? Surface production would have dwindled to nothing. They would need to grow a variety of crops and in sustainable quantities. Biodomes may have been the answer, but nothing has ever been found. That leads us here – underground.” Paul shook his head. “Growing sufficient quantities would have been just one of many insurmountable problems . . .”

  “Underground . . . here!”

  Tom lifted the Illuminac and darted through the opening. Paul was so close on his heels that he ran into the back of him, pushing Tom forward a few paces.

  “Sorry . . . I thought . . . huh!”

  Both men stood bolt upright, completely still, and they stared. Tom shone his light down a central avenue that seemed to have no ending. Motionless, they stood for more than a minute, until Tom broke the heavy silence by saying: “There’s your answer!”

  Paul seemed transfixed, unable to reply – as if words could elucidate in any case.

  What lay before them were two rows of huge glass domes. On each side of the avenue – itself at least twenty metres wide – one after the other, the domes circled high to the roof of the cavern. They resembled rows of eggs in a long egg box. In the powerful light of the Illuminac, the glass structures appeared to have a slight reddish hue. Tom and Paul could see the first five or six domes on each side, but after that their number faded into the murky distance.

  The two men stepped forward and Tom illuminated the first dome on the left-hand side. There was a blanketed reflection of light because of a thin layer of dust but the primary beam penetrated the dome to reveal a number of tall and spindly trees, their variety and shape being very peculiar. In the lofty edifice the beam from Paul’s flashlight was overwhelmed and almost useless.

  The trees in the first dome assumed a ghostly air and not all were upright; some had fallen and lay at irregular angles, being propped by other, sturdier, examples. All were frozen still, lifeless and distressed.

  Tom walked the thirty or so paces to the first dome and irresponsibly knocked on the glass material with the butt of his revolver. The deep thud reflected the thickness of the material and an accompanying reverberation echoed through the cavern for some time. The sound eventually faded in the distance, giving Tom an indication of the extent of the place.

  “There’s that feeling . . . like a heavy burden of despair is pressing down on your shoulders – just like outside,” Paul said, turning full circle and stretching up to take a good look at the roof, “a spirit world, haunted by memories.”

  With a head gesture, Tom indicated for Paul to follow him and the two men walked for some way along the avenue. Neither spoke. The powerful beam from the Illuminac pierced the darkness in all directions, drilling into hidden corners and bouncing off the curved glass, causing sparkling shards, like dancing fairy lights. The domes contained the remnants of various plant species and not all were tree-like, as some looked to have bushy outlines, and one dome had nothing inside except for a short, blackened field of moss or perhaps grass that had been heavily grazed. Tom noticed that several domes were damaged. Some were cracked, and one, to the right, had a long split and some material had partially fallen in, as if subsidence had created unacceptable stress. Tom checked his chronometer and looked back the way that they had come.

  “We’ve been down here an hour and twenty, Paul,” he said. “I’ve seen enough. We had better get back; otherwise we’ll miss the ‘ops normal’ call.”

  “Check.”

  The two men turned to retrace their steps. “Talking about when you were at school,” continued Tom reflectively, “when I was a kid I read a book about a space colony. There was a place called Subterrania – on some lost planet. Funny how things stick in your mind from that time in your life . . . this place reminds me of there . . . incredible . . . the Petrified Forests of Subterrania . . .”

  “I’ve got a theory, Commander. Would you like to hear it?” Paul responded, only half-listening.

  “Go on.”

  “It’s taken these . . . people . . . a few decades to build this place. By that time the surface water has all but evaporated. The atmosphere is dissipating, too, and ground temperatures are starting to drop. They need water. All that remains, apart from some limited subterranean supplies that are difficult to extract, is vapour in atmosphere. So you build condensing towers that reach up as high as your technology will allow. It’s been done many times on Earth. The moisture in the air condenses on the cold stone and runs down to the base and then into that moat we saw back there, below the outside edge of this pyramid. It’s water capture on a massive scale, and Zeta One and Two are almost three times larger than this pyramid.”

  “Yeah, sounds feasible, until the atmosphere has bled away completely, and then what . . . and they would still need an energy source?”

  “Then it’s the end of days, as they say – not unless someone out there could have helped. That clearly wasn’t the case.”

  “No, maybe you’re right, maybe that’s what happened.”

  Paul took a number of images as the two men retraced their steps through the first cavern. As they approached the steps Tom replaced the revolver into his leg pocket. He felt more relaxed and was pleased that his idea with the key had come to fruition.

  “We will make a detailed report on the way back to Osiris, Paul, and formulate a plan for a full survey . . . Wait! W
hat the hell!”

  Suddenly a tall figure loomed in the shadows. “Stop!” the shape screeched.

  Tom pulled up short and put a restraining hand on Paul’s arm, who was instinctively reaching for his static baton.

  “Drop your weapons . . . everything!” The words were synthetic and high pitched.

  “Do what it says, Paul. No rash moves.”

  “Comply! Now!”

  The figure remained in the shadows, but by its apparent physical dimensions there was no doubt in Tom’s mind what confronted them. Tom cast a wary eye behind him – there was no sign of another machine.

  Paul’s static baton clattered to the ground.

  “And the grenades!”

  “Better do what it says.”

  Paul unclipped the two grenades from his belt and threw them onto the ground.

  The shape twitched towards Tom.

  Tom held his arms up. “I’m unarmed,” he said.

  In the murkiness Tom saw a tiny red light moving left and right where the figure’s head would be. It’s running a scan, he thought, but what kind . . . X-ray, infrared . . . contour? Tom decided to take a chance and keep quiet about the pistol. Imperceptibly he turned his right side towards the figure in order to shield his left leg. In the silent stillness, the purr of tiny motivators seemed amplified.

  “What do you want . . . there is nothing here for you!”

  “I seek information. You will tell me how you opened the stone door. You will tell me what you have found here.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Tell me or die!”

  Paul looked sideways at Tom and wondered if this was the right course of action.

  “Who programmed you?” continued Tom. “Who’s controlling you?”