The Caverns of Mare Cetus (2 page)

   "Uuuuuuuuuuhhhhh." His face plowed into the ground.

   "Untie me!" cried Jennifer as she squirmed on the ground, trying to raise herself. "Help me up! Untie my hands."

   Aggie helped her sit up and began untying her hands.

   A convulsive shaking took hold of Jennifer as she stared at Jon, seeing the damage Aggie had done to him.

   "Your arm," said Aggie. "What's wrong with your arm?"

   "He broke it!" cried Jennifer as she pulled her arm in front of her and held it in pain. "He broke my arm! Why did he do that? What did I ever do to him? Look what he did to me. Look." She pointed to the long bloody cut on her thigh.

   Aggie's eyes widened. "My God." She picked up the scalpel from the cavern floor.

   "Why me?" sobbed Jennifer. "Why did he do this to me?" At once the revelation hit her. "Severon! Oh, my God! He wanted a repeat of Severon…"

   Aggie put her fingers to Jennifer's lips. "Calm, honey. Jon blew a gasket, but it's going to be okay." As she placed her hand on Jennifer's bloody thigh, she cringed. "We need a medic. I have to raise a surface crew." She spoke into her com. "Anyone who hears this. This is Explora Mission MC-100J. Emergency Code A-1. We need help."

   "Seis crew 100S7," immediately came a reply over her com. "Jansen here. Security. Did I read that correctly? E-Code A-1?"

   "Yes!" said Aggie. "This is Livingston. Get us out of here! Commander Banyon and three others fell down a shaft. Then Powell went berserk. Ononi's all beat up. Astoni's hurt. She's a mess. Help us. Please."

   After a moment there came a response. "We've got a fix on you. Stay calm, Aggie. Tend to their wounds. Help is on the way."

* * * * *

Ten months later…

   As Hunter Larson's small spacecraft rocketed toward Mare Cetus, the third planet from a small G-class star—Tau Ceti, the lanky cave exploration expert and project leader of Explora Corporation's MC101C expedition called up a grid map of the planet's surface on a razor-thin computer screen in front of him. "Understand Mare," sighed Hunter as the inviting blue and brownish-gray orb met his crystal blue eyes, "and you'll understand the frailty of life." He began playing with his thick brown mustache as he pondered the host of theories proposed to explain Mare Cetus and its extensive caverns.

   The planet should have been called Caverna Cetus because it wasn't the vast oceans that brought explorers to Mare Cetus, it was the allure of the mysterious subterranean passageways that scarred its subsurface. The caverns of Mare Cetus, discovered nearly twenty years after the first robotic reconnaissance surveyors reached that wind-scoured world, taunted explorers from across the void of space.

   Hunter thought even Arcanus Cetus would have been a better name for the planet, as the mysteries of Mare Cetus were many. Even the formation of its nine continents had yet to be fully explained in light of the tectonic knowledge of his day. Mare was also covered with massive limestones unlike any ever found. The scientists who studied Mare had expected the limestones of the planet would be associated with the secretions and shells of ocean animal life, but Mare never had any ocean life. The formation of its rocks was a riddle as deep and puzzling as the caverns themselves. Nor could science provide an answer as to how the caverns of Mare had developed in the absence of life—life normally essential for the formation of acidic groundwater that would percolate through the pores and cracks in the rocks and eventually carve the caves.

   For Hunter though, the absence of life was the most challenging mystery of all. Besides the vast Mare Cetan oceans, there were abundant lakes and rivers, a rich nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, and an overall chilly, but not inhospitable climate. Yet, not a single shred of evidence had been found for the existence of life, past or present— even on a microscopic level. After years of exhaustive study, Mare Cetus remained an enigma.

   Hunter smiled with both arrogance and pride as he thought of all the caves he had explored on Earth, Mare Cetus, and his home planet, Novia Cetus. During his long career as a speleologist—a cave exploration expert, he had learned to understand the caves by touching them, smelling them, relishing them, letting them guide him on their journey through their darkness. And from the caves themselves, he learned some of their secrets and how each cave was unique in its own way. Perhaps the same was true of Mare Cetus. Maybe comparing Mare to Earth and to its sister world Novia was fruitless. Why? Because Earth was Earth, Novia was Novia, and Mare was Mare, and unfortunately right now, only Hunter and Mare understood that.

   As Hunter's thoughts drifted to the Laramax Cave Complex, a cavern that made all others pale in comparison with its estimated two thousand kilometers of seemingly mindless passageways, excitement rippled through his veins. What would his team find? Rugged, steep-walled chimneys; dark, foreboding corridors winding together like spaghetti; bubbling hot springs that would make Yellowstone Park envious; passages riddled with geologic features most spelunkers could only hope to explore in their dreams…

   Consumed with all the enthusiasm of a child waiting for Christmas morning, Hunter knew he had to put aside his renowned trademark of zealously plunging headfirst into unexplored caves. He needed to be cautious, more cautious than he had ever been before. Not only was there an ugly proprietary goal he was going to spring on some of his team members—claim staking—he had his own secret agenda as well—his good friend Sid Banyon.

   Ten Novian months earlier, a Novian month being twenty Novian days, Sid was leading a preliminary survey of the Laramax, but his expedition ended tragically, with Sid and three others falling down a shaft to their deaths. Hunter was mortified. How could that have ever happened to Sid?

   Initial company findings ruled it a freak accident, and Hunter was quietly skeptical. But when the final Type D Accident Investigation Report was released, Hunter was shocked. The AIR stated the MC100J expedition of Novian date 100.4 (4 month of the 100 Novian year; Earth calendar equivalent Sept. 2164) had ended in four deaths
because of the violation of fifteen company safety procedures by the
Commander, Sid Banyon
. The Board had branded Sid Banyon, Mr. Safety, the impeccable leader of a dozen other expeditions, a hero who once selflessly rescued five explorers after a cave-in, despite his own injuries—as guilty of "fifteen blatant violations."

   Hunter was outraged. He gathered his facts, then demanded a hearing before the Board. "Your request for access to the hearing process has been DENIED!" rang painfully through Hunter's thoughts as he remembered the manner in which the Board's chairman had all but emasculated him during his formal request for a preliminary hearing. "Your allegations are unfounded, your organization unequivocally lacking in substance. Based on our review, this Board has no reason to consider your contumacious claims. The findings of the Board stand."

   Still, Hunter wouldn't let the issue rest. About a month after the AIR was released, Hunter was suspended for minor STEPS (Standard Exploration Procedures) infractions, but he was certain the suspension was actually for his protests over the Board's indictment of Sid. He was tempted to take the matter to Abigail Kensington, owner and CEO of Explora, but decided against that despite the favoritism Abby had always shown him. Instead, he considered the suspension as nothing more than a well-deserved vacation—that is until he caught wind of a rumor alleging a post-traumatic schizophrenia had afflicted the remaining members of Sid's team. As Hunter began to probe into that rumor, he realized the four survivors had become unreachable.

   Livingston resigned and was shipped back to Earth from what he read in a "
Where Are They Now?
" column in an employee newsletter. Ononi had asked for reassignment to a distant outpost—the documentation, another newsletter. Astoni had gone into seclusion on Novia, and it was rumored she had suffered a nervous breakdown. Powell, though, was easier to find…in a way.

   The government media reported Powell had died in a fiery medical-transport crash only twenty days after returning from the mission. Though there were few details about the accident, and the formal, praising obituary Explora usually released after a workrelated death never materialized, Hunter pretty much thought the case was closed on Jon.

   Then, about a month after Hunter's suspension, he learned a friend of Jon's was adamantly denying Jon's death. She claimed Jon's death had been faked to cover up his confinement in a colonarium. Before Hunter could seek her out though, she had received a promotion and was transferred to the Centos mining operation. Within days, the company called Hunter back, and he humbly returned. But he knew where he'd find the answers he needed. Mare Cetus. And now Explora was unwittingly sending him there to uncover them…

   
"Canopus One here,"
shattered the stillness of Hunter's thoughts. He looked over at the pilot who was seated on his left.

   "Decelerating to eight hundred kpm," she said as she gazed at the communication's screen in front of her. "Do you follow?"

   Hunter watched her continue to give orders to the Rigel, the other RXTC40 Planet Jumper spacecraft that was trailing behind them. Renata Stone—company veteran, tall, thin, fair-skinned, with alluring jet black hair, her personality held no allure. She reeked of confidence, was antisocial and always seemed bent on proving it. That flaw Hunter could overlook. Despite her quasi-morbid personality, she was the best Second he could hope for. Mistakes— Renata rarely made them.

   Hunter looked back at the two women sitting behind him. Richelle Ivers, a creamy-complexioned sedimentologist with exceptionally long blond hair, was asleep. Devon Snow, a young security specialist with an endearing face and energetic smile, was beside her. Hunter normally prided himself in getting to know his team, but during their relatively short space flight to Mare from Novia, he had barely talked to her. As Devon returned his stare, he felt uneasy.

   He broke his gaze and looked toward Trent Logan, who was sitting behind the women. A tall man of Nigerian heritage, his thin mustache and well-groomed hair gave him a distinguished appearance. Neo-archaeologist elite and Hunter's confidant, Trent was exceedingly intelligent, his calm personality often the antithesis of Hunter's. Because of that, Hunter often relied heavily on his advice—usually delivered in Trent's suave, principled style.

   As Hunter turned forward and began daydreaming about Trent and Renata, the backbone of his command, his com screen sprang to life. It was Garrett Jansen, the Rigel's pilot. His face looked drawn, like he hadn't eaten for weeks; there were tinges of gray sweeping through his dark brown hair, and his penetrating pale green eyes demanded attention.

   "Hunter," he said in a surly voice. "You taking us down?"

   Hunter could hear Ramon Ramirez, groundwater expert and perennial jokester, laughing in the background on the Rigel. Hunter nodded. "Follow me in." He reached forward to take control of the ship.

   "Ahem," voiced Renata. "I'm taking us down, Garrett. Right, Hunter?" She flashed him a smile, then returned her gaze to her pilot's console.

   "Renata's on it," said Hunter, pulling his hands back from the controls.

   "Okay," said Garrett. "We'll follow you in."

   "Right," answered Renata. She began coding commands into the Jumper's navigational system. After a moment, a parade of multicolored lights rhythmically flashed across the top of the pilot's console as four small oval screens beside it, which displayed the ship's internals and externals, became active. At once another screen on the control console was flooded with readings that monitored the ship's performance. Then another screen came to life beside that one, showing the ship's position relative to a series of green concentric circles indicating the location of their landing site, which was on an island continent called Kallana, nearly centered on the 45 South Latitude line.

   As Hunter watched Renata's thin fingers adeptly gliding over her keyboard, he began to daydream. Where was the woman trapped beneath Renata's shell of icy professionalism? In the few years he had known her, he had tried in vain to find that woman, rescue the maiden from her own frigid personality, but she always seemed to shun him…Hunter was jolted from his thoughts as the Jumper began to vibrate noisily. He grabbed the handles on the sides of his seat.

   "We've just hit the outer edge of the atmosphere," said Renata in a steady voice.

   As the seven-row, fourteen-seat ship steadily descended, Hunter watched some readouts on a screen in front of him, which indicated the ship's woven-metal hull was rapidly heating up from its contact with the atmosphere. After awhile, he switched the view on his screen to one of the ship's outer cameras, seeing a series of tremendous, steep-sided rifts in the grayish-black rocks below them that looked as if they had been gouged out of the landscape by a gigantic claw. He changed the view to another camera, and an image of an impressive, rugged coastline of reddish-white rocks pressed against the dark blue waters of the Xenacanthus Ocean came to the screen. As Renata took the Jumper along the coastline, then headed west over Kallana, continuing to descend toward the surface, Hunter continued to switch between the various outer cameras, admiring the varied and interesting landscapes of Mare.

   "Prepare for drop out!" shouted Renata as she glanced at a flashing red screen on the left side of her console. "Atmodensity boundary in three. Three! Two! One…"

   The Jumper dropped through the sky like a brick thrown from a plane, and as it continued to fall, Hunter closed his eyes, praying his stomach would catch up to the rest of his body.

   "We should level out in a moment," said Renata.

   Hunter opened his eyes. Renata was still glancing between her various console screens, the fall appearing to have had no affect on her rigid composure. Despite her reassuring self-control, Hunter didn't think he could last another second. He closed his eyes and started counting. Before he got to thirty, the ship stopped falling. He opened his eyes, then glanced back and received a nervous smile from Richelle, who was now attentively awake. Devon had both of her hands firmly gripped around the arms of her seat, her eyes held tightly shut.