Dragon Dawn (Dinosaurian Time Travel) (15 page)

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 was 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. 

If only
––  Her thoughts broke as the room started to tilt. Something began pulling her from inside the wall, like a giant whirlpool sucking her into its depths! Dawn tried to break free. With a supreme effort, she twisted around, arms akimbo as she clawed at the air. 

With a clap like thunder, the wall split open. For a moment, as she teetered on the brink, she shot a desperate look at Gus. But then, she was wrenched backward into the gaping, pitch-black hole. 

What she heard next seemed beyond belief. “Houston, we have had a problem!” Jean-Michel cried out. How she’d hoped she would never hear those fateful words.

Dawn barely registered Gus yelling, “Grab ‘er! Sonofa––” 

His voice cut off neatly as the door closed with a resounding
boom
. Terrified, she careened down a pitch-black chute until the tunnel angled off, and her momentum slowed. Without warning, her body sailed into space, then struck solid ground. 

Heart racing, Dawn held herself still for a long moment. It was totally dark. She brought a hand up to her face, seeing nothing. Everything was as black as outer space. With a shock, she realized her helmet had vanished. She was breathing air, a moist, thick, warm atmosphere with a slightly moldy aroma. 

She stared out blindly and rose to her feet, rubbing a bruised elbow. It ached miserably, but she ignored this, resolving to let Gus and the others know she was alive. “Hey, guys, can you hear me?” she yelled, hoping she was facing the tunnel, willing them to answer.

The lights flickered, then flashed on, as if in response, and she squinted, trying to adjust to the glare. After several seconds, she gauged the chamber where she stood. It was small, about the size of
Destiny’s
safe room. She turned, wondering what the hell she’d stumbled into, scared, yet overwhelmed by curiosity. 

She sucked in her breath. A monolith stood at the center of the chamber.
A third one?

There was a recliner-style chair sitting next to it, reminding her somewhat of the kind used by dentists. It was coated with dust, but she could tell the upholstery was intact; in fact, it looked like it had been
recently made. But how old was it? How had something as fragile as a chair survived the passage of time?

Resisting the urge to check it out further, she slowly, with modulated steps, circled the monolith. Then she realized there was a slight notch carved into its midpoint, the indentation stretching all the way around. On the far side, she found a device nestled in the notch, reminding her of an old-fashioned telephone, like the ones used before the time of her grandparents. 

E. T., phone home?
Despite her apprehension, she found herself smiling as she recalled one of her favorite old movies. If only Gus knew. He’d have appreciated that one.

She spotted her helmet on the floor. How had it gotten off her head? A trickle of sweat rolled down her back. It was hot and steamy, like a rainforest. Removing her remaining gear, she stripped down to her T-shirt and shorts. She eyed the monolith again. Upon further inspection, she decided the device in the notch resembled some kind of VR headset.

Should I try?
Dawn’s curiosity got the best of her, and she decided to go for it. She settled into the chair. Immediately, something grabbed hold of her body. The chair had come alive, throbbing, reaching out for her, attempting to pull her inside.

“Leave me alone!” she cried out and the weird movement stopped. She took several deep breaths, noticing how comfortable the chair felt, how much it conformed to her shape. Taking hold of the headset, she saw there was no eyepiece or microphone, just two small side knobs which seemed to belong on the ears, like stereo buds. For a moment, she studied the device, turning it over and over in her hands. The familiarity of the design was somehow comforting. Maybe the Martians had been a lot like humans, after all.

She placed the headset on her ears, but it was too big. Had it been made for someone with a larger braincase? With a renewed sense of doubt, she tried to adjust it, pushing the knobs against her ears. When that didn’t work, she let go of the left side, then pressed the right knob only. 

Dawn waited. Was she going to listen to some sort of welcoming speech? What if she was incapable of understanding the message?

She closed her eyes, fighting a sudden dizziness, then felt a slight prick inside her ear. 

“You are safe, Dawn Anne Stroganoff, PhD.”

Her eyes flew open. “Wha – who are you?” she stammered.

The deep, robotic voice rang out. “Dawn Anne Stroganoff, PhD, I have read the patterns of your cerebrum. Your brain waves are complex, and I
am pleased with your intelligence. Now I know everything about you. Do not be afraid. I will not harm you, Dawn Anne Stroganoff, PhD.”

“Dawn, call me Dawn. And what do you mean? How could you know everything about me?”

“To put it simply – I read your mind. I know everything about you: that you love two members of the species
Canis
familiaris
, whom you call Wendy and Peter; that you’ve always needed nine hours of sleep per night; that you love tea and chocolate; and that you’ve had three sexual affairs in your lifetime, with the most important involving a marine archeologist you met at a conference in California––”

“Enough! I believe you.” Fingers trembling, she touched the headset. “Who are you?”

“You would not be able to pronounce my name. In your language, I would be called the Keeper.”

Dawn’s heart raced with all that the name implied. This wasn’t some kind of alien zoo, was it? 

“I am the Keeper,” the voice went on. “I oversee––”

“Is this a zoo?” she blurted out. 

“I see you have heard of the Zoo Hypothesis. A few of your more imaginative scientists speculated Earth, and perhaps your entire Solar System, contain such rare oases of life in this quadrant of the galaxy that aliens have created a kind of national park, a big zoo to preserve all of your rare species.”

“Yes,” Dawn whispered back, her mind awhirl. 

“Being in a zoo might explain why no one bothered before now to contact you Earthlings, for the zoo must be kept contained and apart from all else, inviolate, uncontaminated by space aliens. The hypothesis is wrong, however. Human beings would not be part of the equation if this were a zoo, for you are not the caretakers of your world. In fact, you are the antithesis of caretakers, the very reason Earth is in crisis and so many species are dying in a planet-wide mass extinction. You humans have overpopulated and polluted your world.”