Just beyond the greenery of the temple “roof”, a desert stretched out in front of the two men. The sand was a vibrant yellow, far brighter than the sun that barely managed to light the scene. Stark bent to the sand, ran a hesitant finger through it, as though doubting that it was real. “This is incredible. An entirely different climate from that.” He indicated the grass mere feet away. “This place is seriously weird.”
“Well I think you may have just sorely underestimated this planet.” Waite’s voice came from about ten feet away and was strangely hollow. Intrigued, the engineer stood and looked in the same direction as his travelling companion. In cheap novels, he had read of characters’ jaws dropping in disbelief and had always dismissed the phrase as poor writing. He understood now. His mouth dropped open, his tongue suddenly dry in his mouth.
“How did we miss this? It should have been visible with the naked eye, never mind the ship’s sensors!” Waite threw both arms open, indicating a huge city only about a mile away.
“Yeah, the sensors have an excuse – they’re damaged.” Stark’s reply was whispered and probably never reached Waite’s ears.
“Are you up to investigating Stark?”
Stark looked over his shoulder then turned his attention back to the city ahead of them. “Just the two of us? With no back up?”
Waite beat a silent tattoo on his hip with his fingers, a nervous gesture. “We shouldn’t, but it seems impossible that this city is here at all. In the circumstances, I think it warrants the lapse in protocol. We may find help, or at least answers regarding the temple and the door seal.”
“Alright lad, guess you’re right. Lead on MacDuff.”
The buildings that made up the city were taller than any the two explorers had ever seen. They dwarfed even Capital Tower in New London. As they approached, the sheer scale of the metropolis became more and more overwhelming. The buildings towered above them almost menacingly as they entered. The angles of the “streets” and the clearly alien architecture seemed to challenge the normal rules of mathematics and physics, at least as far as humans understood it.
“What the Hell is this place? It looks like a city and yet…”
Waite finished the Scotsman’s sentence. “And yet it doesn’t look like it has ever been inhabited.” Stark nodded. “That means this place must have been here for quite some time, maybe even centuries. The inhabitants, if there ever were any, could have died out decades ago.”
The engineer laughed. “Ever the conservative. I’d have thought considerably longer than decades.” Suddenly dizzy, he leaned against one of the smooth walls. He waved off Waite’s concerned expression. “I’m fine, it’s just that looking into this place… it’s giving me a headache. My
vision is blurred too. Is it not affecting you?”
The security officer took another look into the city depths. The buildings joined the streets at bizarre angles and rose to meet the sky like enormous gravestones, monuments to a long-dead civilisation. “This place is definitely affecting me. I don’t believe we’ll get any answers here, that’s for sure.”
As they turned to leave, having got no further than the entrance, a weird sound reached their ears, almost like the howl of a wolf, but stretched beyond its normal length. In the background was something like a low note played on a saxophone, accompanied by the distant call of seagulls fighting over scraps of food.
Waite cast a cautious glance behind them.
Stark shook his head, stumbling onto the sand. “The wind?”
“No. I don’t know.” He helped Stark to his feet and they stumbled back towards the greenery, never once looking behind them.
Faraday was lying on his bed, the bed he used to share with DeMain. He knew their relationship was common knowledge among the crew and had hated that for her sake, believing that they would look down on her. Now, though, he was pleased that they all knew his feelings for her, all knew to respect his grief, to appreciate that his loss was greater than theirs. He turned onto his left side, breathed in her scent from the pillow.
The chime from the door sounded somehow hesitant, as though the ship itself shared his pain. He shouted for the visitor to enter, that the door was unlocked.
He was far from surprised when Captain Malory entered his quarters. He had been vaguely aware of comings and goings, and had assumed that whoever had left the ship, it would not have been its Captain.
He dragged his suddenly heavy legs to the edge of the bed, let the weight of them pull the rest of his body up into a sitting position. He felt dead inside, a Haitian zombie left to guard all that remained of his lover.
“Captain.”
Malory blinked, unsure as to how to proceed. It was all there in his voice, his emotionless eyes. Of course he blamed her, it had been her orders that sent DeMain to her death. And of course, she knew from experience, he would blame himself for being the one to live on. She began to voice an apology but thought better of it, realising how futile a gesture that would be.
“It’s okay Captain. I know you were close to her family, I know you will feel her loss too.”
The Captain relaxed, her shoulders dropping slightly.
“She was everything her parents ever wanted in a daughter. I think she even exceeded their hopes.” Faraday coughed, rubbed a sleeve across his eyes. “If they had known about the two of you…” She paused, not wanting to speak out of turn. “If they had known of your relationship, they would have been all the more proud of her.”
The doctor ran his tongue over his lower lip, swallowed hard before replying. “And now they will never see their daughter married. They will never see her bear a child.” He looked up at his captain. “I was going to propose when we had finished this mission. I was going to suggest Earth-based jobs for both of us, leave this job to someone with nothing to lose. I guess that includes me now.”
Malory blinked away new tears, surprised that she had any left in her. “You have your memories, hold on to them. I am so very sorry.”
“It’s this fucking planet Captain, not you. This fucking planet. I could feel it from the start. There’s
something not quite right here.”
Malory nodded. Her own suspicions had begun to crystallise in the last several hours and it was oddly comforting that someone else shared them. “I agree. We’ll see what useful materials we can scavenge and try to patch up this old girl the best we can.” She patted the wall fondly. “I’ll leave you to your memories.”
“Captain?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
The door whispered shut behind her and she leaned against it, the cold metal helping her to focus, to push the
fear, the tears, the rage back down into the twisted pit of her stomach.
The two men stooped over side by side, and the engineer vomited copiously. Waite tried to slow his breathing down, tried to take meaningful breaths rather than the shallow ones his body was forcing him to take.
Waite stood, still gasping, and placed a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “You okay?”
“Will be. Different gravity, running hard...” He paused to vomit once again. He wiped his chin on the sleeve of his atmosphere suit and grinned sideways at Waite. “Like a good old fashioned night out. Without the fighting of course.” The smile vanished. “Did we just run away from a ghost?”
Waite shook his head violently. “No such thing. The wind perhaps. Or even some lifeform we haven’t encountered yet.”
“So why did we run? We’re armed for God’s sake!”
The security officer’s face changed, altered by a deep frown. He rubbed at the back of his neck and sighed. “Honestly? I have no idea. It just suddenly felt like we shouldn’t be there. And that noise… Come on, let’s get back to the ship. Contact the ship would you please?”
Stark nodded once, did as he was bade. The radio stuttered into life. “Captain? We’re on our way back.
Maybe an hour or so? Yeah. It was… interesting.”
Waite half smiled at the understatement. Now who was being conservative? As Stark signed off, Waite began to walk back to the ship. Stark caught up at a trot. They walked shoulder to shoulder, sharing the inevitable flask of whiskey.
In just under forty-five minutes, they were scrambling down the slight incline, made more dangerous by the collapsing cavern entrance. They circled the lake, making for the Wainwright’s forward section. They both climbed onto the slight shelf formed by the skirt of the ship and tentatively approached the entryway.
As Waite made his way into the body of the ship, his foot suddenly slid from under him and he reached out with his left hand, steadying himself as best he could.
Stark looked around. “How much whiskey did you have?” he asked in mock rebuke. It was then that he noticed what Waite was now kneeling to examine – a set of wet footprints, but not like any footprints either of them had seen before. He could see there were actually two sets of prints, one following close on the other.
Waite stood in one smooth movement, suddenly all business once more. He took his pistol from his belt, and held a finger to his lips. Stark also stood, removed his pistol in readiness and moved to join Waite. At this point, Captain Malory appeared in the corridor, a question on her lips that remained unspoken as she noticed both men had their weapons drawn. They moved quickly towards her, arriving at a junction, with crew quarters to the left, leisure facilities to the right and the bridge forward. Waite quickly and quietly briefed his captain and indicated for her to check the bridge and Stark to check the leisure area. He had chosen to check on Faraday himself, having developed a nasty suspicion as to what he might find.