The Doomsday

by Joel Gray

It is the first manned mission to Mars and everything is going as planned. The red planet looks the same as it always had. But, something goes wrong. The astronauts lose their captain and must travel across space to find him. When they do find him...

The sun illuminated the far side with an orange halo. As the sun rose over the ridge and began illuminating the valley,

Mac held his breath involuntarily. His breathing returned slowly as he realized a horrible truth; the ship was gone!

.

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The Doomsday

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~Prologue~

In a dark infinite expansion of points of light and empty space a silver space craft traveled. Stars appeared in its cameras with brilliant luminosity. A very close star glowed fiery orange. Conflagration shot from its chromo sphere thousands of miles out. Its surface churned like a boiling caldron. The cameras of the space vehicle focused on the giant gas sphere. Presently a tiny object appeared at the curvature of the star. Orbiting around it a much smaller object also was seen. Inside the space craft, view screens were being monitored. An identification panel identified it as planet Earth. A finger depressed a button. The craft rocketed forward toward the planet. Earth, the planet of man, was the most desired planet to live on by all terrestrial beings in the universe. On this planet the first war began and the last war shall be, but much later. The beings, in the space ship, viewed earth from space. Soon, very soon they would be there and life on Earth would change.

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~Chapter One~

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Cape Kennedy, Florida

The evening turned to night at the busy space center. Workers headed into buildings. Ground crews began packing up. Towering above all, a large space ship, Slavon I, rested on the launch pad. Exterior lights on the cluster of control buildings switched to their dim settings. Inside the central control center, technicians hovered over computer terminals. The ignition sequence began on the intercom, all over the site, " 10, 9, 8, . . . At, "2, 1, 0, we have ignition", the huge ship lifted off. It's launching rockets in operation, created a spectacular sight. Volatile gasses combusted, producing a luminous conflagration. In a few seconds it disappeared from sight. Observers on the ground, with infrared cameras, captured the last public view of the spectacular ship.

Slavon I, outer space.

The huge ship vibrated as it passed through Earth's atmosphere at 30,000 mph. In the main living quarters sat twenty astronauts. With safety harnesses, they felt somewhat secure, but even so their journey was quite dangerous. No space mission had ever gone to Mars with humans before. The highly trained crew was tense. All their training could be of no use at any time. The slightest turn could send them several million miles away from their destination. A meteoroid of a size of a few inches could cause serious damage to the ship. Many had rocket packs nearby in case the ship came in contact with such objects. Suddenly a warning siren broke the silence. Mysteriously, just as it started, it stopped. Fearful faces turned toward the intercom as a voice came on, "This is the captain; all astronauts, this was a flaw in the programming, please stay calm." Afterwards, the ship regained silence. They were relieved. NASA had been planning a trip to Mars for the past thirty years. Finally they had designed the perfect ship. It was a huge ship. In the upper pilot room sat four NASA command officers. They were busy, working at complicated sets of controls. One little flaw and all would be lost, even their lives. Vibrations echoed across the ship. In the central forward view screen, slightly to the left, was the moon. They were going to jet toward the moon at full speed. Coordinates and instructions were entered rapidly. An electronic notification transmission came on, " Primary propulsion commencing." The engines roared and shuddered, running at their maximum level. The interplanetary exploration craft lurched forward and sped to the moon. The powerful anti-matter engines have been known to propel an object at speeds from 30,0001 mph to 600,000 mph. The skipper of the craft, Admiral Ron Duroy lifted a speaker to his mouth at the appointed time. "Slavon I is approaching the moon. Prepare for catapulting." The space ship was going to make an orbit around the moon. After a couple revolutions, it would be catapulted toward planet Mars. The old Apollo space craft had traveled to the moon in about three days. The new ship could travel to the moon in fifteen minutes. The ship jolted as it was pulled into orbit. A beeping light on Ron's control panels indicated that the ship was in orbit. The moon's pale, cratered surface passed below Slavon I with an ever increasing velocity. Space dust bounced off the ship with alarming PINGS. The moon was a cold lifeless body of rock. Ron had always thought of it as an eternal winter land. At the final swing, the captain shouted above the hail of ricocheting meteoroids. ,"All passengers, prepare for warp-speed." Thundering vibrations shook the space craft as its warp-speed-engine, rumbled and roared. Everyone activated their pressure suits2. A final lurch and the craft shot forward, disappearing into the blackness of space.

Mars/(earth time) 0200 hours

As a still orb in the cosmos, Mars came into the view of the insignificant space craft. Orbiting around the red planet two greyish moons; Phobos and Deimos appeared as small, round specks. Large swirling clouds gave the planet a more earthlike appearance. The beauty of Mars in its own rugged way could not be compared to any thing the astronauts had known. Something intelligent had to have created it.

Admiral Ron Duroy stared into the view screen at the red planet. He could not help thinking of the miracle it took for the planet to form, let alone be where it was. If evolution was true, would the planet have life. Could the life be intelligent? He rose from his chair and studied a screen bearing coordinates. They had just arrived, at Mars, seven days after their blast off from Earth. No human had walked the red sands or set foot on the planet. Unlike the moon, Mars had an atmosphere. However, it is not breathable, being composed mostly of carbon dioxide. The astronauts were to conduct soil and rock experiments inside the space ship's compact lab. Exploration of the unknown regions of Mars was subsequently to take place. Hydro-detectors were to be employed in discovering any underground water. The huge ship approached the swirling clouds, decelerating its engines. The entry, hopefully, will not be as rough as the blast off from earth had been. "All crew prepare for entry to Mars." Ron switched off the intercom system.

The monotonous rattling of the ship resumed after the transmission. Ron looked back into the view screen. A thin white line of static horizontally traversed the screen. Ron pushed a few buttons. "Huh." It was frozen. Without this screen, he would have a problem. Frantically he tried to get it cleared. With a ship traveling at 19,000 miles per hour, he dare not to try exterior repairs on the view camera. Ron began to sweat.

"Admiral, what's wrong?", Mac Peterson the co-pilot /Admiral 2nd class, questioned, "Is there a problem sir? My view screen is blank."

"Hang on. It's probably a malfunction in the computer." the Admiral replied, "We are going to try an auto-pilot landing. It's our only chance. All our manual steering controls have failed." His finger pulled a red switch and the ship seemed to turn in another direction. The Admiral relaxed. With a mind of its own, the craft turned in a number of maneuvers and disappeared into thick orange clouds.

With no view of the outside world, Ron had no idea where the self-operated ship was taking him. Swerving to the right, the ship leveled off. It conducted a series of swerves and sharp turns. Ron felt like a pinball. Suddenly as this was going on, warning lights blinked on. They came on one by one as follows; Stabilizer malfunctioning, cooling system malfunctioning, retro-pack malfunctioning, and view camera malfunctioning. Ron tried to gain control. Blinking lights danced around his head. The first signs of delirium were beginning to form. The interior of the craft turned to a blur of sounds and lights. The cabin became hot. If Ron had been in his right mind he would have realized that this was created by the heat of the air molecules of Mars preforming the process of ablation on the ship. Ron's co-pilot said something incomprehensible to him. The confusion intensified. Finally, when it was almost unbearable, it stopped with a soft Crunch. All the lights turned off and the ship was shrouded in darkness.

During the ordeal, Ron had been holding his breath. He breathed in deeply.

"Captain." a voice right next to him shuttered, "Are you alright?"

Ron groaned and replied, "I'm fine. Could you order everyone to sit still."

" 'Sir." the subordinate activated the inter-com.

"Attention, we have landed. I request you to stay in your seats. The ship has malfunctioned. That is all."

Ron stood up and pushed the emergency lighting button. A spark flew up in his face. Ouch! The room remained dark. Going to a storage panel, Ron pulled out a magnetic-pulse-electro- light (mag-pulse). Its eery green, pulsating glow cast strange shadows around the room. The face of a worried co-pilot appeared eerily in Ron's light.

"Sir, What shall we do now?"

Ron frowned, "I will choose a few men to go with me to see what has possible damage been done. You will stay here. By the way, see what you can do here."

"Yes sir."

Outside five space-suited figures inspected their space craft. It sat in a large crater with its landing gear down. The reddish sand tinted the sides with a golden-red color. Nicks and a few small dents, covered the ship's surface. Ron put a finger to a rather large dent. It had a diameter, as he measured, of a foot and five inches across. That wasn't good. He made his way around the ship. The exterior motion view-camera was what worried him most. It would have to wait. He sighed. Always when he wanted to do something, he couldn't. Further inspection would have to be done tomorrow when it was brighter.

The setting sun cast eery shadows over the red, undulating, cratered landscape. A high ridge, covering three hundred sixty degrees of his view, cut off his view of the landscape beyond. Wind stirred clouds across the red sky. Mars was definitely "the red planet." Ron and his helpers entered the side ramp. He looked back intently over the beautiful, untamed, and magnificent landscape that would soon be cloaked in deep darkness, before he entered the craft. He couldn't wait to see the other side of the ridge. Tomorrow would be a tiring day. His good view was replaced by the silver exit ramp as he walked through the pressure chamber and into the living quarters. He heard the reassuring sound of the pressure locks and the hiss of deadly Martian atmospheric gasses being sucked up by the atmospheric cleaning system. Already the crew was zipping up for the night in their thermal-sleeping bags. He too would do that after he had dinner.

0700 hours

The bright, orange sun rose over the serrated horizon. Winds swept over the red surface, kicking up dust in places. A tall mountain rose to the west, casting a jagged shadow over a rocky plane. Situated in a crater, gleaming in the early morning light, lay the silver space-craft that had brought the first terrestrial human explorers. A ramp lowered in its side with a soft hiss and out stepped four space-suited astronauts. They proceeded, walking across the red sands toward the mountain range that enveloped their view. Leading the group, Ron activated his intercom-link. "Captain to second, we are now heading on scouting party, further communications will be in about two hours from now. Over."

"Roger.", came the response.

Slung under Ron's arm was the American flag. He was going to plant it at the summit of a nearby hill. Hopefully it would survive the disastrous sand storms of Mars.4 The landscape was awesome, beautiful, and terrible in its own way. The previous day Ron had felt a certain feeling of wonder at being the first man on Mars. It was a strange feeling that was impossible to express in words. It was a feeling one got when on another world. Mars, so far, was uninhabited, from what he gathered. Even so a weird queasiness pulled at Ron's intestines as his company left the ship in the distance. A shuttering passed through his body. He tried to withhold from revealing his uneasiness to his fellow men. They trudged on forward through the red sand. The first men on the moon could walk with more ease because of the moon's weak gravity. The moon is quite different from Mars. Since the gravity of Mars transcends the gravity of the moon, an atmosphere is found enveloping the red planet. A light breeze stirred the granulated surface. As the astronauts approached the mountains a great awe came upon them. The boulder-strewn slopes of the mountains rose to a summit over a mile high. Ron pulled out a strong cord with a grappling hook from his gear-pack. One of his men handed him a small gun like tool and Ron attached the grappling hook to the gun. A loud Wumph sounded, echoing in the impact crater, and the hook disappeared among the rocks near the summit of the ridge. The group, like mountain climbers, began ascending the treacherous slope. The slope was terrible-almost as much as their first impression. Rocks slipped out from under their feet every so often, starting small rock slides. An avalanche could occur any minuet if they were not careful. It was hard to find good footing and they relied on the rope a lot of the time for their safety. It was exhausting work. About midway up a strong wind tugged at the astronauts' space-suits.

"Hang on." Ron ordered. Finally it was over. They continued slowly. After a few more feet of climbing the group reached a flat protrusion of rock. Here they took a break before they would continue the ascent. Ron hadn't expected to be so tired. Winds were more frequent and dangerous the higher in elevation you got. He sat on a bolder looking at the view. Piles of rock climbed down the far slopes, indicating avalanches have occurred not too long ago. Their space craft appeared like a large jewel among smaller pebbles in the large valley. Just above the far ridge Ron could see the peaks of other mountain ranges in the distance. His thoughts turned to the journey. His plan was to take a surveillance of the area around his crater and determine the next action to take.

"Captain, how much longer do you think we'll stay out here?", a tired astronaut asked.

The Admiral peered out through his space suit at the red landscape and then to the astronaut.

"Not much longer, I planned-" He looked at his bulky watch, "about five hours. We will do some surveillance up at the top and then quit."

He turned his head to the landscape below him. A strange feeling came over him of sudden tiredness. The rest of the ascent-which wasn't too much further, appeared like a mountain before him. He yawned-forgetting he wore a mask as his gloved hand touched the transparent face shield. He groaned, picking himself up, as he ordered, "Alright lets move." The group continued the ascent. Clutching at rocks and painstakingly finding foot holds, the astronauts ascended. The summit was nearing them. Only about fifty feet of rope was left. As Ron was climbing, a slight vibration in the rope made him look up. After a few seconds, a Snap, from the top of the ridge drifted through the quiet air and a broken piece of rope landed at his feet. Quickly he woke from his drowsiness. Ron looked in horror at a slack rope in his hands. He began to slide down the steep incline uncontrollably. His hands grabbed onto anything in reach but only found lose stone. "Help!." Ron bellowed, "The rope has snapped!"

Finally his hands snared a rock. He desperately clung on. The men below him found hand and foot holds. Using the few solid hand holds they could find, the team, slowly ascended, soon reaching the summit. They were thirsty and tired-to such an extent, that they would pay gold for a cup of water. With space suits on, however, they couldn't drink. The first thing, all of them wanted to do, was sleep. In the windy peaks such recuperation would be detrimental. Sand could be blown across their tracks rendering it impossible to find bearings. The new monitoring G.P. (Global positioning) system should be able to locate them anywhere. However, Ron's astronaut suit could run out of electricity in the presence of dense dust clouds since it ran on solar power. Ron brought to their memory the mystery by asking, "How do you think this happened?"

He held up the broken rope for all to see.

One astronaut, Steven Brownly stepped forward and examined the rope. "Hum. Probably it was worn through by sharp rock. "

"Let me see that, if I may." a taller man, George Hanford asked. Taking the cord he carefully inspected it, feeling around the broken end with his fingers. If the other men could see his face, it would have looked alarmed. He slowly muttered the words, "It wasn't broken. It was cut."

"Let me see that." Ron took the rope and after a time muttered, "Your right. A knife must have sliced it or some sharp instrument."

"None of us were up here and the others are down in the ship.", a man offered.

They all looked at each other and gasped. A word slipped out of their mouths, "Aliens." "That's impossible. We all know that Mars has no life. The space probes have already investigated this planet. I say someone must have cut it partly, before, and the rope has withstood our weight until recently.", another sensibly reasoned.

"Whoever did that shoul- ." he was cut off as Ron spoke, "I checked our gear before we left and it was not partially sliced. That leaves us with only one explanation."

The four humans looked down at the landscape around them and then at each other. "Lets leave.", one suggested. The others agreed and the party began the treacherous descent.

Mars, 0700 hours

Admiral Ron unzipped his "sleeping bag". A yawn escaped his lips. He was tired after the hard work he did yesterday. Pulling on his blue jump suit, he walked into the craft's galley. Already his men were there eating breakfast. An assortment of plastic food containers, with their contents either eaten or present, littered the table. Pulling up a chair, he joined in their discussion. Some men were talking in whispers until the Admiral sat down.

" Good morning Captain." they said.

"Do you think it's possible that-." Bret Desterix the field journalist looked up from his notes, spread before him, "-That there could be Aliens?"

Ron was just about to take a sip of coffee. He paused in thought. Presently he spoke, "We don't know that. I don't know what to think." Turning to the rest of his men he declared, "Today I decided to go on an excursion."

"Where to, Captain?" someone asked.

"On the other side of our crater. We are going to hunt for the being which sabotaged our rope." Ron replied, hitting the table for emphasis.

"When do we get started, Sir?" they asked.

"After breakfast." Ron responded, reaching for his meal.

At 0730 the astronauts found themselves at the base of the crater ridge. Except for a faint breeze that swept over the red landscape, everything else was quiet-too quiet. Ron removed a cord with a hook attached to it. He inserted the grapple hook into a special gun.

A dull THUNK sounded in the mountains. The projectile disappeared among the high boulders of the mountain. The team began the ascent.

Mars-Space craft-dining area

A plate of unfinished food lay before the second in command, Mac Peterson, on the dining table in the galley of the space ship. An electronic lap top, resting on the table, was in use. His fingers typed softly over the plastic keys creating an erratic beat. Sitting on the other end of the table, Frank Tomas, photographer and field journalist, sipped a cup of coffee. "What are you typing."he asked.

"O, nothing. I just am writing a journal.", Mac replied quickly.

. A moment of silence enveloped the ship until Frank commented, "I want to get off this planet."

Mac looked up from his work, staring at Frank with surprise. "Why?"

"This planet gives me the creeps." With a hint of trepidation Frank paused to

sip his dark beverage. He continued, "I feel like-. I feel like something is here; something horrible. I don't know; maybe it's just me."

After a time Mac slowly replied, "I know what you mean. I was going to mention this to the captain. Every night since we have been on this planet, I couldn't sleep-." Without warning the amplified blaring sound of a siren interrupted their conversation.

Mac sprang up. He bolted down the hall and disappeared through the cockpit door. Soon after, the blaring ceased. He came back and sat down at the table.

"Something weird is going on and I don't think it is the ship's system. Do you want to accompany me to the tech room?" Mac asked.

"Sure." Frank replied.

The two men got up and headed down the hallway and into a small elevator. The direction lights indicated that the elevator was descending. On the third level the doors opened and the two men entered the Tech room. The room was large. The controls to all parts of the ship were located here. One third of it consisted of electronic controls. The other two thirds were comprised of mechanical systems. Levers for fuel levels, air pressure, and such in the mechanical section were at the proper positions they normally would be in.

. "Why did we go here anyways?" Frank asked.

"Because something tried to sabotage our ship. Look." Mac pointed to a screen. Flashing on the screen were the words; blastoff system down. Mac began to try to get the system operational. He began to try supplying more power to the blastoff system. The screen stayed the same.

"Mac, who could have done it?" Frank looked around the room suspiciously.

"I don't know.", came the response. "I'm going to question everyone on the ship." Mac glanced at his watch, "Come on we don't have a lot of time."

The two men left the room and began the interrogations. The sun was nearing its setting point when the men were finally done. Outside the golden star of day

shone brightly with its lower side cut off from view by the majestic horizon of the arid world. Hovering over cups of coffee, the two men discussed the day's events.

"Well, no one has been in the tech room." Frank confessed. He stared half in thought at his coffee as he stirred its dark surface in silence. He had a subcutaneous thought of suspicion towards his men. Could any be lying?

. As if in answer to his silent question Mac said, "I'm not sure if anyone is lying. I think that they are trustworthy." Mac took a sip from his coffee.

"If it turns out that nobody on this ship has lied, then what do you think happened?" Frank questioned.

"I don't know." Mac said in a half conscious voice. Silence followed as the two men were absorbed in their own thoughts. Mac's watch hand indicated it was late; even for Martian time. After a while Frank brought his attention back to Mac and asked, "Do you think the Captain should have been back by now?"

"He was going to contact me this afternoon. Perhaps I should contact him." Mac responded. With a renewed energy and stamina, he got up and headed towards the cockpit. Seated, Mac lifted a transmitter to his mouth. "This is Alpha two to Alpha one calling." No response came. "Hello." Mac turned up the volume. He asked, "Do you copy?" There still was no response. After several more tries Mac ended his transmissions. Perhaps the signal was lost in a dust storm. No message could get through if that was the case. 'But', Mac thought, 'The signal must get through. The dust storm could not last too long.'

The government had spent several billions of dollars to land the astronaut team on Mars. Even the radios were the best quality. 'That's strange. Probably Ron took a little longer than usual.' Mac reasoned. He returned to the table more incredulous as to how the transmission could not get through.

Once he was seated, Frank questioned, "Did you get a response?"

"No. Something is wrong. If I can't get through to Ron soon, then I will take a search party and try to find him." Mac reached over and grabbed a dish of food. The rest of that evening Mac tried to reach Ron. No response came.

With Frank in charge of the ship, Mac, with a team of astronauts; all armed with special rifles, headed out in direction Ron had gone. Number, of possible directions that his captain could have gone in, was large. This would be a complicated search party. Mac's DARE (Detection And Ranging Equipment) could do the job to some extent. DARE were designed for tracking criminals and locating them. The apparatuses consisted of two parts: A "gun" that could fire high energy radar signals and powerful receivers-DAR monitors. The equipment however did not have luminous screens. Phobos and Deimos- Mars's moons reflected the light of the sun. The light was barely adequate for the job. One factor Mac noticed was the surroundings. The landscape, surprisingly, was dark-so dark Mac could not see the terrain. Deimos and Phobos were not co-orbital moons. Only Phobos could be seen in the field of stars that stretched out from one end of the horizon to the other. Every star was crystal clear and bright. Mac remembered that since Mar's atmosphere was equivalent to that near the top of Mt. Everest on Earth, the light of the moons and stars was less distorted. Such a sight would be envied. As he looked at the heavenly bodies he began to drift into the universe of questions. What other worlds are there to explore? How many would sustain life? Earth was the only one. Mac grunted. If they could find one planet just like Earth he would pay them his life savings.

He could almost feel the cold touch of that dark firmament. About halfway up, he remembered the infrared option on his space suit. Turning this on, he had better vision. It was quite different to see Mars in a green aspect. With apprehension, he climbed a little more speedily. Even with the infrared option , he reached the top a few hours later. His oxygen supply would last for twenty-four hours.

"Captain, where do we go now?", an astronaut asked. Mac did not reply.

Spread out before him lay the huge valley. Ron's itinerary must have continued on the other side of the crater they were in-or on. A feeling of fear, which Mac had before, entered his mind as he contemplated what to do. Turning to his men he ordered, "Look for any foot prints you can find. We don't have much time." With his eyes trained at the ground, Mac led the search. One fear Mac had was the possibility of wind blowing sand into his superior's footprints. "Captain, look." An astronaut near Mac pointed to a large, prominent rock. Mac couldn't see any tracks. The astronaut's finger directed him to the base of the rock. A single footmark at the base of the rock gave him some hope. "Alright company forward." Mac ordered. The foot print was one of a long series of prints that traveled down the slope and headed off into the distance. The first astronauts on Mars began the search for their captain. Mac un-slung his rifle and they pressed forward, downhill. The slope was not as steep as it had been on the inner side. As they traveled, the ground became smoother and less rocky. The foot prints in some places were erased with sand. For the most part they were visible. Ron had traveled with a small group of his most trusted crew-four men. Strangely only one set of footprints could be seen. Ron had some of his own men with him when he had left. Traveling a little farther, Mac noticed a small object. He stooped to pick it up. It appeared to be a key at first glance. When Mac looked closer, it looked unlike any object he had seen before. It was an unusually shaped object. Protruding from what looked like a metal pyramid a thin, shiny appendage with a chatoyant property appeared. It was bizarre to see it in the green infrared aspect, changing from one green shade to another. Mac did not know what to do with it so he placed it in his pocket. The group continued on. It was the first time Mac had set foot on Mars. 'Of course', Mac thought, 'Mars was lifeless'. The mystery that he was trying to solve was turning out to be more complex than he had imagined. His mind wandered over all the details. To begin: why had the Captain's rope been cut on the first expedition. Second; why had the Captain not come back yet? Third; why is there only one set of foot prints? If they were the captain's, why was a strange object found near them? After all, Ron took four men with him. As Mac was thinking this, his eyes were trained on the footprints. A static filled voice in his spacesuit intercom speaker pulled him back to his present position, "Sir, look at that." Turning to the left where the astronaut pointed, Mac viewed with interest a phenomenon in the landscape.

"It looks like a creek bed.", one man complimented.

In the ground was carved a watercourse. Rock and sand were strewn along a smooth ditch that resembled a river or creek bed. Not a drop of water was to be found, however. 5

"NASA has some old pictures of areas like this from the voyager space probes. I've never seen anything like this before on Mars" Mac stated with wonder as he pulled out a sampling bag. Extracting a sample of the red soil, Mac replaced the bag. Soon after, the expedition resumed with more eagerness than ever to find their captain. A sandstone cliff emerged from the sandy, undulating, Martian topography6. It was the beginning of what looked like a complex mountain chain.

As they followed the footprints further, they noticed that the tracks strangely disappeared into a rock pile at the side of the cliff. This was a mystery. The only explanation, Mac could think of was that rocks must have covered up his Captain's tracks. Taking care not to damage their space-suits, the astronauts began removing the rocks. Mac checked his watch/life monitor (it monitored his health and his supportive systems such as oxygen content and the artificial atmospheric pressure regulator. He had about twenty hours of oxygen left. Working hard, the men soon had the rocks cleared. The astronauts were surprised. There before them a gloomy aperture in the cliff seemed to echo silently with enticing voices, drawing them in. The cave receded far back, obscured by darkness. Strange unspeakable malign creatures of the imagination seemed to lurk in the dark recesses of the cave. How could such a cavity be created naturally? Mac shook the abstraction from his mind. Grasping his rifle firmly, he led the expedition into the dark hole. The atmosphere in the cave seemed to have an aura of fear. They continued none the less. The grotto seemed more like a tunnel the farther down they went. It was sinuous and one could not tell if it was going down or up. A mysterious hot flow of air blew across the ceiling. Mac could feel the flow, through his helmet. To him it felt warm. He was puzzled. How would a cold planet have a warm air current? Could it be that air was heated from the planet's core? The tunnel, unnoticed to the astronauts, was slowly winding downwards. The silence at first had been total. As they pressed forward, a slight throbbing in the air caught their attention. It had first been so slight they didn't notice it. Farther down it began to vibrate the tunnel. With apprehension, they took slower steps. At a turn in the tunnel the astronauts took a short break. "Sir where do you think this is taking us?" a voice beside Mac questioned.

All the astronauts stopped and watched how their second in command would respond.

"The captain has gone down here. We're not going to leave him on Mars. Not one man of this billion dollar enterprise is going to be lost, especially the captain. , Mac stated a little more confidently than he felt.

"Commander, if this tunnel caves in, what are we going to do? An explosive to drive out the rubble could cause more cave-in's." a burly astronaut, Joseph Ingman, stated. Mac had never considered a cave-in before. If such were to happen none of them could escape their ultimate death.

"That will have to be the risk we take to find our captain." Mac replied. "We're already down here. Let's find Captain Duroy."

The men agreed to the proposition. In a few moments they were walking down the tenebrous tunnel.

To Mac's relief, the tunnel's end wasn't much further. As the group came to another turn, the throbbing increased in magnitude. The palpitation was all they knew and it knew all. Mac had a feeling that he was being watched. A sense of evil rested heavily on his shoulders. It was a burden. It was so intense Mac felt he almost heard it. Turning the corner, the astronauts' expressions turned to awe and fear at the same time. Sealing off the tunnel, a wall with strange characters unlike any Mac had seen, blocked their path. It appeared neither to be made out of stone, nor of any anthropomorphic substance (such as concrete, plastic, or brick) from the world of men. It was composed of a cold, black substance.

Mac could only guess what was on the other side. Suddenly a hidden door hinged outward from the dark barrier.

Moscow, Russia-2000 hours.

The last shadows of daylight faded and night took its place. Streetlights were turning on. Pedestrians meandered down the vacant boulevards. Cars roamed through the city to their shelters. Out of a forest of glass and steal, one of the tallest buildings in Moscow, Russia; the president's one-thousand story palace, glittered in the dying sunlight Joss Chenklov, Russia's president, pulled a sheet over as he lay in bed. His eyelids drooped shut. A very busy day had come to an end. The building became completely silent. A cool breeze slipped through the door. All personnel, except for a telltale guard on duty, had left. Once everything was silent, the soft whisper of feet on the plush carpet came through the door to the president's bedroom. The door hinged inward with a slight squeak. The figure in the doorway held his breath and then tip-toed up to the president's bed. Pulling out a cloth, he applied a small flask of chloral hydrate to the fabric. His hand pressed the cloth up to the sleeping victim's nose. After waiting a few minutes, the kidnapper dragged the unconscious president out of the room. Pulling him down a hallway, the criminal reached a ladder. Dragging the president up the ladder, through the ceiling, and onto the roof of the building, the kidnapper gasped for breath. The president, though not fat, was heavy. The dark-clothed man pulled Joss Chenklov into a black-grey, bullet shaped craft, resting on the roof. The figure disappeared with his prisoner into the side hatch of the ship. A red flame shot from a rectangular booster and the craft rocketed off through city, disappearing into the dark terrestrial atmosphere. No human witnessed the bizarre capture.

Mars, 2300 hours

A figure materialized in the doorway. In the dim, green aspect, the figure's features were undistinguishable. Mac could tell that it was wearing a metallic space suit of some kind.

'The figure had the shape of a man', Mac noted with incredulity later when asked a question about it. It seemed to be investigating the astronauts in its view with curiosity equally as the first astronauts on Mars studied it. A moment of silence lasted for four seconds. Clicking out of its curious mode, the unknown being pulled out a side arm and fired. Noiselessly, the shot missed and scorched the wall not to far from Mac. Without thinking Mac had aimed and fired his weapon. The figure buckled over and dropped. This was the first life form Mac had ever encountered on Mars. The beginning of an adventure that would change all of human history had begun. Mac looked at the corpse. Mac reached for the being's gun. The weapon it carried was designed much like a conventional rifle except for the fact that it was unusually heavy. On examination of the gun, Mac found that its ammunition was not solid metal. Instead it fired a kind of pellet, which on impact, released tremendous heat.

"Captain, what is that thing?" Joseph Ingman, the largest of all the astronauts on Mac's team, asked.

"Mr. Ingman, I don't know. There might be more of them." Mac replied. Turning to his men, Mac ordered, "Carson, Smith, Dowly, Trekker, and Gordon, we must be on the alert. We might have to kill a few more of these...things. Give me any info you have. We must be covert. Ok, let's move."

Good thing the door was open. Mac started forward and stopped when his men were not following. "Alright, company forward." Mac commanded.

"Sir, we can't go forward." An astronaut spoke with anxiety in his voice, "People do live on Mars. We just killed one of them."

Mac tightened his muscles as he replied, "We need to get our captain out of here. This mystery is disturbing, but our mission must continue. Come on."

Mac proceeded further with no more words. The company reluctantly followed, disappearing through the dark aperture and into the nebulous underworld.

Back at the ship a crew of astronauts began repairs. Little did they know that their captain was right below them; far under ground. Inside technicians monitored computers and repaired the ship's system. They would be stranded and most likely die of starvation. The closest know help was about 48 million miles away. Since the Martian sun was only a few hours from rising they had to work fast.

Mac held the alien rifle firmly. The rocky walls continued on for as far they could see. This was not a natural tunnel. Mac had never really believed there were extra-terrestrial creatures. He had thought they were a science fiction abstraction. His opinion was forever changed. Suddenly a shivering feeling ran down his spine. Could they have taken his captain prisoner, or worse?" He desperately wanted to get off Mars. Something was terribly wrong. Mars should have no intelligent life. Microbes would be highly unlikely. The Red planet was holding a mystery that would deepen with time. At a signal from Mac, his men pulled out their side arms and turned on the gun-mounted lights (Mounted Radiation Emitter: M.R.E.); the visage of their surroundings was too eerie in the green shades of their night vision screens. Farther down the passageway, the floor appeared shiny, with a metallic luster. A while later the click of their boots resounded on what appeared to be a metal floor.

"Sir?" a worried voice behind Mac asked, "since this alien, that we encountered, is hostile, what would a group of them do to our ship?"

Mac had never thought of that. The ship was their only present way of escape. "We better notify them." the leader replied. Mac used the voice command computer mechanism to send a radio signal to the ship. "Computer, send radio message."

The computer built into his suit initiated the communication system.

"Hello, hello." Mac asked worriedly.

A signal, to his relief, came on; "Commander?"

Mac began, "I was just wondering how you were doing. A phenomenon occurred. I can't explain it to you now. Are you done with repairs? We need to get off soon! The planet may have inhabitants! We haven't found the Captain yet. When can we leave?"

"Hold on a minute." the voice said. "You tell me that we need to leave Mars already?"

"Yes.", Mac replied, "We all are in grave danger. Now do as you're told!"

The voice hesitated before it replied, "Yes, sir. Our repairs are nearly finished. I will begin preparations for take off, sir."

"Good.", Mac sighed and signed off. They rounded a curve in the tunnel and the team reached a door blocking their path. Its charcoal-black surface appeared to be impenetrable. With guns raised, they waited. One minuet passed, then two...three...six. Mac glanced at his watch with weariness.

"How are we going to get through if no one opens the door?" Jacob Dowly, a grim astronaut, asked.

"Let's try our explosives." Mac ordered, "Gordan, set the time bombs."

"How long, sir?" Andrew Gordan, the explosives expert, of the crew, asked.

"Set them for one minuet." Mac responded.

The subordinate pulled a small time bomb from his belt and placed it on the door. The digital transmitter on the bomb began to activate the intercom of their space suits. "Beep...beep...beep..."

Part one

Mac ran as fast as his space suit would allow. The others followed rapidly, on his tail. They reached the bend in the tunnel and, barely after rounding it, an explosion shook the tunnel. Unexpectedly, a sharp, wailing alarm came on.

"O, no!" An astronaut gripped his rifle in fear. Heading down the tunnel, several tenebrous, malign figures appeared. With a click, they withdrew their weapons. Metal from their bodies gleamed in the light of astronauts' M.R.E's.

Mac, not waiting for the consequences, shouted, "Run for it."

Right where he was standing, a moment before, an explosive went off. How he would ever find his captain now, Mac didn't know. All he thought of was getting back to the ship alive. The tunnel that had taken hours to cover now took minutes. The new maneuverable all-terrain space suits were, at their best, bulky enough to slow down an average person by couple miles per hour in, the presence of a Martian gravitational field. The suit now seemed to be weightless. It was a good thing that the door in the wall, they had passed through earlier, was still open.

Snatching a quick glance back, Mac could see the tunnel, illuminated by angry explosions. Soon the tunnel's entrance was in view. Dim green (actually sandy-red) sand spread out before them as they ran. At the horizon a faint glow of sunlight lit up the sky in a kaleidoscope of green shades. In all his rush to get back to the ship, Mac had forgotten to turn off his infrared option. His gear pack bumped it off as he approached the stream beds, which they had come across earlier. Being in the dark for so long and by using inferred, Mac had forgotten how beautiful the Martian landscape was in its true color. A red, undulating, mountainous, sparsely cratered, landscape was unveiled. The journey was shortened to less than half the time it had taken them to reach the tunnel. Tall ridges rose to the north; to the south were gently rolling hills which were still dark, for the most part, except for a splash of sunlight on their apices. If Mars had a breathable atmosphere, Mac would love it.

He had almost forgotten what he was running from, when a bright flash illuminated a distant hill. Rising before them lay the sloping ridge of the crater they had landed in. They began the dizzy race to the lip of the crater. Running and climbing up this, faster than they thought capable; they soon reached the top. As Mac arrived at the summit, he momentarily stopped. The crater spread out before him. He felt as if he was looking into a giant's soup bowel. The sun illuminated the far side with an orange halo. As the sun rose over the ridge and began illuminating the valley, Mac held his breath involuntarily. His breathing returned slowly as he realized a horrible truth; the ship was gone!

Mars 0500 hours.

The red tinted hills transformed into black shining hills with thousands of dark armored beings occupying the slopes. They inundated the hills near Mac's ridge. For some reason they were only walking. Sunlight glinted off their metallic armor casting bright rays of light in different directions as the myriads of beings marched toward the dumbfounded astronauts. Here science fiction became a terrible reality. In the scarlet sky, the early morning sun cast long, jagged, eerie shadows across the undulating, reddish Martian landscape. On the rim of a large crater, standing around Mac, were his weary, nervous men.

"Sir, what will we do?" a shaky voice buzzed in Mac's ears in trepidation, through the intercom.

"I don't know." Mac didn't bother to try sounding confident. He felt like an islander encompassed by a stormy sea. A moving scintillation pierced through the early morning light. A rocket propelled object was hurtling towards the men! Suddenly hundreds of explosions shook the earth beneath the men. Mac dropped to the ground. His men did likewise. Instead of shreds of steel flying out in all directions, the bombs emitted waves of scorching radiation. The waves passed harmlessly above the astronauts. Blinding flashes of light followed and the astronauts had to wait for the aftereffects to go away. A glow that almost gave the effect of shiny chrome began in the Martian stratosphere. A missile with extreme speed was zooming through the thin Martian atmosphere.

"Get down!", Mac ordered as a second wave of explosions ripped through the air. Mac was propelled, by the blast, into a sand dune. Mac rose slowly.

"Captain, are you all right?" Jacob Dowley asked.

"I'm fine. Find cover." Mac replied breathlessly.

"We're in for It." one astronaut cried, "Look, it's an enemy ship!

A silver space ship flew strait towards them. It had swerved, barely missing the previous heat waves. It was sixty yards away and closing. Mac squinted.

"No it isn't. They wouldn't be fired at by their own men. It's our ship!" he exclaimed. The silver ship, hovering in the air, lowered a side ramp. The astronauts boarded it rapidly. Hot, orange gas roared from the circular boosters with increasing volume. The ship levitated smoothly from off the red, dusty, Martian surface, into the atmosphere. As it gained distance it turned from an oval to a tiny spec which grew smaller and altogether vanished in the wispy, orange clouds of the Martian sky. The only sign that the astronauts had been on Mars was the tell tale footprints wandering off across sand dunes. Soon these would be gone, swept away by the wind.

Zooming through space, the silver ship sped, leaving behind the red dust-ball planet, Mars. The red sphere, with its two satellites; Phobos and Deimos, appeared like a water molecule floating in the blackness of space. A human face stared at the mystery planet. He frowned. A man whom had befriended was still on the sphere. Mac swallowed hard. 'Well,' he thought, 'I just failed my mission.' Frank Tomas sat in juxtaposition to him.

"Prepare for dimension morph.", Mac ordered.

"Transformation commencing." Frank replied-his hands flying over the glowing controls. What they were going to do now no astronaut, or human had ever done before.

---

~Chapter Two~

---

New Science, A magazine article read as follows:

Human research has increased from what it had been thirty years before. Relativity had been a curious theory back then. Only a few thousand people knew much about it. Now, it has been employed in every aspect of life. The space ship, Slavon I, named after the famous Russian scientist, Herman Slavon, is going on a mission to Mars to set up a temporary base on the Red planet. It is the top of the line. Not only does it have the capacity to produce food from space dust by the artificially arranging of the molecules into proteins and edible organic compounds, but it can shift into dimensions that exceed the four in which we live (length, width, altitude, and time) and create a continuum vacuum through which it is propelled at 40% the speed of light. The continuum vacuum is a region in the space-time continuum (three spatial dimensions plus time) in which no exterior forces exist to inhibit the motion of the space craft. It would be comparable to an insect inside a rising air bubble. The ship creates a disturbance in the space-time continuum similar to the bubble in the water...

Mac spoke, "Computer, initialize continuum morph."

The Slavon I shuddered, groaned and lurched forward, turning into a blur as it disappeared into space.. Inside the space craft an intense pressure was on every person. Light was vague, sound was intense, and living was unbearable. Every person had to plug their ears. The ship shuddered so violently that no conversation was possible. It seemed as if no time had passed when the ship slowed down gradually, and the view out the window became clear. A few minutes passed as Mac regained his senses. Space travel, at nearly light-speed, had an effect on the eyes that wore off in a few minutes. Soon, the interior of the ship grew clear again to him.

"Well, I'll be glad to get back to Earth." Frank stated.

Mac stared fixedly at his view screen, not seeming to notice Frank. Frank was about to comment on his family and friends, that he would be glad to see, when Mac spoke, "The Captain is gone. We didn't bring him back. Our mission on Mars is still not complete. We encountered intelligent life forms on Mars. Frank, this is not what I expected to happen. Something is very wrong with Mars." Mac stopped abruptly and the room grew silent. Frank silently looked at his superior. 'Mac is right.' Frank thought. 'Our captain is gone. Could the extraterrestrials have been purely an illusion, an abstraction, or maybe a hallucination? That can't be right. Were the beings real? Maybe it was a dream.'

His mind, more and more, came to the horrible, unrealistic, yet true, realization: the events experienced by him were real conscious experiences. In listening to Mac, Frank began to fall into the trap of fear.

'That's ridiculous.' Frank thought, 'Who ever heard of aliens capturing one's captain for real.' He tried to reassure himself of the obvious. His thoughts turned toward Earth as he saw a small, greenish shape in his view screen. Mac was having similar arguments with himself. Shrugging them aside, he prepared for the journey down through the atmosphere. The planet was very close now. Slavon I had not slowed down since it had morphed back into the space-time continuum. Cloud tops were approaching fast. Something strange caught Mac's attention. Looking in the rear view screen, Mac saw, behind him not that far away, a moon. It was a lot larger than the moon he had seen when they were this far away from Earth. 'Maybe the moon is closer', he thought.

"Sir, where do we land?" Frank asked.

The ship began to vibrate violently. Mac hadn't realized how fast they were going. The purple cloud tops were above them now.

"Initialize the retro-pack.", he ordered.

Frank gritted his teeth as he flew through the computer commands.

Mac looked with wide eyes at the landscape within his view. A multicolored jungle covered the whole planet. No bodies of water were visible; not even rivers.

Despite Frank's efforts, the ship did not slow very much.

"Frank, initialize the retro-pack.", Mac ordered firmly.

"I'm trying. It seemed that the retro-pack system is low on fuel." Frank replied as he worked the computer. The terrain was approaching fast.

"Let me see." Mac reached over to set the auto- pilot -landing controls and was about to work on them when a violent jolt in the ship caused him to hit his head on the view screen. He blacked out.

A dark expanse of nothingness pervaded. A kaleidoscope of colors replaced the dark expanse. A scene began to take shape before Mac's eyes. He was in a forest. Birds sat in the branches. Animals played among the trees. The scene was foreign to him. Somehow it seemed familiar... He paced though the trees. All the beauties of Earth could not compare to this paradise. He noticed that there was no killing, blood, or unkindness among the animals. 'To think,' Mac said, 'that this could be forever.' As he walked a presence-a malign presence was nearby. Fear took hold of him for the first time in that utopia. A black nothingness; a void, in the forest was moving. Terror was its aura. All creatures fled from it; all except for one.

A beautiful, brilliantly white creature began to speak in a flowing, melodious voice to the dark void. The dark void spoke. Somehow Mac knew what was being said even though he could not understand the language.

The dark void answered the white creature, 'Yes, and you do not need to wait. Hedoes not care for you. By taking this fruit you will become like Him.'

The white being responded, 'It does look tasty. He probably will not mind if I try a bite, will He?'

'Not a bit, my child.' replied the wandering dark void.

Mac watched as the white being ate something. A strange feeling of horror overtook him. The beautiful world began to deteriorate. Plants died. Animals killed one another. No white beings could be seen. Then a hideous laugh rang out.

Mac looked in horror to see sickly gray objects working. As he watched one turned towards him. His face was staring at him!

'No...!' Mac shouted in his mind.

His thoughts began to dissolve. His surroundings materialized around him. All he could see was grey, blurry colors; then brighter and clearer patches of color came. His surroundings began to sharpen. Worried, blurry faces looked down at him. Presently he heard a low murmuring. The murmuring turned into more recognizable sounds. Soon the voices were distinct. "What if he is dead?" a voice asked, worried.

"He isn't. I checked." another responded, "Look, he is coming around."

Mac sat upright. A headache throbbed in his head as the jungle surroundings of leaves and vines became vivid.

"Water." Mac gasped.

"Here." Frank handed him a bottle of water.

Mac asked, "Where are we?", as he took a drink.

After a moment of silence followed Frank replied, "We don't know."

"Where's the ship?", Mac asked looking around.

"We hid it in some tree foliage.", Frank responded.

As Mac's senses came back he picked up a burning smell. A column of hazy, grey smoke rose to the north above the dense, leafy canopy.

"Frank, what's that?"

"Sir, we lit a fire to keep warm." Frank pulled out a pistol. "And to keep dangerous animals away."

"You saw any?" Mac reached for his pistol.

"While you were out cold, I saw a black shape in the trees not far away."

Frank's head snapped around suddenly. His dream began to come back to him. "Where did you see it?" Mac asked.

"In the trees. It was probably an animal.", Frank replied.

"Captain, aside from the black shape, I have a feeling that this planet in not Earth."

Frank was interrupted as Mac asked, "What do you mean 'not Earth?'. There is no planet that has vegetation on it, other than Earth. "

"I cannot explain my feeling adequately. Maybe it's nothing. Any ways, sir, I would like, with your permission, to go on a food scavenge. Some of our food has been ripped into by wild animals and I might be able to find a way back to civilization if this is Earth.", Frank tapped his rifle nervously.

"Frank, this is Earth and sure; go ahead.", Mac nodded and walked towards the fire.

Night was soon coming and Mac was fast asleep near a warm blaze. A group of astronauts warmed themselves by the crackling fire. Sharp shrills and strange nocturnal animal calls came from the jungle surrounding the men's' meadow. The Big dipper asterism, seen through the small opening of the meadow, was evidence that this planet was Earth, the astronauts thought as some gazed at the array of stars.

About five miles away, the food-hunting expedition, lead by Frank Tomas, sloshed and splashed through a muddy course. Pools of greenish water and mud covered the ground. The jungle was dense with all kinds of plants of various; most never before seen by Frank. One peculiar kind, he noticed, had strange, orange- colored, irregular bodies that grew in-between tree trunks. They had the appearance of pea pods twisted together, bearing strange, orange, spherical structures. An execrable smell of decaying plants was always present, and in some places nearly unbearable. Frank, so far, had seen no edible food. This expedition was, and in some ways not, like his travels to the Amazon rain forest, when he visited the Amazon River, on a trip with some friends. The planet caused Frank to have phobia and gloom. An aura of mysteries and the unknown lurked in the shadows of the night, circled through the whole atmosphere, was present among the old, gloomy trees, and mingled with his mind. Something about this planet made him doubt if it was Earth. Even South American jungles were not this bad.

Presently the expedition came to a clearing. A hill, bare of trees, was illuminated in the moonlight, and eerily bathed in yellow-blue lightfrom a large, full moon. Arriving at the top, the hunters looked gazed at an unusual sight. Deep-cut figures crossed the stony surface of a large rock. Frank traced the grooves with his fingers. He didn't recognize them as anything he had ever seen. 'It is possibly a lost tribal language.' Frank felt his mind swirling with ideas. 'Or, could the stone be a tomb stone, a ceremonial stone, or a marker of some ancient tribe or kingdom?' A strange feeling told him it wasn't any of these. The various night sounds in the jungle suddenly stopped. Frank looked uneasily around. Everything seemed to pause in anticipation. His men showed worried faces as Frank resumed tracing the grooves. Suddenly, as his finger traced a certain character shaped like a triangle with a line through it, a grinding sound came, followed by a muffled crash. Mac sucked in the thick, ancient air so fast he gagged. The astronauts looked around in anticipation of something horrible about to happen. They had lost one commander to eerie beings. They did not want to lose Mac. An astronaut walked to the other side of the rock and exclaimed, "Come here. Look!"

The other men ran quickly around to the other side. Each of their faces expressed surprise. Looking down, the men saw a hole, in the ground, near the stone. At a closer examination, they discovered it was an oblique tunnel.

"Who goes down first?" one astronaut asked.

"I'll go." Frank decided, "I need two men to come with me. Who will follow me?"

A moment of silence followed, then two brave men; Patrick Seever, and Martin Oust- both micro-biologists, volunteered. Frank led the group into the perpetual darkness. The night sounds resumed.

"Oomph! Watch it!" Frank crawled out from under Patrick. They had just jumped from across the narrow chasm. The tunnel was small and dark, except for a faint glow near the entrance on the other side of the chasm. A dark substance in the tunnel seemed to make it even more black.

"Are we all here?" Frank asked.

"Affirmative.", two voices in union replied from behind Frank.

"Good. We are going to do a little spelunking." Frank smiled.

"We brought our Mag-lights." Patrick turned on his illuminator.

A sinuous tunnel, filled with darkness so intense that light was absorbed by it, swallowed the three humans in its tenebrous passage. The three men soon found out that the tunnel was part of a labyrinth of galleries that wound though the earth in a profoundly confusing network. Frank wiped away sweat as they reached another fork in the tunnel. Navigating this tunnel would be tricky. He felt foolish for his ignorance of which direction to take.

"Captain, we've been through nearly thirty of these tunnels. How will we find our way back?" Martin asked wearily.

"I set tracking tags (devices that emitted a signal which could be picked up by his positioning system to locate where they have been) on each fork we came to." Frank replied.

His men grumbled but followed as he chose the left tunnel. They had not gone twenty feet when Frank's light vanished.

"Captain!" Patrick shouted. His light revealed a hole in the floor of the tunnel. The two microbiologists peered over the lip into a vertical shaft. Their lights were absorbed by inclusive darkness.

A white substance covered the ground. It was not fluffy, nor was it cold; it was intensely hot and granular. Men worked, hauling heavy loads of supplies for the making of bricks. Whips cracked in the hot air. Sand pelted the bare-back workers, stinging their cuts, eyes, and wounds. A beautiful palace overlooked the construction site. A man with dark skin beheld his kingdom. Slowly, his monument, dedicated to himself, rose. It was to be the most beautiful building in the world. He laughed with pride. Who could ever defeat him? He had all he needed to rule his kingdom thanks to the gods. The icy eyes of the king turned to Frank. A cruel smile crossed the king's face. 'Together we will conquer and preponderate all.'

Frank awoke from his dream. Who was the man, that peered at him, in that dream with cat-like eyes? Frank began to remember where he was. He had fallen through a hole for many stories, feinting in mid-air. A strange scratchy material enveloped him, protecting him from death. He had expected to be smashed to oblivion on sharp rocks. Frank pulled out a small electro-light. Shoving the material off of him, Frank beheld a vista in the green glowing beams. A huge cavern scintillated with various chatoyant, sparkling minerals in the green light. Cut into one side of the cavern, with elegantly realistic shapes, a wall appeared in its ancient splendor. It was carved in the appearance of a temple with arches and a giant gate. On either side of the gate, scenes of alleged historical nature stood fixed in stone. The artists were superior to the Greeks. Each image was life like. He could hear battle cries of soldier figures charging into battle, see the motions of a man swinging his sword, and feel the hot breath of a dragon. The scenes were impressive. No master craftsman could surpass these works of art. He thought. As his eyes were taking this in, a faint hollow, echoing voice filtered through the shaft. "Frank, are you all right?"

Taking a deep breath, Frank replied, "I am fine. Come down; it's safe."

Looking back at the wall, Frank noticed something he had not seen before.

A newly cut image, crude compared to the masterpieces surrounding it, was over the large doorway; a triangle within a triangle. It defaced the entire wall. Its simple design contrasted with the works of art nearby. Frank could not remove a feeling of fear from his mind as he beheld the sinister design. Suddenly a voice boomed through the cavern. "What are you doing?"

Frank jumped. "Oh, Pat. It's only you. Look." Frank pointed to the symbol.

"What is that?" Martin asked as he approached them.

"We are at the sight of a possible ancient temple or sepulcher. That symbol is not ancient. You can see chips of stone near it. We are going to the other side." Frank responded.

"Captain, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but don't you think whoever built this doesn't want us in?" Patrick asked with apprehension.

Frank was already at the doorway. "If you don't want to, you don't have to, but I'm going to."

Before they could protest further, Frank was engulfed by the aperture.

Looking around the vast cavern and then to his companion Martin said, "Well, there's only one way to go."

Patrick replied, "And I'm not waiting here."

The two men found their captain staring in silence at a strange object. Frank's light illuminated a large cylindrical object. Cold metal gleamed in the radiation. Dark symbols covered a patch of the object. This was of particular interest to the captain. All three of the men held their breath. The symbols were letters and numbers that they could read;

Scorpio 231

Frank was incredulous. He could never have guessed by the shape of the object, the dark panels on its surface, or by the large funnels at one end of it that it was a space ship. The name identified that it came from Earth. But what was a space-ship doing in an ancient temple?

His eyes picked up a detail he had not noticed before. Frank caught his breath.

The cool air was a relief to Franklin Frank Tomas, field Journalist for Neo-science, an outer-space magazine, and a trained astronaut, who graduated from NASU (National Aeronautics and Space University). He had just emerged from the tunnel they first entered. Looking around him, he realized it was day. Green leaves of various shades composed the canopy of the jungle. The darkness had concealed his apprehensive face. Frank's companions soon emerged from the tunnel. How he wished that he had never entered the illimitable labyrinth. His mind was overloaded with fear. A new terror was a nascence in his mind.

"Sir, what made you shocked back in the large cavern?" Patrick asked, interrogatively.

"I was wondering the same thing, sir." Martian Oust added.

"It's a long story." Frank replied, nervously.

"We have plenty of time." Martian prodded.

Frank softly spoke. "As a boy I was always scared of the dark. I would hide in my covers whenever I heard a strange noise."

Frank stood and paced slowly as he continued. "On my fifth birthday I was once more in my room. The lights were out in the house. I shivered under the covers barely able to peek into my shrouded room. I had to use the bathroom."

Frank stared into Martian's eyes wildly. "Martin, it was not just childish imagination of mine, nor was it a dream. I saw a piece of paper lying on the sink counter. A horrific image, with a triangle in its center, dominated one side of the paper sheet. That same image was engraved onto the skin of the space craft in the cavern we just left. Martin, the piece of paper in my bathroom belonged to my grandfather."

"Frank, where have you been?"

Martin spun around in time to see Mac Peterson, second in command of Slavon I stepped out from the trees. Men were following him, armed with rifles.

"What happened to you? I haven't seen you for one day. Are you all right?" Mac asked, rapidly.

"It's been that long?" Frank looked curiously at Mac.

"Yes, but what happened to you? You look haggard."

"Are you sure you want me to tell you here?" Frank replied.

"Alright, let's go back to camp."

Mac led the group through the jungle. Hardly any light filtered through the dense canopy, composed mostly of vines and large leaves. Mac was reticent. A foreboding, reminiscent thought held his full attention.

Miles later a column of smoke rose from the trees.

A group of men sat around a dancing fire, chatting. Gear packs were piled in one area. Frank slumped down near the warm blaze. He was too tired to think clearly. Flames of rapidly oxidizing matter oscillated in the cold, jungle air. Mac sat down near Frank.

"Frank, could you tell us your story? Frank?"

"What?" Frank blinked his eyes. "Sure." 'Now what will I tell them?' he thought.

"Ok, we had set out on a hunting party to find as much food as possible. It was getting dark by the time we reached a bare hill. On the hill we found an unusual object. It was a stone with writing on it. We-" Suddenly, Frank stopped.

"Why did you stop?" Mac asked.

"Look.", Frank pointed at the ground.

A set deep foot prints were near the gear packs.

Frank created an imprint, in the soft ground, next to the foreign disturbance.

He was aghast. His feet were size 12. Frank's foot print was three inches shorter than the other juxtaposed footprint.

"Some one was here." Mac whispered as he stooped to feel the deep imprint. "And he wasn't from our team."

Mac ran to his gear-pack. "Men, find you arms. We are going to locate the intruder." he shouted.

Frank was quiet; in speculation. He returned to the fire. The whole picture of his past experiences began to unfold before his mind. He could recall the disappearance of his captain Ron and a few astronauts; the encounter on Mars with the strange armored beings; the narrow escape from certain death; the entry into the planet they presently were on; and, finally, the foot prints in the mud.

These all told Frank that what went on was not logical or realistic. It felt as if he was in a surreal world. Yet, it was real.

"Mac, I- Huh?" Frank stood, incontinently. His superior was out of sight. He began searching around the camp. Grey, curly ashes covered the fire pit. The gear packs were still present, so the men could not have gone far. He desperately searched every where he could think of. Frank paused for a moment as he remembered that his team was hunting down the source of the hypertrophied foot prints.

'I should start another fire.' Frank thought to himself. He was so tired. How nice a fire would be. He went in search of fallen branches.

As Frank traveled further into the dense jungle foliage he began to slowly lose consciousness. Trees around him became indistinct, brown, vertical smudges. Foliage turned into a vague mat of green.

A short while later Frank was lying on the bank of a small creek. The soft gurgling sound of water played him to sleep. A small pile of sticks lay at his side, forgotten. Out of the trees, several tall, dark figures materialized. Bending down, they lifted the sleeping man from the ground. The soft squish of their feet receded rhythmically into the jungle. Each foot print created resembled the set first seen by the astronauts. Soon these tracks would be erased by the quagmire.

Jungle search party-1500 hours

Splash.

Mac's boot landed in a puddle of water. He led a miserable search party back to camp. He should have realized that his search was a waste of time.

The foot prints that wondered off into the jungle were deformed by the amorphous quagmire.

Probably the foot prints belonged to an explorer or soldier of South America. Mac would have liked to make contact with any benevolent human inhabitants of the jungle.

Something did not seem right, however. His men had tried to activate their GPS's without success.

Stomping miserably on the grass, Mac approached their camp. He wished the nice, soft carpet of his study was underneath him. The space ship sleeping quarters sounded ideal. A nice soft bunk would be there, waiting to be used.

As he headed toward the ship, a gasp escaped his lips.

Of all the things to happen to him, it was gone!

The depressions of its landing gear in the mud were all that remained.

A small group of traumatized astronauts gathered near Mac. Their ticket to civilization had vanished from under their fingers.

How it had was another unsolved mystery. The men stood in stricken silence. Bright, over head, the sun was an orange ball of shimmering flame; a mocking face. Finally, after a long period of silence, Mac pulled himself out of his daze. "Come, let's find our ship. Maybe one of us parked it somewhere else."

The idea of another fruitless search made him sigh, but he knew that he must find the ship at all costs. It contained all communications equipment and food that the astronauts needed to survive.

With indignation for what or who had taken their ship, the astronauts readily began the search. Encouraged by his men, Mac retrieved his gun and walked into the jungle.

The foliage, undergrowth, and any curious nooks were thoroughly searched by the men. It was probably midnight by the time they got back to camp. A fire was soon blazing in the clearing with a group of fatigued, worried, and miserable men convened around it.

The men spoke softly of what they would do when they got back to civilization.

While they were talking, Martin Oust voiced a concern; "Has anyone seen Frank Tomas, the Field journalist?"

"He tended the fire while we followed the foot prints." Joseph Ingman replied with a deep, booming voice.

Mac frowned. Now another problem was on his hands. He, deciding not to arouse any more worries, lied, "He should be making his way back right now. I sent him on a special mission to find a tool I lost. He should be back soon."

He did not was his me to be entirely demoralized. Instantly he lost his euphoria. Mac had made a mistake that would cause him to lose his men's trust.

The usual chatting continued; the men relieved. Mac swallowed. Mac knew that he was Frank was not returning soon.

As the time passed, lethargy took hold of Mac. His eyelids drooped. He tried desperately to open them. The quiet conversations became a humming sound. Darkness came as Mac closed his eyes. Above the circle of men, a small field of stars was uncovered from the clouds.

A large, spotless, white moon hung in the sky above the treetops. One by one the men fell into the subconscious realm sleep. Night noises lifted up into the night in a quiet harmony. A few hours later, when the fire had turned to embers, a strange, faint, humming sound came from a distant source above the tree tops.

A large, silver object appeared in one corner of the astronauts' patch of sky. It soon disappeared into the dense jungle on the far side of the clearing.

Noiselessly, dark figures emerged from the trees. Their armor gleamed in the moon light.

---

~Chapter Three~

---

~The man was thrown into the tenebrous prison. A chill came over him. Cold chains squeezed his wrists. He was innocent. What had caused him to suffer such fait was a lie. All had been well before. His master had entrusted everything to the young man. By treachery, the master's wife had convicted the young man of a crime he didn't do.~

-0500 hours-

Something cold was attached to his wrist. Mac blinked his eyes and slowly opened them. Stone walls, containing no doors or apertures, enclosed him. The room was dimly lit by no observable source. The air, its self, provided a kind of feint light. The cold substance on his wrist was a metal wrist band. He never had that before. Where could his companions be? How could he have gone to sleep in a forest and wake up in a prison?. Who were his captors? His mind suddenly went numb with worry.

"Mac." a soft voice whispered.

"Yes who is it?" Mac responded guardedly. He was not alone.

"I thought you were dead. You haven't moved for some time."

"Frank!", Mac at once got up, running over to his companion. "How did you get lost? Do you know where we are?"

Frank began, "Let me explain. First I must tell you; Mac you were right about your fears. We are on an unknown planet. It seems to me that the same organic phenomena we encountered on Mars is also on this planet."

"What do you mean by 'organic phenomena'?", Mac asked.

"The alien beings. But, as I was about to say; this cell- " Traces of faint light could be seen barely illuminating Frank's outline as he drew nearer, "-is our home to be for- who knows how long."

"How did you end up here?", Mac turned his gaze to the journalist.

"That is not too anecdotical. I decided to gather more fuel for the fire while you were off in the forest. I could not remember much else except for the sense that I was extremely tired." Frank rubbed his eyes. "Before I knew it I was asleep. When I woke up I found myself here. Much later a hidden door in the stone was opened and you were placed here. That is all I know."

"What I wonder is who are our captors and why did they capture us?" Mac shifted his attention to the prison with apprehension.

"They are not benevolent; that is all I know.", Frank replied.

"I have been making up a plan.", Mac clasped his hands and licked his dry lips, "If we can somehow escape this place we can take our space craft back to Earth. What I need is the floor plan of this facility we are in and the location of our space ship. They might have it with them. We could tap into their system and locate our ship. Once we have that-"

Suddenly a grinding, creaking sound came from the far end of the room. Light flooded into the rank chamber. Standing in the doorway, a human-like silhouette of enormous size beckoned them to follow him. As they came out of their cell and emerged into an illuminated stone hallway, the being's features became clear.

A titan of a man, clad in a shiny, black , armor from head to foot, he lowered a sinister weapon to the level of the prisoners. A long, narrow, greyish, spear-like weapon was clasped tightly in his hand. Jabbing it in the direction they were to take, the silent guard led his prisoners down the stone hallway.

For the first time Frank has met his captor up close.

As they walked, Frank noticed strange figures etched into the walls on either side similar to the ones he had encountered in the underground cavern.

The symbols would be nearly impossible to give a detailed description of and no one on Earth would probably believe him if he ever got back to his home-world. His mind tried to piece togther what they meant. Clearly they were from a race of warriors. One figure stood out to him above the rest, causing him to shudder. It depicted a creature that resembled a tiger with strange, scaly skin. His thoughts turned toward their fate; what would become of them?, where was this being taking them? Even more important; what kind of people were its masters or master. Frank's thoughts were interrupted as the guard abruptly stopped at a stone staircase.

The staircase wound upward like a vine on a fence. Darkness hid in the shaft, menacingly. The guard's armored hand motioned for them to proceed. Preparing themselves for the worst, Mac and Frank began the ascent into the gloom.

Every step seemed to echo through the silent, stone, acoustical chambers of the labyrinth. He felt his courage weaken with every step. Cold sweat broke over his face. It seemed that the ascending would never end. The tension and suspense was horrible and increasing. What kind of thing would await them at the top?

An orange luminescence struck the stone flags of the spiral staircase. Two orange lamps were fastened to a stone wall which blocked their ascent. A strange symbol, on the wall, glowed so brightly that their eyes took a few seconds to realize what is was. Cold, unfriendly light was radiating from an equilateral triangle circumscribed by a circle. What could this mean?

Frank placed his finger on the lines. As he touched the triangle, an enormous groan, followed by a creaking sound, came from the wall, shattering the silence.

A horizontal crack appeared at the base of the wall; it was opening!

0630 hours

The door had elevated into the ceiling and a large square opening presented its self to them. The mens' eyes widened. Mac was about to speak when a sudden shiver passed up his spine, causing his mouth to close incontinently. A darkness, so complete that light was absorbed by it, swathed the room in its tenebrific aura. The light from the two lamps at the doorway shined into the room only to be engulfed a few feet in. Just as the men were considering leaving the door locked shut.

Their escape route had closed on them. Even if they got away from their prison, there was no way of escaping from the planet that they now came to realize was not Earth. By a sixth sense, Mac felt a sinister presence was nearby. Frank took a step forward and called out, "Is anyone in here?" No answer came.

Things seemed to move in the darkness. Frank looked left and right straining to catch a glimpse of the presence. Finally the silence ceased. A very quiet sound came to the prisoners. It was so quiet that Mac almost thought he had imagined it. To describe it would be impossible. It had a soft tone that almost made the men feel like sleeping. At the same time it had a hint of malign cruelty. The voice mysteriously felt like it was coming from their brains. "How nice of you to visit my world.", the voice said calmly. The men were startled. Something with intelligence was not that far away.

Silence lasted for a few minutes, then it continued, " I wondered when someone from planet Earth would come to my planet. It is rather lonely here."

Frank and Mac were silent. What was he getting at?

"Franklin Tomas, are you not the Slavon I expedition journalist?"

"How did you know?", Frank asked, alarmed.

"It is my business to know.", the thought or voice answered. "And Macarther Reagon Peterson, Admiral 2nd class and copilot of Slavon 1, born in Columbia, South Carolina, United States of America, in Aug, 3, 1971. Am I right?" ,. the voice asked with slightly modified inflection.

Mac was stunned.

The voice went on, "I can tell you all you've done in all your life, when you've done it, and where."

Frank interjected, "You may know our ranks and some of the events of our lives: I don't know how. However, you cannot tell exact incidents."

"At precisely 12:01 P.M., Friday 11, June 1983 Franklin Elijah Tomas desired to commit suicide at his house in Scranton, Pennsylvania, United States of America.", the voice responded with perfect articulation and inflection.

"Who are you?", Mac asked with determination.

Out of the baleful darkness a sinister voice chuckled. "I am the owner of this planet. You have trespassed."

"We thought this planet was Earth," Mac snapped, "so we landed here."

"This is Earth.", the calm voice replied.

"What?", Frank exclaimed.

"This is my Earth. All trespassers must be removed."

Mac and Frank turned to see the door opening. Light partially entered the room, silhouetting a black figure.

"You will be escorted to your conveyance and sent to your world. You are dismissed.", the voice coldly explained with a sinister tone, "It has been a privilege to meet you."

Cold metal clenched onto Frank's shoulder. The armored guard escorted the astronauts back down the winding staircase to their cell. Mac sighed with relief. At least they were to head home.

---

~Chapter Four~

---

Hovering over a complex, glowing, control board, technicians, wearing grey, nuclear protective suits, began the ignition process. Silver-grey helmets covered their head. Out of dark lenses their eyes shifted quickly from one function key to another. Coordinates were entered. Catapulting energy level, speed, time, and distance were programmed into the super computer. After several minutes a voice in the intercom intoned, "Ignition begins at the second; Ten, nine, eight...We have ignition."

Even with forty yards of concrete, radiation shielding, overlapping reinforcing plates, tectonic resistant armor, and an impervious heat protection wall, the deafening sound of the negative-positive energy reaction 7 reached the ears of the suited men. A blur of metal shot through the air and disappeared from sight. Below the projectile, the launching silo turned into a grey speck. Under the conditions no human could have survived the tremendous g-force of the moving sphere. Its metal surface instantly cooled as the icy claw of empty space gripped it. The NASA exploration probe was off to Mars on a thorough scientific investigation of the Martian sphere. The Viking lander craft in 1976 had photographed and sampled the Martian terrain with no sign of life. The research probe, unit 3605, was going to orbit Mars and dispatch a droid-lander that would take extensive investigations of the Martian terrain. This operation would be the most extensive probe investigation ever executed. The NASA astronauts on Mars were to make contact with it. Little did the NASA board know that their astronauts were not on Mars. The silver space probe activated its steering rockets. Orange tinted exhaust spouted out from the booster ports. Soon it was aimed towards Mars. Hours later, in the probe's view cameras, the red planet appeared. No surface could be seen. A melee of dust storms engulfed the planet. Mars was a miniature Jupiter. The planet could not be observed carefully and no landers could be dispatched until the storm subsided. The probe would have to wait. With its retro-pack activated, it headed toward a high orbit. When in orbit, the cameras took in a spectacular view. Red and orange clouds whirled in a frenzy around the planet's equator. Purple, orange, and dust-red colors mingled with multicolored, rapidly undulating, clouds that covered the rest of the surface. The planet was awesome to behold. Minute blueish flashes scintillated throughout the atmosphere. Tornadoes, windstorms, and lighting were at work. Suddenly, out from the Hurricane, a streak of bright light appeared. The probe captured this strange object in its camera. The object shrieking towards the probe. As it neared, the thing could be identified, but it was to late. CRASH, BOOM! The probe was ripped to shreds in an explosion.

0715 hours

"Frank, wake up." A voice, breaking the grip of unconsciousness, came out of the darkness. Frank's senses slowly returned. Something cold and hard was beneath him. When he opened his eyelids, blackness was the only thing he could see.

"Mac, is that you?", Frank asked.

No response came for a few minutes, then out of the darkness Frank heard a familiar voice. "See if you can guess." That voice-he heard it before.

Frank exclaimed, "Captain Ron!"

"I guess we ended up as cell mates.", Ron grinned slightly. His face would have looked sad if Frank could have seen it.

"What happened to the others? Where is Mac?", Frank asked.

"I know less than you." Ron's chains clattered in the dark room with his shrug.

"Its been so long since I've seen you. What has happened to you?", Frank questioned.

Ron was silent.

"Ron-", Frank was interrupted.

"Its none of your concern now lets be silent.", Ron replied, sternly.

Ron's behavior had changed.

"Ron, what is going o-"

"Shh.", Ron interrupted. He moved closer to Frank.

When Ron was next to his face the captain whispered, "I can't tell you now. Were being monitored."

Frank's wide eyes scanned the room. Nothing except darkness could be seen. "Its hidden in the ceiling.", Ron whispered very softly. "Any careless word spoken is marked on your life."

"What does that mean?", Frank asked, whispering.

Suddenly, the room was transformed into a bright star as a doorway opened. A dark silhouette of a human-like creature was in the doorway. The men knew what must be done. Following the being out of the prison, they entered a hallway.

Finally we're going home.

A cold barrel nudged Frank through a door. A whirring sound echoed through the small room. Lights flickered. The floor began to vibrate.

Bing.

The elevator reached the top level. A panel in the ceiling opened and light pored into the chamber as a ladder lowered for climbing.

The guards directed the men towards a climbing ladder. Soon the familiar jungle came into view as they emerged from the ground. Verdant grass was underneath their feet. The reddish glow of an extraterrestrial sunset cast its beautiful rays across the jungle, illuminating tree tops and giving them a curious velvet color. Frank and Ron didn't have much time to see the view when their attention was directed towards their conveyance to Earth. A huge, black, space craft loomed out of the trees. Angular and elongated, it bore on its hull the same mysterious symbol that was seen on the large door of the dark throne room. A circular door with a lowered ramp led up into the craft. As they walked up the ramp, Frank noticed that Ron and him were not the only passengers. The ruler of the foreign planet had told them he was going to send them home. Why were there other people? Would these go along? Dirty, black clothed, and grim, the men and a few women trudged, chained together, to the space vehicle. Frank realized that he and his captain were wearing the same black clothing. A black armored guard clamped a chain onto both Ron and Frank. The cold metal dug into their wrist.

"What is that for?", Frank asked.

The guard went down the line ignoring or not hearing his question.

"Its probably to ensure we don't escape.", Ron relied.

"Why would we when were going to Earth?", Frank asked.

The dim, cold, metallic interior of the ship came into view.

NASA conference room/Florida, USA /0800 hours.

"That's impossible. It couldn't have been a projectile. That would mean it came from. . ."

"Extra terrestrial beings.", the steady voice of NASA's president interrupted the top cosmologist of NASA. The worried and vacant faces of the scientists and technicians, seated around a metal discussion table reflected their deep fears. Aliens had been brought up as a concern to the NASA board by an educated scientist who was ignored. They now wondered if he was wright. At the head of the table, Alfred Morely, NASA's president looked from one man to the other as he spoke with smooth inflection ( so that he would not be misunderstood) , "How else could the probe get destroyed if we consider the evidence. . . " He pressed a button on the table. In a large view screen (like a plasma screen t.v.) , on one side of a wall, the last film footage of the space probe, 3605, appeared. The swirling clouds of the red planet could be seen. A title came on the bottom of the screen; planet Mars. Suddenly, in one corner a blue streak of light appeared in the swirling clouds. It shrieked through the tempestuous atmosphere; a sound noticeable above the fury of the storm. It was heading for the probe. An explosion ripped the satellite to shreds. The screen went blank.

"Now let us view," Alfred pressed a button, "it as seen by the probe's infrared camera."

Mars became another world in the infrared light. The probe zoomed in. Mountains, ridges, canyons, and all land forms could be seen clearly in the long wavelength light. A flash of white appeared near a valley. Something was moving. A rocket had just emerged from an aperture.

"So you see, this was no normal accident." Alfred turned off the screen. "What could have caused this, or who did this, we do not know."

The room became silent. Each man was absorbed in his own thoughts. The probability of off-world beings existing was low. The conditions for life were met ,so far, by only one planet, located in a unique solar system. No other known planet could support life. Even if life could exist it was not probable it was any more than bacteria or unicellular life-forms. With these thoughts in his mind one of the top scientists stood up and reasoned, "If extraterrestrial beings do exist, then where would they come from? All life in our universe is centered on planet Earth as far as we know. I for one, and anyone that decides to join me on this view, believe this to be impossible. What other planet would have the resources to allow life? Even if there was one planet like Earth it would probably be too far away, even for light-speed craft, to travel from to the Earth. If life evolved on another planet it would be far away and (with present technology) impossible to reach."

The NASA president lowered his eyes, "Then how do you explain the explosion?"

The faces of the men all looked toward the former speaker as he replied, "It could have been an electric phenomena. Highly volatile gas reacting-"

"How would the gas rise 6 miles on a sinuous course through the atmosphere and destroy an anthropogenic satellite!", Alfred interrupted, heatedly.

The scientist shifted, nervously. Alfred rested his elbows on the table. He was tired of debating persistent arguers. His hands folded slowly as he listened to the scientist.

" Sir, we must be rational. This has a logical, alternate explanation.", The scientist suggested.

"The object came from beneath the probe." Alfred raising an eyebrow, said, "We are talking about a missile like weapon, not rising columns of Martian plasma. This phenomenon has no other explanation. Men, we are dealing with something unrealistically true. Before we decide on any ideas we must learn more about what exactly is on Mars. Our astronaut team should give us a report of their progress soon. Any more questions or arguments will have to wait." Alfred looked at the objecting speaker and shifted his eyes to the other scientists, "And now I must be leaving for an important appointment. The meeting is over."

0700 hours (Earth time)

Millions of miles away from the Earth, in a giant interstellar transport ship, traveling at a super fast speed, the astronauts were contained. Inside the tenebrous reconverted cargo hold, the prisoners shivered in the cool darkness. Frank and Ron sat, huddled up in a thin blanket, in the corner. All they could do was to keep warm. With no heating system in the cargo hold, temperatures were very low.

Breath came as condensed, undulating clouds of water vapor.

Frank's once active mind felt numb and icy. If this was what he had to go through to get to Earth, he wished he had been warned. Other entities surrounded them. Features were undistinguishable in the dark room.

All available blankets were used. The engine of the large space craft they were in made a dull humming sound. Otherwise, silence was predominant. Frank felt like an immigrant to a strange land. He was alone. What were all these beings around him? His mind grew numb again. The heat supplied by the engines was sufficient to keep everyone from freezing to death but not comfortable. His brain throbbed. Just to sleep would be heaven. His mind suddenly was gravitated into the subconscious realm. The floor removed its-self from his feet, spontaneously. He fell, splashing into a liquid. Water enveloped him. He was sinking slowly. Bubbles rose up rapidly, from great depths. The coldness, he felt, was replaced with a new feeling-scalding heat. The spheres of gas disappeared near the surface he was rapidly approaching. He couldn't stand it any longer. His head cut the surface. Huge bubbles fulminated. Then he realized; he was being boiled alive in a giant cauldron. A faint voice reached his ears among the bubbles.

"Frank, wake up. Frank-"

Frank opened his lethargic eyes. A blurry vestige appeared.

"Are you ok?", it asked as it changed to a face in Frank's eyes.

"Who are y-", Frank coughed.

"Don't you remember me?" The face became familiar.

"Mac.", Frank bellowed, "Where have you been?"

Mac, with a standard black, dingy uniform, and dark circles under his eyes, and a stutter in his voice was a shock to his friend.

The face smiled weakly. "I'll tell you later. F-Frank how did they treat you?"

"Fairly well. They placed me on this ship to go home." Frank looked at the face. He noticed it had a few wrinkles where smooth skin used to be.

"What happened to you?" Forgetting the cold, Frank look with concern at his friend.

The smile disappeared on Mac's face. "It's a l-long story. Th-they th-thought that I w-was the c-captain. Th-they i-interrogated m-me. I could n-not u-understand their l-language s-so they t-tortured m-me. F-f-finally I w-was taken o-out and p-put in h-here.", Mac stuttered.

Frank was silent in thought. He noticed that his friend looked a little leaner than normal. Those brutes; they had no sense. Frank felt anger rise in his soul.

Thoughts of hate flashed in his mind. He began to formulate a plan. With his jaw clenched he spoke,

"Mac, do you know of any entrances to this cargo bay?"

Mac stared up at Frank. "What do you have in mind?"

1702 hours

'The space probe # 3605 exploded outside planet Mars on its first voyage into the inner planetary system to investigate the surface and travel the length of Valles Marineris-an enormous canyon stretching 2,485 miles across Mars. Reasons were unknown for the catastrophe.' The news anchor, on a plasma screen tv, aboard the cruse liner Swan, paused. ' NASA's president Alfred Morely claimed that it was caused by an explosive weapon that came from Mars.' The news reporter on G.N.N. paused again and raised his eyebrow as he continued, 'He went further to say that he believed this was a direct attack from extra terrestrial beings. Other authorities believe it was a malfunction in the probe's computer system that caused the explosion. NASA is planning on sending a second probe to find out exactly what had happened. And now a look at the headlines...'

People aboard ignored the news busy with their activities. The cruiser Swan was enjoying its stay at the Bahamas.

The sea was peaceful. Calm, undulating waves lapped at the ship. White seagulls circled in the sky. Near the shore white crests formed and breakers splashed on the sand and rocks of the tropical coastline. Rising out of the water at a distance of five hundred yards, a black metal sphere began to hum to life. If anyone would have seen it they would have thought it was a mine or a buoy. A view camera protruding slightly in its side identified it as a spy-probe. Activating its view camera and communications transmitter, the probe recorded the ship and sent a signal to its owner.

"Probe Zircon report 202; Earth is innocuous. Nuclear programs are inferior. The population count is at present 7,360,245,970. 1,034,023,012 humans are enlisted in the various armies. Technology is inferior. At present only 650-"

The probe ceased transmitting as a trans-interstellar signal came. "This is Entity One to probe Zircon; report acknowledged. Proceed with subject eradication."

"Acknowledged.", the Probe replied.

A panel opened in its side to reveal a cylindrical, ultraviolet laser. A stream of intense, ultraviolet light penetrated the fuel tank of the liner. Instantly, the ship was turned into a million pieces.

0720 hours.

0720 found two dark figures walking slowly to a metal wall.

One whispered, "Do you have the initiation key?"

The other replied, "Got it."

"What a resourceful one you are. Now once we're through we must get disguises and hijack. Do you know how to fly this ship?" the first speaker said.

"I will probably learn quickly." the second replied.

Frank inserted the plastic card into the slot. He smiled at Mac. "Then we can rescue Ron. He probably is in on of those other chambers in the ship."

"Right," Mac said rubbed his face. "I hope this works."

The door hissed open. They entered a small, brightly lit hallway. Everyone was asleep inside and no guards were present outside. Good.

The trio went slowly since Mac was not in perfect health. They turned a corner.

A guard loitered near a silver door that probably contained high risk prisoners.

Black armor covered his body like an exoskeleton of an insect.

Frank retreated, pulling Mac with him.

"How will we get past that guard?" Mac asked.

"I'll create a diversion and you rescue Ron, who is probably behind that silver door."

"No. You can't. It would put you in danger." Mac replied. "I might have an-"

Suddenly the ship shook violently. The men fell over. Something of great mass had struck.

Mac turned to Frank. His friend was gone. Instantaneously Mac lifted from the ground. He was weightless. The gravitational generator was out. He tried to turn but rotated in midair.

"Frank, where are you?"

Suddenly he fell. Rubbing his side he approached the unguarded, opened entrance. Mac raced in as fast as he could see Ron!

WHAM!

The transport shook violently. Lights flickered. Mac was hurtled towards a metal wall. Intense pain consumed his consciousness for a split second and all senses became nebulous. He blacked out.

An object larger than the first had slammed into the space-craft.

Ron could feel the shock as he lay on the floor. Prisoners were knocked off their feet. He saw a man crash into the wall of the prison and fall over unconscious.

WUNK!

Another object had ricochet off the surface of the ship imparting its energy to the craft. The shaking and pounding of the asteroids had not let up so far. Ron felt like the ship would be ripped apart if this continued for much longer.

They must have come upon a small stray asteroid field.

His companions were unseen in the crowded room. Lugubrious men, wrapped in thin, dirty blankets, to keep warm, filled the room. Why were they waiting for their fate like debilitated dogs? Supposing they had been sent by their own government, he wondered, why? His thoughts turned to his own fait. What would people on Earth think of his captors? Life would never be the same. A voice came through the intercom of the space-craft in a foreign language and then in English, " We are approaching destination. All prisoners get into your respective positions."

The shuddering and rumbling in the ship changed to an ear shattering screeching as the ship plummeted towards the planet, through the air, at very high speeds. This is the end, Ron thought as he prepared himself for the worst. The havoc ended in a loud crunch as the ship landed. A sickening sensation made Ron gasp as he was shoved against the floor by the impact. His mind became blank. Darkness took the place of light in the room. This didn't last for long as the ship's backup generator took over. A hiss escaped from one corner of the room. The power- lock-door was opened. Standing in the doorway, four black-armored guards began to herd the prisoners out. Groans echoed softly through the room as the prisoners filed out through the door. Their punishment was coming. Ron followed slowly.

Sss...Chink. The power lock door shut, echoing in the hallway he now was in. Standing at the back of the line, Ron wished he had moved sooner. Several hundred prisoners began trudging down the halls of the large space-craft. Silver walls with various compartments, on either side of him, reflected the procession giving it the appearance of three moving columns.

Two silent guards led the column while two others took up the rear. Unfortunately, Ron was a few steps away from the rear guards. The halls echoed monotonously with the din of heavy feet marching in sync. He hated to see his wretched figure, in the shiny walls, behind everyone, at the back of the line. Light-blue electro- lights gave the hall an icy-cold appearance. Ron hoped Mac and Frank were safe. A power-lock door opened far ahead, near the end of the hall. The procession grew shorter as the beings passed through the dark opening. As Ron entered, he saw a crowded room. Black-armored guards were dressing the prisoners in space suits in an assembly line. Why were they putting space suits on? Were the prisoners going to walk on the surface of an extraterrestrial planet? Ron felt cold metal hands fit a space suit helmet over him. If they were to take me to Earth, why are they giving me a helmet?, Ron thought. A devise like a thermal space suit heater was put on him next. Once everything was on, the guard gave him an unfriendly shove. He fell into position behind the line of prisoners. They continued down to the far end of the room, passed through an air lock chamber, and came out into dazzling light. Ron shielded his eyes from the blinding light until they adjusted to the glow. What appeared before him was a strange, familiar, and reddish landscape. Undulating hills, high, majestic mountains, and valleys with intricate interstices, spread out before him. Rocks, and curious natural formations, were in the foreground. A red light gave it depth of vision. Ron's panoramic view of the beautiful landscape disappeared as a button was pressed on his suit, by guard, and a dark visor shut out his view.

NASA 1100 hours

Alfred Morely paced back and forth slowly. A fistful of paper was in his hand. He studied the printout from the NASA mission control center. His greatest fear had become reality.

"Mr. Morely, what's wrong?" his secretary asked.

The older man sighed. "Linda, we have a problem."

"What's wrong?"

Ignoring the question he ordered, "Phone up the board members for me."

"Gentlemen, we have a situation that calls for more investigation." Alfred firmly gripped the edge of the table.

The directors of NASA were waiting intently for what he had to say next.

"We have lost contact with our astronauts on Mars." Alfred turned to the director of programming and communication.

"Henry, I want you to reestablish contact with our crew on Mars."

"My men have been staying up late working on the problem. So far we have received nothing from them." Henry Stonewall replied.

Alfred frowned. He was in a state of quandary. The NASA high altitude communication satellites were unable to detect any intelligent transmission of radio, x-ray, u-v, or other forms of radiation telemetry.

"Henry," Alfred said as he began to formulate a new plan, "would you program the space probe, #3605, that we have just launched to detect radio transmissions?"

"Yes, sir." the director answered.

Alfred continued as if he didn't hear, "Because that way our probe will have a greater chance of finding our men."

"Sir," Henry asked, "what would happen if the probe received no signal?"

"Hopefully that doesn't happen or else we would have to send another team up there to rescue our Mars expedition and that would bankrupt our space administration."

0801 hours Mars.

Ron had been walking on the sand for what seemed like hours. Wind swept across the barren surface of the planet swirling about the long line of haggard prisoners. Where was he? His head sagged with weariness. His mind failed to think properly. He vaguely remembered being told that he was to be shipped to Earth. Hopefully they weren't far from a good place to stay for the night. Even a low budget motel would suit him. He failed to realize he had a space suit on. Suddenly the marching and the clinking of chains stopped.

All was motionless. The sound of mechanical whirring noises came to him faintly through his suit. The muffled sound of rattling chains and a few indistinct voices reached him. An armored glove wrapped around his arm and he was tugged roughly out of the line. Ron couldn't conjecture what was going on.

Clank.

His boot contacted with metal.

Beep.

A button was pushed. The metal surface was lowering. Two armored beings stood at either end of the lowering platform. All Ron could see was the dark visor covering his view. Several space suited prisoners accompanied him down into the unknown. Sharp screeching noises rebounded through the wide shaft from distant sources. A dark realization came to him in that nebulous world. He was on another planet. He quietly whispered, "Where am I?"

"You are on Mars." A voice said in his helmet.

"Who said that?" Ron had not expected to be answered.

Turning towards the voice's direction with a dim hope it was the voice of one of his men, Ron asked, "Who are you?"

"I could ask you the same question." The voice replied.

Ron was discouraged at the reply but his curiosity was fired.

"Where do you come from?" Ron asked. "Do you know where my companions are?"

The prisoner remained silent. Ron could only guess who he was. The screeching and wailing of mining machines grew fainter as they came closer to the bottom of the shaft they were traveling in.

A quiet voice replied, "Yes, but we cannot talk now."

The elevator was close to the bottom. Ron hoped his companions were safe. How could a stranger know about his companions? Another perplexing mystery was added to the many mysteries already filling his brain. Several hundred feet later the elevator rested on the bottom. Walking through the prisoners, guards began deactivating their visors.

The first thing Ron was a rocky shaft. A patch of light red light far above shined through the vertical tunnel in the ground illuminating crevices, pathways, metal platforms, and drilling machines that were embedded in the wall.

The next thing he noticed was that he had shrunk.

The prisoners around him were tall and broad. Each was at least 7 feet tall.
SSS-chink

A door had just opened in the rocky wall of the shaft.

Inner-planetary system; 0300 hours.

Hurtling through the black void of space was what appeared to be a meteor. Its shiny, smooth body identified it as a robot probe. In its main camera appeared a small red sphere floating among trillions of points of light. It should reach its destination, Mars, in a few minutes. The red planet closed in on the ship. Two dark, grey specks orbited the planet. The moons of Mars; Phobos, moon of fear, and Deimos, moon of confusion, were identified by the probe's computer brain.

Unknown to the probe a thousand missile defense weapons were aimed at the machine. It would only take one shot to destroy it. Soon the planet swallowed up the entire forward view of the probe.

The probe began its entry program. If it did not slow soon it would be obliterated by the high speed impact with small planetary satellites. A cameral shutter type hatch opened in the probe's side. Intense white light began to radiate from the aperture indicating that its anti-matter retropac had engaged.

Vibrations began to penetrate the machine causing its camera to shut off as it ran into high altitude dust particles. Minutes later it was halfway to the planet's surface. It was now at 10% speed. The buffeting of wind on the probe intensified. The red landscape was spread like a sheet before the descending machine. A hatch opened in the probe releasing a parachute to slow its descent. The red landscape with craters, mountains, hills, and strange rock formations drew near. The camera turned on, witnessing the spectacular view spread out before it. Canyons appeared like huge cracks in the ground. Shadowed concave areas and valleys appeared like dents in a rock. Dust swirled below in sinuous motions. Moments later the descending probe landed softly on the red iron oxide ground, displacing sand slightly. The first stage of the probe's mission was complete. Retrieving the parachute and activating its anti-gravity hover engine, the probe began the second stage. Zooming across the alien terrain, the probe disappeared around a cliff.

Mars, mining pit; 0300 hours.

Perspiration trickled down Mac's forehead. He had been in the mining tunnel all day; or all night. He could not tell. Grime covered his face. If he stopped working a sharp zap would discharge from an electric prod wielded by a silent guard. Mac felt like he could not lift his shovel any more.

He felt duped. He had been promised a return to his home. The words of the man in the dark chamber had been electrified with sincerity. He had not lied to Mac directly. Mac remembered the deceptive words of the unseen man, 'You will be escorted to your conveyance and sent to your world."

In his mind he could hear that sinister voice again. It whispered in his thoughts, 'And this is your world- for eternity.'

2100 hours

Night pulled its dark blanket over the red landscape. Huge cliffs and tall mountains rose out from the undulating Martian hills. Quiet wind swept the planes. No scientist would have guessed what was going on in the planet's crust. One faint glowing sphere appeared in the darkening sky. Phobos, one of two of Mars's only moons, shed a faint light on the land (Deimos's orbit was taking it to the other side of the planet). On the planet's surface several white lights appeared. A large space ship released blue exhaust through stabilizer ports with a sharp whine. Its gravity modification engines (anti-gravity) repelled the planet's gravity with great force, levitating the ship rapidly off the ground. Once it was several feet in altitude its primary thrust boosters came on. It roared off through the placid atmosphere and was swallowed up in the black continuum of space. The slave transport ship was heading back for its next cargo. A silent observer viewed the sight from atop a large plateau. A transmission antenna rose from its spherical body.

Prisoner bunker 2105 hours

The plasma lights (hot electrified gas which [in this case] is heated by Martian geothermal heat) in the room's ceiling turned off. Lying down in an uncomfortable bed, in the prison bunker of his captors, Ron tried to sleep but sleep wouldn't come. How could he have restful sleep in a strange world without his friends?

He was among a race of giants from another planet. He felt terribly alone. He could no longer try to sleep.

His feet contacted with the hard floor absorbing the 7 foot drop from his bunk with no pain.

One of the older technologies of the enemy planet protected his feet. It was a tight fitting boot that highly resembled a sock. Woven out of a plastic-like material the boot was lightweight, strong and incredibly durable. A substance that was partially adhesive to rock or metal protected the bottom.

Just as Ron took a step a voice came from a nearby bunk in English. "Where are you going?"

Ron was electrified with fear. He turned his head slowly to the speaker.

"Don't you know that the guards will kill anyone up at this hour?" the voice said.

Ron's expression of fear turned to wonder as he remembered the voice. "I know you. You were the one who I talked to on the elevator."

"Yes, now I remember you." The voice belonged to an aging man. His thin face, thick eyebrows, and piercing stare made him look rather sinister.

Ron got past his fear to ask, "Who are you? Where do you come from?"

"I don't trust you yet." he said.

Ron could now tell that his voice had a slight Russian accent to it.

"I remember you said that you knew where my companions were." Ron began.

"They are all here and well."

"Where," Ron asked.

"If I were to show you," the older man paused with a sigh, "we would have to escape."

"What is holding you back?" Ron asked like an eager child.

"This won't be easy. It will take more guts than most have. You may not survive."

"I am prepared to die. It would be better than enduring this death camp."

"Very well," the old man's eyes twinkled, "here is the plan…"

NASA communications/instruction room, Florida 0502 hours.

Seated around a table, the NASA board of directors was having a meeting. The recent developments in the past few weeks caused the board to meet more often. The tall, middle aged president of NASA, with a report in scientific protocol spread out before him, stood at the head of the table. He began with a serious tone, "Gentlemen, I must tell you some strange reports given me recently. We have lost contact with probe 1202. This is a mystery because it appears from what I've seen, that planet Mars is generating jamming signals."

Alfred could see eyebrows rise. A volatile U.F.O. skeptic started to rise. Alfred motioned for him to sit. "Please be seated, Dr. Kramlin. I want everyone to hold their comments until you have seen what I have to show you. As of yesterday all communication with our space probe has been lost. The work of our communications experts has allowed us to receive a clear signal from the probe."

With that said, Alfred pressed a button on the table.

A huge screen on one wall lit up. A dark picture, filled with static, appeared. Wind sweeping over the land, was heard faintly through the static. A sound like a powerful jet engine became faintly audible through the crackling white and black points. The sound grew fainter until it was inaudible.

Shortly after this the static began to clear and the landscape revealed itself to the viewers. Nothing except tall, dark, jagged shapes and a black, star filled sky could be seen. Occasionally an undulating static disturbance crossed the screen. A message flashed across the screen: Probe 1202, Mars, 6,625. 40 kilometers from the astronauts' landing site. , and it became blank.

"It seems that we have another mystery on our hands, gentlemen. The sound could not have been from the astronauts we sent to Mars. They landed on the other side of the planet."

---

~Chapter Five~

---

The plan

Mars 0500 hours

A lone sentry stood near a locked stone metal door. Above him a small aperture was fixed in the wall. A steel grate obstructed the air vent. He thought he heard a sound coming from the grate. It must have been his imagination. Suddenly he was unconscious. Ron stopped his fall with a shoulder roll. He had just jumped from the air vent. The metal grate was on the floor, twisted by his shovel. Ron's newly met friend landed with a grunt.

"Grab his weapon." the older man said.

Ron took the shiny rifle from the limp body. Aiming it at the head he let off a silent discharge of radiation.

"You can call me Ron." Ron extended his hand to shake.

"My name is Joss; Joss Chenklov. I'm sorry I didn't properly introduce myself at first, but I can't trust anyone." Joss said as he shook the younger man's hand.

Ron now remembered the face of the older man that look familiar. He had seen the face on the T.V. many times. It was the face of Joss K. Chenklov, president of the Democratic Republic of Russia. Ron was standing by one of the most famous people of current times. Ron, of course was famous since he was one of the first humans to step on Mars.

"We don't have time. Ron, put on the suit."

Ron stared at the fallen figure. He was right. The only way they had a chance of escaping was incognito. Next stop was the location his friends.

Frank huddled up in his blanket. Mac was on the top of the bunk in their cell. He had a hard day mining for iron ore. The torment of no escape from the mining tunnels kept him awake. He heard the snore of his companion above him. If there was a God why would he allow such suffering? He had been shocked by electricity five times. The surreal aspect of finding himself in this miserable condition under the planet Mars, prisoner of a race of giants, and that he would never return to the normal world brought him to tears. He was a grown man. If God was real, why didn't He answer prayers? A thought came to mind that seemed to answer in reply to his question. Frank, you never accepted my gift.

'What gift?' Frank subconsciously realized how ridiculous he was replying to a voice in his mind. At the same time he had a feeling that that voice had come from something exterior to him.

The gift of eternal life. The voice replied.

Frank remembered what a friend had told him once that God gave his life in place of us when we were to be punished. The friend went on to explain that it was like a child playing in the street and a man shoving the little kid out of the way as a car roars through. The man had sacrificed his body for the little kid to live. "God took the form of a man and died on a Roman cross to give us eternal life." the friend had told Frank. Frank turned on his side, trying to ignore the thoughts in his head. He couldn't.

"What ever." he had told his friend.

"Frank." a voice whispered.

Frank turned to his side trying to ignore the voice. He really needed sleep.

"Frank."

It was real. Ron crouched over him. "Come on. We're getting you out of here."

"What about Mac?" Frank asked.

"He's with us."

A man was being escorted by three armored guards. His hands were bound. His head was lowered in dejection. Dim lights highlighted his gaunt face. The door hissed closed behind them with a pronounced concussion.

At the end of the hall was an aperture, guarded by two sentries to which the prisoner was led.

Eyeing the prisoner suspiciously, the door guards executed the entry procedure.

"Markan do parak?" What is your mission?, one of the door guards asked.

"Dumar karak dume?" Where are you taking him?, the other door guard asked.

"Manda far kippon?" What is his name? , the former asked.

Turning to the other, the escorting guards exchanged a glance.

In one masterfully executed maneuver, the escorts knocked the door guards of their feet.

"Good job, Frank, Mac, and Ron. You have just completed step one of my plan."

"What's next?" Mac asked.

"I'll tell you as we go. We can't waste time." Joss Chenklov, president of Russia replied. His martial arts training had come in handy. Despite the armored suits, the three astronauts did well. What was ahead, he feared, would prove far more complex than his three new friends could dream of.

Frank removed his helmet. "Joss, this armor is heavy. We can't use the disguise to much longer. They're going to ketch on." He glanced down the hall, in the direction they had come from.

"That means we must hurry." Joss replied as he donned an armored suit. "Mac and Frank, we are going to split into teams. You two will be on one team and Ron and I will be on the other. For my plan to work we must move quickly. We all have armored suits and the means to communicate over distances. I will give you succinct information and you must execute it to the last detail."

Joss placed two armored digits into a grove in the security door. It opened. Immediately to the either side were two apertures.

"Ok, Mac, you will take the left with Frank. Ron and I will take the right entrance." he said.

"Roger, sir."

"Don't call me sir."

"Yes sir."

The man must have been in the military too long, Joss thought.

0556 hours Mars

"Frank, I want you to find a map of the base. I think the officers have one in their quarters." The calm voice of Joss came over Frank's helmet speakers. The speakers had amazing clarity.

"Joss, where is the officers quarters?" he asked.

"Frank, I will have to use a voice scrambler in case anyone can intercept our message. Set your scrambler to level 2.04 on the indicator located on your belt." Joss interrupted.

"What?" Frank was confused. He got no answer.

It was something about a belt and voice scrambling. Frank thought. He reached down to his belt. A device, shaped much like a cell phone, was activated.

"Frank, what are you doing?" Mac asked.

Frank raised a finger for silence.

"De' jurt mechanov-u." the device's computer voice intoned.

"Eh, access voice manipulation." This is crazy. Frank punched several buttons. No foreign computer would recognize English. Suddenly, a face appeared in the computer screen.

"Dook et ale?" the cold, sinister face asked. A masculine face peered out at Frank with intimidating authority. If Frank did not wear the helmet he would be sure to be recognized by the man.

Mac peered at the screen with trepidation.

"Dook et ale?"

Hastily, Frank shut the screen. The device powered off.

"What was that all about?" Mac asked.

"Joss wants us to locate a map and alter our voices through a voice manipulator and translator." Frank replied rapidly.

"Say that slowly."

Frank repeated it carefully.

"Ok."

"Mac, I think we've alerted them of our presence." Frank look from left to right.

"Wait. Frank, I have an idea."

"What?"

Mac retrieved his portable military computer. He worked like a computer geek. In a couple strokes of his finger he had accessed the voice manipulation option and opened a complex virtual map of the base.

"Where did you learn that from?" Frank was confounded.

"Experience."

With cold, blue eyes, emotionless expression, and a shock of steel-gray hair, the face of Isaac Mechanov, the commander of 4 billion, peered at his view screen. He was seated in a leather cushioned couch in the heart of the mining base. A man in shiny black armor stood in attendance.

"Viscar Morak", Isaac turned to his lieutenant, "dim vwak orgon." we have a problem.

"Rit ah." Yes sir, The subordinate replied.

"Five soldiers are dead." Isaac continued, changing to English. "Four prisoners escaped."

"We captured it on tape, sir." The lieutenant replied, in English, with temerity.

"Don't let it happen again. Capture the prisoners; or, will I have to do it for you?"

The threatening whispering in his brain made part of Ron want to head back for his bunker. The other part told him this would be unwise. In front of him, Joss walked silently down the hall. The far end, many hundreds of yards away, was shrouded in a growing darkness, as lights turned off one by one. The beating of his heart throbbed within him. The faint smell of dust came to his nose. Time seemed to pass slowly.

"Joss, where is this weapons storage area, you have spoken of, located?" Ron asked with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

The older man, with help from Mac, had found the virtual map.

"It is below us some hundred feet." Joss replied.

"What are the weapons for? We already have guns." Ron wondered.

"You'll see." Joss muttered with a slight grin on his masked face. With sudden temerity in his voice, Joss exclaimed, "Ron, we've got company!"

"What-"

"We can't talk." Joss interjected.

A door at the end of the stone hallway had opened.

Metal gleamed in the dim light. Armor clicked with a metallic rattle. Feet masticated rock.

Six armored soldiers marched in formation. Their leader, a strong figure wearing grey armor, took up the front.

Ron stepped into a large vertical depression in the wall. Joss stood still.

Soon the marching soldiers were five feet away.

"Du-rish." Halt The commander ordered.

Joss swallowed.

Stepping forward, the commander asked Joss, "Mon-carta, Ro-tam bada-dume kar-at?" Soldier is their anything (unusual) to report?

Joss tried his hardest to remember what he had learned during his life in the mining base.

"Plak da-ooh kar-at, Mon-rata." Nothing to report, sir. Joss replied.

The grey helmet turned slowly, as if the face beneath was analyzing Joss.

"Ma-rish." March (or do continue) The grey armored commander commanded his men.

Soon the two companions were alone.

That was close. Joss let out a sigh. He turned to Ron. "Ron, I—"

An empty depression stared at him.

Mars 0501 hours

Hovering several hundred feet over a sandy-red plain, a spherical probe activated its view-camera.

A curious crater lay in the center of the plain bordered by high, jagged mountains.

In the center of the crater, covered partially by sand, a shiny metallic substance contrasted with the red hue of the desert.

The probe descended into the crater. The scientists at NASA were going to have a surprise.

The crater was dark for some strange reason. Black, sooty minerals were on the sides of the crater-possibly carbon. It almost gave the appearance it was used to absorb the sun light to not be detected. At the bottom, a dark quadrilateral-shaped metal plate lay. Engraved into the metal was a strange symbol-a circle within a circle, and in the center of the inner circle was an equilateral triangle. Suddenly, as the probe studied the object, lines of static disrupted its cameras. In an instant, electricity traveled through the probe's internal propulsion system.

With a malfunctioning propulsion system, the probe plummeted to the metal surface. The metal covering opened, like a mouth, to reveal a huge, dark shaft.

Mars 0610 hours

Ron was nowhere near, to be found. Joss breathed deeply. He could not lose his mind now.

He would have to contact Ron and the voice scrambler would have to work.

"Ron, this is Joss. Where are you?"

No reply.

"Ron, where are you?"

"Ron, this is Joss…" the voice emitted from a speaker in the wall. A smile spread across Isaac Mechanov's face.

He was seated at a computer consol in his office. A warm glow came from a synthetic fireplace. It illuminated portions of his face, rendering a hideous apparition.

"Morak," Isaac spoke into the two way view screen in front of him.

"Rit ah?" Yes, sir? Morak replied.

Isaac's cold eyes probed him. "It appears that a group of escape artists are missing a member." There was a pause. "Find him. Use the man as bait to lure in the others. We cannot afford to lose one astronaut prisoner."

"Yes, sir." Morak replied, evenly.

Joss sighed. If he will not answer, I will have to find him myself.

Suddenly, the blue lights overhead shut off. Darkness set in.

What is going on? Joss pulled out his miniature computer. The small screen's glow was a ray of hope in the gloom.

He could not read the foreign words. Maybe voice activation will work.

"Computer, activate night vision." This has to be crazy. No extraterrestrial computer will recognize English.

"Activation complete." The computer replied.

The room became visible, in slightly fake looking tones, of color. Miracles do happen.

Whap, Whap.

Two objects slammed into Joss, knocking him down to the floor. In an instant, the night vision shut off. His armor became stiff. He felt himself being dragged along by two strong hands.

"Welcome, Jossov Chenklov. I have been expecting to meet you for some time." The shadowed face said.

Joss sat before a darkened figure in a fire lit room. The leather couch he sat on was the softest thing he had ever touched for weeks. The room was much like a lounge in a rich man's house. For a moment Joss felt as if he were in his own study on Earth.

"Do you remember me?" the voice brought Joss back to his predicament.

"No. Who are you?" Joss stared steadily at the face, trying to remember who it belonged to.

"Jossov, you tell me that you can't recognize your old friend." The man stepped out of the shadows.

Joss was shocked. "Isaac, is it really you?" His old school mate, who graduated from the University of Moscow Russia thirteen years ago stood in front of him for the first time in many years.

Joss forgot his situation. "So how have you been? What have you been up to?"

"Many things." Isaac pace closer to his old class mate. "Joss, I have discovered many wonderful truths; secrets that you could only dream of."

"What, Isaac? I would like to know."

"And you shall. But first tell me what you want to know." Isaac asked, as he took a seat on a nearby couch.

So many questions came to Joss's mind that he had to select his most important ones.

"Tell me, Isaac, how did you get here? Were you kidnapped as well?"

The man across from Joss smiled pleasantly. Joss suddenly felt as if the smile was a mask to Isaac's true expression.

"First of all, Joss you must realize that this world is a mere pinpoint in outer space. There are unfathomable worlds beyond ours. Beings of extreme intelligence go from one to another and some arrive on planet Earth. You will realize the truth once you realize the power inside of you."

"What are you talking about? What power?" Joss was amazed at his friend's intellect but a feeling inside him told him something was not right.

"I am not talking about the power of advanced technology, Joss. I am talking about the power inside of you. All you have to do is open yourself to it and you will have power beyond your imagination."

Joss couldn't understand everything he was being told at that moment, but he began to see something logical about it—something that looked good. He had never been interested in anything religious before. Besides attending Mass at the Catholic Church in Moscow, Russia, he had no religious influences.

Eyeing the prisoner with a subtle grin, Isaac whispered, "You want power, don't you, Joss? You can have it."

A palpitation seemed to resonate through the air in the room. Joss could feel it in his spine. He felt as if the best offer in life was made to him.

"Joss, all you have to do is open your mind. It will flow in."

"I will."

---

~Chapter Six~

---

Finished

0600 hours, Mars

Ron stood still as stone. Joss was standing in front of the opening to his hiding place in the wall. He backed up as far as he could get. Soon the entrance was the size of an eraser. The only light came from the opening. This was a room. He could see a metal door imbedded in the wall, at the very limit of the shaft of light from the doorway. He decided to turn off his communication option on the control system for his armor. Joss was close by so he didn't worry about getting separated. He felt sleepy. He had, after all, missed a night of sleep since his escape. He was exhausted from the extra weight of the armor. The designers clearly didn't construct it for six- foot people. Ron found a place in the shadows to rest.

Crackle

A sound awoke Ron from his dreams.

What he saw made his heart leap.

Joss was being dragged by two strong armored guards. His helmet was missing. His hair was disheveled. Rocks were scraping his sides causing the initial Crackle Ron had heard.

Black armored guards in the vanguard activated the metal door.

Ron went to the rear of the procession, and passed through the door, just before it closed.

0645 hours, general's quarters, Mars.

A cavernous room was occupied by two sentient entities. One spoke slowly—whispering a mantra.

Several things began to happen. The silent entity began to stir from a reverie. He stood up from his cross- legged position.

The whispering entity ceased his mantra and his voice rose in volume, "Jossov, you are now more powerful than anyone on Earth. You can do whatever you want. What do you wish to do with your new power?"

The figure near Isaac replied, "I will disenchant Ronald Henry Duroy."

The man called Joss seemed to strain on an invisible leash.

"He will join us or die." Joss continued in a voice that had a timbre very much unlike his.

Mars, 0650 hours

Mac stared at the computer screen. He had been trying to find the hangar of the "Alien" mining base.

Either it didn't exist or it was not entered on the map. Frank stood near him trying to help. His mini-computer was of no help to their dilemma. They had not been noticed. Guards would pass by once in a while. The astronaut's disguises were genuine enough.

Mac's attention was arrested when a voice came on in his helmet. "Mac, this is Ron. Sorry we didn't contact you sooner, but we have a problem."

"Yes?"

"Mac, Joss is missing. I saw armored guards remove his body. It's likely he is dead. We must break him out of their grasp or if he really is dead we must develop a different plan."

The original plan of Joss was to go to the space-craft hangar and blast off. Likely there would be a tunnel that they could travel through to the Martian surface. They would have to find high- level credentials to get past the checkpoints. That would mean locating officers and taking their armor. Joss and Ron were to locate officers and use their armor to get through checkpoints. Mac and Frank were to locate a space ship and possibly have it ready for when Ron and Joss get through. The leader of the operation was captured.

This is not good. Mac thought. "Ron?"

"Yes?"

"You must get Joss out of their grasp. Bring him to," Mac looked at his computer screen. "Sector seven, level two. We will be in this area."

"Ok." Ron ended the transmission.

"Frank," Mac said slowly, "we have a change of plans…"

Ron sighed. He would have to do the impossible. Joss was likely hundreds of thousands of feet away—who knows where. Ron pulled out his mini-computer.

I might be able to find him, Ron thought, with this.

"Ron, how good to see you." a voice from behind Ron's back echoed through the air with perfect resonance.

Mars 0559 hours

The probe from Earth drifted silently over the Martian landscape. Unknown to Earth it had a reinstalled memory. All traces of the Martian base were deleted from its computer. Hours had gone by with nothing but mountains and sand to be seen for miles and miles, yet, never before had Mars been so alive.

Earth, NASA communications/operations room.

"Gentlemen, I. . ." the president of NASA glanced at Kevin Kramlin, his opponent as he continued,

"We have received a report from our probe. Mars is…uninhabited."

His gaze turned momentarily to the floor. At these words a slight smile crossed, Dr. Kravlin's face (the scientist who argued with Alfred). It seemed as if to say, 'told you so.'

"As for the astronauts on Mars; we have had problems with the communication system as of late. They should have the problems elucidated by now. We— "

A beeping noise came from the president's belt. He lifted the phone to his mouth.

"Hello...You do?… Another transmission already?...Certainly." The phone, with a lethargic motion, was returned to its place, as the president lowered his voice in remorse, "Our astronauts are no more." The men around the table looked in surprised at the president. To clarify this statement a view-screen turned on. A hush followed.

Millions of miles away from Earth, on the surface of the red planet, surrounded by a sea of darkness, a spherical probe viewed the remains of a silver space ship. Dark shadows traversed the land, contrasting it diametrically. Light patches resembled amber fangs in a deep orifice created by the late afternoon shadows of mountain ranges. In a large crater the remains of a space craft rested.

The rear fuselage and the excretion nozzles were in good shape. The front portion, however; was scattered around the area of the wreck-a junk yard of twisted metal. Clear marks of an explosion were seen; charred sand, shreds of metal, and a new crater. A distant mountain range glowed softly orange with the last rays of day as the setting sun melted into the serrated horizon. With a display of the date, time, and location, the probe ended its transmission. Located in the central control super-drive, in its hardware, a tiny computer chip transmitted a signal to the computer brain. The probe, with its locomotion thrusters on full, headed in an easterly direction; toward the hidden mining pits.

On Earth, at the NASA communications/operations room, a solemn silence filled the room. After a while Alfred spoke, "Now I must notify the astronaut's families. The meeting's over. Please excuse me."

0655, Mars

In an instant Ron turned and was faced with Joss himself.

"Joss, I was looking for you just now. What happened to you? I saw them drag you away." Ron was incredulous.

"I know."

Ron had thousands of questions to ask his friend.

"Joss, could you tell me?"

"Ron," Joss paced slowly, "I must tell you something first that I discovered."

"What?"

Joss ignored the question. "Ron, I have found life-abundant life. I feel better now than I have ever felt before."

Ron peered into the man's eyes which were once bright blue. Apathetic, grey discs peered at Ron. Something was sinister about them that Ron could not identify. Maybe it was the way they seemed to bore into him like rotating augers.

"What is going on? Really?" Ron asked with caution.

"Ron, don't you get it? I have discovered the fountain of youth."

"There is no such thing." Ron decided a new tactic. He would play along and see what his friend was pulling at. "Where have you found this "fountain of youth", any ways?"

Joss patted his chest. "In here."

"What do you mean, Joss?"

"There is a universe in every one of us. To get there you must become aware of the Universal Conscience. Do you wish to learn more?" Joss said innocently.

"Joss, who told you that?"

With a pleasant grin the gaunt face replied, "Come. I will show you."

Frank paced back and forth nervously. He was sure the man who had worn his suit was reported missing. Surely the soldier's commander would have wondered where he was.

Mac tinkered with his portable computer.

Frank was a man of action. Staying put like this wasn't his way of dealing with situations. "Mac, I have nothing to do now. Would you mind of I tried to track down Ron. I think he is nearby. If I don't see him in two hours, I'll come back to you." Frank requested.

"Frank, we-" Mac could tell his friend was restless. "Ok. By the way, would you stay in contact with me?"

"Sure."

In a few seconds Frank had rounded a corner and was out of sight.

"Welcome, Mr. Duroy." A voice as soft as a warm breeze entered Ron's ears.

He was standing with Joss in a cavernous room they had just entered after traveling through endless stone hallways. A fire danced in a stone hearth. Leather couches, walnut tables and bookshelves, paintings, and ivory carvings furnished the edifice of a room. For a moment Ron thought he was in a mansion on planet Earth.

The figure that had first spoken stepped into full view.

Who is he? Ron's attention was arrested by the benevolent semblance.

"Joss, you have done well."

It is a man, but whom? Ron found himself asking the question before he could stop himself. "Who are you? How did you know my name?"

"Ron," the man began.

Only Ron's friends call him that.

"I would like to invite you on and adventure that your friend, here, has began."

The man stepped out of the shadows. His face was in full view; sparkling blue eyes, a shock of short, light brown hair, and a smile that would disarm a navy seal.

"What do you mean?" Ron was interested. Joss was wise to bring him to the man. Someone with such a pleasant look couldn't be bad.

"I will show you wonder beyond your wildest dreams." Abruptly he stopped and his eyes peered steadily at Ron. "Ron, what do you want to be?"

"You mean as a vocation?"

"Anything." The man emphasized with out stretched arms.

"I," This was stupid. Why was he talking to a stranger? He was in the Martian crust at least one mile down and a prisoner of a mysterious entity. Yet, the room he was in was the most peaceful place he had ever been in. He could have slept for days on one of the leather couches. He thought about his dreams. He always loved the feel of money in his hands.

"I want to be the richest man in the world." Nothing new, Ron thought, but something very desirable.

"Ron, I can make you far richer than you can dream."

So there was a catch.

"All you must do is believe that I can."

That didn't sound too bad. Believe. Just believe. "Ok, but what of my predicament? I am a prisoner of you. Will you-"

"Yes, Ron I declare you free as long as you believe that I can." the man's eyes tore into Ron like a knife cuts through butter. "But, do you believe?"

"Yes." Ron replied hastily. He wanted to be free and get back to Earth.

"That is what I want to hear. Now I will give you your wish." the man replied with a grin.

0659 hours, Mars

Franklin Tomas stood as still as a dead rat. His five foot and 10 inch profile was slightly conspicuous when compared to the seven foot armored soldiers of the underground base.

Two of the armored beings passed him. Frank held his breath. Would they notice his shorter profile?

"Joss, who is this man that you met?" one of the beings asked.

Joss. Wasn't Joss with Ron. Frank was about to speak when he realized, Joss could also be the name of a soldier of the Mars base. The thought had holes in it. The 'Martians' do not speak English.

Frank said, "Ron, Joss I'm Frank."

No one answered. No one was present.

Frank turned in time to see a silver door close shut.

0752 Mars

"First of all, you must do something for me.", Isaac Mechanov continued.

"Name it." Ron replied. The thought of becoming a billionaire sounded more appealing than trying to get back to Earth.

The three men were seated in the large leather couches. The fire warmed them with its magnetic aura. Isaac Mechanov stood-his black polyester clothing and the flickering light on his face gave him a diabolical appearance. Ron didn't care. He had wanted instant wealth ever since his impoverished parents spoke of the rich enviously. As a boy, his slum, on the out skirts of Charleston, South Carolina, U.S.A., was at the bottom of a hill which was dominated by a large mansion. Countless days passed when Ron saw a helicopter take off and land on a small landing pad at the mansion. He always had desired to own one as a boy.

Over the years his hard work had taken him up the corporate ladder. His position at NASA as the captain of the NASA Mars exploration team gave him a generous salary. With this new offer he could own half of the United States of America.

Isaac Mechanov stared at the eager fool before him. This will be easy. "Ron," Isaac paused. His mind worked furiously. "I want you to bow to me."

The request was strange, but the Ron wanted the money badly.

He got to the floor and leaned forward.

"Ron, you have chosen wisely. I now confer upon you my pow-"

Isaac was knocked off his feet in an instant.

Ron was transfixed by the sight.

Joss dove for the floor, rolling behind a couch.

"Ron, come. Now!" a voice called.

Ron turned to see his Mars expedition journalist. "Frank, what did you do that for?"

"I tell you later. Hurry. Guards are coming!"

Frank stood in the doorway. His helmet was off. Just as he was about to replace it a couch moved.

Huh?

Wham.

The sixty pound couch had been thrown at Frank. It had contacted with his body sending him across the stone floor in a shower of sparks.

"No!" Ron was shocked.

Joss stood still admiring his work.

"What did you do that for?" Ron asked heatedly.

"For your protection."

"He is my friend."

Joss didn't respond. In five huge leaps he was onto Frank.

Frank, at the last moment aimed for the man's knees. His armored boots slammed into Josses knees with such a force that Joss buckled over backwards.

His next move sent his fallen opponent flying with a fist in the jaw.

Joss was out cold.

"Why did you kill the man talking to me?", Ron asked.

Frank was breathing hard. "He," he wheezed, "captured you."

"He was offering me a good deal."

"Ron," Exhale "I was told that the ruler of this base" Inhale "is located here. He is" Exhale "only going to do you harm."

"But, Frank, he offered me riches."

"It was a trick, Ron. Believe me." Frank turned quickly. "I just saw someone coming. Hide-quick."

The man in shining black armor stepped into the elegant room. Fire glistened off his armor, turning him into a specter. His heavy boots thumped heavily on the polished oak floor.

Frank was two feet away from the soldier. His gun was ready.

Apparently the commotion had alerted some guards.

Grunting, the soldier left.

Once all sound, except for the crackling fire, had ceased, Frank crawled from under the leather couch. It was a good thing it was constructed high off the ground for maximum comfort.

Ron edged out from an adjacent couch. "Now, Frank, could you tell me why you killed the man."

Frank sighed. "I all ready told you."

"You told me that a man who would give billions of dollars with no profit is trying to harm me?"

"He is trying to harm you. Ron, look what he does to the other prisoners. They have to mine the rest of their lives in miserable conditions. Does a benevolent man commit malevolent acts?"

Ron hesitated. Frank was right. The prospect of receiving Billions of dollars was too good to be true.

"Come on, Ron. We have to find Mac and get out of here." Frank replaced his helmet.

"What about Joss?" Ron stared at the fallen Russian.

"I think Joss has already pledged his allegiance to our enemies."

---

~Chapter Seven~

---

Mars 0800 hours

Ron and Frank made their way through the dim galleries silently. They both had the same thought. Joss was their enemy now. Together with Mac, Frank and Ron were the only survivors of their original crew of the Slavon I.

Mac asked Frank, "Where's Joss?"

"He is lost." Frank replied, feverishly.

"What happened? Where did you lose him?" Mac was surprised.

"He has joined our enemy."

The man rose slowly from the ground. His knees throbbed with pain-a sickening palpitation. He ignored it. Something caused him to feel exuberant. Something he could not explain.

Jossov Chenklov inhaled slowly. His mind was focused like a laser-guided bomb on one man. His only thought, Revenge.

"So what are we going to do now that; you know, Joss is our enemy?" Mac asked, hesitantly.

"We have to escape. So far no alarm has been activated." Ron replied.

"We need a plan first." Frank looked, from Mac to Ron, quizzically.

"We'll make one up as we go." Ron replied as he withdrew his gun. "Joss will wake up soon. We don't have much time."

A display of six trillion bits of information glared from a computer screen. These figures would indicate where one specified individual is located, within the inch of his actual position.

A smile spread across Joss's face. They were only 800 feet away. He closed the screen and replaced the device in his belt. His gun was fully charged. All set.

"But we can't leave him behind." Mac interjected. "He was the one who helped us escape."

"But he tried to kill me!" Frank exclaimed.

Mac was silent. Ron turned slowly to face Frank. "Frank, he did help us in the first place."

"Then why did he try to kill me?"

At that moment Ron could feel something amiss. The atmosphere of the empty stone hall was filled with an evil presence.

Frank leveled his rifle.

Something brushed his armored helmet.

Click...click...click. A pebble clattered on the stone floor.

A thought entered Mac's mind, Kill Frank and Ron. Your weapon is not to be wasted.

In one second, a man with a gun had just pulled the trigger. The gun was aiming for Ron.

Time slowed down for Ron. In one iota of time-a mere split second, Ron thought about his worst fear-Death.

He could remember as a child he had visited a battle field in Virginia. Rusty sword blades could still be found here and there. Ron's dad walked along side him. Ron had asked, "Daddy, what happened to all those people? Where are they?"

His dad answered slowly, "They are no more."

"Daddy, what happens when you die?" Young Ron asked innocently.

His Father was silent for a moment. "Ron," the man replied carefully, "you do not need to worry about that if you believe in Jesus as your eternal savior."

"What does that mean?" the little boy was confused.

"It means that you believe that Jesus paid for your sins."

"What are sins?"

"Don't you remember?" his father had asked.

Ron remembered all right. His dad had told him many times before, "...sin is all the bad things that you do." What is that supposed to mean? Ron had sat in the front row and heard his dad preach hours after hours about the God's plan of salvation, Jesus the messiah, and "religious junk" like that. He knew that the Bible was just a book of "Sunday school stories for the religious nuts." His science teacher had taught him the "truth".

Ron's mind fired like a machine gun. The gunshot was inevitable. Death is at the door. What are you going to do?

Ron replied to his thoughts, "Then I'll go to Heaven. I am not a bad person. All people are good."

'But what if you were wrong?'

"I-" He couldn't argue. Something warm like a summer breeze and gentle like a effervescent stream flowed into him.

It seemed to say, 'Ron, you need Me.'

"No." Ron replied.

'Ron, I give eternal life.'

Not those sermons again.

This must have been a mental disturbance caused by the imminence of sudden death.

'I am the Way the Truth and the Life.'

The finger pulled the trigger slowly. The trigger moved five tenths of a millimeter. Sound was extremely deep. Only two more millimeters and Ron would be finished.

"I don't know what to say." Ron replied in desperation.

'Believe. Just believe the truth. For the truth will set you free.'

Ron hesitated. "I believe that you died for my sins."

He could not believe he was doing this. Something deep within his soul told him that what he was doing was right. For the fist time in his life he was truly happy. But he was more than just happy. The sensation was beyond happiness.

The hypothetical stop watch was counting down. Ron ducked his head just in time as a beam of light pierced the air. One second had passed which seemed like an hour.

The gunman was not finished. He had missed Ron. His finger contacted the trigger once more.

Whap, Whap.

Two shots were fired in the still air, successively.

The second entered Ronald Duroy's armor at precisely 8:37 and 0.5 sec, AM, Earth time. The man fell to the ground, comatose.

Frank acted before his mind could rationally operate.

Whap, Whap, Whap.

Lasers struck the armored assassin in the chest, head, and leg. The being tumbled onto the floor: dead.

Mac was horrified. He knelt beside his fallen comrade. Removing the helmet, he looked into Ron's expressionless eyes. A feeling of malevolence began to aggrandize in the depths of Matthew-Andrew Collin Peterson (Mac). His captain was gone as far as he could tell. Frank and he would have to find a way to Earth by themselves.

It was like a fire. At 300oC, the heat was unbearable. Ron's chest ached with intense pain. He tried to move. He cried, 'Help me!', but no sound came. Ron's eyes opened. "Mac. Frank."

He saw them walk slowly away. There had to be something he could do to communicate. He had to catch up to them. With all his will power he was able to move his finger one millimeter. His whole nervous system was afire with pain. 'Dear Lord, please...help...me.'

0830 hours, Mars

Isaac Mechanov lay, as still as a fallen tree, on the wooden floor. His cold blue eyes stared into the ceiling-voids of emptiness. Something caused them to move: a movement less than a mere second of arc. His head began to revolve slowly about the cranial axis. He clenched his teeth. A hole, one millimeter in diameter, ran through his shoulder. The laser beam had seared his blood vessels. Air passed though it, smarting his wound. Isaac Mechanov slowly rose from the ground. According to Isaac's laws, his attacker will receive due remuneration for his amiable act of cordiality. (He will die.)

Everything behaved like an old computer. Time seemed to slow as a pendulum; each subsequent swing slower than the previous.

Mac and Frank plodded along though the mostly deserted base. Already they had lost two of their friends. One had died and the other had joined the enemy. Two silent men made their way aimlessly. They had to find a space craft of some kind. They had to reach Earth.

Why bother? In the short period of time they knew Ron a brotherhood had formed. It was broken forever.

After a while Mac said, "Let's find a ship." He turned to Frank, "There is nothing we can do now but escape."

"Morak, karak, si dune." Morak, come over here. Isaac spoke into the voice communication system on his watch.

"Sheck, Mon-sai?" Yes, commander?

"Contact your subordinates."Isaac continued-his voice continued in English.

"Yes, sir." The voice came through emotionlessly.

Joss continued, carefully choosing his words, "Alert the base. The three prisoners have escaped."

"Sir, one of my men told me that they have killed one of your prisoners."

"Good. Now, have them kill the rest." Isaac paused, "Forget it. I will kill them my self."

"What do you want me to do, sir?"

"Don't let them escape." Isaac terminated the conversation with a push of a button. He made his way to the fire place.

Flames whispered their approval in shifting patterns of orange and white. Isaac hesitated for a moment; his head bowed, knees bent.

"Father, bring them to the underworld. Crush their spirit. Destroy their hope. End their lives." His lips whispered.

Isaac stood; his 6 feet and 9 inch body alive with charisma he didn't possess. A smile spread across his face with a malevolent twinkle in his fiery, blue eyes. He stepped into the flames, head erect. Flames danced along his body. Fire engulfed him. Soon he was on the other side. Isaac's clothes were not even warm. Nothing had been burnt. With his head raised, he shouted with catatonic passion, "Father, I am ready."

1st century A.D.

A man was hanging from his wrists and legs, bound to a beam of wood. Blood gushed from his wrists and legs where spikes bound them to wood. He had done nothing deserving of death. He hand been silent during the trial. Why? A centurion mused. Orders were orders.

With one last breath the man died. Instantly the ground began to shake. The soldiers dropped their spears and fell to the ground, terrified. The centurion turned his gaze to the surrounding mountains. His iris diaphragm narrowed to a slit.

Boulders the size of chariots, elephants, and ships were tumbling down the mountains.

Never in my career, as a soldier, have I ever seen... His thought was interrupted by something that took the wind from his lungs.

Corpses were emerging from century old tombs in the cliffs. Their bodies were in perfect shape. By Jupiter!... He stopped himself. His green eyes shifted to the cause of the phenomena-the prisoner. Only a god could have caused this.

"Truly this was the son of God." He said quietly.

Mars 0859 hours

The darkness engulfed him. Ron stared into the stone ceiling of the Martian mining base. He was lost. There was no hope. His emotions invited the whole religious experience he had. Was it real? A face filled his view.

"Welcome." A man said.

"Who are you?" Ron stared at the face curiously. If this was his enemy Ron would have no chance of surviving.

"Can you walk?" The man asked, ignoring the question.

His blue eyes pierced into Ron as if they were searching his soul for an answer.

Ron stood with the help of the stranger. Surprisingly, he could walk.

"Where are we going?" Ron eyed the man wearily.

"You will see."

"Mac."

"Yes?"

Frank peered at the multitude of space craft that seemed to stretch for miles.

The two companions were on a high rostrum overlooking hundreds of thousands of vehicles. The rostrum protruded from a raised section of the hangar floor. An elevator, from which they emerged, was behind them. Its door closed with a hiss.

"Yes?" Mac turned to Frank with a question on his face.

"Which ship do you want?" Frank replied.

Mac held his gaze on a medium size transport ship. At least, he thought it was.

"The silver one will do. Hopefully the guards will let us through." Mac replied as he removed his helmet to wipe his nose.

"And hopefully we'll know how the pilot the ship."

Urrn, urrn, urrn... Suddenly an alarm came on.

A door closed silently behind Ron. They are closing off my escape route. He thought as his eyes shifted nervously about.

They had entered a dark, tenebrous room. Ron stiffened. The cavernous room was arranged like a football stadium. Or, it could have been a courthouse.

The man who led him turned. His face was obscured by shadows. Ron could see his mouth move. "Take a seat."

Ron sat incontinently.

"Your friends will be joining you shortly." The shaded face intoned and in a moment he was gone.

Ron's mind was slow to analyze the situation he was in. Darkness, light, darkness, big room, darkness, His mind cogitated. Thoughts came as a stream of unstructured nouns.

Ron was scared. His brain felt like it had been degaussed. His emotions were succinct and clear but his memory was erratic.

He closed his eyes mechanically. Sleep. Need sleep.

Frank turned 1800's. The elevator door had opened. Clanking metal came through the still air- the sound of armor in motion. Soldiers. There was no time to think.

Frank jumped off the edge of the rostrum, pulling Mac with him.

Mac screamed in his helmet.

Frank could not understand why he jumped. His had touched a small button on his gun.

Zip

A metal hook attached to a thin cord had shot from his gun.

Crack

It entered the wall of the cavern.

Now what?

The last centimeter of cord reeled out from the gun.

Click

The gun slipped out of Frank's hand.

The rope's not long enough! His mind screamed.

He was falling. The ground was only fifty feet away.

What Mac saw, in five seconds, stimulated more terror in him than his worst night mares, as a child.

Frank rushed for the edge of the rostrum and dove off while the elevator door opened, revealing a group of twenty armored soldiers, totaling five seconds.

Before Mac could raise his gun to fire twenty high energy laser guns had their sight on him. His armor would be of no use against such fire-power.

"Drop your weapon." A soldier bellowed.

Altitude was rapidly decreasing.

This is the end. Frank thought. Now I am going to see if there is an afterlife.

The ground approached Frank as a meteor, blurring his vision.

Frank remembered a friend who told him about how to be a Christian. He had ignored the man, passing it off as religious "hocus, pocus".

Dear, Lord. I have done wrong. Please forgive me and let me not go to hell. What a childish prayer. Frank thought, but I feel much like one now.

The ground was ten feet away.

Suddenly all light was swallowed up.

Dimensions were gone.

Limitless darkness engulfed Frank.

Am I dead? He speculated. How could I think if I am dead, though?

Suddenly, like a lightning bolt, light flooded the darkness in scintillating brilliance.

He was alive.

Ron did not notice when a seat nearby squeaked. His eye lids were closed: visual neuronsinactive.

The man nearby grunted as guards placed a retaining belt around his rib cage. He was fastened securely, just like Ron.

The armored guard finished the task with punctuating grunt.

Mac's eyes darted about timorously. They came to rest on Ron.

What Mac saw fomented terror.

Frank was not unconscious, dead, or in a surreal state. He was enveloped in a dark tunnel, sliding downwards at a fast speed.

Soon it leveled out and he came to a stop.

This must be a ventilation shaft. Frank speculated.

Warm air rushed by him. When Frank removed his helmet his skin blistered with intense heat. "Ouch!"

Quickly, he replaced the armor.

This has to be a shaft for heating the mining base. I must be very close to the furnace since it is so hot. Frank mused.

As he groped in the darkness his hand contacted with a horizontal bar. His foot found a similar bar. Now what am I to do? Mac is most likely captured. I need to rescue him.

Suddenly an echoing clanking sound entered the tunnel.

Ron's eyes appeared as if they were dormant. Mac was sure they were the eyes of a corpse.

"Welcome, Mathew. It has been an unexpected surprise." A disembodied voice in Mac's mind caused him to tense.

"There is no need to worry, Mathew." That was his first name. For years Mathew Andrew (Last name starting with C) had been called by a nickname formed from his initials. How would anyone know his real name that he had never met?

"Who are you?" Mac asked, guardedly.

"There is no need for an explanation. I am you master now."

"What do you want of me?"

"Your life, Mac."

Mac stared nervously around the room, searching for the source of the voice.

Color began to fade and a strange electrifying sensation replaced it. A kaleidoscope of images flashed before Mac's brain in three-dimensional relief.

Mac was standing at the fork of a path. One branch of the path was paved with luminescent material. It was as wide as a four lane highway. The other branch of the path wondered through a dense jungle with chatoyant, reflective eyes peering through the dense foliage.

A glowing man suddenly appeared. His face was handsome with a bright smile across it.

His clothes reflected every photon that contacted with it.

"Mac, come with me."

He stepped onto the wide, glowing path.

Mac had a feeling deep within his soul that something was not right.

"Come." The man whispered.

Mac took a step forward.

"It's all right. Come."

The man led Mac to a city filled with theaters, video games, them parks, and all kinds of amusements.

Mac had occasionally listened to Rock music but he had never really enjoyed it as much as classical music.

Rock music played over the speakers with voluminous, intense, sensual palpitation causing Mac to plug his ears.

People danced in sync to the devilish pulse like mindless somnambulists.

The man with glowing clothes grinned, revealing snake-like fangs. His pupils began to elongate vertically. In a few seconds scales covered his skin as he transformed into a hideous snake.

"You are mine." He hissed.

Before Frank could think, he was grabbed onto the bar and groped for a second parallel bar. Finding one, he realized that he was on a ladder. Just as Frank disappeared into the darkness of a vertical maintenance shaft armored guards pored into the tunnel. "Barchewa, karacka dumatra." Search for the man. A captain bellowed. "Kolon komp fi-lon dumtra be-los." If he escapes you will take his place as a prisoner. _ Suddenly the surroundings changed. Mac blinked his eyes twice as a large amphitheater materialized. Ron stared with consternation at his surroundings as if he had moved out of a hypnapompic state and found himself in unfamiliar surroundings-which he did. "Where am I?" he asked as his mind began to become more alert. "You're in the optorium of the Martian mining base, exactly three kilometers beneath the Martian surface. You have been in a state of cortical visual and auditory stimulation by means of electro-magnetic energy fields for a period of thirty minutes." a voice replied before Mac could offer an explanation. Mac turned to see a tall, shadowy form of a man. "You men have been in my sights for some time. When you happened to drop by in your pitiful NASA spacecraft, I decided to give you a treat. What do you think of it?" The deep masculine voice inquired. Ron turned stiffly and stared into the darkened face of the silhouetted man. "What are you getting at?" The man stepped out of the shadows. His cold blue eyes were the windows into the soul of a psychopath. His face was expressionless, never the less. "Ronald Duroy, I think we can both agree that the time for games is over. You must choose which side you're on-the one which brings you life," the man paused with a smile on his face, indicating his side, "or the one that brings you death." Ron remembered the sudden shot, his reminiscence There was no way he could have survived the shot unless a supernatural being had protected him. With a resolving stair Ron replied, "Sir, I choose the one who brings true life to those with none." Ron stood tall. "I chose Jesus, my savior and God." The smile evaporated from Isaac's face. He was lost for words. His eyes stared at Ron evenly. As with an electric impulse, Isaac Mechanov whispered loudly, "Then die, Christian!" Isaac reached for his side arm. Ron tensed. Mac's stomach tightened. Bang. _ Frank was stuck. The maintenance shaft had come to a dead end. He could hear the sound of heavy, stocky, armored feet macerating gravel as the soldiers search for him.

Frank groped in the dark for an opening or latch to a door.

Whap

A gun went off striking the metal shaft one ten centimeters away from Frank's head.

In the light of the momentary laser Frank saw what he was looking for.

With gun in hand, jaw firm, and his emotions calm, Joss stepped out from behind a wide supporting pillar.

Isaac's gun was on the floor with a large hole seared into it.

Joss aimed the laser pistol at the bewildered leader.

"Joss, what is the meaning of this?" Isaac croaked.

"You're finished, Mechanov." Joss replied, coolly.

Somewhere in the realm between hatred and rage, Isaac lingered. He had been betrayed by one of his best students. His face, however, was emotionless. "You have won, Joss. You are the master now. Do with me as you wish." The man bowed his head.

Joss stood still contemplating his next move.

Isaac knelt on the floor with his hands raised.

Little did Joss know that Isaac was sending an inaudible command through hundreds of feet of solid rock to his subordinate.

"Morak, I need you to…"

Should I kill him? Joss contemplated.

Joss had been deceived into something his Russian, orthodox Christian father would have condemned as devilry and paganism. Joss remembered the time his father told him: 'I had just left the church when a young communist boy offered to sell me tarot cards…' he had gone on to say, 'ever since then, when I have seen the boy he looked so dark and sad. Jossov, I do not want you to get involved with the occult. Great evil will come of it.'

Joss had thought his father was a religious nut until he saw a symbol on one of Isaac's books; a goat head with the sacred cross of Jesus inverted and branded to its forehead. After that Joss could not follow the psychopathic man who introduced him to the 'universal conscience'.

Joss stared at the pathetic figure on the ground.

He aimed his pistol at Isaac's head.

"Don't fire! Drop your weapon. Now!" A voice commanded.

Ron could see the surroundings blur into a cacophony of dimensionless color. He could faintly hear voices then all became nullified.

"Good job, Morak. Take Jossov to the pit mines now. He will pay for his treachery."

"Yes sir. Come with me you scum." Morak bellowed as he callously prodded Joss forward.

"Not so fast." A voice demanded.

Morak stopped in his tracks.

"Release him."

"I-" Whap. Morak fell to the ground, dead before he could continue.

Frank aimed the pistol at Isaac. "You seem to have a lot of these lying around." He referred to the pistol. "I happened to find one. Now sir, put your hands above your head."

Mac had been running from the snake in the surreal world. He had come to a cliff. Thousands of miles below, a lake of effervescing lava hissed menacingly.

"Do not think you can escape me, Mathew. There is no hope for you." The giant snake hissed from behind.

Isaac focused to his inner levels. His telepathic guides will be of assistance in the dilemma.

'Yes.' He replied. 'I will do your bidding.'

"Ok, Joss what are we going to do with him?" Frank asked.

"Frank, how did you find this room?" Joss asked, curious, ignoring Frank's question.

"I followed the computer map. Joss what are we going to do with the man?"

"Frank, have you ever wondered what it would be like to control everything?" Joss asked with a spontaneous diabolical grin.

"Joss, what—" Frank could not contain the onslaught of terror that began to fill his mind as he stared with mouth agape at the empty spot Isaac had been standing at a moment before.

Joss moved closer to Frank. He could not understand why he was acting this way. Thoughts began to multiply in his mind with evil connotations. He tried will all his will to restrain himself.

"Joss, where did the man go?" Frank exclaimed.

With a mind of its own Joss's body lunged; hands extended to Frank's throat.

"Joss!" Frank shouted as he instinctively pulled the trigger of the laser gun.

Whap.

"You can either join me or join the lava lake. Which do you chose?" The snake monster hissed.

Mac turned. Could I take on the monster? He thought.

"Well?" The monsters eyes narrowed with its question.

Joss felt intense heat for a fraction of a second. Photons are atomic particles with no mass. This provides them with extreme energy because there is no weight to be accelerated. Joss thought about this for an instant before he fell to the ground in a heap.

"No!" Frank had a mix of emotions as he stared in shock at what he had accomplished.

"Franklin, you have been of assistance to me and I thank you. Now will you drop your weapon?" A resonant voice echoed through the amphitheater with malevolent authority.

Frank was speechless. A friend who had become his enemy became benevolent and then back to his malicious ways. He was holding the gun that had taken out his friend.

"No!" Frank screamed with rage. All his hate centered on the man who had ruined Joss.

"If you do not drop it I will take the lives of your other friends." Isaac intoned.

"How?" Frank could not see any soldiers, guns or even the evil man.

"I have placed a computer chip into Mathew and Ronald's brains. The physiological magnetic resonance cerebral control symbiotic microchip is used by the Monsian elite force." The voice paused and with linguistic momentum continued, "The computer chip is accessed via a trans-galactic radio signal from the third planet from the Sun, Mons."

"What?" Frank was confounded with the new information he was getting.

Isaac continued with even more power, "Yes, our planet, Mons is the third from the Sun. It is the planet where you met our leader. He has the control chip which transmits the radio signals. To put it in terms that you plebians understand, A cell phone could be used as an example. A radio signal goes from a cell phone to a cell routing station. From there, it goes to a cell tower and from the cell tower to a cellular region that is local to the tower. Our system works similarly, except we use computer chips instead of cell phones and our leader controls us by a signal from his chip to our chip and from our chip to our brains. All I have to do is send a signal from my chip to your friends' chips and they will be dead in a split second."

"What am I to do, then?"

"Give me the gun. No harm will come."

"Fine." Frank had lost. There was no hope of escape now. Mac and Ron were tethered to the Mars base forever.

He saw a door open in his peripheral vision.

Wait. Since the evil man who controls the Mars base can take the life of Mac and Ron by his conscious thought via a computer chip, then, if the computer chip was destroyed I could… Mac thought.

Armored guards were flanking Isaac as he stopped in front of Mac. This fool will be like the rest of them. Isaac thought as he reached out his hand for the laser gun. "Hand it over and no harm will—"

Whap.

Frank's shot interrupted Isaac's monologue.

The laser penetrated Isaac's forehead. Layers of protective skin, bones, and cerebrospinal fluid were rendered defenseless against the intense beam of light. In milliseconds the computer chip was fried and all the control, power, and preponderate influence of Isaac Mechanov were lost along with his life.

Now what would he do? Frank had twenty armored soldiers, with rapid fire laser rifles, to deal with.

Mac awoke from his vision. The monster has dematerialized and had been replaced by a strange room.

Ron opened his eyes lethargically. He could see his friends around him and two bodies on the ground. Incontinently, his heart raced. Armored beings with laser guns stood only a few feet away. His helmet was off and his identity as a prisoner was revealed.

To Frank's surprise instead of the whap of firing laser guns he heard the clank of metal as it clattered onto the solid stone floor.

The armored soldiers of Mons were disarming themselves!

Beneath the cold armor a human breathed, thought, and lived. Their black jumpsuits wrinkled and undulated in the still air as the last of their armor was removed.

"Where am I?" A soldier with brown eyes and short dark hair asked Frank.

Why do they ask me when I should be asking them? Frank thought.

Surprised, he hesitated to answer.

"Where are my home and my family?" A green eyed man with blond hair asked from behind Frank.

Frank was confounded. "I—I don't know." Hum. Their problem must be a memory loss due to the inactive brain computer chip. He thought. Suddenly Frank was relieved to know that his enemies were men with families just like him. He could not wait to get back to his friends on Earth.

Mac could see five feet away men talking with Frank—men who were once enemies, but now—friends. For once in a long time he smiled and then laughed.

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~Epilogue~

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A hideous groan echoed throughout the dark chamber as a dim path of light appeared, leading to an open door. Standing in the entrance, a black silhouette hesitated in trepidation. An entrance to a room void of life, dark as death, and as cold as the polar seas, presented its self like an open mouth. Few men have passed through and fewer still have made it out the doorway alive.

"What do you want?" A powerful voice demanded, echoing in the chamber.

"O great one, I would like to ask an audience with your supremeness to discuss an issue." The silhouette trembled slightly.

"Audience granted." The commanding voice dropped the eloquence and asked harshly, "What is it?"

The foot steps of the subordinate clicked on invisible stone as the doorway closed with a loud, echoing clang.

The former speaker breathed deeply and said, "You're your plan for the termination of the terrestrial prisoners was destroyed."

Silence followed. The subordinate continued, "The human astronauts have escaped from your Martian base. There is no way to-"

"I know." The autocrat interrupted.

An awkward moment followed and the subordinate resumed, "If they reach Earth our secret will be revealed. Our plans will be destroyed."

The hideous voice of the Superior replied coolly, "No they won't. I have made sure of it." The evil grin of the latter speaker could almost be sensed with these words, "Earth will pay for their foolishness in sending astronauts to Mars. Morku, prepare for the invasion. We will teach Earth a lesson that she will never forget."

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The Characters

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Ronald Duroy:

~NASA Admiral 1st class. Captain of Slavon 1.

Joss (Jossov) Chenklov:

~Former president of Russia.

Mac Peterson:

~NASA Admiral 2nd class. Copilot of Slavon 1. Second in command.

Franklin Tomas:

~NASA Expedition journalist/ Astronaut.

Alfred Morely:

~NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) President/Chairman.

Dr. Kevin Kramlin:

~NASA director of life support systems and space ship management and astrophysics.

~Former professor of astrophysics at the University of Orlando, Florida.

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Acknowledgments

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I would like to thank my Creator for the great help He had given me and for the guidance He gave me in writing this story. It could not have been without Him. I also would like to thank my dad, P. G. for his editorial corrections.

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To the reader:

I hoped you have enjoyed this novel. It takes place in a radius of 141,000,000 miles from the Sun which is the mean distance from Mars to the Sun. You may notice that three planets are involved. Two types of people live and breathe within our biosphere: the unsaved and the saved. Two types of people live on two different worlds: the aliens and the compatriots. This is the structure of the Doomsday.

Prepare yourselves for the second book. You may note the parenthesized sentences. They give you a better understanding of the story and various facts. There is no end to the facts that can be learned and there is no end to the creation of God. He is to be praised for the wonders of His creation. He only could have made this book possible. I hope find life in Him. He never leaves us nor forsakes us. Praise His name.

~J. G.~

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Here is an excerpt from the next book, The Doomsday 2: Awakening:

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It was a calm day. The placid lake glistened with a scintillating reflection of the sun. A small yacht glided crisply though the copious water. A sound, resembling that of a high altitude jet airliner, screamed through the still air. It was of no concern to the pleasure seekers. It was probably an airliner. The sound increased from a mere roar to a thunderous sonic boom. People began to look skyward in incredulity. The mysterious cause of the noise began to materialize in the stratosphere. A ball of fire roared through the clouds on a crash course for the Swan, a beautiful, million dollar yacht. The falling object's shadow could already be seen expanding over the boat rapidly. "Attention, do not be alarmed. Please proceed in an orderly manner to the life boats provided you." The screams of passengers struggling for positions on the lifeboat drowned out the voice of the ship's captain. They scurrying passengers were too late. With a deafening roar, the unidentified object punched the water with extreme ferocity, barely missing the yacht. A huge wave swamped the decks.

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Notes

1 These are estimates of speed. The anti-matter engine is powered by a kind of exotic matter. Exotic matter is matter with negative energy. The reaction between positive and negative matter produces a great amount of energy. This is purely theoretical.

2 A pressure suit is a suit that keeps the pressure of the body uniform. When one travels in space, as a result of the force of the moving ship and the stationary position of a human's body , the human is forced against the wall of the ship and crushed. The pressure suit supplies a sufficient force to keep force of the motion of the ship and the human body in equilibrium. Mars's atmosphere is 60% less than the Earth's.

4 Storms frequent the Red planet. Most are deadly. In 1971 Mars was enveloped in dust clouds. Nothing else was to be seen. A global storm was occurring. Mariner 9, a robotic machine, was used to investigate the fourth major satellite from our sun . The storm lasted for some months. When the dust cleared volcanoes, craters, and a huge canyon system that would go from one end of the United States to the other (about 3,000 miles) were seen. This information was obtained from the book, The World Book of Space Exploration; Space Travel. It was authored by a team of scientists.

5(Note: Some scientists believe that Mars, in it's past, had running water. The streams could have dried up due to a temperature change. Water found at the poles might account for the strange stream beds. Could water recently account for the channels? Scientists have found little water at the Martian poles (in one theory water from the white capped poles on Mars produced numerous channels). However ground water is possible to consider. One would wonder why none of it came up and lakes could form.

6Mars has a climate and topography that resembles Arizona, U.S.A. It is dry and barren. Some individuals have wondered if Mars could have had a different climate.

7 Negative energy is the theoretical energy source thought to hold the normal positive energy in check. When positive energy reacts with negative energy an explosion of tremendous magnitude (size and power) occurs.

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