The Station, Part 16 cont.

In this dream, I was out of the excursion suit. Out of any clothing for that matter. And it didn’t feel wrong at all, unlike those dreams we’ve all had about being caught at school or work in just our underwear. This was vastly different. Clothes would have felt cumbersome, unnecessary. It was just me, moving through one of the tunnels with ease. There was no exertion on my part. I felt like I’d been doing this all my life. And I was completely at home. The tunnel was just like all the others I had explored in waking life, but this one held no trepidation and no apprehension about what may lay on the other end. My purpose was clear: to visit a part of my domain and some old friends.

The tunnel ended, opening into a vast cavern that I had seen many times before, one of my favorites. It was beautiful and sad all at once, a reminder of an earlier time now long lost to the ages. It was a vast forest. Like no forest you’ve ever seen. This one held beauty on a staggering scale. Trees that dwarfed even the Redwoods were spread over a forest floor of stunning greenery. I moved into this garden and let the delicate leaves of undergrowth brush against my naked arms and legs. Each contact was like the warm embrace of loved ones not seen for ages. I glided through this underbrush and into a clearing of curled grass. I sat down to wait. I knew they would come. They always did. Somehow they always knew I was here long before I ever saw them. My wait was not long. I heard the sound of large beings moving through the tangle of leaves. I heard their low, cooing drone of pleasure. And into the clearing they came.

The eldest always appeared first. His bulk was a disguise for practiced grace. He stepped into the clearing with authority and laying his eye upon me, he lifted his two massive arms high signifying to his followers all was safe. The rest of them came in precise order of rank, the young that were still dependent of their mothers clinging to their mothers’ backs. They were truly magnificent. And they thought me fascinating. These towering beings surrounded me like children surrounding a wise teacher, anxious for tales of distant lands and morals. Their huge bodies began swaying, their hands gesticulating rapidly. They were all talking at once. And I couldn’t follow every question. They wanted so much to know of me—I had been gone far too long. But I welcomed the attention. I wanted to answer ever inquiry. Looking between two of them, I could see the elder, his muscled back straight and proud, his gaze directed into the forest, watching. He was always performing his sworn duty: to protect his people. He had no time for leisure. I very much admire and understand this being. We are more alike than different. We both are protectors.

The questions were asked and I began to answer each one calmly, methodically, with knowledge I didn’t know I had. With each answer I received a sign of satisfaction and thanks. Once every answer was given, mothers let their young explore. Even so young their smallest children were easily my height and twice my weight, but were ever gentle. Some were shy and decided rolling in the grass would be more to their liking. Some of the bolder ones made their way to me and carefully inspected me. One daring youngster touched my face and ran away. His mother cooed a laugh. I have always enjoyed these visits. I vowed to return more often.

The Station, Part 16 cont.

I’m stepping away from the wall again, just for the hell of it and look at the tunnels I’ve already explored and those I haven’t. They all look alike. All of them are vaguely oval shaped, with no discernible markings on the surrounding wall. I’m looking from one tunnel to the next. Feels like I’m playing that game from childhood. You know, the one where you have two pictures that at first glace look identical. Then you are informed that there are some differences between them. Of course they’re all very subtle things that unless you were looking for them they would otherwise be missed…missed like the fact that some tunnels entrances are slightly wider then others…son of a bitch. How the hell did I miss that before? I’m a damn idiot. The shapes alternative. I’m going back to take a better look, but yeah, they are definitely different. There’s at least two, no, make that three different oval variations. One is taller and thinner, another is almost but not quite round, and third wider than the rest. Now I have to think. All the ones I’ve tried on this side have been of the first two variations, the one I was going to try next is the third. Holy shit, I think I’ve figured it out. Have you? Well, why didn’t you say so? Damn, I could have saved myself a hell of a lot of time if I’d seen this sooner. I hope. Still haven’t proven my theory yet. But if I’m right, I think I’ve just read my first extraterrestrial road signs.

I just entered my latest tunnel, the one that is wider than the rest. So far it’s been a horizontal walk, but I’m betting my paycheck that it will start to slope down. It will. Watch. Okay still horizontal. Come on, don’t make a liar outta me. Bradley, you’re a freakin’ genius. You out there, you all owe me a paycheck. She’s sloping downward. And not too steep this time. Looks like I’ll be traveling down and farther out this time, away from that inner sea. I wonder if I’ll be below even that place. If so, it may mean I’ll have to do some backtracking. But if I’m also right about Frontier’s whereabouts, I’ll be on the same level as she. And if I’m correct in assuming the shapes mean what I think they do, I just need to find a tunnel that is of the roundest shape. I’m getting closer, people. I’m going to find my way back to Frontier and get the hell out of this space suit, take a hot shower and eat some solid food. Tunnel still isn’t sloping that much. Must be going pretty far out then. Could be a rather long walk back through one of the lower levels. I still left a beacon back at the beginning, just in case. Just in case. I’m not even going to consider that possibility anymore. I’m not going to kick myself for being so dense about the tunnel shapes. I’m now beginning think that there’s a lot more subtlety here than meets the eye. And perhaps it isn’t meant to be subtle at all. Maybe it’s blatantly obvious to something other than human. Of course, it would have to be. I’m not supposed to be here. If I thought more like them then perhaps this place would be very easy to navigate. It can’t just be tunnel shapes that provide direction. Reminds me of that dream. Didn’t mention it to you before. I’d forgotten about until now. Something about my discovery jogged my memory of it. I usually don’t remember dreams, but this one was very vivid. Maybe more vivid than any other dream I’ve had before.

The Station, Part 16 cont.

These non-trees remind me of something. Their delicate limbs open and close in a rhythm that has something of a mesmerizing effect on me if I stare at them too long. There’s a higher density of those floating bugs. More variety of shapes as well. And here’s the small ridge I fell down before. At least it’s an easy climb back up. Now I came look back and take a better look. If memory serves, the depression where the non-trees live is the depression where Frontier used to be. Has to be. The shape and size about right. It’s just been filled in somehow. Like the station fell through and the hole was filled in. I don’t know what kind of technology is capable of a feat like that but that has to be the answer. That means Frontier is below the grove somewhere. And that means I have to go down again. I’ve been down already, but that was on the other half of this chamber. I think I can then eliminate all those lower tunnel entrances in that half and concentrate on those on this half. And more specifically, tunnels that go down. I can see there are about maybe fifteen to twenty tunnels low enough that I can reach unaided. This could take a while. But I got the food and water for about five-and-a-half days left. That should be enough. Maybe I’ll get unusually lucky and hit upon the right tunnel on the first try. Yeah, like I’ve ever been that lucky before. Knowing my record with good luck, if there’s twenty tunnels to choose from and only one is right, I’ll take nineteen guesses. So, I’ll be methodical about it. I’ll start with the low tunnel furthest away, place a beacon and take a walk. If that tunnel doesn’t slope down after a time, I’ll turn back and go to the tunnel closest to that, mix and repeat. Sound like a plan? It isn’t elegant, but hell, what else could I try? Don’t hear you coming up anything brilliant. One more drink of water and I’m gone.

You’d think that who or whatever built this place would think to put of some kind of signage. Like, “For ocean view, take this tunnel” or something. Otherwise, you’d have a bunch of space tourists wandering about aimlessly, trying to find a bathroom or the tiki bar. Okay, I’m getting a little peeved. Come one, this is the eight tunnel and so far, I’ve gone up, straight, straight, up again, straight, etc. etc. Which one of these fuckers will take me to the damn basement? I’m tired. Fuck, this one goes up. Fucking damn it! I’m turning back. I think I need to sit down and eat some fucking gourmet paste.

I’m letting myself get frustrated. I knew it would be like this. But I’m on the clock here people. I breathe earth air and drink earth water. I can’t afford to get this place’s version of Montezuma’s revenge if I try the local watering hole. Get it? Give some kind of hint!

The Station, Part 16 cont.

I’m almost there now. There’s a cawing noise from around the bend, not unlike a crow, but deeper. I’m slowing down, going to be cautious about this. There’s the reason for the caws. Scavengers. Like a cross between parrots and pterodactyls, blackish feather like covering with naked, heavy beaked heads. Black even in the atmosphere of deep red. They are about a meter high. No eyes but deep recesses in their beak that must be nostrils. They have flippered feet and arms. I suppose they swam here. Some float out in the surf. Some are on the beach. All of them are pulling and tearing at the corpses. Another parallel to earth ecology at work. Nothing goes to waste. One of the vulture-analogues just literally appeared from inside one of the bodies, holding in its beak some morsel of viscera. It’s all very calm. No internal squabbling more the tastiest bits. I suppose there’s plenty to go around. No reason to get testy with each other. There’s even some kind of crustacean lurking about as well. They seem to be satisfied with stating on the sidelines, at least for now. Perhaps they wait for the vulture things to have their fill, and then move in for the other parts. They have heavy claws that look like they could crack bone. That is, if the dead giants have bones. I think I’m done here, but I feel strangely satisfied that I came here. Like it was the right thing to do. I needed to know more. I’ve seen enough of this particular world, at least for now. I need to get back to the real task. Frontier is just beyond one of these tunnels. And I will find her—today. Now I really need to decide my method. This place is finite in size. It’s only a matter of time.

The beacon is doing just fine, putting out a strong signal. Back into the tunnel I go. Damn it, I’d forgotten I was going to be a steep climb back. This is going to use a lot of oxygen. Hold on, I’m going to stop for a minute and think this through. Bear with me. I know that back the way I came, where Frontier should have been was a grove, no more like a forest of tree-like creatures, although they were more like animal than tree. No, they were animals. Nothing like trees. Feeding off of tiny floating creatures. Do I really want to go back there? Yes. I need to retrace my steps. Get my bearings. I’m reading the beacon at the other end. I’ll bite the bullet on this one. Oxygen be damned. If Frontier is nearby, which she should be, it won’t matter that I’ve used too much O2.
Damn, I’m tired. Wheezing like an old man. Feel like one, too. But I made it. Goddamn it, I fucking made it. I hope I never have to do that again. Here I am again, back in the darkness. Odd, it doesn’t seem as dark as before. There’s a bluish cast to the chamber, allowing me to better see the spread of the land. The feathered trees are here and now there seems to be more of them. Probably just because I can simply see more. No station of course. That would be too convenient.

This has got to be the same chamber. Has to be. The inner walls are the same, at least they look the same. But the rest, well, I don’t know. But how can an entire comm. station just disappear like this? Okay, granted I don’t know how I got inside here in the first place, but there was no sign of a mechanism of any kind, like a crane or something, that could lift it. Nothing…unless…hold on, forming a thought here. The crevasse. The crevasse. It could have slipped down. It didn’t look wide enough to swallow Frontier whole, but I didn’t count on it being able to widen. If that’s true, where the hell did the non-trees come from? And there should be an even wider crevasse. Time for a stroll back through the grove to test out my theory.

The Station, Part 16

19/6/2207

Can the day really be over already? If I didn’t have a chronometer I would have sworn it wasn’t even close. But computers don’t lie they tell me. I missed an entire sleep cycle with all my running around. Curiosity, fear and adrenaline can keep a body going only for so long. Just sitting down now, I think I could pass right here. I’, still on the beach, well away from the newly dead bodies, the casualties of the strange orgy from the red night before. I made a lot of assumptions about that, not exactly sure where it al came from, but I do think I got a lot of what I saw right. I was never the best biological sciences student. Never had a real drive or interest in it. I suppose I absorbed more than I thought over the years. My teachers would be proud. I can hear a chorus of “I told you you’d need this someday” flittering through my head. Okay, you win imaginary teachers. You win.

I know I’m not supposed to, but I’m going to eat something before I finally decide to bed down. Just a little paste. Got hungry and wasn’t going to do anything about it until I’d slept. But my stomach didn’t agree with that decision and has been making some noises in protest. Somehow I think I’ll burn off the calories, and then some, tomorrow.

Okay, I feel better now. I’ve picked a spot on the beach to take a nap and dimmed the faceplate to block most of the green light. The place I’ve picked is close to the wall, by the tunnel opening. I wonder how good a sleep I can get inside this tin can. Well, based on how exhausted I feel it shouldn’t be a problem. I do have some concern over security though. I’ve seen things in this place, while nothing overtly hostile, is still a big unknown. There’s no real satisfactory solution to that. The best I can do is to rely on my suit’s proximity sensor alarm and hope for the best. It’s meant for space-going objects, but it should work the same in a gravity environment. No sense worrying about it too much. I’m going to have to sleep sometime. Might as well be now. I’ll set the alarm radius for maximum. If anything gets curious about the snoring bipedal creature on their stretch of beach, I’ll know about it right away.

You know, the sand feels very soft, even through the suit. Must the contours of the sand grains. Not a course one among them. I wonder what sort of environmental action shaped these minute peddles? Ancient wave action? Wind? Who knows? Lying next to them with my helmet pressed into it I can see their colors. They look uniform when you’re standing up, but down here, so close to them, there are subtle color variations. And look at that, there’s something living among them as well. Little crablike beings climbing in between grains that, at their scale, must be like boulders. They can’t be more than a millimeter long. Probably even smaller than that. I’ll take a guess and say they’re the cleanup crew for the beach, helping clear these beautiful sands of any detritus that makes its way into their home. They must be really good that then, because I don’t be a bit of seaweed or other flotsam anywhere. But then again, I could be entirely wrong about them. I could be entirely wrong about the giant mollusks that all lie dead or dying back there on that stretch of curved beach. I think before I start back exploring the tunnels later I’ll take another look at them. See what has transpired during my time off. Something tells me their story isn’t over yet. Just one more chapter in a very long tale. I just started reading the book somewhere in the middle.

Good morning. Or is it evening? I don’t know. I woken up to a deep red sky. Everything is bathed in it. The sand looks like countless rubies. The ocean, well, that might as well be blood. It is not what I would ever want to wake up to. But I feel refreshed. More so than I thought inside the suit. I’ll have to mention that to its designers someday. I think they’d like that. Although advertising it as “the excursion suit you can sleep in” might not go over well with Navy R&D.

Breakfast is over. Before I head back into the tunnel, I want to take another look at the carnage from last night. I don’t know why I’m this interested but it’s not too far a walk. I won’t stay long.

The Station, Part 15 cont.

That was exhilarating I tell you. I’ve seen something no human being has ever seen before. And it these events may have been repeated millions of times, right here on this very beach. And one lost, naked ape from a small blue planet just happened to stumble upon it right when it was about to happen again. Somehow I feel good. Can’t exactly explain it, but it was the closest I think I’ve ever come to having a religious experience. Just don’t tell anyone I said that, okay? Wouldn’t want people to think I was getting a little soft between the ears or something. I think its time to go back, start looking for Frontier again. I’ve got six days of air left on me. Beacon signal’s looking good and strong. Been one whole earth day already. It flew by. Time at once stands still and flies by here. There’s a different standard on which to tell time other than my suit’s chronometer. Six days. Now let’s see about getting some sleep…

The Station, Part 15 cont.

It’s rising now, coming up into the shallows, blocking much of the sunless red light. It’s a mountain range of undulating flesh. The smaller ones on the beach are literally quivering. Is that excitement I see, or is it fear? I guess it’s the former, they would be fleeing already. This is something they’ve wanted to happen. They called the mountain to them. The massive thing and its much smaller look-alikes are calling to each other in rapid, staccato fashion now. Something’s changing in the larger ones. I see an opening forming from seemingly nothing. Giant, vaginal-like and cavernous. The line of creatures on the beach just thrust themselves into the waves almost in unison, as if cued by a starter pistol. I can see that the small ones far outnumber the large ones. Wow, it’s complete chaos now. The small ones are sliding and smashing into ones another, clamoring for a choice spot I guess. The squeals they make are so pig-like, it makes my skin crawl. Tight clusters have formed, roiling balls of flesh that are tumbling towards the gargantuan counterpart, right toward the immense vaginal openings. Some lay still in the surf, perhaps injured or dead. Casualties of the brief conflict. It’s survival of the fittest even here. The openings have become just mere slits now. A cocktease! Oh, I suppose that was a little out of line. Go ahead, write me up for violating official comm. channel protocols. And then come on in and get for disciplinary action. I dare you. No takers? Fine then. You’re missing out on something truly remarkable.

These balls of flesh have writhed their way up to the, well, I guess it must be female, and are climbing their way up their sides. Little boys trying to find their way back into the womb, quite literally it looks like. They’re concentrated around the slit now, I can make out wounds on many on them. The very short journey from beach to female really takes its toll. Even now, they’re still jockeying for a prime spot, ever closer to the slit. As they do, some fall off into the water, but they don’t stay long. A few lay still where they fell, probably too exhausted or injured to make a second attempt.

Something else is happening. An appendage of some kind has erupted from the middle of the slit stretching outwards and upwards like a smooth tentacle. The end is flatted and rounded like a spoon. The smaller males are bleating frantically in that piggish way. It sounded pleading, desperate. The tentacle appears to survey the vast crowd of tiny males on the female’s belly, looking them over carefully and methodically. Reminds me of a uniform inspection. It looks at each and ever one of the remaining ones. They’re the strongest, the ones who had what it took to get this far. She wants the very best. That must be it. And there it is. I think she’s chosen her boy. The tentacle has dipped down and scooped up a male in its cuplike end. Its withdrawing into the slit. And both tentacle and one lucky guy are gone. The bleating has stopped too. The losers are crawling back down now, into the water. The female rumbles, shaking off the stragglers. Apparently she has no time for slowpokes. She has her mate literally inside her. In her womb I surmise. Like the journey of the sperm to the egg on a grandiose scale. I would bet my paycheck they’re making babies right now. Making the next generation that will one day sit on this beach and wait for a female to approach like this one has. The rejected males lay in the water, most not moving or making a sound. I think they’re all dying now, their purpose served for this generation. It’s up to the happy couple now. The mountainous creature is moving off again, back towards the horizon. Maybe she’ll lays egg out thee somewhere. Maybe she gives birth to live young. Who knows? I’m making lots of assumptions and have very few facts other than my eyewitness testimony.

The Station, Part 15 cont.

Oh great. Just great. Now what am I gonna do? Just how the heel am I gonna get back? I just turned around. Those trunks, well, they attached to something all right. Something huge and dark. And they aren’t any kind of shellfish I’ve ever seen. I was right, they were buried, and some of them, hell, damn near all the ones I’ve strolled past, are either out of or are just now pulling themselves up out of the sand. There’s no analogue to any earth creature I can use to describe them. The closest ones are green, probably due to the ambient light. The trunks are attached to a long, sloping head. No eyes. There’s no neck either. The bodies are barrel shaped, with a stumpy arm-like appendence on either side. The opposite end is a flattened wedge. A flipper maybe? They’re all about the same height. They’re all lining up…hey! The sand is bulging up near here. Gotta go. I’m retreating back towards the wall. There’s a tunnel opening nearby that I’m going to climb into for now. All these creatures are waking up or something. For all I know it’s dinnertime. I do not want to be around for that.

I’m at the new tunnel now, well away from the emerging creatures. All the ones I can see are out or are on their way out of the surf. It’s almost dark now. I’ve switched my light back on. Wonder if they’ll notice that…

Except for my light, it’s almost completely dark. I can see just a couple of the creatures now. There’s an arrhythmic bleating noise coming from up and down the beach. It’s low and drawn out, the various creatures beginning and ending their particular portion at different times. The whole thing is quite the cacophony. If I’m not mistaken, those sounds are directed towards the sea. I’ll bet it really carries, as sound tends to do that over open water.

It’s been going on for quite some time now…I really haven’t kept track of exactly how long. The darkness was very brief to my surprise. Surprise is comes to me very frequently of late. A new color—red—has replaced the black. It has cast everything in a hellish glow. If it’s possible, it all appears even more alien than before.

On the other hand, The bleating sounds haven’t been all that unpleasant. A little while ago I was actually almost lulled to sleep by it. But the thought of sleeping within such a short distance between myself and this unknown snapped me back to wakefulness. Ever since then I have been standing in the relative safety of the tunnel entrance, ready to bolt if there is the slightest trouble. But I have yet to be noticed, the creatures’ low soundings towards the alien sea their one and only task. And now I think I’ve started to discover the fruits of their labor. There have been return bleating from the sea. Deeper, more urgent. The new sounds come from beyond the horizon. Something huge, I picture in my mind’s eye. A breaching whale. But an altogether different kind of whale. This one has a sloping head, odd forelimbs and a protruding trunk-like breathing tube.

I wasn’t too far off. I know because they’re here now. It’s crossed into view. To see it from so far off it must be truly monstrous. Like a mountain moving in the sea. It’s also incredibly fast. What I assume is its head forms a chain of rounded peaks that has symmetry like a jagged crown. It must be just a matter of minutes before they get here. I have the urge to run now. I don’t know if I want to be here. I can drop another beacon right here and take my chances on this new tunnel. It’s just the flight or flight instinct kicking on it that reptilian part of my brain. But I’m the naked ape now, and I can make that ancient decision when I want to now. Instinct be damned.

The Station, Part 15 cont.

It’s the closest I’ve felt to being back home since I left. As a kid and teenager, I used to spend a lot of time at the beach. I lived just minutes away from one of the best in the world, at least in my opinion—in Panama City Beach. I first visited it when I was just walking. One of my very first memories is standing in the surf, watching the water splash up around my legs. I can even remember feeling scared of it a little, like the water was coming to get me. Everything is so much bigger looking when you’re a toddler, but I’m sure one or both of my parents was just a couple of feet away, letting feel like a had a little freedom by letting walk on the hard, wet sand.

I remember being older too. Those are some of my fondest memories. Mom and Dad letting the Autopilot take me and my friends there by ourselves. Always had to take the videophone too though. That always annoyed me. You know, adolescent angst and all. Felt like my friends and I would spent entire summers there. I don’t think wore more than a pair of pants for months. Good thing skin cancers are a thing of the past or I’d be long gone by now. Took my first real girlfriend there too. Tried and failed to get laid there. She wasn’t nearly the beach bum that I was. She had a thing about sand. Said it got everywhere. Kinda the point of sand, isn’t it? When I had gone off to the Academy though, Panama City Beach started becoming more and more a series of fond memories.

This beach is not much like Panama City, but oddly enough, it has relaxed me. It’s really odd though, to be standing on this alien seashore, inside who knows what, wearing a spacesuit. What a holo I must make. Something out of an oddball comedy on a popular vidstream.

You know what? I’m hungry. I’ve been drinking water on a regular basis but I’ve been so wrapped up in my situation that I haven’t even bothered to access the meal menu. Bringing it up on the HUD. So let’s see what’s on the menu…Good grief, who picked these? Chicken salad, spaghetti, egg salad, fruit cocktail, pumpkin pie. I’d really like to know how these made it into the finals for “favorite flavored meal paste for when I’m stuck in a spacesuit that recycles all my body waste. Yum, yum. All right, what’ll it be pal? Never really liked chicken salad. Alright, for your appetizer, sir we have a lovely fruit paste followed by a hearty spaghetti paste, and if, it pleases our guest, a lovely pumpkin pie paste, just like Mom used to make. Is that funny at all? Forget it. I’m dialing up my lunch. I’ll just sit here and watch the waves and clouds for a bit. Nothing like sucking up a meal like a toothless old man.

When the food tastes like this, it’s really easy to not overeat. I think it’s designed that way. We don’t want our personnel to enjoy themselves too much now. I’m walking again. I’m just starting to see shapes in the surf now, still a ways off. Long, smooth, like very large, fat serpents. They aren’t moving. No wait. There is a little movement. I’m slowing down, keeping my distance. The ends taper into a snout of sorts, I think. No, they’re not really serpent-like. More like elephant trunks. The ends open and close every few seconds. For breathing perhaps? I can’t see the other end of wherever these things are, as they apparently disappear into the water. Whatever they are, they must be huge. And there are a lot of them. They’re lined up more or less evenly spaced along the shore and they all appear to be about the same size. The ones closest to me don’t seem to notice me approaching. I’m stepping back further, closer to the wall and intend to go around them. No discernible movement other than that regular slow undulation. This close up I can see these things are huge, about five meters long. The small end opens and closes. I think it’s the way they breathe. I’m about ten meters away from them. I really don’t want to get any closer than that, so don’t bother asking. Up and down, up and down they go. Like giant blind elephant trunks. The rest of their bodies disappear into the soupy green water, making it impossible for me to see what the other end looks like. Whatever they are, they either don’t know or don’t care if I’m here. I hope it’s the latter. I’m going to stay further up the beach from here on out, or at least until they are no more trunks to avoid. They seem to go on forever.

As I walk past them, I’ve started to notice something. These creatures’ bodies don’t disappear into the water. Rather, they’re buried under the sand at the shoreline. These trunks may serve as a sort of snorkel. Like giant clams or oysters. They have some kind of appendage like that I think. Should have paid more attention in my marine biology course at the Academy. Makes me wonder just how big these things are if I’m only seeing this much of them. And why are they buried? Is this just what they do day after day? Something tells me this is a temporary thing they’re doing. Like they’re waiting for something. Shellfish can’t survive on the surface for too long. They would be picked off by predators in no time. I don’t want to think about what might want to eat these creatures that bury themselves in the surf. I’m already scared enough. And while I’ve been musing over this strange ecology I’ve also noticed that it has gotten darker in here. The sky is fading and everything is taking on a darker green. I think it’s time to turn back. I don’t want to be here if this place becomes completely dark. The entrance to the tunnel sounds a lot better to me right now.

The Station, Part 15 cont.

Nothing. No station. She’s just gone. I’m going into a new tunnel then. Wish me luck.

I didn’t even spend much time choosing a tunnel this time. Just found the closest one, placed a beacon, and starting walking. This tunnel’s a bit larger than the last I think. More oval in shape with a higher ceiling. And this one almost immediately started sloping downward. More steep than is really comfortable. It’s going to be a bitch to try and back up here if I have to. Not that there seems to be a reason to anymore. On the plus side, the floor is rougher than the last tunnel, giving me some more needed traction. I’m happy about that. After scaring the shit out of myself back at the non-tree grove, I’ve been on guard more, paying more attention to the topography. I’ve left the outside audio pickups at maximum, and I’ve just started to pick up a hissing sound from up ahead. It comes and goes in a regular sequence as far as I can tell. Kind of like machinery. There’s even the beginning of a faint light. I still need the suit’s light for now, but maybe I’ll be able to shut that down soon.

As you’d expect, the sound is getting louder as I get closer to the source. The light level is increasing as well. To experiment, I’ve shut off my flashlight and it turns out I have enough ambient light to guide me now. And the tunnel’s width just increased by quite a bit…and there’s a lot of light coming from…yes it’s an opening. Gonna put down a beacon before I do anything else…

Incredible. You’re going to think I’ve lost it. Or the oxygen mix in my suit has gotten too high. I don’t care. You can’t answer me anyway. I’m standing on a beach. Beyond the crystalline sand is what I can only describe as an ocean. Above the ocean is a sky. I know, I don’t believe it either. But there it is. More green than what we’re accustomed to, but it has wispy clouds slowly moving toward a horizon line and beyond that, who knows? The hissing sound I heard before is the sound of small waves crashing to shore, which is surprisingly lustrous. Like gemstones. I have some of that sand in my hand now. Up so close, every grain looks like a tiny, polished stone. Like tiny versions of river rock. No hard edges at all. I’ll bet it feels incredibly smooth between bare feet. I’m almost tempted to take off the suit’s boots and try it for myself. The ocean itself is green was well. I can’t tell if that because of the sky or the water itself, but that’s the only thing here that would appear more or less normal on earth. But the light. There’s no obvious source for that. It’s not painfully bright here though. And there are no shadows that I can see. Apparently the light is coming from everywhere. Or perhaps this sky is the light source itself. Everything has a greenish hue about it. It reminds of the air before an intense thunderstorm, when the barometric pressure drops and the wind begins to pick up, that weird time right there, when everything takes on that odd greenish hue. Looks like that here, without the wind. And what is creating the wave action? That implies a current is out there. Is that being generated artificially? No way to know at the moment. Well, I have three choices right now. I can turn left, I can turn right, or I can go back the way I came. The beach seems to stretch along the wall on either side, so, not knowing the size of this new environment, it could go for miles. I can see holes here and there on the wall, which is much more visible now in the odd lighting. Didn’t think to look at it as I came out in here. The sight of the beach and ocean monopolized my attention. Now that it has my attention, I can finally see it in all of its glory. It’s jet black even under the green light. It reached up and up, fading into the sky past my visual range. Going back to eye level to can see that more holes, presumably more tunnels, are dispersed in either direction. Again, some are too high to reached but others I can easily just step up a bit and walk into. I’m going for a walk. I choose…left. Why not? I don’t seem to be getting any closer to finding Frontier. It’ll give me time to think.

The Station, Part 15 cont.

Are you still receiving? Hope so. I just stepped off something and fell. I’m not hurt. Suit’s fine. I’m just startled. Fell down a small slope. There’s a tree. Well, it looks like a tree. Why is there a tree here? Where’s Frontier? She should be just ahead. Now there’s tree in my way. I don’t understand. It has a trunk, and it’s sprouting some kind of feathery branch-like growths from the top. The truck is odd. Not like wood. More like skin. Wonder what it feels like—whoa! Holy shit! As soon as I touched it, the whole thing shot straight into the ground at lighting speed! That was incredible. My heart’s going a mile a minute. There are more of them. It’s like a grove. Where Frontier should be there’s a bunch of these things. I can see the closest one’s branches swaying very slowly. These branches are opening and closing in a grasping-like fashion. I can see something flitting in and out of the light around the branches. Looks like some kind of insects. They look kike flattened centipedes, translucent and about 15 centimeters long. They’re not really flying, more like drifting, as if they were at the mercy of a current. I guess the air in here isn’t absolutely still like I thought. The tree just caught one of those insect things. Some of the little leaves; tendrils really, are curling around the floating thing. I’m beginning to think that these trees aren’t really trees. They must have been underground when I first got here and popped out after I had left. Maybe my presence disturbed them. But that doesn’t explain the lack of holes in the floor when I was here last, or this slope. There was definitely no slope before. There’s enough space between the non-trees to move through without touching them. I’m going through now.

More non-trees and no sign of Frontier. I’m trying not to lose control. The station has to be here. I only went down the one tunnel. No possibility of making any wrong turns. This is the right chamber. I know it. I’m traveling in a more or less straight direction towards the middle of the chamber. The non-trees are taller here, and somehow look older, more weathered somehow. There are more floating thing sin the air as well. Those centipede-like creatures and more shapes are appearing now. They are look-alikes to moths, jellyfish, and shapes that have no analogue to earth forms that I can think of. All of them are ghostly, transparent and float about aimlessly it appears. Enough sightseeing. Where the hell is Frontier?

Jesus, fuck! Jesus fucking Christ! Where the fuck is she? She’s supposed to be right here Right here! Just more and more tree-things! Where the hell could entire space station go? Goddamn it! Tell me! Somebody tell why I’m being fucked with!

No, I’m not going to lose it. I’m going to calm down and rationalize this. I went down the tunnel, found the glowing mushroom valley and turned right around to find this. This has to be the right chamber. I just changed while I was away. But how? And how could the Frontier be moved? There’s no sign she was ever here. No debris, no disturbances in the ground. It’s like she was lifted out of the crevasse by giant hands and taken to who knows where. Speaking of which, where is the crevasse? Should be here too. It’s just flat, lichen covered ground and the non-trees.

I’m going to search this entire chamber now. Make one search thorough search then I’m off. Look for any sign of where Frontier might have gone. I only have so much air, food and water. If she’s not in here, I might be in some serious trouble. Can’t waste time walking in circles. I’ll have to try another tunnel. The last one ended in more or less a dead for me. Unless I learn how to fly that chamber is off limits. There’s a lot of choices. Dozens in fact. More if I, again, learned how to fly. I’ll pick one at random, leave a beacon. I’m so glad I brought these little wonders with me. I have about twenty of them. That should be more than enough. It’s not like I have chalk to draw arrows with. Although that would be very useful right about now.

Nothing. No station. She’s just gone. I’m going into a new tunnel then. Wish me luck.

The Station, Part 15 cont.

Another sound, different. Somewhere above. Up near the roof of the valley. It’s gone now. A quick rustling. It’s far too high for me to make anything out except for what looks like mist or fog. Hell for all I know it could be rain clouds for the mushroom things. Of all things, the very first life outside found the earth is a glowing toadstool. I’m assuming they’re alive. They could be strange mineral formations or something. Yes, I definitely heard something up there now, above or inside that mist stuff. A raspy rustle. Don’t know if I like this. Can’t see anything up there. Maybe I should get a move on. Can’t see a way down into the valley. Perhaps I should take that as a sign to head back to the station. I’ll try another tunnel tomorrow. The beacon signal is still going strong. Like I need it as it’s a straight shot back out of here, but it’s still a comfort knowing it’s waiting for me at the other end.

Maybe it’s just me, but the tunnel doesn’t seem to have the downward incline that I thought it would. Guess I’m more tired than I thought. It feels more even than it should, but inside it’s obviously no different. Same smooth dark wall and floor. At least I didn’t eat any of the rations or use much of the water either. And the water is recyclable, you know what I mean. Beacon’s still going. No problem there, just a little further…I keep thinking about those fungi-like things. I don’t want to jump to conclusions about them, but I saw them. They looked very alive, not carved from windblown rock or grown like a stalagmite from mineral deposits. Organic is what I’m trying to say. What rock makes noise anyway? And the noises from the mist enshrouded roof, what about them? I’ll sleep on it after a shower descent meal—there’s the beacon. Hey, where are Frontier’s navigation lights? Where are the goddamn lights?! Calm yourself, Bradley. Not the end of the world, yet, soldier. Probably a glitch in the power distribution system. Frontier is straight ahead, you know that.

I’m shutting the beacon down. I’ll recharge it tonight. Not that it needs it. These things will last for weeks, but always, always leave the station with everything at full charge, right? It is in the regulations book. Well, the sooner I get my ass moving, the sooner I can eat.

Wait a minute. Just wait one damn minute. What is that? I gonna stop talking for a minute. Listening…

There’s a pulse. A throbbing sound. Sounds like it’s coming from everywhere at once. No, not exactly a sound. I can sort of…feel it. Like the feeling you get from extremely low base. But there is something audible about it. Nothing looks different, but it’s too damn dark to see much clearly except for….the floor. The floor is different. It’s still smooth, but there a new texture to it. I’m bending down to take a closer look. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this stuff was algae or lichen. It’s all around. How could I have missed this before? I’m going to take a sample.

I really don’t know what I’m going to do with it. I don’t think there’s a single microscope on board. Guess I’ll just store the sample in—SHIT!

The Station, Part 15 cont.

18/6/2207 con’t.

Wondering where I’ve been? Thought I lost my nerve and decided to stay home? I hope you have more confidence in me than that. No, I just made the walk to the wall with my mouth shut and just listened. On the way all I heard was the sound of my own breathing and footsteps. About halfway there I stopped for a few minutes. I even held my breath for a few moments and just took in the absolute silence. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a place with no sound like this. It’s the sound of the dead. Briefly took my morale down a notch. I dumped that thought and made my way here. Where’s here you ask? I’m right in front of the wall. Well, more like five meters away. Let’s not get too technical right now. Now it’s a guessing game. This is where I find out about how long I will be outside. All these opening look the same to me. Most are out of reach, but that still leaves a generous choice of paths to take. Let’s see, how should I do this? Eeny meeny miney mo. Yup, very scientific. Or, how about the one directly ahead? It’s just about a half a meter above the floor. Easy to get into. I like convenience. Here we go. And I’m not gonna look back at Frontier. Yes, of course I’m lying. I’ve looked back twice already. Can’t fool you.

Didn’t think it was possible, but it may be even darker in here. Fortunately the tunnel is high enough for me to stand up in with headroom to spare. I’m touching the sides again. Smooth. No sharp edges at all. But before I go further, I’m placing a beacon at the mouth of the opening. The first of my breadcrumbs. Hope I won’t really need it. Beacon placed. Now, let’s do some exploring.

I’m looking up ahead and I can see that the tunnel goes in a more or less straight line path for a ways. I’m making my way through now. Sound is muffled in here. My footsteps aren’t nearly as jarring. Starting to slope upward a bit now. No change in the tunnel size or texture. Hope this doesn’t get too steep or I’m going to have to turn back. The suit isn’t designed for this. Now if things went zero g all of a sudden, that would make the suit happy. Alright, we’re leveling out again. Rather anticlimactic, I know. Remember, I’m just the messenger people. Debating whether I should place another beacon, but I have only so many of those. And I’m still getting strong signal from the first one. Okay, I’ll save the next beacon drop for later. Hmm. Tunnel’s sloping slightly up again. Wonder what causes that.
I’m huffing and puffing a bit now. Suit’s not too heavy, but it does work against you in gravity. The tunnel’s slope lasted longer this time. Gonna need a break soon. Don’t want to needlessly exhaust myself. Taking a breather and water break. Wonder if anybody else feels like a hamster when they drink from the suit’s helmet tube.

Sitting down and looking down the tunnel I can see that the sloping continues past where my light penetrates. The good news is the way back is going to be a snap. I could practically roll my way down. This occurred to me: Since starting out, there has been no sign of a deviation in direction, no side passages and no change in size. It’s all very precise. Not knowing exactly what the surrounding material is makes it hard to guess at what it would take to shape this tunnel. Non expert that I am, I would think that even modern drilling machinery would have a time cutting through this stuff. Well, enough random thoughts for now. I’m feeling rested. Come on feet, let’s get going. I’ll get back to you when something changes. Right now I think I should talk a little less and concentrate my energy on walking. I’ll pipe back up if something changes. Bradley out for now.

Bradley here. The tunnel has ended. I’m in another….crap, I don’t know what to call it. A valley? It’s narrow. It has a gradual curve to it like a crescent moon. That’s what I can see from my vantage point. I must be oh…fifty meters above it. And there are colors down there. Glows in a myriad of colors. No discernable order to it. It’s providing a good amount of psychedelic looking light to the place. I’ve turned up the suit’s ambient audio pickups to maximum. I’m listening….yes, I’m not imagining it. There’s something making sounds down there. My pulse is going a mile a minute now. Gotta calm it down, Bradley. Take a breath. Damn, I wish I could send in a sound file to you. You should hear this. Fuck, it reminds me of whalesong. The valley walls below might be amplifying it like the chamber holding Frontier does. There. Yes. Almost like a young woman singing. That’s in there, too. Turning up my visual pickups. What’s down there… Huh. They don’t even look real. Like a fantasy painting. Reds, blue, oranges, green, purples, all bright colors. Like giant mushrooms. Roughly uniform in size. Most are round, others are much narrower. They’re all absolutely still as far as I can tell. The tops of the larger rounded ones have some kind of pale bumpy protrusions on their tops, something like pimples. Not a very elegant way to put it but that’s what came to mind. Are these…creatures…are they making the sounds? Enhancing the image more…yes. Covering the entire valley floor. Some of them must be huge. Would you believe it? Giant mushrooms. Incredible...I would love to get a first hand look at them, but I don’t see an obvious way to get down there, not without some serious climbing gear. And I don’t have any of—

The Station, Part 15

18/6/2207

I don’t know if I can pack any more gear. Fortunately, I’m in good shape and all together the equipment will be a manageable weight. I’ve got the signal booster pack, flashlights, miniature beacons, medical kit, food and water for three days and most important of all, the portable sensor which will map my progress as well as keep a permanent fix on Frontier in case I get turned around in one of these tunnels. This could be a really short trip, or it could be the first part of a much longer one. I have no idea. These tunnels may go fifty feet, or fifty miles. If they’re more like the latter, well, I only can only carry so much food and water. I’m talking like I’m actually excited about this. More like scared shitless. What I really want right now is a damn gun. It would just feel good to have some solid protection with me. Hell, I thought of bringing just a good old fashioned wrench along. Not a very effective weapon but the psychological effect would help. Something heavy and solid in my hands that can do damage. For the caveman in me you know. But there’s only so much I can carry, and I don’t want first contact to involve a bludgeoning. I’ll forgo the wrench. I’ll be leaving in about an hour. I want to make some final checks to the excursion suit because no matter how good the air out there may be, it’s still an alien atmosphere. The good news is technology now allows us astronauts access to oxygen packs that can last a week. I don’t know how many lives have been saved by these little wonders. I remember that starliner incident from five years ago. There were what, three hundred people involved? The ‘liner had been equipped with a bunch of these newer O2 packs. For something like two days, these people lived on these tanks until a rescue vessel finally reached them. Only three people died and those deaths had been caused by the initial engine failure that caused the accident. Had this happened a few years before, a lot more people would have died. And that was the incident that altered the spaceline routes, too, remember? That’s all it takes sometimes, just one tragedy to get the rules to change. Takes longer to get to the Outer Colonies now, but at least it’s safer.

Enough chit chat about recent history, and let’s get this show on the road, shall we? But first, one good meal and a shit and then I’m going hiking. Did I say that out loud?

The Station, Part 14

17/6/2207

I ought to kick myself. I’m such an amateur about this. Really ironic. The guy who’s in charge of a space station trying to contact extraterrestrial life has no idea what to do. We, I was expecting a signal. A goddamn signal for crying out loud! There’s no signal here. No pattern of noise for me and the computer to ponder over. It’s so freaking silent outside I want to scream and bring out whatever’s got me stuck here. Why am I here? Why?

Sorry, just getting frustrated. I know what I have to do. I just don’t want to do it. I really don’t. Fuck, I don’t even want to say it. But I will. I’ll fucking say it. I need to explore the tunnels. I need to go into them and see where they go. How else will I get out of here? If there is a way out. How else am I going to find out what this leviathan really is? I need to think and prepare for it. This time I’m bringing more equipment. I’ll take sampling equipment and I am sure as hell taking along a portable signal booster. If nothing else, I’m going to find a way to get a mayday to the outside. I may have been successful with that already, but I want to be damn sure that I see with my own eyes that signal go out.

The Station, Part 13 cont.

Okay, enough of that. Back on task, Bradley. I’m taking a short walk along the wall and I’m seeing more of the same. More of that strange texture and more holes. These ho9les are roughly uniform in shape and size, some are low enough that if I boost myself up, I can get into it. With a ladder I can reach a few more. But the majority of holes are far too high to reach. I’m looking into one of those opening right now. The sides are surprisingly smooth, like polished obsidian. I just ran my hand along it and felt a slightly wavy texture. Very smooth. No bumps or holes or ridges that I can find. Looking inside it seems to hold a horizontal path for maybe….25 meters before it slopes upward. At least that’s what it looks like. Part of me wants to take a walk down this tunnel but there’s another part of me that is screaming FOUL at the same time. I think I’ll defer to that latter side of my psyche for now and continue to explore the outer side.

I’ve left the tunnel entrance and now walking alongside the wall. I’m finding more of these tunnels. They’re all still about the same side and shape and most of them are out of reach. If there wasn’t gravity here, I could’ve really used one of the repair pods in the station’s hanger. But they’re zero g craft only. Just small ion pulse drives and maneuvering jets. What I could really use is somebody to watch my back. I know I’m probably being paranoid about this, but wouldn’t you be? I’m inside some form of extrasolar structure, with no apparent way out and nobody to discuss this with. The silence of this place is really unnerving, so I’m going to keep talking to not try and go insane from it.

Walking and talking does seem to help. On the first day when this…event happened, I was speechless. Nothing made sense. I went about my business as usual, everything checking out and then the darkness surrounded Frontier. It was so unreal. I had nothing to say. I just started going from viewport to viewport, hoping like a fool that my eyes were playing tricks on me or that this was some really bad practical joke dreamed up by bored personnel at Command Central. But I really knew all of that was pure bullshit. Sorry. Please excuse the French. The memories are still very fresh. But really, I’m not feeling the anger right now. I don’t feel the sense of abandonment I had when no one answered my repeated hails. In my moment of panic I had no idea the signals weren’t penetrating the rock, or whatever substance this thing is made out of. It must have approached at some incredible speed, and know that I’ve replayed the event in my mind several hundred times over, I think that whatever I’m inside, it’s likely impervious to our standard scanning technology. I mean really, if this had been a normal stellar body like an asteroid or comet, the proximity sensors would have been screaming long before it got anywhere near to Frontier. If there had been that danger of collision, I would have had plenty of time to fire up the thrusters and get of the way. So Central never saw and Frontier never saw it either. Was it just the nature of the thing’s makeup, or a deliberate masking of itself? No way to know right now. What really bothers me though, is not that none of us saw it before now, but the how the hell did the station wind up inside this structure? There are no openings that I see find aside from the roughly man sized holes. Nothing that would accept an object the size of Frontier.

I’m not seeing a lot a variation here, much more like a variation on a theme. The room has a lot in common with the cathedrals of antiquity. Those places were people used to go find answers to their worldly problems. The history texts said they used to find solace and comfort in knowing their God was there for them in these places.

Not that I find any solace or comfort here. No, it’s more like this place is grand and meant to awe those who visit it into thinking that a great and mighty power resides here. That’s what I think this place might be meant to do. Well, if that’s the intent, well, hell it’s sure working like a charm on this soldier. But is it for me specifically? That would be highly presumptuous of me now, wouldn’t it? I mean, really, do I really think this whole event was designed to impress one particular individual? No, not really. Assuming this has a purpose and isn’t some purely natural phenomenon, it’s not meant for one naval particular lieutenant. It’s more like it’s meant for whoever sent out the signal. One source is what matters. The sender is irrelevant.
Listen to me, I’m rambling. I’m doing nothing but speculating here, without really giving you real events as they happen. Admittedly, not a lot is happening. I’m continuing my walk around the inner wall and seeing those hole and other formations I have already mentioned. I think it’s time I went back to the Frontier and gather my thoughts about what I’ve seen.

The Station, Part 13

16/6/2207

I’m suited up. I’ve checked and rechecked every seal and every sensor. I want nothing out there to get past me. And I’ve triple checked the headlamp that’s built into the helmet. I’m bringing along an extra handheld flashlight, just in case. The helmet microphone is working apparently as I see my speech is being transcribed in real time by the suits translation program. Good. I’m not about the try and type using the portable keyboard. These gloves are not coming off. I don’t care what the sensors tell me about there being nothing harmful in the air. And just on the one-in-a-million chance, I’m sending real-time visual feed out too. Maybe you all will have one hell of a movie night. It’s pitch black out there, and even with the station’s navigation lights still active I want to be sure that if I turn down a dark bend in this Leviathan, I’ve got light all the time. Forgot to tell you earlier, that’s what I’ve name it. Leviathan. After the whale that swallowed Jonah. At least I think that’s what it was called. I’m not well versed in Biblical myths so forgive me if I’ve gotten that wrong. Not that you or anyone else really cares about that stuff anymore. But I couldn’t just keep calling it “it” or the “thing”. Think that’s appropriate.

I’m walking to the airlock now. Can’t say I’m looking forward to this, but what else am I going to do? Maybe I should wait to you guys and then we can form a proper exploration team, but by then I think I might have gone stir crazy. What would you do? I mean, this is the whole reason I’m out here right? Discovering intelligent life and all. Listen to me, talking as if I’ve already found something. (laughter) Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but hell, it’s better than thinking about being a full-grown man pissing into the excursion suit diaper is just ridiculously funny.

Okay, I’m at the airlock now. Opening outer door and going inside. Haven’t seen this part of the station since coming aboard. Seems like a million years ago now. Could use some knick knacks or something. Pressurizing now…and…opening outer airlock hatch.

Okay. And now…drum roll please…I’m stepping out. Wow! Did you hear that? No, wait. Sorry. Of course you didn’t. You’re reading. I’m talking to you like you’re listening. When I put my boot down, there was one hell of an echo. Scared the shit out of me. I should have thought of it before. This place is acting like a gigantic sound board, bouncing sound all over the place. It’s not a vacuum in here by any means. I’m going to tread lightly from here on out. That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind. Heh. You knew it was coming. Speaking of stepping, the ground, for lack of a better word right now, is just as black as everything else, smooth, with rippling that makes be think it’s volcanic in origin. Hey, is there a geologist in the house?

So, where to from here? If you can’t see what I see right now, I’ve trained the helmet light straight ahead away from Frontier and towards the far wall. I’m activating the suit’s visual enhancements and getting some magnification. The far wall looks much like the ground, except there’s a series of ovoid dark patches that are irregularly spaced apart. Can’t tell much else about them right now. I’m walking now. Damn that’s still a loud echo and I’m practically tiptoeing. Hey, I just realized I’ve never looked up. Heh. My light only stretches so far. Too dark. Nothing to see. Moving on.

The ground is sloping upwards slightly. But not so much that walking’s still relatively easy. Which is good, because as efficiently designed as this suit is, it’s not at all meant for mountain climbing.

I’m approaching the far wall now, and I can make out more details. There’s a somewhat different texture to it, like it was molded or something, kinda like how they used to make walls in homes and other buildings in the days before nanocrete. It’s not all that uniform as I see large patches that looks like they were applied with a huge brush, other places appear to be completely smooth. I need to get closer.

It is so quiet in the here. My audio pickups to turned up to maximum and I other than my own speech and the footsteps, there is nothing else. It’s like the whole world is asleep and I’ve gotten up way too early. It reminds me of a time when my parents took me to a cave back home on Earth. We had shuttled over to a small nature preserve near his hometown in Florida. What was called again. Habana? No, Havana. Yeah, that was it. Knew it was a Spanish sounding name. Anyway, he took me to this cave in Havana, Florida. A tour guide took us down into this cave and it was so quiet. It was the middle of the day, and down there it might as well have been midnight. To demonstrate how absolutely dark it was in this cave, he shut down all the artificial illumination in this one room, and the since that day, I’ve never seen darkness that complete. And the other people on the tour must have been just as impressed as me, because nobody talked. All you could hear was their breathing. I thought then, what if you didn’t have any light with you, how could you ever find your way out of a place like that? I guess you didn’t. That’s what’s it’s like in here. Except I’m not turned my light out to see just how dark it can get.

I’m just a few feet from the wall now, and it’s not exactly what I expected. Those dark pock marks I might have mentioned earlier are actually holes, oval and about ten feet in height. The walls look like cooled molten rock similar to the floor, but the texture is certainly different. More like a sculptor’s interpretation of what molten rock should look like. I know that’s probably hard to imagine from your vantage point out there, but I have no idea what you see on your side. Uh…think of black clay being smoothed by hand, and I think you get the picture.

I just turned around and looked back at Frontier. She just a faint whiteness out there with her nav lights blinking on and off in their normal pattern. If, God forbid, I loose both of my lights, I can at least use the green, white and red coming off her hull to find my way back. You just keep on blinking there, girl.

The Station, Part 12

15/6/2207

I’m going to do it. I’ve thought about it and gotten the shakes. Stopped thinking, got the shakes under control and then thought about again. Less shaking this time. I took more readings before I bunked down. Nothing new to report. So I’ve decided to open the airlock. With a excursion suit on. Atmosphere or no, I’m taking no changes. Could be exobacteria or some other nasty out there that sensors can’t detect. Life signs. On the outside chance that these messages are actually getting outside and you are receiving and reading them, I’ll keep on transmitting via the in-suit comm. unit. I’ll be relayed to the station first of course, and then the signal will be boosted before being sent out. Just keep reading and please find a way in. I’d much rather not be doing this alone. I plan to start my walk tomorrow morning (assuming my nerves don’t get the better of me) I’ll be making another transmission then to let you know. Bradley out.

The Station, Part 11

14/6/2207

I think I have learned all I can from here. Just out of morbid curiosity I’ve gone to the main hatch, which (and this can’t be pure chance) sits right above the floor of the object. I stood at the door, pondering whether if I opened it what would be the last thing I saw. The last thing I smelled. Oh, don’t think I’m suicidal. Not even close. I’m scared, but I want to get out of this. But I also want to know what has happened to me. I just had those thoughts as I stood at the hatch, knowing that six inches of alloy and a pocket of atmosphere separated me from whatever lay out outside in that darkness.

I’m back in the main control room now though, taking reading right now. The results show an atmosphere out there. I think there’s gravity as well. There is a particle density that rivals that of computer clean rooms in there. But there an oxygen/nitrogen mix that I could breathe. Some trace gases as well. It’s not Earth air, but damn close. Absolutely no air currents. And dead quiet. I’d say I’m feeling some more fear now, but it’s mixed with a growing excitement. I really didn’t think that would happen. Where the fuck am I?

The Station, Part 10

13/6/2207

I’m putting a detailed picture of the objects together. I made a series of hard copies for each section, overlapping them in the places where the scans do and have created a makeshift 3-D model. I know I could have done all this with the computer, but this feels more hands on. The former is just too detached right now. I need something to do other than press buttons. And the work I’ve done with my hands has felt therapeutic. It’s roughly the shape of an egg, with a detailed interior of what look like pockmarks, ridges and valleys. In all the open space is about half a kilometer in diameter. The station is nestled halfway in a hole in what I have designated the bottom. The station fits inside like a glove, almost as if the hole was made for it. I don’t like that. Too coincidental. It’s still pitch black out there. And no incoming signals. No radiation emanating from the surrounding material either. For all I can determine from here the object is completely inert. But apparently there’s gravity because there’s nothing else holding Frontier down.

The Station, Part 9

12/6/2207

It’s hollow. It’s all around me. And there are shapes on its inside. It’s huge, covering the entire station with much room to spare. It appears that the station is being held in place, like a yolk within an egg. I’ve tried to discover the nature of the phenomenon, but no data is forming. I wonder if I were to go outside would I fall, or would I be captured by the same…force that has gripped Frontier 2. How would I know anyway? You’re the advisors. I’m not that kind of explorer. I’m not qualified for this. I know communications, damn it! What do I do?