The Caverns of Mare Cetus (11 page)

   "Hey, Hunter," said Isis. She had dropped back a distance behind the others and had been hiking there for some time. "Are you okay?" She stopped.

   Immediately Hunter's pains disappeared. The air was clear. His lights were as bright as ever. "I'm fine. Okay. Mind your own business, will you? I'm doing my job."

   She looked puzzled, then insulted. "Okay, fine. I will." She turned around and hurried up to the front of the line.

   At once Hunter thought he heard whispers from her. Then whispers in response. He couldn't make them out, but they seemed devious and undermining in intent. As more whispers sprouted from the explorers, they grew in strength and form.

   
"He's no commander. How can you respect him? Astoni was right all
along,"
rang through Hunter's thoughts. Could it be—Arielle conspiring with Edison, Garrett with Renata, Isis with Richelle? All of them with the Iob? The whispers heightened in a maddening burst.
"He's a fool. He's leading us to ruin. We need him out. How? Take
command from him. But who will lead? Renata. She deserves command,
he doesn't. All he wants to do is jump her. And what about him? Eliminate
him. Leave him here to rot."

   Hunter was incensed. His team was planning to stab him. And their words had become so blatant and loud, he couldn't help but believe they wanted him to hear them.
He had had enough. How could
they do this to him? Treasonous bastards! It made sense now. It was a
conspiracy. A mutiny.
He picked up his pace. "We'll see who's in command."

   The whispers immediately disappeared. Hunter halted in full stride. He listened. He heard talking—Ramon, Trent, Arielle. Normal talk. Cave talk. Nothing more. Had he actually heard anything at all?

   
Behind you
, he thought he heard.
In the darkness.

   He turned around. "Who said that?" As he peered back through the Long Hall that now stretched for kilometers behind him, he saw little except the murkiness of the passage. But was that all he saw? Somehow it was as if the darkness had taken on a troubling form. It had become unnerving, incomprehensible, but still, only a child would imagine it as something hideous, something evil. That wasn't the reaction one would expect from a seasoned explorer. "What about the darkness?" he whispered.

   Suddenly thoughts of the tragedy of the Severon Mission began to hammer at his brain, and try as he might to dislodge those horrendous images, it was as if something was breeding them out of the deepest corners of his mind. As he vividly pictured the crazed engineer attacking the woman as she struggled against him, sweat beaded up on Hunter's forehead, his hands became clenched in rage.

   Then fear struck him. It wasn't the engineer's hand he saw—it was his own! It was
his
hand that was methodically cutting through
her
flesh with a vile serrated blade. As he imagined the blade slipping across her stomach, slicing her open like a watermelon, her body jerked in a powerful spasm, her shrieks of agony muted by her tightly held gag. The vision changed. He saw a face, her face. It was shrouded in sweaty, blood-coated black hair that tenuously cloaked a long cut that ran from high on her cheekbone toward her lips. As dark red blood streamed out from the wound, soaking her hair, covering her neck and shoulder, he was sickened by the image, even the thought. The vision changed. Now he saw eyes, her eyes. They were dark, unfathomable, and they agonizingly stared at him with both loathing and fear. Still, it was a familiar stare. Then he knew—they were Renata's eyes!

   The vision changed. He saw a knife, his knife. And he drove it toward her, the tip of the blade tearing through her flesh between her ribs. As the knife became deeply impaled in her chest, he could swear he felt the sticky warmth of her dying body closing around his fingers. The feeling was so ghastly and real he began furiously shaking his hand to cast it off. The vision changed. He saw a gag, Renata's gag. It reddened with blood as a haunting, choking sound seemed to reach out at him from the cavern walls.

   A tremendous shudder took hold of Hunter. Abruptly the vision faded. He anxiously turned forward and saw the wavering lights of the others ahead of him. He immediately picked out Renata's strong, clear voice, instructing Trent on how they should attack the twisting passages at the end of the Long Hall. Hunter sighed in relief.
Renata.
Thank God. How could he ever hurt her, anybody ever
…his eyes were drawn toward Garrett's conspicuous gait. He had fallen back and was walking like a tiger on the prowl, a faint glow emanating from the stock of his rifle. Hunter took off his hardhat and ran a hand through his sweat-drenched hair.

   Immediately a cool blast of air seemed to cross over Hunter's head from behind. He turned around. "What the hell? What was that?"

   He put his hardhat back on and scanned the walls and ceiling, then stood motionless for several moments, trying to deny a new feeling building inside him that he was waiting for something, something wary of his lights. He turned off his symotes, and as he peered into the darkness, an icy tingle squirmed up his spine. The image of a foreboding, malicious creature began to form in his thoughts. It was small, naked, wiry, with long saber-like claws growing from its fingers. And it was scurrying silently, methodically—between the rocks, along the walls—stalking them…in the cold, empty passages behind.

   As Hunter continued to stare into the nothingness that encompassed him, thoughts that something was out there raced through his mind. He put his hand to his chest; his heart was pounding furiously, recklessly. He wouldn't admit, couldn't admit— he was frightened, very frightened. And it worsened, every minute, every second.

   His vision growing, he could see the creature's teeth now—gray, misshapen, serrated, thirsting for its prey. Frothy brown saliva was oozing along its lips as its large menacing eyes guided it effortlessly through the immeasurable darkness. Closer. Closer it came, its two powerful legs silently whisking it through the passage.

   Hunter thought he could smell it now—a ghastly odor, the stench of rotting flesh—exactly what the Severon engineer had fanatically claimed he smelled. As Hunter tried to brush aside that lunacy, his vision became distinct. He could see the gruesome beast clearly. It was studying Hunter, lurking just a few meters away, its head dotted with thin worm-like hairs, its face covered with rows of reddish nodules. Its hands held closely to its face, it was flexing its bony fingers, ravenously waiting for its moment.

   Another blast of air passed across Hunter's face, startling him, his vision instantly melting into the darkness.

   His teeth were clenched so hard he thought he'd shatter them. He took the electra out of his pocket, his trembling hands gripping it like a rope in a tug-of-war as he aimed it into the darkness.

   
It could be right there. Right in front of him. It could be reaching
out…now…claws spread wide…reaching for his throat…

   
Something grabbed his shoulder.
"Oh, my God!" he screamed as he jumped forward and wheeled around. He pointed the pistol at Garrett's head. He gasped. "What the hell are you trying to do?"

   Garrett's expression was unmoved, as if he had no fear of the pistol staring him in the face.

   Hunter gasped again. "Damn it, Garrett. W-w-why, why did you sneak up on me like that?"

   "Hunter!" called Renata over Hunter's com, sounding distressed. "What happened?"

   "Sneak up on you? What are you talking about? How could you not see my lights?" Garrett flashed his dull blue lights in Hunter's face. "Now how am I supposed to hike down here without lights?"

   "Hunter!" called Renata. "What's going on?"

   Hunter's brow furrowed. "I didn't see your lights."

   "I don't see how you couldn't," said Garrett, his eyebrows rising.

   "Hunter," pleaded Renata. "Are you okay?"

   "I'm fine," snapped Hunter into his com. He looked at Garrett. "I didn't see them. I'm positive. I was looking into the darkness."

   "This darkness," said Garrett. "You shouldn't lag behind." He paused. "After what happened to Rene, I don't think it's wise to spread out too thin."

   "Don't you think I'm aware of that?" asked Hunter. "I am leading this damned expedition."

   "Then lead," said Garrett gruffly.

   "Are you sure everything's okay?" asked Renata over his com. "We heard you scream."

   "It's nothing," said Hunter into his com. "Garrett just scared the crap out of me, that's all."

   "Did I?" asked Garrett.

   "Oh," said Renata, sounding relieved, yet confused. "Are you sure?"

   "I'm sure," said Hunter. "It's under control."

   Garrett waved his rifle toward the group. "Come on. We need you up front with Rene. The Long Hall ends soon."

   "All right," said Hunter as he turned on his symotes and adjusted his hardhat. "Just give me a minute to gather my senses."

   "Only a minute." Garrett began hiking to catch up to the group, calling to Renata on his com as he did.

   Hunter, having finally calmed himself, gazed into the passage again. His eyes darted between the walls, the ceiling, the floor, the crevasses, every blemish he could find, but he saw only a collage of greenish-gray limestone blocks and smooth-bedded walls.

   "This darkness," he muttered. "What about this darkness? It's a cave—only a cave. A dead cave. Like this planet. Dead. Damn dead. You know that. Everyone does." He flipped off his lights and took a deep breath. Then as if expecting to catch something standing in front of him, he flipped them back on.

   He started after Garrett, who was already a distance ahead of him. "It's just your imagination, that's all. Garrett's getting to you." He shook his head. "He brought up that damn Severon crap. Blow it off. Take control."

   When Hunter caught up with the group, he found them taking a break at the top of a steep, downward-leading stair-step passage with scores of jagged blocks scattered along its floor and dozens of large, spectacular orange-brown stalactites hanging from its ceiling. Renata was holding a flat dark gray rock in her hand and was eyeing it suspiciously.

   "A doloextrudite?" she asked as she stared at Hunter curiously. She handed the block to Richelle.

   Richelle looked at it. "Yeah. That's what it is all right— recrystallized dolomite that was extruded onto the ocean floor by some unclear endogenic process. There's s-s-something else in it, too, but I can't identify it." She pointed to several long yellowish stringlike veins striking across the grain of the rock. "I didn't know you knew that m-m-much about the geology."

   "Then you don't know much," said Renata. She stood in front of Hunter, a deep concern coming to her eyes, her voice softening. "Is everything okay?"

   "Yes. Everything's fine." He sat down and began viewing the next section of mapped passage on his Vimap. "Looks like two kilometers of twisting, gently to steeply sloping passage—almost all down. There's an odd zigzag section about two-thirds of the way down. At the end, there's a steep climb."

   "But one might expect that k-k-kind of zigzag expression with fault movements at depth," said Richelle. She was playing with the dark gray rock in one hand and had her hardhat in the other. She crouched behind Hunter and peered over his shoulder.

   "Could be," he said as he felt her hot breath on his neck and face. He turned off the display.

   She huffed.

   "You have a problem?" he asked.

   "I'm just as qualified as you to interpret Kalo maps. In fact, more qualified."

   "So?"

   "S-s-s-s-so? What is th-th-that supposed to m-m-m-mean?"

   "Do I have to spell it out for you? It's called—knowing your place."

   "M-m-my place? I'll t-t-tell you my place. You're so smart—go ahead, t-t-tell me what this is." She stuck the rock in Hunter's hand. "If you can."

   He stood up and shook the gritty rock at her face. "Listen, Richelle. Don't try to pawn off your superior geologic knowledge on me. As long as I'm thinking, as long as I'm breathing, I'm boss down here. Is that clear?"

   She swallowed hard, a cowering expression coming to her face. "I d-d-don't deserve to b-b-be talked to that way. I'm a professional. What kind of c-c-commander are you anyway?"

   "Quit pushing her around," said Isis who was standing directly behind Hunter.

   "Yeah," said Ramon as he shined his lights in Hunter's eyes. "Quit hassling our sedimentologist."

   "Get off my back," mumbled Hunter as he threw the rock on the ground.

   "Maybe she's right," said Ramon. He rubbed the top of Richelle's head with his hand. She ducked down, trying to avoid him. "Why don't we talk about what kind of commander you really are?"

   "What is that supposed to mean?" asked Hunter.

   "Not only do you berate our women, you can't even do your job."

   "You should talk," said Renata. "Have you already forgotten what you said to me last night?"

   "No. It was uncalled for. It was a lousy, rotten, stupid thing to say to you. I'm sure you're nothing like that. I completely apologize."

   "You forgot demeaning and depraved," scoffed Renata, her expression filled with skepticism.

   Hunter stepped toward Ramon. "Where the hell is all this leading?"

   "Your job. That's what I'm talking about. And your abuse of your position."

   Anger spilled into Hunter's face. "Abuse of my…"

   "Let me make this plain and simple. While you've been busy chasing skirts, we've had a Bad Act on Kalo Two."

   What?" exclaimed Hunter.

   There was a chorus of astonished cries from the others.

   "It's been out of com for over an hour," said Ramon. "Haven't you noticed?"

   Trent took out his Vimap and began checking the signals from the Kalos.

   "Is he right about that?" asked Renata. She stepped next to Trent and looked at the screen.