The Black Seas of Infinity

by Dan Henk

  My head smashes into a stone roof, breaks through, and almost instantly collides with another barrier of rock, immediately followed by a plunge. I crash into the floor, the rough landing echoing in a deep thunder across the room. Let’s try that again.

  Bounding up, I scrape the edge of the first rupture, quickly spreading out my arms as I bounce off the ceiling. My fall is jarred to a stop as my arms catch the sides of the hole. Pulling my torso through, I wriggle up into the familiar tunnel.

  A good half-hour of crawling like a snake on my belly, and I’ve made it back into the anteroom. I stand up and step out into the daylight. The fog has burned down into a languid mist, carpeting the grass in a filmy haze. The encircling huts look old and forsaken in the rich yellow light of afternoon.

  I think I need some sort of flashlight before I try something like that again. Not that I’m even sure how to handle all of this. More ruins like that and I might face some very unhappy individuals. I wonder if this is an aberration, or just the tip of an iceberg? It also brings up the question of what these beings were to the natives. Gods? Benefactors? Tyrants? I really want to explore this more, but I’m hesitant to bring something that might try to remove me from this body. I stumble back through the ruins, now strangely arid and clear of fog in the fading light. The skeletal forms of buildings have taken on a new aura of menace, the battered remains now entombing some long buried secret. The deepening shadows of the central buildings add to the overtone. Nothing is free. No one likes someone digging in their past, and some secrets might be worth killing for. I feel the familiar weight lifted from my shoulders as I withdraw. I slide down the tangled flank and venture back into the forest.

  Nightfall closes in. I wonder if I made the right choice. The saying goes curiosity killed the cat, but maybe I panicked.

  The twilight is virtually black, the treetops overhead shutting out even the stars. I may as well take a break until dawn. I’ll waste my time stumbling around in the dark. Come to think of it, I’m wasting time period. I have no idea what to do next. I don’t think I should abandon this place. It’s an amazing discovery, but I’m a little too trepidatious to dive back in blindly. I’d feel much better with an expeditionary team and modern equipment, but that’s impossible. At the very least, I need to acquire some flashlights.

  Hours pass. I was never the type to simply meditate, or lose myself in reminiscence of old memories. I’m not tired, my muscles don’t ache, my thought process seems as sharp as ever, yet I’m ensnared within this blinding darkness. I could probably make it through a field in the starlight, but not under this thick canopy of leaves.

  Time crawls, and I drift between memories, my thoughts interrupted by the occasional rustling of small animals in the underbrush.

  I think it’s near morning, a dull blueness is creeping in. I stand up and look around. My vision is probably magnifying the ambient light to an incredible degree, but I still can’t see enough to effectively move about. A whistling sound starts, faint and distant at first, and steadily increases. Something brushes against my leg, and I glance down. A strip of bark sails by. A few more wispy scraps of forest debris waft by, followed closely by larger branches. A vortex whips around me, rapidly increasing in intensity. A husky thunder rumbles above, and I look upward. Suddenly a bright glow blankets me, and in the blink of an eye I find myself in a room.

  It’s a small space, the floor beneath my feet perfectly flat, the rising sides uniting in a perfect curve with the convex ceiling. The whole chamber is of a black, semi-shiny material similar to the box in the pyramid. Nothing adorns the walls. A dim glow emanates overhead.

  I peer around in complete astonishment, when a voice abruptly cuts in. It’s peculiarly strange, both the intonation and dialect, yet somehow I understand every word. It asks me if I’m something I don’t understand. Then it inquires if I’m from somewhere I also don’t understand. A moment of silence follows, and then it demands to know what I’m doing here.

  I don’t know how to respond. I have no vocal cords. I can probably use some form of telepathy to communicate, but I’m not sure how that works. The lights dim, and a figure materializes before me. It looks like one of the alien bodies we recovered at my job, but not one of the inhabitants of the crashed ship. The creature is short, and wearing some sort of seamless white suit that covers it from the head down. A round white ring encircles the base of a head that looks like an upright football, with creamy gray skin that resembles textured leather. The mouth is wide and filled with sharp yellow teeth, the eyes beady and cat-like. The nose is a stubby protrusion, adorned by two breathing holes. It moves forward and a ripple flows through the image. It’s probably just a projection!

  A voice floods my head.

  “Yes, I’m a projected image.”

  Holy shit!

  “What do you want?”

  “You operated a remote beacon. It’s very old, and we were the only ship in this sector. Clearly this was a blind move on your part. You seem to be some savage inhabiting machinery far beyond your capacity.”

  “What does this mean for me?”

  The screen and the image of the alien disappear. A minute later the overhead light dims. I sit down on the floor and wait. It’s an old habit. I could just as easily remain standing. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? I knew immediately after I did it that dropping that box in the hole was a mistake! Hindsight is twenty-twenty. The more pertinent matter is how I’m going to extricate myself from this mess. This creature seemed none too happy to see me.

  It’s hard to tell time without a watch, but after what seems like hours, the room lights up again. An image of an alien—for all I know the same one—rematerializes. A screen materializes as well. A stormy atmosphere, tumultuous black clouds under-lit by a pale greenish glow, fills the screen. I get the strange feeling it’s an approaching destination, and it doesn’t look very hospitable.

  “This is a military outpost. We’ll dispose of you here.”

  The clouds break, and I can see a huge dome underneath.

  Thousands of lights emanate from its charcoal depths. A few fragile-looking black spheres slowly rise from the mammoth structure below.

  The surface of the planet encircling it is rocky and coarse. It resembles the moon, only it harbors strange pools of dark liquid. Small, tree-like things with fluorescent orange leaves speckle the terrain. Distant mountains creep in at the far corners.

  The view on the screen shifts slightly, and we’re headed toward a dark portal along the lower reaches.

  “You will be given instructions. I suggest you follow them.”

  With that, the image dissolves. A few minutes later a doorway appears in the wall. I guess we’ve arrived. I walk through the portal.

  I’m in a long tunnel, the walls the same dark material I’ve seen recently, only pitted by small imperfections. The floor is a strange, ribbed grating. An unseen overhead light casts a pale bluish glow across the grungy underbelly.

  I follow the twisting concourse for a while, when it abruptly curves off to the right and ends in a sheer drop. Peering over the rim, I see that the falling edge is smooth and concave, descending into a milky haze far below. I extend my hand over the chasm and feel the pull of an invisible force.

  “Step in the...”

  I can’t make out the last bit, but apparently I’m to step into the drop. As I slowly walk forward, I’m hit by a blast of air. The current sucks me in and plunges me straight down. I fly past a few apertures big enough to walk through—probably separate floors—and then smoothly brake to a halt, touching down gently on the slick floor of a barren gray chamber. Directly in front of me is a small room I take it I’m meant to enter. Strolling in, I scan the premises. The room resembles the one in the ship I just left. Black glassy walls devoid of anything. A dim overhead glow coming from nowhere discernible. I walk to the center of the room and debate sitting. Realizing that’s just a vestigial human reaction, I remain standing.

  After what seems like an
hour passes, a figure materializes before me. It’s wearing a one-piece white jumpsuit, but apparently not the same as the heftier outfit in the ship. It’s thinner, with no seams. Boots flow up in a conforming sheet of fabric that dead ends in a stiff, circular neckline. The only other break is at the wrists to let out long, spindly hands. Each sports three fingers that end with long, smooth nails.

  “How did you get in that?”

  Straight to the point. Maybe if I’m ambiguous it will buy me time.

  “What do you want?”

  “You tell us first.”

  “I have some questions.”

  “Yes, but first, how did you get that? You are obviously not Al’lak. I would guess you are an Earth primitive. Was it by accident?”

  “Let’s trade info. I have something you want, you have something I want.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Who are these Al’lak?”

  The figure disappears.

  A few minutes later, it reappears.

  “The Al’lak are good friends of ours. Anything—”

  “I seriously doubt it.”

  The figure dematerializes. That sounded like a lie. They would know far more and be less inquisitive if this other race were their allies. I wonder what they’re afraid of? The figure rematerializes.

  “That world is off limits. This could be taken very badly.”

  Maybe they think I’m working for the other race. They know by the bumbling way I handled their outpost, not to mention the strangeness of my thoughts, that I’m not Al’lak. And if they can make out my stream of consciousness, they probably realize I’m an Earthling. As far as I could tell, that was a crashed observation ship. There really was no uncalled for presence. Since they haven’t figured all this out yet, they must not be able to clearly decipher all I’m thinking. Maybe they can only read the thoughts I put in the forefront of my consciousness, the ones I would say out loud if I could speak.

  “Why is that world off limits? You’ve obviously been there before.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “What happens next?”

  “Hmm.”

  With that, the figure dematerializes. Time passes in immeasurable quantity. This is not good. My thoughts race. I can’t seem to focus on a single course of action. I walk up to one of the walls and press against it. Nothing. I press a little harder, then harder still. My fingertips sink into the wall. I draw back my hand, the depressions releasing a fine powder as I pull away. I can probably break out of here if I need to, but I don’t want to make any waves just yet. The figure rematerializes.

  “You’re being transported elsewhere. For interrogation.”

  “That is not what I wanted to hear. I’m voluntarily cooperating, but that will end real soon if I don’t start to get some answers.”

  “You’re cooperating because you have no choice.”

  I wonder if that is the case.

  A door opens on the wall to my right.

  “Follow the path until you reach the end.”

  “I’m not going anywhere or answering any more questions until I see someone in the flesh and get some answers.”

  “You don’t have a choice. Obey or we will destroy you.”

  “Then you’ll never learn anything.”

  The figure dematerializes again.

  It’s back a moment later.

  “At a new location, you will receive your answers.”

  “No. Here. Now.”

  I don’t trust them. Right now I’m in a place I can probably escape from. If they move me elsewhere, that might not be the case.

  “You don’t have a say in this. You are being accommodated by our even talking to you. We can destroy you at any point. Be cooperative, and you might live.”

  Not a good answer.

  “I may not be Al’lak, but you think this is all a coincidence?”

  The figure stares blankly at me for a minute, then disappears.

  If they could remove me from this body easily, I think they would have done so already. They are being incredibly cautious in light of their claim that I have no choice.

  Maybe removing me from this body would kill me, and they are so suspicious of these Al’lak that they want answers.

  A section of the wall disappears, sucking in like a whirlpool to reveal a round portal. One of the creatures walks out. He’s covered head to toe in a thick, charcoal gray jumpsuit. There are no seams, the fabric flowing smoothly over the muscles and joints. An oval orb encases the head, which is featureless with the exception of two large black bubbles for eyes. A silver cylindrical object is clutched in the right hand, the tip pointed at me. I would guess it’s some sort of weapon. Considering the decline in circumstances, now is probably a good time to exit. I leap at the creature and punch the headgear. My fist tears into the hard shell, continuing in a flourish that carries it through a soft, organic clump and out the back. My feet crater the floor as they come crashing down, almost sliding out from under me on the slick rock.

  The alien is now bent in a bizarre backward position, my lodged forearm holding the body upright. Coated in a sticky slime, I realize my arm is stuck, my fingers dangling out the back. I put one foot on the chest and shove forward, freeing myself in a glittering spray of greenish-yellow fluid.

  The mutilated body flies back, skidding across the floor and into the tunnel. I turn and run at the wall, jumping into a double front kick as I impact.

  A huge piece of the wall gives way, soaring out in a jagged chunk. I fly through, rotating as I fall into a roll. Landing on my feet, I bound up and pause, tensely coiled for an emergency sprint.

  A dim corridor of that same black material surrounds me, the dislodged chunk resting against the far wall. Oddly, its torn edges look smooth, as if cut by a machine. A group of five creatures start to materialize around me. That would be my cue! As I break into a run, part of the wall to my right disappears in a globe of light. Glancing through the hole, I see another dark tunnel running parallel to mine. They’re firing at me! I pick up speed and begin to zigzag. Chunks of wall start disappearing on both sides, revealing more of the corresponding tunnel. I turn a corner, hit another intersection, and turn right. It’s the same everywhere! Long passages that all look exactly the same! Ahead of me is a dead end, corridors heading off to the left and right. I head left, a chunk of the corner disappearing in a ball of radiance as I round it. Is this even the same group? I don’t know where any of this leads. I could be running in circles. I reach another split at a dead end. Trying to avoid looping around endlessly, I dart right. These tunnels are so twisty, it might be a wasted effort.

  The corridor suddenly turns around a bend and widens into a large domed room. It’s brightly lit, the concave floor broken up by countless cylindrical stumps, many of which are manned by the creatures, roughly thirty of which occupy the room. None are wearing spacesuits, and all eyes turn my way. They look stunned, the shocked expression amplified by an upsweep of blue light from the cylinders below. So bizarre—a swarm of beady yellow eyes all trained on me. A throng of frozen figurines wrapped in mottled gray skin. A hint of sharp teeth beneath thin lips taints them with a vein of horror.

  The stare is oppressive, the communal glare searing into my mind as a wall of outrage. I can feel a palpable tug, the sides of my vision blur. Time grows confusing, and I stumble through thoughts. Where am I? Am I back at home, fourteen years old and trying to hide the smell of cigarette smoke from my dad... Hoping he won’t notice the tiny thread I have strung through the fresh hole in my ear... No... I’m older, I don’t live at home any longer... I’m waking up late for my shitty job at the strip mall, and I don’t think I have much gas left in my Honda Civic. That’s not right either... I’m in school, barely awake from my late night working at the club. I’m trying to concentrate on the computer screen, but all I want to do is go to sleep... No, I’m downtown, noticing how cute my future wife is as she scurries around the shop, trying to act like she doesn’t notice me...


  With a crisp jolt, I snap back to the present. The aliens have all disappeared. Only smooth, solid walls surround me. The only opening appears to be the one I just came through. The glowing stumps are splayed in a rough circle sloping downward toward a giant oval depression, a whitish glow emanating from its depths. A muffled roar, like waves over a waterfall, resonates through the room.

  I can’t go back the way I came. Heading straight for the farthest wall, I weave through the stunted pedestals. My feet instinctively adjust to the inconsistencies of the sloping floor, allowing me to flow through in one long, smooth trajectory. My body seems to be reacting to the stress, picking up the slack. Rounding a stubby outcropping, I brush by something soft. It gives way a little, and I hear an indignant hiss. The creatures are still here! They are projecting something, duping my mind into overlooking their presence! The wall closes in, and I pick up speed, leaping shoulder first at the stone. Instantly my momentum comes to a halt. With a violent smashup I crumple and slide to the floor. Twisting my head up in defeat, I stare at the wall. It looks somehow denser than the previous barriers, made up of a deeper black that’s more akin to solid granite than hardened lava.

  I raise my head and notice there is a slight depression where I hit. I struggle to my feet and begin beating on the indention with my fists. The hollow deepens. I glance over my shoulder. The room feels abandoned, truly empty this time. The glowing white mass dominating the room flickers, a few arcs of electricity tearing out from the nucleus and cracking into the pedestals. Not a good sign! I pound frantically on the wall. It buckles a little more. A grating creak is followed by a shredding wail akin to nails scraping against a chalkboard. A huge section gives, flying outward in a mass of fragmenting pieces that tear into the loose sand of a planetary surface. Plumes of dust shoot up in twin streams as the chunks carve long furrows in the soil. The gravity must be low. Clouds of sand slowly pirouette into the night sky.