Flight of the Tristan

by D. B. Reynolds-Moreton

  With just four metres between them, the tall figures stopped, bowed their heads in unison, and then just stood there. They were about two and a half metres in height, with thin spindly legs and arms, and triangular heads perched on top of a thin stick- like neck. The heads were wide at the top, devoid of hair, and with narrow pointed chins. Two unblinking bright deep blue eyes, a rudimentary nose with two nostrils, and a normal looking mouth made them seem almost human.

  “Looks like food's in short supply,” someone quietly muttered.

  “We could try the chocolate routine,” said Smithson, “it seemed to work last time.”

  One of the men obligingly produced a bar, broke off a piece and chewed it, then broke off another piece, and held it out to the two thin humanoids. On of them took a couple of steps forward, looked at the offering, and then stepped back, turned to his companion and said something in a high piping voice. For a moment, their composure seemed to fail, both of them shuffling about on their thin spindly feet, and then they took up their former stance, and just stared at the explorers.

  “We can't talk to them,” said Brentford, quietly, “and I think we're causing them some discomfort, so let's back away, and leave them to their own devices. Bow heads, turn around, and walk off.”

  The group did just that, looking back after a while, but the humanoids had disappeared from sight.

  Keeping the marker balloon in sight, the group travelled on, skirting around the area where they had seen the woven hut, so as not to cause any more distress to the humanoids. Smithson climbed one of the taller mounds to see what lay ahead, and hurried down again to announce that in the distance there were about fifty or so huts, arranged in a circle - and with an equal number of humanoids milling about in some agitation.

  “Maybe our two have told the others about us,” said Brentford, “and they don't like it. Perhaps we had better return back to base, no point in causing trouble. I know they look a bit weak and spindly, but they have numbers on their side.”

  With that, the group turned to retrace their way back to the submarine, and only just in time. As they were about to board the inflatable, about fifty or so humanoids ran towards them, most armed with poles. No one was going to hang around to see what they would do with the poles, so, in a somewhat undignified manner, the group tumbled into the inflatable, powered up the outboard, and headed for the submarine, leaving the humanoids furiously waving their arms about on the edge of the floating island.

  “I think that confirms it,” said Brentford to his XO. later. “As each island seems to have a different type of humanoid on it with a collection of other creatures, that isn't likely to happen naturally - so someone or something has been at work here. I'd like to know how they do it, and why.”

  “I'm with you there,” Smithson replied enthusiastically, “and I think if we keep on this course in line with the other islands, we might find it - don't know why - just got a feeling about it.”

  CHAPTER 4

  FOR TWO DAYS and nights the submarine followed the course set by Brentford, using the star map they had made earlier. As there was virtually no magnetic field emanating from the plant the compass was useless.

  The sonar operator suddenly announced an anomaly on the ocean bed, and Brentford hurried to the screens to see what it was. It was clearly about one third the size of the submarine, and by the signals returning from it, metallic in nature.

  “Well, that's the first piece of metal we've seen on this planet so far,” he said. “We'll go down and see what the cameras can pick up.”

  With the submarine just a few metres above the sea bed, they slowly made their way towards the mystery shape, following the line indicated from the sonar returns.

  With the searchlight on, the external cameras picked out the shape of something shiny and tube shaped with two stubby fins attached. The submarine slowed to a crawl, and then stopped.

  “What do you make of that, XO?” said Brentford, quietly. “It's certainly been manufactured, and look, there's a rent in the side of it.”

  “If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a sort of space ship - you wouldn't build a boat like that. Pity it's too deep for a diver - might be something interesting in there.”

  Pictures were taken from every possible angle, so that they could later examine the craft in detail for any clues which they might have missed while being submerged.

  That evening, up on the conning tower, the CO and the XO were talking over the significance of what they had found.

  “Well, that certainly proves an intelligent agency has visited the planet, but not what it was up to - got any ideas XO?”

  “Not really, we'd have to get into that ship for more information. But if the occupants were responsible for the islands, they would have to have landed on solid ground somewhere - that's what we need to find - I have a feeling that's where the answers may be. May I suggest we keep following the same bearing?”

  “Don't see why not,” Brentford replied, “there's precious little else to do.”

  The submarine continued its search for land, but it was three days later before radar picked up a signal, and it was dead ahead. Slowly, a tall mountain peak came into view, but there was smoke coming out of the top of it. As they drew nearer, it was plain to see it was a volcano, and at some time in the past there had been a massive out flow of lava, as quite a sizable island had been built up.

  The submarine circled the island, looking for a suitable place to moor up, and land the crew. A small bay with a sandy beach was located, with what looked like some buildings set into the hillside some distance in. Above it towered the volcano with lazy wisps of smoke drifting up into the clear sky above.

  It was decided to send a heavily armed scouting party ashore next day, and if no resistance was found, to examine the buildings higher up in the hillside. If they too were uninhabited, most of the crew could come ashore, leaving a maintence crew on board in case of emergencies.

  Hardly anyone had a good night's sleep that night.

  The inflatable landed safely on the beach next morning, and was dragged up above the waterline with an armed guard just in case of a possible problem.

  Brentford led the exploration party of five others up the sandy slope of the beach and onto the hard cinders and lava flows left behind when the island was created.

  “Keep a sharp lookout for any movement,” Brentford ordered, “animal or humanoid, and only shoot to kill if it's absolutely necessary.”

  Huge rivers of molten lava had cascaded down from high above, leaving high ridges and deep gullies, making travelling difficult until the higher slopes were reached where the old lava flows had weathered to some extent.

  “These flows look fairly new,” Smithson commented. “Not much sign of weathering, and the ash layer is hardly disturbed - difficult to say when this new lot was deposited as there is hardly any wind, and we've seen no sign of rainfall.”

  The first sign of habitation was a flat plain which had been cut out of the lava bed, forming a smooth area of some one hundred metres square. There were no buildings in the area, and the team wondered just what it had been created for. Off to one side was a transport device, composed of a traction unit with a string of small trucks, each with bench seats in them.

  “Whoever used these,” said Brentford, “was about the same size as us I would think; let's see if it works.”

  There was a single seat in the traction unit, and what looked like simple controls; as no one stepped forward to try their luck, Smithson walked up to the unit, and swung himself up onto the seat as though he had done it all his life. Finding out what did what, took a little longer. A single rod was mounted in a raised section of the floor just in front of him, and he enthusiastically wiggled it about - but nothing happened.

  “Perhaps you have to put a coin in first,” someone suggested, with a chuckle.

  “Or wind it up,” was another response.

  And then he found the hidden switch under a small ledge right in fro
nt of him. The switch flicked over with a reassuring click, and as soon as he gripped the control rod in front of him, a soft hum could be heard. He eased the rod forward, and the traction unit responded by slowly moving ahead. Pushing the rod to one side somehow steered the unit - Smithson was feeling very pleased with himself, and grinned at the onlookers.

  “OK, all aboard - why walk when we have transport?”

  The whole party piled into the seated wagons, Smithson pushed the rod forward, and they were off up the smooth slope towards a building higher up the slope.

  The first building they came across was long and single storied, with neat rows of windows along its length, interspersed with doors every few metres. One of the party pointed out that what appeared to be one big building was in fact a series of modules which had been seamlessly joined together.

  “It looks like it might be the dormitory for the complex,” said Smithson. “The window and door spacing would indicate small rooms.”

  The windows were too high to peer into, and the doors firmly shut, but they couldn't see exactly how they were locked.

  “We could break in, I suppose,” Brentford said, without much conviction. “But it might be better to see if anyone is about first.”

  Someway up the slope they could see the rest of the complex, composed of large blocks connected to each other by covered walkways.

  The wagon train moved effortlessly on up the incline, and Smithson wondered just what powered the traction unit - there were no exhaust gasses, and it was unlikely that batteries could have held their charge for so long - so what was it?

  The transport snaked its way up the slope to come to a stop opposite one of the larger buildings, the crew jumping off and taking up defensive positions. Apart from the exploration party, the whole area seemed to be devoid of life, except for a few lizard like creatures which scuttled off quickly to hide behind any convenient piece of lava rubble.

  “Two stand by the transport - keep a sharp lookout - and do not shoot unless you are threatened. The rest follow me - we'll take a walk around to see if anyone's about,” Brentford ordered.

  The four of them approached the large building ahead, looking for a way in, but the only door they found was firmly locked, although again they couldn't see exactly how. Most windows seemed to be of the ‘one way’ kind, acting like a mirror from the outside, but at the back of the building they did find one window through which they could see clearly into a small room, and that was empty except for a large hole in the floor.

  The party, after nearly an hour, had checked every building on the site, but none seemed to have any occupants who were willing to show themselves.

  “I get the feeling this place is deserted,” Brentford stated. “I don't see any reason why we shouldn't break in, if we can - all agreed?”

  “Yes, sir,” chorused the other three, with some enthusiasm.

  They returned to the building nearest to the transport, relieved the guards and went up to what they thought was the main door. It certainly looked like a door, but how it was hinged or locked, was a mystery.

  “Shall I return to the submarine and get some tools?” Smithson asked Brentford. He gave his permission, and Smithson took off like a scalded cat in the transport.

  By the time he had returned, the sun was lowering in the sky, and it was decided to return to the submarine for the night, but not before they had made an assault on the door. Trying to insert a prise bar where the door met its surrounds proved useless, as there wasn't enough room to get the edge of the bar in. A portable electric drill just squealed, and the drill bit got very hot and lost its edge.

  “I think it's time we returned to base,” said Brentford. “Perhaps a night's sleep will give us some new ideas.”

  They returned to the submarine, and related to the others what they had found, and failed to do. Discussions on how to solve the problem went on long into the night.

  Next morning a lookout spotted something approaching the submarine, and gave the alarm. High up on the conning tower, Brentford and the XO. scanned the horizon for the reported object, but saw nothing - it was only when they looked down that they saw the huge mainly submerged jelly-like blob, a mere fifty metres from the submarine, and closing fast.

  Brentford gave the order for a firing squad to assemble on the casing, and stand by ready to pump the blob full of lead, when required. They watched, fascinated, as the huge creature slowed down, and cautiously approached the stern end of the submarine - and then it touched it. The whole mass seemed to tremble, and then recoil away.

  “Don't think it likes the feel of metal,” said Smithson. “If it won't go away, we could attach some metal bits and pieces to a line and fire it out over the creature with a signal rocket.”

  Brentford nodded his head. “Good thinking, XO, lets hope it goes away of its own accord - if it doesn't, we'll give your idea a try.”

  Within a few minutes, the huge jelly had gone out to sea, no doubt wondering just what it had encountered.

  In the early morning light, the inflatable headed for the beach, disgorged its cargo of expectant explorers and was beached, with a guard. The rest of the party hurried up the long slope towards the flat area where the transport was waiting, scrambled aboard, and headed up the track towards the building complex.

  An hour later, and they were no nearer to solving the problem of the locked door, and a break was called to reassess the situation. Five of the party went to sit down on the transport to try and work out what to do next, but one remained at the door, running his hand over the sleek surface.

  “What are you doing?” asked Smithson.

  “Just seeing if there's anything on the surface which feels different,” the man replied. “I know it all looks the same, but…..” and then he stopped.

  “That's odd,” he said, “this bit feels as if it's dished, you know, like a saucer - but it doesn't show up visually.”

  Seconds later, and the whole team were gathered around the door.

  “That's the bit which feels odd,” he said, placing his hand on a section of the door half way up and near its edge. And then he put the other hand on the mystery area, and there was a faint click and the door slid open with a very quiet hiss.

  “Well done,” said Smithson, patting the man on the back. “Maybe their hands are bigger than ours - good thinking young man.”

  Ahead was a long hall with doors spaced out along each wall, and strange symbols above them. Most of the party held back, but Brentford walked up to the first door, felt around for the ‘dished’ effect and placed both hands on it. The door obligingly opened to a room full of tables and chairs, and on the tables were countless ringed folders. Smithson joined him as he opened the first folder. The first three pages looked like a list of some sort, with symbols on the end of each line, but the symbols meant nothing to them.

  Turning the next page, and then several others, gave a clue as to what the folder was all about.

  “Looks like they have made a catalogue of all the various creatures they've found on each of the islands,” Brentford said. “We only saw a very small number, so there must be many more islands, I would think.” Smithson thumbed over a few more pages.

  “When you consider each page has several diagrams of a creature, and what looks like a description of it, and then the number of pages in each folder, and then all these folders - that's one hell of a lot of creatures,” exclaimed Smithson, overwhelmed at the thought.

  “Let's check some of the other folders,” said Brentford. “If they are as full as this one, then that is, as you say, one hell of a lot of creatures.”

  Most of the folders were about the creatures, and that included the humanoid forms they had seen on three of the islands, along with many others they were yet to find.

  One of the men called out excitedly, “I think I've found a catalogue of the islands, sir, there's bloody hundreds of them.”

  “That would explain why the ones we found were all going in a straight line, so they
didn't bump into each other, and cross contaminate,” suggested Smithson, always eager to offer an explanation.

  “There's enough data here to cover every creature on Earth, so what do the other rooms contain?” mused Brentford. “And that's just this building!”

  They left the ‘catalogue’ room and opened the next door. More benches, strange looking machines, and small boxes of what looked like little bones, different ones in each box.

  “What the hell's the point of collecting all these different bones? And so many different kinds,” someone asked - but no one had a sensible answer.

  Smithson was bent over one of the machines, and touched a protruding knob. There was a click, a faint hiss, and a block hinged open. A small white bone dropped out onto the worktop. There was a communal gasp as the significance of what they had seen fell into place - a bone making machine.

  “Let's see what else we have,” said Brentford, and they left the room to try other doors.

  The next three refused to be opened. Either they didn't find the right spot to activate them, or some other security measure was in place - much to their frustration.

  They were about to give up, thinking the first two doors had been left unlocked, when the next door they tried opened.

  There was one machine in the centre of the room, and from the ceiling, hundreds of fine rods came down to go into what they thought was the back of the device. Two transparent hoods lay side by side on the bench-like front of the machine, with a small raised knob in front of each one, and a larger one between them. Under the left hand hood was a small beetle-like creature with four legs and a shiny grey carapace.

  “OK to press the left-hand button?” asked Smithson.

  Brentford moved in for a closer look. “OK, but stand well back.”

  Smithson's finger hesitated for a second before he touched the button, and then firmly pressed it down.

  The hood slowly rose, fully exposing the beetle creature. Smithson gently picked it up and was surprised to find it was fully reticulated, apart from the hard carapace.