Dragon Dawn (Dinosaurian Time Travel)

by Deborah O'Neill Cordes

  She found herself smiling. Given her state of mind the other day, when she felt so homesick for Earth, her thoughts now seemed quite contradictory. Was it logical to want more time on Mars, yet wish to be home at the same time?

  “How in the world am I going to make sense of all this?” Dawn asked, breaking the quiet.

  Kris and Gus, who were riding in the Rover with her, shifted slightly and gazed at her through their helmets, but did not reply.

  “I think I’m going crazy,” Dawn admitted. “I have no idea where to start.”

  “In that case,” Kris piped up, “take it one step at a time. Just do what you were planning to do. You’re the first archeologist on Mars. After we find the passageway inside the volcano, set up the muon probe we lugged all the way here and see if you can find any hidden chambers. Consider things from my perspective. I have an entire planet to survey. It may take decades, even whole lifetimes to explore Olympus Mons and the other volcanoes, the polar caps, and the Vallis Marineris. And I’m gonna do just that. All of it.”

  “No harm in that,” Gus said teasingly, “providing we decide to leave you behind.”

  “Oh, you won’t have to do that, Commander. I’m hoping to be included on the third mission back here,” Kris said. She glanced at Dawn. “If I don’t make the cut, I think I’ll go crazy for the both of us.”

  Smiling, Dawn knew humans were now pretty much guaranteed a lifespan of around one hundred and twenty years, but who knew what discoveries were on the horizon? In the future, would they be able to live for centuries, maybe even millennia? “Well, if you hang around long enough,” she told Kris, “you might be able to come back many times, or stay here for decades or even for hundreds of years.”

  Kris laughed. “Lord, I can see it now – my little, shriveled, five hundred-year-old body attempting to hike in the Vallis Marineris.”

  All of a sudden, Dawn felt wistful. “Wouldn’t it be grand, though? If only we did have all the time in the world.”

  Everyone grew silent, lost in their thoughts. The ride became increasingly bumpy, even teeth-jarring at times, but Dawn didn’t mind. Glancing around, she reflected on the landscape, struck by the similarity between Mars and the southwestern U.S. Here was comparable terrain, tinged with the same reddish hue of iron oxide and rugged topography.

  In her graduate school days, she’d assisted with an excavation of Sinagua ruins on the Colorado Plateau of Northern Arizona. There, against a backdrop of extinct, volcanic hills, Dawn helped uncover evidence of native people who had lived over eight hundred years ago. For decades, the Sinagua survived in the shadow of the San Francisco Peaks. They farmed corn, beans, and squash near the box canyons and red-hued cinder cones, until the start of the eruption cycle of Sunset Crater during the winter of A.D. 1064-1065.

  What had the ancient Sinagua people thought when the mountain exploded, raining ash and fire on their homes? Did they believe the world had ended, that their gods were filled with anger?

  Because they’d left no written records, no one would ever know for sure. But people of the twenty-first century could guess what they were thinking, for they were also human beings. The prehistoric people of Arizona were not so far removed from them in time they couldn’t imagine their feelings. After all, the eruption had happened less than a millennium ago. In geologic time, not much more than the blink of an eye. And, in historical time, not so very long ago, either.

  But now, in the shadow of Olympus Mons, Dawn considered the antiquity of this place. When had the Martians placed the monolith in the ground? Hundreds or thousands, perhaps millions of years ago? Would human scientists be able to understand what had happened to them? And what about the laser beacon? What did it mean? And what would they find when they traveled to its place of origin?

  The two Rovers pulled up to the monolith site. Dawn used a magnetic locator to comb the area for additional artifacts. To her surprise, she found a second monolith not far from the first.

  During the next few hours, the astronauts unearthed the new monolith, and then carefully recorded and deciphered a second alien message. Afterward, excitement grew to a fever pitch. While the previous news about Earth’s possible exploration by six Martians was still the talk of the Solar System, the new message contained something even more intriguing: a map of the interior of Olympus Mons. It indicated that a passageway, long hidden beneath the sands of a southern slope, led to a series of tunnels and chambers.

  What could be inside those chambers? On the morning of the third day, Dawn pondered the images before her, taken by ground-penetrating radar and the muon probe a few hours after the second monolith’s discovery. It confirmed what had been suspected: there was something artificial inside the extinct volcano. But what exactly was it? A museum complex or a library – or both? Had the Martians stored the highlights of their civilization there, hoping that someone, someday, would find their treasures?

  Dawn realized human conjecture about the purpose of the chambers was probably, at best, but a vague approximation of the truth. At this point, she could only guess at their function. After all, the Martians were an alien race. Maybe they were as different from humans as whales were from bacteria.

  But six of them might have visited the Earth. When? Why? The questions played over and over in Dawn’s mind, yet she had no immediate answers.

  In frustration, she looked around, studying the barren landscape. Then she kicked the ground, sending up a cloud of red dust. There was nothing here, nothing beneath her boots. The lack of Martian artifacts struck her as peculiar. Other than the monoliths, no one had found anything new.

  There were no parallels with Dawn’s archaeological experiences on Earth. Where were the garbage piles and kitchen middens? The ancient tools, potshards, and weapons? The telltale remains of everyday life? Had they been scoured away by fierce windstorms over previous Martian epochs? Or had they been purposely hidden inside the recesses of the volcano?

  She shook her head at the lack of answers and then went back to work. Under her direction, the crew looked for the door leading to the nearest chamber. The next hour ended in disappointment as they sunk a few test trenches to the layer of gray, volcanic bedrock. Not much was found elsewhere, only permafrost and a few rocks which Harry and Kris found interesting.

  And then, on the fourth try, a heart-stopping moment occurred; they discovered stone steps leading to a door! The whine of the robot digger cut off as Gus gave it the voice command to stop. Silently, he watched as the digger rolled away from the stairwell. The rest of the crew stood behind him, looking exhausted. Even with the robot, there had been plenty of physical work to do here; hauling away the sand and rock blown in during countless dust storms. They’d spent the better part of a day sweating beneath their spacesuits, shoveling away a ton of dirt.

  “I think this is it,” Dawn said excitedly as everyone moved forward.

  Gloved hands pressed against metal, scraping away years of accumulated dust, exposing the top of the door. Only the lower part remained hidden, perhaps no more than a half-meter was still covered by dirt.

  Gus put his boot to the shovel, and the ground came away easily here. Soon, he had exposed some stone floor tiles leading to the base of the door. And then, he hit a spot directly in front of the doorway. Immediately, the door swung backward. Motes of dust stirred as ancient air rushed from the mysterious room beyond. As soon as the atmosphere settled, the crew peered into the darkness.

  “Damn!” Kris’s expression betrayed her dissatisfaction. She stood with Harry, who held a drill. On the ground rested other equipment: an airlock system, collecting tanks, and a remote-control video camera. They’d been planning to capture some ancient air for study, then place the camera inside the sealed chamber for an initial, noninvasive examination.

  Forget it, an equally disappointed Dawn wanted to tell them. It was too late; the air was gone.

  For a moment, Dawn stood still, feeling torn by ambivalent emotions; while she desperately wanted to enter the
monument, she was also reluctant to disturb a silent reliquary of the past. Suddenly, she felt as though she could feel the spirits of the aliens, their watchful presences. And she did not wish to trespass on their world.

  But then again, they wanted you to explore their monuments, she told herself. Otherwise, why did they create the monoliths and send the laser beacon? You’ve got to see what’s inside.

  She walked into the shadowy chamber and turned on her flashlight. Because the powerful beam trailed off into nothingness, she could tell the room was huge. Texas-sized, as Gus would say.

  With a small smile, she looked back, searching for him, but five flashlights danced behind her, blinding her.

  “You see anything?” she heard Gus ask.

  The question jogged her memory, and she recalled a story about the Egyptologist Howard Carter, the discoverer of Tutankhamun’s tomb. Since the passageway to King Tut’s tomb had been filled with debris, it had taken days to clear it out. Then, with his benefactor Lord Carnarvon at his side, they finally reached the actual doorway. Carter broke the seal – the jackal god Anubis triumphantly standing above his nine defeated foes – and then drilled an opening in the upper corner of the door.

  Dawn reminded her fellow crewmates about Carter’s discovery. Almost immediately, she heard Jean-Michel’s voice over the com-link, reading Howard Carter’s actual words:

  “Darkness and blank space, as far as an iron testing-rod could reach, showed that whatever lay beyond was empty. Widening the hole a little, I inserted the candle and peered in... At first, I could see nothing, the hot air escaping from the chamber causing the candle flame to flicker, but presently, as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, details of the room within emerged slowly from the mist, strange animals, statues, and gold – everywhere the glint of gold.

  “For the moment – an eternity it must have seemed to the others standing by – I was struck dumb with amazement, and then Lord Carnarvon, unable to stand the suspense any longer, inquired anxiously, ‘Can you see anything?’”

  The Frenchman paused and then asked, “Do you remember the rest, Dr. Stroganoff, or should I patch it through to you?”

  “No, let me do this on my own.” Dawn slowly walked forward, then halted and stared as her flashlight caught the distant gleam of amber.

  She gave a little cry, as much from the sheer beauty of seeing the dazzling, golden path as from the thrill of discovery.

  “What is it?” The voice was Lex’s.

  Whirling about, Dawn saw five dark shapes outlined against the blazing light of the doorway. Her crewmates had all held back. Only Dawn stood in the middle of the mysterious chamber, only she knew what rested beyond the gloom.

  “Can you see anything?” Gus asked, echoing Lord Carnarvon’s words.

  Spontaneously, Dawn nodded her head. And then, she recalled the words of Howard Carter.

  “Yes,” she said, in a voice filled with awe. “Wonderful things.”

  ***

  They walked and walked, for what seemed like forever, following the pavement of amber-colored tiles. The glinting trail had started in the midst of the cavernous chamber, winding around in a spiral until it straightened out and meandered on.

  Dawn led the way down the path, feeling a bit like Dorothy on her way to the Emerald City. What lay ahead? Would a wizard be waiting for them at the end of the golden road?

  Dawn laughed to herself at such an outlandish thought, and then her flashlight caught the sparkle of a wall of golden-brown glass.

  “What a shame it is cracked!” Tasha exclaimed as she moved forward and touched the surface of the window. “It looks like mica, does it not?”

  Dawn examined the large, fractured, mica-like window. Streaked with frost, she could barely see what lay in the chamber beyond; only the vague outline of a dark, rectangular object was visible from her perspective.

  She let her flashlight roam. The beam accentuated the dainty, fernlike patterns of frost, which shimmered like a frozen curtain of glass. With the rest of the crew fast on her heels, she walked down the window’s length, following the amber floor tiles until she stopped in front of a large, arched doorway. The door itself glowed with all the colors of the rainbow; clearly it was made of the same substance as the monoliths.

  “This is it,” Dawn said as her companions came alongside. The door was huge, perhaps half again as tall as Gus. There was a handprint at eye level, sculpted in bas-relief. The print had two long, slender fingers and an opposable thumb, with claws poking out from the ends of the digits. Weird and wonderful! Dawn thought. Studying the sculpture, she guessed the alien’s body had looked equally strange.

  But then, she made a human connection, for she remembered how Ice Age artists had created hand stencils in red ochre on the walls of Paleolithic caves.

  “Do you copy this, Jean-Michel?” Gus asked in an excited voice.

  “Roger. I copy, Commander. The door is fantastic, no?”

  Harry studied the three-fingered handprint with an intense stare. “You know, this may sound kind of bizarre, but I think it looks like a dinosaur print.” He glanced over at Kris. “But that’s impossible, right?”

  “Must be a coincidence,” she replied.

  Jean-Michel’s voice came over the com-link again. “Since we know the atmosphere beyond is corrupted, go ahead and touch the door, Commander. See what happens.”

  Gus shook his head. “No, you do it, Dawn. This is your show.”

  She gave him an appreciative smile. “All right,” she said as she placed her glove on the alien handprint.

  At first, nothing happened, but after a few seconds the door appeared to shudder and then it started to swing inward. This time there was no rush of air or flittering dust particles. Only a deep, frozen silence greeted the team of astronauts.

  Dawn was dazzled by what lay before her. Beyond a small antechamber was an open door, and through it, she could see another room. In the middle stood a sarcophagus made of gleaming red stone.

  “Beautiful!” Kris exclaimed.

  “This appears to be the opposite of Egyptian royal burials,” Dawn noted. She turned to Gus. “The Egyptian priests wanted to prevent looting, so they constructed various physical and psychological barriers. But here the circumstances are different. There are no false passageways, and no curses or incantations written on the walls. The Martians made it relatively easy for us to find this place.”

  Dawn looked at the unadorned walls of the chamber. In contrast to the tombs of the Egyptian royalty, there were no hieroglyphics here. In fact, there was little to tell her about the significance of the site. She mentioned this to the others.

  “Uh huh,” Gus said, commiserating with Dawn. “You’d think they’d have left something behind. Some clue.” He let out a whistle. “Hey, look at that!”

  Gus walked forward, and Dawn’s gaze moved beyond him, catching some kind of marking on the wall. Was it just a trick of lighting, or was there another relief sculpture there?

  Dawn rushed to his side. Sure enough, she could make out another alien handprint.

  “Looks a lot like the other one,” Gus said as he started to reach toward the wall.

  “Don’t touch it,” Dawn said. “I need some time to think about this.”

  Gus stepped back, relinquishing his spot to her.

  After they exchanged a breathless look, they heard Jean-Michel’s melodious voice over the com-link. “What will you do, Dr. Stroganoff?”

  I have no idea, Dawn thought as she considered the handprint before her. The other one had signified the existence of a doorway. But here, she shook her head in puzzlement, the wall seems entirely smooth.

  It took every ounce of self-control to keep from touching the handprint, but Dawn knew she had to consider things further. “Well, I’m dying to see what’s in the sarcophagus, but I think this takes precedence over that.” She looked at Gus. “What do you suppose Houston will say?”

  “Wait a sec.” Gus turned off the feed to his com-link, so he w
as only audible to the crew on Mars. “We’ll check things out from here, Dawn, but ultimately, this will be your decision. And yours alone.”

  ***

  The handprint measured 18.2 centimeters long. Big by human standards, it was slightly smaller, yet identical in appearance, to the one found on the outer door. Only this time, there was a message carved beneath the hand. They hadn’t noticed it at first, but then upon further inspection the code had leapt out at them.

  Dot/dot. In binary, the number three. The Martian symbol for Earth.

  Dawn studied the message chiseled in the stone wall. Earth? she wondered. Just what were the aliens thinking?

  She recalled how the ancient Egyptians had placed false doors in the walls of their tombs. They believed spirits would travel through them, passing back and forth between the realms of the living and the dead. Could there be a similar thought process here? Was there a hidden passageway beyond the Martian wall? Would something be waiting for her on the other side?

  Suddenly, with a little chill, Dawn visualized Alice crawling into the rabbit hole.

  She took a deep breath, then exhaled. Get a grip. Like a tantalizing clue on a treasure map, the handprint stared back at her. Earthlings, I am here, it seemed to say. Touch me, and you will learn my secrets.

  Now the crew’s headsets were recording in VR again. NASA had estimated that this event would break all previous broadcast records, even the actual Mars landing.

  The capcom’s voice rang out, “You are go, Dr. Stroganoff. Good luck.”

  “Roger that, Houston,” Dawn replied. She looked back at Gus. “I’ll touch it now.”

  He nodded and gave her a thumb’s up.

  Dawn faced the handprint again. Her gloved right hand moved forward until it pressed lightly against the wall. She wished she could feel the stone against her naked flesh, wanted to feel its smooth coldness, but her spacesuit was in the way. If only she could take her glove off.