The Clones of Mawcett

by DePrima, Thomas

  "Then again, it might be just an empty vault," Doctor Vlashsku offered. He was one of only two Nordakians in the scientific party, the other being his assistant, Glawth Djetch. The two men were the only ones in the camp taller than Peterson, owing to the natural size of their species. Where Nordakian women are seldom less than six feet tall, the males normally vary between seven and eight-feet in height. "Perhaps it was merely a place being prepared for some purpose, such as storage of hazardous materials. Or maybe it was a military installation, and contains weapons of incredible power; perchance the very weapons that destroyed the former inhabitants of this planet. Or maybe it was a shelter to be used in the event of an enemy attack."

  "Perhaps, Dakshiku, perhaps," Doctor Peterson mumbled thoughtfully. Then more clearly, "Does anyone have a suggestion for our next course of action?"

  "We should notify all the other teams on the planet immediately," Bruce Priestly offered excitedly. "With so many brilliant minds, someone will surely know of a way to open it."

  "Not just yet, Bruce," Doctor Huften said. "Let's try to find out what we have first, and then we'll announce it to the others. I'm not as young as you, and I have no desire to fight a hundred other archeologists to get a first look at whatever's inside."

  "But we're stonewalled, Doctor. We can't get the door open with the equipment that we have. We need their help."

  "I agree with Barbara," Doctor Ramilo said. "Let's keep this to ourselves for now. It's already past dinnertime, so let's go eat. We can discuss the problem further over our meal. Perhaps even sleeping on it will provide some new insight. We can always inform the other dig sites in a couple of days. The vault, or shelter, or whatever it is, has been here for twenty-thousand years. It certainly isn't going anywhere."

  After carefully covering the expensive analytical equipment, everyone plodded wearily back to the campsite, where workers from the other on-site excavations were already finished with their evening meal. Most of the laborers preferred to eat outside and enjoy the sunset. Electronic bug traps that kept the campsite relatively free of flying insects did a much better job overall than the sticky mucous coating on indigenous trees that was always alive with tiny, recently-trapped arthropods struggling uselessly to get free.

  The rest of the labor force immediately surrounded their fellows who had been working in the tunnel with the archeologists and began to ply them with questions as the scientists entered the mess shelter to eat.

  Once they had selected their food and taken their seats at their usual table inside the mess shelter, the senior archeologists again began discussing ways to open the door, but nothing really new was offered. The junior members ate quietly, respectfully listening, as always.

  * * *

  Doctor Peterson felt someone shaking him roughly and came partly awake. "What? What is it? Who's there?"

  "Edward, wake up! It's Dakshiku. The door is open!"

  "Then close it, man, and let me get back to sleep," Dr. Peterson said grumpily. "Your shelter's auto-sprayer will kill all the insects before they have a chance to bite you."

  "Edward, wake up. The door is open!"

  "What? What door?" Dr. Peterson asked, a little more awake now. "What are you talking about, man?"

  "The door to the vault! It's open!"

  Doctor Peterson came fully awake as the information sank in. "How? Who? When?" he rattled off in quick succession as he tried to focus on Doctor Vlashsku's face in the darkness of the tent. The Nordakian was so excited that his skin was flashing different colors faster than a nightclub strobe. During times of emotional agitation, Nordakians lose partial control of their skin coloration. In extreme situations, control deserts them completely and they appear like spinning rainbows gone amuck.

  "I couldn't sleep so I went down to the tunnel," Doctor Vlashsku said. "I reexamined every square centimeter of the door and frame, but I couldn't find a thing that offered a clue for opening it. After a couple of hours, I just started yelling at it out of frustration. Then it suddenly creaked, and opened of its own volition."

  "On its own? You just yelled at it?"

  "Basically."

  "What did you yell?"

  "I don't know. I was weary and lost my temper. I screamed out of anger and frustration. The important thing is that it's open!"

  "Okay. Okay. You're right. Wake everybody up while I get dressed."

  "The entire camp?"

  "No, just the main staff— and the laborers that worked with us in the tunnel. Let the others sleep. They have their own work to do in the morning."

  "Right, I'll tell everyone to meet outside the door in fifteen minutes."

  Some fifteen minutes later, a stimulated group of scientists in various states of dress and undress, and armed with light torches and an assortment of recording and measuring devices, was gathered outside the doorway.

  "I still want to know, before we go in," Doctor Ramilo said, "just what Dakshiku said to open the door."

  "I've already told you several times, Anthony, I don't remember," Vlashsku said, with a touch of irritation in his voice. "I was tired and frustrated, and I just screamed at it. It creaked for a second, then opened noiselessly. That's all I can tell you."

  "You should have had the vid cams running, Dakshiku," Doctor Ramilo said, his voice angry and accusing. "That's what they're for."

  "I was only examining the door; I never expected to actually find the key that would open it. You're right, I should have turned them on before I started. But— I didn't. And reminding me— over and over and over— that I made a mistake, will not alter the situation, Anthony."

  "What if Dakshiku isn't responsible for opening the door at all?" Doctor Huften asked calmly."

  "What are you suggesting, Barbara," Doctor Peterson asked, "that the door was opened by some life form inside?"

  "In a word, yes!" she said emphatically.

  "Impossible," Doctor Ramilo said. "The life form would have to be twenty-thousand years old. That's the most recent date that evidence of planetary habitation will support."

  "Or possibly just asleep for twenty-thousand years," Doctor Huften countered. "Perhaps we awoke it with our earlier attempts to gain entry."

  "Asleep for twenty-thousand years? Barbara, be practical," Doctor Ramilo said. "Our most brilliant scientists say that a person in prime physical condition can only be suspended in stasis sleep for forty-two years. Then he'd have to be awakened and made completely healthy again before being put back in stasis. That's why no expeditions to other galaxies have ever been seriously contemplated."

  "That only applies to Terrans, Anthony. As an example of my hypothesis, let's use Alyysians. Their unique physiology, similar to that of a Terran frog, has allowed them to be frozen solid, and then revived centuries later. Our first contact with them was when a pre-FTL ship containing Alyysians was discovered by Space Command as it crossed our outer border. The occupants had all been asleep for more than seven hundred years. Think of it, Anthony. They were already underway when Galileo was still working to perfect a refracting telescope for astronomical observation. All were revived successfully."

  "What if this is a cryogenic prison facility?" Doctor Vlashsku asked. "Perhaps our tampering has begun an awakening process? We might be responsible for releasing the worst criminals in the galaxy. Look how strongly the facility is constructed."

  "Now everyone calm down," Doctor Peterson said. "The door is open, and whether it's an invitation to enter, or simply a response to something that Dakshiku said, we'll never know unless we go in. Dakshiku, can you and Glawth please stop flashing. You're giving me a severe headache."

  "I'm sorry, Edward. We'll try. But you know that we can't completely control our chromatophoric cellular distensions when we get excited like this."

  "What happens if we all go in and the door closes behind us?" Doctor Ramilo asked. "We'll be trapped inside without anyone out here being able to rescue us. One of us should remain outside."

  "Good thought, Anthony," Doctor Peter
son said. "You remain out here and guard against that eventuality."

  "Wait a minute!" Dr. Ramilo said loudly. He wasn't about to remain outside when everyone else entered the— whatever it was. "Why me? I want to see what's inside as much as everyone else."

  "You can't have it both ways, Anthony," Doctor Huften said, grinning slightly at Dr. Peterson's mischievous taunt.

  "Okay, let's all go in— but leave a pry bar in the doorway so the door can't close completely."

  "From what we saw yesterday," Doctor Peterson said, "I doubt that a simple pry bar could stop this door from closing, but we'll try that as an attempted safeguard to prevent becoming completely sealed inside. Is everyone ready?"

  Doctor Peterson led the way in slowly and carefully, taking radiation measurements and checking the air quality as he went. The others crowded close to him and pointed their lights ahead, looking for any signs of life or danger.

  After passing through the entrance doorway, the scientists found themselves at one end of a broad corridor. A high, arched ceiling capped a hallway with a floor comprised of large square tiles of polished metamorphic rock. Four more doorways, with doors of a size similar to that of the entrance, disrupted the smooth lines of the corridor walls. Only one, on the immediate left, was open. They nervously moved that way in a tight cluster.

  The large open doorway was revealed to be an entrance to an impressive rotunda, at least fifteen meters in diameter. Standing just inside the entrance, the scientists shone their light torches around the room and played the beams across the high vaulted ceiling. Half the room had what appeared to be tall cabinet doors built into the walls, while much of the remaining wall space was dedicated to peculiar looking instrument panels. Roughly three-meters from the entrance sat a solitary table. The floor of the rotunda, like that of the corridor, was surfaced with highly-polished marble slabs with mottled green streaks in a slightly off-white background.

  "We need more light," Doctor Peterson pronounced. "Let's get some of the Chembrite Light panels in here."

  Without waiting for further instructions, the laborers retreated quickly through the doorway and returned promptly with some of the work lights from the tunnel. Once aimed at the highly-reflective domed ceiling, the entire room became brightly illuminated. Now able to see clearly, the scientists ventured further, moving to more closely examine the instrument panels mounted on the walls.

  "I shouldn't need to remind anyone not to touch anything," Doctor Peterson said. "The fact that the outside door opened, clearly indicates that there's at least a small amount of residual power in here."

  "Edward, look at those markings in the floor!" Doctor Ramilo said excitedly as he unnecessarily aimed his powerful light torch towards the polished stone floor in the center of the room. "They're like the symbols that the team at site three found!"

  The scientists chattered enthusiastically as they moved to the center of the room to examine the strange gold symbols inscribed into the floor while the laborers continued to carry more portable lights into the room to provide even better illumination.

  Mounted on tripod stands, the thin, flat, meter-square Chembrite panels were arranged primarily around the walls of the room, and aimed up at the ceiling, but one was placed on the solitary table and pointed down at the floor to brilliantly illuminate the etched symbols. Suddenly, the entire center of the room, where the archeologists were still congregated, was bathed in amber light, and each of the eleven scientists was paralyzed where he or she stood. A ten-centimeter-thick circular wall, made of a transparent polymer-like substance, rose soundlessly from the floor to enclose the immobilized group. The speed with which the encircling wall rose was phenomenal. One of the laborers, rushing to help the scientists, was carried aloft straddling the wall, a leg on either side. As the wall reached the ceiling, the enclosed area inside began to fill with a dense ocher gas that smelled of persimmons. In seconds it was impossible to see into the walled area.

  The laborers who had witnessed the event with terror-filled eyes, ran screaming from the room.

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  ~ June 12th, 2269 ~

  The two Space Marines posted at the entrance to the battleship, and the officer of the deck, Lieutenant Elton Chevers, snapped to attention and saluted Lt. Commander Jenetta Carver crisply as she boarded the Prometheus through the forward hold airlock. Chevers was newly posted to the ship, but he didn't have to ask who the tall blonde was or what business she had aboard the ship. Everyone in Space Command, and probably everyone on Earth, would recognize her on sight. There had been few weeks during the past year when her face hadn't appeared on newspapers, magazines, and the vid news. At times, her image appeared on all three media forms at the same time. For that handful of uninformed recluses that perhaps wouldn't immediately recognize her, the medal ribbons, campaign ribbons, and insignia that she wore on her uniform should certainly alert them to her identity. No other Lt. Commander in Space Command had the honor of wearing a gold pip on his or her collar. A gold pip announces that the wearer previously commanded a Space Command warship of destroyer or larger class. Carver wore two pips, having commanded both a Heavy Cruiser and a Battleship. She was also the only serving Space Command officer who wore a Medal of Honor ribbon. She had finally become accustomed to the stares, but she was looking forward to again being cloistered aboard ship for a few months. She took a minute to speak with the new officer before continuing through the airlock.

  New crewmen had begun to join the enormous battleship soon after it entered the Mars Shipbuilding Yard for repairs. The yard had done wonders. Battered unbelievably at the Battle for Higgins, just a month after being severely pummeled at the Battle of Vauzlee, the appearance of the restored Prometheus rivaled that of any new ship coming out of the yard. Jenetta had asked the shuttle pilot bringing her from Earth to perform several slow passes before docking. The Lieutenant(jg) pilot couldn't refuse such a simple request from a Medal of Honor recipient. The docking piers on either side of the massive ship were presently unoccupied, so with approval from the station's docking controller, the pilot was able to continue a shallow helical orbit around the massive vessel from stern to bow and back again until she was satisfied. The docking controller further cooperated by turning on all exterior lights in the dock. Jenetta found it impossible to tell that the ship had fought two life or death battles, which had left it near ruin.

  As she walked to her quarters now, it felt almost like coming home. The dull, recycled, and odorless air of the forward cargo bay was like a tonic. But before heading to the bridge to report in, she wanted to take a little time to put her things away. As captain of the GSC Heavy Cruiser Song, her last ship, she'd had a steward to take care of such things, but as a mere second officer again, she would have to oversee her own care. She especially wanted to unpack the spacechest and cases that had been in storage since she ceded command of the Song to its new commanding officer, Captain Charles Yung.

  After unpacking the two cases she'd brought from her parent's home, she carried the first of the other small cases to the bed, not realizing until then that the pile contained too many cases, by two. A visual check of the ID tags revealed that all contained her name. Opening the first case, she found only things that her steward had packed on the Song, so she placed it on the floor and picked up a second. That case also contained only things Woodrow had packed before she left the ship. Setting it on the floor next to the first, she opened a third. It contained women's civilian clothes, but they weren't hers. Looking closely at the ID tag again, she confirmed that it not only contained her name, but was apparently written in her handwriting. Leaving that case opened and on the bed, she lifted the final case to the bed and opened it. This one contained lingerie, gloves, shoes, and boots, but what really drew Jenetta's attention was the sexiness of the lingerie and the height of the heels on the shoes and boots. Returning to the previous case, she pulled out the dresses, skirts and blouses.

  Suddenly, it was as if she was ba
ck in the detention cell of Raider-One. Each piece of clothing appeared to be a match for one left behind when she escaped. In a side compartment of the case, she discovered waist, wrist, and ankle restraints, plus a red electronic controller that would lock or unlock them. She examined the case itself closely, but couldn't find any markings other than the nametag, so she inspected the other case. Like the first, and like her own cases, it was Space Command standard issue. There was nothing to indicate where the cases had come from, but as she was refolding the clothes, she spotted a piece of paper protruding slightly from one of the black corsets. It turned out to be a note. Her eyes widened and she sucked in her breath sharply as she read:

  Hi Angel,

  Congratulations, you're five and 0 now. You saved the Vordoth, saved the Nordakians, escaped from our detention center, saved the convoy of artifacts, and even destroyed our largest battleship, saving Higgins in the process. I can't tell you how much I look forward to our next encounter. The return of escaped slaves is a top priority and we've reserved your place at the resort.

  M.A.

  P.S. - I've taken the liberty of sending along a few things to replace the ones that you probably didn't have a chance to pack when you left Raider-One. They've been tailored to accommodate your new body measurements. Enjoy.