The Station, Part 20

Why am I so tired? Ever since finding Frontier 2, I’ve felt oddly drained. Like that damn weed has actually gotten into me during my short time there. Hell no, I’m not going to get paranoid like that. That shit does not feed off still living things. I’m certain of that. Again, I just know that. So when did I sleep last? Hard to remember when. I just remember what I saw when I slept. Those beings. So real.

My tunnel theory just got another boost. I tried another Tunnel Rounds and its been a more or less straight run. Sorry I haven’t been conversational through it. Been thinking about Sam. For a guy I didn’t really know all that well, I’m not sure why I’m so damn angry at him. I feel guilty and just plain angry about it, but I can’t help it. These issues are going to have to wait. I’ve reached the end of this particular passage and, for the first time since I’ve been here, I think I truly am scared right now.

Through the passage opening there is a fog. It’s extremely thick and stops abruptly at the tunnel opening, as if something were blocking it. Not a tendril of the stuff is inside the tunnel. I’ve turned up my light to maximum and I can still only penetrate a few meters into it. The first thing I checked for was a floor. It’s there, thank the stars. But beyond that I have nothing else to tell you. I’m seriously considering turning back and finding another tunnel that might take me around this place, but I already know that this was the only Tunnel Round coming from Frontier 1. The prospect of losing time over my chickenshit attitude keeps me locked in place right here, at the mouth of the tunnel. There it is swirling and twisting, all a dare to get me inside. I want a fucking gun again. This time I might really need it. All I have are these beacons, which honestly, don’t mean jack shit anymore. I mean, I’ve been placing them at each entrance and since each one is coded, I can draw a makeshift amp on my HUD. It isn’t much right now, but I’m getting a much better appreciation of the size of the whole structure. And each time I find a new chamber, it just keeps adding to that immensity.

Yeah, I know I’m stalling. I’m trying to find where my balls went, okay? Give me a break here. If you could see how thick this stuff was you’d damn near shit yourself thinking about going inside too. And I don’t want to overtax the suit’s recyclers right now, if you know what I mean. I’ve got the spare flashlight gripped firmly in one hand. It’s the only thing that approximates a weapon. Pathetic, but I feel a little more secure. It’s solid, unlike whatever this ethereal substance is. Here goes nothing.

The Station, Part 19 cont.

I don’t know what I was thinking when I’d said I’d bury Sam. I don’t have a shovel or a pick or anything remotely resembling a digging implement. Even if I did, I have no idea how deep the soil, or whatever this ground is made of, goes down. For all I know it’s a whole five centimeters. And cremation is out of the question as well. No a single flammable material on board. It is a space station you see. Instead, I’m leaving him right where he is. Let this strange nature take its course. Perhaps in a few weeks or less, all that Sam was will be reduced to the most basic parts, even the bones I’d say. Ashes to ashes they used to say weren’t it? Quaint. This is element to element really. In its own way, more through than even cremation would have been.

There’s nothing left here. Nothing that I can use. No food or water. I could take some spare power packs for the suit, but the ones I have can last for months without recharging. Hell, one wouldn’t hurt or make a difference anyhow. I’m leaving Frontier 1. Goodbye Sam. I’m sorry.

I feel like shit. I really do. I’m very tired all of a sudden. Sitting here a ways from Sam’s final resting place I’m looking at the wilderness around me and really, really thinking about what to do next. Okay, I’m really thinking about Sam. Why he never left his own station and explored the tunnels. Hell, it looks like he never even went outside once. Why did he just give up? Damn it, we could’ve found each other, pooled resources. Kept each other company. Sam you bastard. You should’ve tried. You were supposed to be a trained officer of the navy. Instead, you just said, fuck it, I’m outta here and shot up to end all shot ups. You were a fucking coward, Sam. Now you’ve left me here to do your job, too. What finally made you do it? Was it the weed coming in and getting into the food, or the power flickering and leaving you sitting there in the dark? Was that when you pulled out the needle? Over a damn weed—

The weed. It might grow elsewhere. There’s no way to know. It’s all over Frontier 1 and it’s so tangled can see no actual origin point. More of it could be growing beyond just this space. And if I’m right, my station isn’t that far from here. Maybe in a place much like this one. Sitting there, unprotected, and being covering by this stuff. Getting into the stores of food and water. I’ve got only days left with me. If Frontier 2 has been compromised, there’s nothing left. That might have been what Sam was thinking. No communications, no power, no food. He thought he was totally alone. And if he had been brought here before me, then he was. Goddamn it, why didn’t you try exploring, Sam? We could’ve made a hell of a team. I need to get off my ass and moving again. I’ve wasted too much time already. My own station is close, I know it. Now I’m a little more than afraid to find out what’s happened to her. I don’t want to think about what condition she’ll be in when I finally do lay eyes on her. If she’s covered in the weed… No. I’m not going to consider that yet. Too soon. And it’ll do me no good. Gotta stay focused. Get to Frontier 1 and resupply. Once I’ve reenergized myself, I’ll be more than ready to take on this…place. Or places. Whatever. I will find a way out of here. Fuck you, Sam for making it all that much harder. Time to get moving.

The Station, Part 19

20/6/2207

I’m not back. This isn’t Frontier 2. It’s Frontier 1. Just didn’t see that until I got up close. In big black letters. Looks like she’s been here a lot longer than I have. I don’t know how that could be though. I was just talking to my counterpart here, Samuel Price. He preferred Sam. Only his mother called him Samuel he told me once. I wouldn’t want to be his mother right now. I wouldn’t want to be the one to have to tell her that her son was dead.

He’s been dead for some time it looks like. Suicide it looks like from what I can gather. There’s a pressure syringe and a bag of sleeping solution nearby. Empty. He must’ve taken enough to put a herd of elephants into a coma. Why, though. Why did he decide to take his own life? He couldn’t have been here that long. Like me, he must have tried every fucking comm. channel known to Man. And he got no responses. I’ve been through every deck of his station. Looks like he never left. None of the excursion suits have been used. O2 tanks were all full. Can’t get into the central computer because there’s absolutely no power. That I don’t understand at all. Even running all systems on full power, Frontier 1 should be good to go for at least another two years. And that’s without any aid from the solar and kinetic chargers. There’s not a light on in here. And what I really don’t get and I don’t know if I want to understand it, is exactly just how life has gotten into this station. She’s supposed to be sealed tight against the vacuum of space for fuck’s sake. I had to use the outside manual release to get in. And that door opens into an airlock with another door that has to be unsealed manually as well. In other words, just like my station.

There’s a weed growing all over. It has made it into just about every deck and every room. It’s infiltrated the food and water stores as well and taken every scrap, even used the emergency ladders next to the pneumatic lift system to make its way nearly up to the sensor complex at the station’s apex. It’ll probably be there in no time. It’s such a tangle that I can’t see just where it may have gotten in. There must be a breach somewhere. Doesn’t really matter anymore. Sam’s dead. The station died with him.

Sam. It’s hard to look at him. At what he’s becoming. The weed, whatever else it is. It’s a parasite. Sam had become food for it. The weed has apparently penetrated his orifices, strands of it has entered his nostrils, his mouth, even the tear ducts. Probably doesn’t end there. The exposed skin is grayish, not the white I would have expected. And what’s really making it hard to look at him is the protrusions that have come through. Little furry skies have erupted through the skin on his face forearms and hands. I think he’s being digested. His body’s nutrients are being processed by the environment. Sam is just food now. Is his fate what will eventually happen to me? Will I die and be turned into alien plant food? I can’t stand by and let this happen in front of me. I want to have him cremated just like everyone else. I don’t know if that’s going to be possible. I may have to settle for burying him. It’s an outdated and primitive practice, I know, but that may be the best I can do for him. If these messages of mine are getting through to anyone at all, please tell Sam’s family that I’m so sorry. Just don’t tell them about the plant. Thanks.

The Station, Part 18 cont.

I got so excited that I forgot to mention the place I’m in now. Honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about that right now, but I thought I should still report anything of significance. First off, there’s a soft light, which may be yet the closest I seen to our sun. The floor, or should I call it ground here, is covered in a very fine grass-like growth. It’s so fine it could be hair on the back of an immense green monster. Hell, for all I know it is. There’s what look like small plants, roundish and a darker green than the surrounding grass. I can see bulbs of what may be fruit on one I just passed by. I must say that these pear-shaped fruits look rather tempting right now. But I’m not putting them anywhere near my mouth. That would be incredibly foolish.

Frontier is much closer now and I can see her name and registry number pretty clearly—
No…No. No. No. No. This is not happening. This is not happening. Damn it! Fuck! Fuck me! I can’t take this! Why is this happening to me?!

The Station, Part 18

More evidence that I was right in classifying the tunnels. I located my Tunnel Round and after having been traveling through it, there’s been no sign of incline either up or down. I’m relieved and I must say a little proud. No, more than a little proud. I’m a little embarrassed at myself for it, since I should have figured out the key much sooner than I did. Oh well, I did discover the road signs. And this must just be the start of them. Up ahead the tunnel is starting to curve to the right, but with no change in altitude. I wonder if that feature has some significance and not just a random design element. Design. Now there’s a thought. The word conveys purpose. Intelligence. Many clues point towards a mind behind all that I’ve seen. In just my short time here, I’ve seen wonders that would turn humanity on its collective head. It’s so like a cosmic joke, that after all the centuries, Man’s search for life in the universe has culminated in one man who has seen the offspring of many worlds, has no means whatsoever to tell anyone about it. Let’s see if I can change that cruel punch line.

The tunnel must have made a full ninety degree turn. I’m traveling in a straight line again. With all of this walking I’ve been doing. I’ll be ready for a marathon in no time. Here we go. The tunnel’s ending.

And hallelujah! There she is! Frontier. She looks so gorgeous. I had no idea just how much I missed that huge hunk of junk until now. She’s a ways off in the distance and listing to port, doing her impression of the leaning Tower of Piza, but so the fuck what? Who or whatever they are, they’ve managed to wedge her into yet another custom sized crevasse it seems. I’m walking at a good clip now. If I could I’d jog, but that is out of the question in this getup. Can’t wait to get inside and out of this damn suit. So sick of this thing and the nasty food paste and the canned sound of my own voice. I should slow down to a normal pace again, but who cares now? The station looks powered down right now, but I’ll reestablish vital systems, namely environmental control, and start the oxygen flowing again. Looks like I didn’t need the suit’s week-long supply of O2. I’ve got, according to the HUD, just under five days at normal exertion left. Am I good or what?

The Station, Part 17

Well, personally I was hoping to find Frontier waiting for me. That was too hopeful I suppose. But I’m pretty sure that I’ve gotten a lot closer. So what do I see instead? That’s a good question. As far as impossible environments like beaches or deserts, I seem to be in a rather familiar looking place. It’s far larger, but it resembles the chamber Frontier was housed in first. The walls have far fewer tunnels more some reason. The floor is covered in a fine, powdery black dust. Looks volcanic. I’d say this place was unfinished or just unused. It’s extra space. Something will go here eventually, but for now, it’s just an empty broom closet. The light here is much like the sun. Yellow. Not quite the same, but it’s a welcome approximation. Again, the light source isn’t obvious, but as I look directly above me, the light pours down. Almost too bright to stare at directly. Can’t complain though. It’s the closest thing to Earth that I’ve seen here so far. I wonder why this place is empty? Even where Frontier was, she was evidently replaced by the strange grove. Apparently that space was better suited to that particular life form. So maybe the space station was just put into temporary housing until a more suitable place could be freed up. Sounds more and more like an intelligence is at work here doesn’t it? Again, I’m making lots and lots of assumptions here. There’s no real evidence to back up what I say. But there’s this feeling, coming from somewhere in the back of my head, that says I’m on the right track. And that feeling is there more and more often lately. I’m going to make one more outrageous assumption now. I think there’s light because this place is gearing up for some new arrivals. Maybe they’re more like me biologically. You know, one head, two eyes, body, two arms and two legs. Yeah, that would be really reaching at this point. Maybe I’ll stop guessing so much and really start to look for some actual answers. Time to go. I see more tunnels on the other side. Without anything to block my I can clearly see this particular space is absolutely huge. You could fit an enormous lake in here, or colony of gargantuan beings. If I play my cards right, I’ll be long gone before that happens. Now to find another Tunnel Round.

The Station, Part 16 cont.

I don’t know what came over me just now or where this dream came from, but it was incredible. And it made some kind of sense. This knowledge. I knew I had something. It’s gone now. Or is it a simple matter of this place getting to me. If I’m that lonely, why haven’t I dreamt of human beings? Why am I imagining beings I’ve never laid eyes on?

I’ll worry about that later. Right now I have more pressing maters to attend to. Like what’s on the other side of this very real tunnel. Speaking of which, if I’m going to keep making my way through these things, I might was well come up with some nomenclature for them. So far, I’ve seen three versions of these passageways, so that means I need three names. I’ll take a page from modern taxonomy and Linnaeus and give them a genus and species. Why the hell not? Let’s see, what to do think of this: Tunnel Tall, Tunnel Round, and Tunnel Wide. Genus Tunnel, species Tall, Round and Wide. Eh, not elegant at all, but it does the job. So, now that I’ve got names for these things, I can put a least a little sense of order to my world. Listen to me—my world. Like I belong here. This isn’t any more my world than Mars is my world. And that planet is in Earth’s solar system. Next door neighbors on the cosmic scale. I need to make sense of this world. This world.

Tunnel Wide’s incline is starting to decrease. I’m thinking that I’m coming to the end. What do you think I’ll find this time? A vast desert? Another beach? How about a bottomless pit straight to Hell? Oh, better yet, the forest from my dream. That would be enough to send me over the edge. Hah! At least there’s light now. I can switch off my headlamp. Lets’ see what’s out there…