Location: Crystal Cave Mountain, south-western side of the Dry Sea
Sol: 206
Josh and Justin had moved the unconscious Commander Fitzgibbons into a comfortable corner of the cave and placed him onto a blanket they'd brought from the Rover. Josh got out the first-aid kit and dressed his former Commander's bruises. He'd battered up the man's face pretty badly by knocking him out, but luckily hadn't caused any serious damage.
Fitzgibbons' entire body bore signs of other, old injuries, possibly sustained in the crash, as well as a pale, skeletally-thin appearance, indicating he was suffering from cachexia - a total state of starvation. Much of his greyed hair and several of his teeth were missing, probably from malnutrition, making him look like a concentration camp survivor. In addition, he seemed to have aged significantly, almost as if it had been years, not merely six months since Josh had last seen him. His clothes were worn-out and filthy, and he was long overdue for a shave, indicating he'd been living rough for weeks.
Looks like he didn't receive the same hospitality I did, thought Josh, wondering, just how could Commander Fitzgibbons have ended up here? Ever since his discovery of the Nimh-One's decaying wreck back in Thorn Valley, he'd thought Fitzgibbons and the rest of his crew to be long dead. What could have prompted his former Commander to probe the electromagnetic storm in one of the ship's pods, ending up in the future? After all, hadn't he been the one who'd rejected Josh's idea to do just that because it was too dangerous? Could there be other survivors too? Or was Fitzgibbons alone?
"Is he going to be all right?" Elizabeth asked Josh, looking at Fitzgibbons' haggard appearance with concern.
"He's more or less stable for now," said Josh, giving Fitzgibbons a shot, "He's suffering from severe malnutrition that needs proper treatment. We'll have to consult with OWL, assuming he lasts until we can get him back to the Hab. God almighty, I can't believe he survived out here without food for so long!"
Going through his Commander's pockets, Josh found a familiar crystalline cube - a hologram data cube, used for storing video recordings by the Nimh-One's crew. Could this hold a clue as to what Fitzgibbons was doing here?
Reaching for his kit, Josh unpacked a portable field computer. Custom-built to interconnect with every piece of hardware used on the Nimh-One's mission, it included a slot for playing the hologram cubes. Although not as good as playing it using the superior hardware in the ship's Observation Room, it would do. Inserting it in the slot, Josh brought up a menu on the screen, which Josh realised was a downloaded copy of the Nimh-One's video log - including the missing fragments that hadn't survived the passage of time.
Eagerly scrolling down the list, Josh activated one log entry dating nine-and-a-half years after the crash. Fitzgibbons' face, aged and tired, but not yet hollow and starved, appeared in hologram mode above the cube.
"The repairs to the ship's remaining Scout are nearly complete; all the necessary modifications to make her hold three men can start within a week. It seems we might have a shot at rendezvousing with the rescue ship in orbit when they arrive. Meanwhile, intelligence levels in our hybrid rodents continue to grow alarmingly, as is their size. It's only a matter of time before they start competing with us for resources, even control of the ship. Even the men are starting to get suspicious. I've tried persuading them it's some kind of freak anomaly caused by exposure of the bio-payloads to radiation leakage from the crash, but they're not buying it, especially Dr Boniface. I've ordered all animal specimens contained and if necessary destroyed. Whatever happens, Dr Valentine's secret must never be exposed..."
The Rats and Josh looked at each other in shock. The answer to the question that had been bothering both parties since the truth of this planet's beginnings had been revealed - why had NIMH created these intelligent rodents in the first place? - was finally at hand. It seemed Josh's own former employer, Dr Thomas Valentine, CEO of NIMH Industries, had known this would happen all along; a secret he'd apparently entrusted to Commander Fitzgibbons. Josh activated another log entry.
Fitzgibbons' face reappeared, but this time he seemed to be in a state of panic and sporting a bleeding lip and a black eye, indicating the aftermath of a struggle. There was trouble.
"The rats are out of control. The secret is out! I was finally forced to admit the truth that Dr Valentine indeed intended to weaponize these genetically-enhanced rodents in secret on the new world. Now there's no turning back for anyone anymore. We picked up the rescue ship's transponder signal yesterday, enroot to Nimh-Beta. But, I fear I may be the only one who'll be allowed to go home in the end, in order to keep the secret from ever reaching Earth..."
Josh needn't hear the rest of it. So, all this time, his mission had included a secret objective, which neither he or anyone else on his crew had known about: the transportation of a secret genetic weapon in the form of a tampered bio-payload, to be unleashed onto the uninhabited Nimh-Beta, its designated testing ground, where it would safely materialise, away from public knowledge or the risk of escaping.
An unlikely chain of events, including his disappearance through the electromagnetic storm, the crash of the NIMH-One, and the desperate efforts of his crew to survive had unintentionally unleashed the 'weapon', paving the rise of the intelligent talking Rats of Nimh-Beta. It also explained where the Rats' fear and hatred of humans had originated from; NIMH had created them to use them as a means to an end and then dispose of them. The realisation that his Commander had known this would happen and hadn't said anything filled Josh with disgust. And the worst part of it was that Fitzgibbons might have had a hand in sealing the doom of his remaining crew in order to keep Dr Valentine's dirty secret from coming out!
He turned to look at his former Commander, still lying unconscious on the ground. When that man woke up, he thought angrily, he'd get the full truth out of him, one way or another!
Not too far away from the mountain, a garrison of able-bodied Rat mercenaries were marching across the desert, on a secret mission. Leading the troops from inside his rabbit-drawn carriage was Warren T Rat, former Governor of Minsk and now Jenner's personal advisor and right-hand Rat. With almost as much power as his master, Warren T now had full authority over all of the Empire's provinces, in charge of collecting taxes for his King or enforcing Jenner's law as he saw fit, spreading fear and oppression among nobles and peasants alike with his personal Guard of mercenaries. However, a Rat driven entirely by greed and ambition for power always has bigger goals on his agenda.
Several days ago, while on a tax-collection errand in the western provinces, news of another flying machine from outer space, similar to the fugitive human Anderson's, had been reported sighted in the sky, heading out towards the desert. Seizing the opportunity, Warren T had assembled his mercenaries and followed the direction of the pod's flight path, hoping it would lead them straight to the fugitives' hideout. However, he'd deliberately refrained from passing word of any of this on to Jenner; it just so happened, Warren T was hoping for something more than just the reward on the fugitives' heads.
As they marched over a ridge, an officer called a halt. Warren T, who'd been dozing in his carriage, bored and irate at their lack of progress, was on his feet in an instant. Sure enough, looking out to where the officer was pointing, he saw what they were looking for. Fitzgibbons' pod and Josh's party's Rover were clearly visible down in the valley, close to the foot of the mountain. The fugitives were somewhere down there all right. Warren T smiled. It seemed he'd be getting his prize after all...
Commander Fitzgibbons was dreaming; no, he was having a nightmare. Bright, spinning lights obscured his vision, broken by moving shadows. As his vision slowly cleared, he realised those lights were in fact reflections on the crystals of the cave where he'd been hiding; and that the shadows were people - no, they were more of those monstrous rats! They'd found him! Panic struck him like a bolt of lightning and he sat bold upright...
The Rats drew back as their guest woke with a start. Fitzgibbons sat up like a Jack-in-the-box, eyes wide as saucers at the sight of them. He scurried backwards until he was flat against the wall, like a frightened animal finding itself cornered. Seeing how scared he was, Elizabeth knelt down to meet his gaze.
"It's all right, we're friends," she said in a soothing voice, like that Josh had seen her use with her children to calm them, "Are you feeling all right...?" The sound of her voice only seemed to drive the already unstable Fitzgibbons berserk. With a demented snarl, he sprung at Elizabeth, grabbing her with both hands by the throat. Elizabeth struggled, unable to breathe.
"Let go, you're chocking me...!"
Josh sprang into action, lunging at Fitzgibbons and forcefully prying the man's fingers away from Elizabeth's throat. It wasn't easy; his Commander, although aged and skeletally thin, had an amazingly strong grip, born out of fear and madness, so it took several seconds before they managed to free Elizabeth. Josh slammed Fitzgibbons back onto the ground, pinning him, while Justin pulled Elizabeth away.
"Get a grip on yourself, sir!" he shouted, shaking Fitzgibbons by the shoulders, trying to snap the man back to his senses, "It's me, sir, it's Anderson!" It took a good while before Fitzgibbons finally realised who it was. He gazed open-mouthed at his former crewmember, whom he believed to be long dead.
"Captain Anderson?" he croaked, unable to believe his eyes, "No, it can't be. You're dead...!"
"It takes more than an electromagnetic space storm to take down Josh Anderson," said Josh, in spite of himself, "Just like you, sir." Memories of the incident from so long ago seemed to resurface in Fitzgibbons' mind and his face became contorted with fury.
"You're on report for disobeying orders and launching a Scout without permission!" he snapped, in his old pompous tone Josh remembered too well, "You're hereby confined to quarters until we return to Earth, pending a court-martial!" The insane look in his eyes told Josh isolation and space fatigue had sent his former Commander completely around the bend. The man didn't even seem to realise he'd been catapulted 2,000 years into the future and that his command no longer existed.
"Too little, too late, sir," said Josh dryly, "That mission's long over."
Turning to look at Fitzgibbons again, he saw the man's attention had shifted back to the Rats, almost as if, in his insane delirium, he'd just remembered they were there. His eyes were wide with terror.
"It's all right, sir, they're friends of mine," said Josh, trying to calm Fitzgibbons before he went berserk again, "They're not going to hurt you... Sir?" Suddenly, he realised Fitzgibbons was sobbing. Josh was shocked to the core. Pompous, no-nonsense, iron-fisted Fitzgibbons, actually crying?
"It's all our fault! It's all our fault!" he wept uncontrollably, "That experiment was never meant to go this far...!" As if on cue, Josh held up the incriminating hologram cube he'd found in Fitzgibbons' pocket.
"This is all Dr Valentine's work, isn't it?" he growled in Fitzgibbons' face, "What did that madman have you bring all the way out here, huh? What was his game, Fitzgibbons? And why, why the hell weren't the rest of us told?!"
"You don't understand, it was a strictly confidential US military secret of the highest level..."
"No shit," said Josh with disgust, "Is that why you abandoned your own crew to die on this god-forsaken planet?" Realising there was no way out and fearing retribution, Fitzgibbons spilled the beans.
He told Josh how Dr Valentine had approached the US military while the mission was still in early development, with a proposal: to transport a top-secret bio-payload of genetically enhanced rodent embryos, the bricks and mortar of NIMH's latest pet project: a new hybrid species of genetically-engineered super-sized, super-endurable and super-intelligent animals that could be trained for use in combat situations.
Unlike drones, which were vulnerable to hacking, or soldiers, who were vulnerable to injury or disease, these genetically enhanced rats would be impervious to any such limitations and totally expendable. However, even in the late 21st century, cloning was still a highly controversial science, especially when it came to using it in animal warfare. No government would ever give Valentine permission to set up a testing ground for such an experiment, anywhere on Earth. Unless, of course, the testing ground was in international waters, where no country held jurisdiction, like, say, on another planet.
At the promise of securing a big weapons contract with NIMH, the US military had agreed and assigned Commander Fitzgibbons to lead the mission. He and he alone would have any knowledge of the true nature of the bio-payload.
According to mission perimeters, all of the ship's bio-payloads, including the animals, would be distributed across the surface of Nimh-Beta as part of their terraforming operations, prior to the crew's departure. If the experiment was successful, the rats would thrive there in secret, waiting for the next mission to arrive, to study them proper and then proceed with the next phase: sampling their new weapon.
Of course, no one had counted on the mission going awry when the Nimh-One crashed, stranding the crew. With no other choice if they wanted to survive long enough to be picked up by Nimh's second interstellar mission, the survivors were forced to tap into the payload for food, creating some rudimentary livestock out of the rodents, unaware of their true potential.
What started out as inexplicable levels of intelligent behaviour and growth rates among the specimen, eventually evolved into a full-scale onboard crisis, when the rats, now beginning to master speech and discovering their own strength, began to fight back against their masters. Unable to keep them contained much longer, the three surviving members of the Nimh-One's crew, which included Commander Fitzgibbons, Flight Surgeon Boniface and Dr Schultz had began planning an escape by repairing the ship's last remaining pod.
Sometime in their eleventh year on the planet, the rescue ship was finally sighted. Unable to establish contact because of their damaged communication systems, other than transmitting their homing signal on the ship's radio beacon (the same beacon that had led Josh to Thorn Valley), they'd realised the rescue ship was on a trajectory leading straight into the same electromagnetic storm that had swallowed up Josh's pod!
With no other option left and still under his original orders of preserving the secrecy of Nimh's illegal experiment at all costs, Fitzgibbons had abandoned his crew at gunpoint, launching in the modified pod by himself. Unfortunately, he was too late to rendezvous with the rescue ship, which was swallowed up by the electromagnetic storm, along with the pod.
Coming out on the other side, Fitzgibbons had barely managed to pilot the crippled Scout back through re-entry, crash-landing in the desert. Unable to contact Thorn Valley and with his pod totalled, Fitzgibbons had thought it was surely the end, but then discovered, to his utmost bewilderment, that the planet now had a breathable atmosphere. The rescue ship hadn't made it through the storm and was lost with all hands.
For months, Fitzgibbons had managed to survive by sheltering in this cave, which provided him with shelter and water. But his meagre food supply from the pod's survival kit had run out after a few weeks of severe rationing. Afterwards, all he had to eat was a primitive lichen species he'd found growing on the bottom of the lake, but that had little to no nutritional value to sustain him. Little by little, his strength began ebbing away and total isolation began driving him to madness - until he'd been found by the same man whom he'd given up for dead long ago.
Josh was outraged. While he sympathised for all the suffering his Commander had endured whilst stranded out here in this wasteland all alone, Josh now knew Fitzgibbons was heavily implicated in a sinister plot he'd never imagined - and that he'd dragged his own crew into it with him. Their mission had never really been about peaceful exploration for the benefit of all mankind, but rather an elaborate experiment for the production of the perfect new weapon - something that went totally against Josh's beliefs. The very thought of the Rats of Nimh-Beta, who had become his friends and comrades, being used as some trained instrument of war made his sick. Toppled with the fact that Fitzgibbons had abandoned Gordon and Schultz to die back in the present, to silence them, made him furious.
"You knew this would happen all along and you never told us, you bastard?!" he shouted at Fitzgibbons, "You let us play right into Valentine's insane agenda and then sold us out! And for what?! To protect that madman's image as mankind's so-called greatest benefactor!" He was edging to strike Fitzgibbons, but seeing the man sitting there, frail and half-starved and with his sanity almost gone, forced him to get his emotions under control. Instead, he pulled out a handful of protein-tubes and unceremoniously tossed them onto Fitzgibbons' lap.
"Eat up, sir," he said, "You'll need to get some of your strength back before we can take you back with us." Fitzgibbons needn't be told twice; grabbing the tubes and ripping them open with an animalistic hunger, he sucked them dry in seconds, eating up every last bit of the life-giving paste he could squeeze out. Bernard looked at Fitzgibbons with pity; not long ago, he and his wife, had been facing a similar situation, being left to slowly starve to death at the bottom of a well by Warren T Rat, until Josh had found them.
Leaving Brutus to keep an eye on Fitzgibbons, the expeditionaries turned their attention back to their original objective. They'd found enough water for the trip home, but they still hadn't found the tomb. Looking around the cave, they couldn't see anything that remotely suggested there was a royal tomb hidden down here. No treasure, no Stone of All Knowledge, nothing. It seemed they'd hit yet another dead end.
"I don't understand it," said Justin, "How could someone hide an entire tomb without leaving a single trace? A royal sarcophagus, a king's fortune, not to mention that confounded last piece of the Stone, can't all just be concealed in plain sight! Where could it be? On the bottom of the lake?"
Inspired by Justin's words, Josh turned back to look at the water, thinking. He picked up the old Mouse warrior's helmet Fitzgibbons had been wearing. Obviously, this didn't come from the man's pod. Studying it more closely, Josh noticed its iron plating underneath the gold lining was badly rusted; corrosion often caused by being submerged in water for a long time... It seemed Justin might be onto something after all. Only one way to find out.
"I think it's time for a little scuba diving."
Obviously, they had no scuba gear handy, as diving equipment was not something usually carried on space missions. But, they did have a spacesuit, courtesy of Commander Fitzgibbons. Contrary to popular belief, spacesuits could function just as well underwater as they could in outer space, which was why EVA training back on Earth was mostly done in swimming pools. Being airtight, they were likewise watertight and all of their external electronic components were insulated. All it needed was some added ballast in order to get someone to the bottom.
Grabbing Fitzgibbons' suit, Josh got to work. Unpacking his tools, he began repairing and modifying the spacesuit for water. The battery was recharged by drawing power from a small power-bank he carried in his toolkit; the empty O2 tank in the life-support pack was replaced with an emergency oxygen bottle they had in their first aid kit. For ballast, he used several chunks of broken crystals collected in sample-bags and tied to a utility belt around his waist, much like a diver's weight-belt, as well as a couple more strapped to his boots to keep him upright underwater. A few strips of duct-tape to seal up the cracks on the damaged faceplate, along with a new screen for the instrument pad, a quick systems diagnostics to confirm everything was working fine, and he was good to go.
The Rats helped him suit up. Josh stepped into the water, wading out into the lake until the water was up to his shoulders. No sign of leaks in the suit. He turned to look at his friends.
"Good luck, Josh!" they called, "Take care!"
"Please be careful, Josh!" called Elizabeth, looking worried sick. Josh blew her a kiss. Then he stepped into deeper water until his head vanished beneath the surface. For a few seconds he could still hear his friends' voices through the comms link, but then it faded to static as the water disrupted communications. The headlights of his suit revealed an incline of slimy rock and crystals, leading downhill into complete darkness. Watching his footing, he began his descent.
It wasn't long before he came upon more pieces of Mouse armour plating, lying scattered all over the incline. The entire bottom of the lake resembled a junkyard of suits of armour and weapons, their gold linings still gleaming like brand-new after all these centuries. It seemed the Mice's army, having done their duty after burying their King, had discarded their armour, which they didn't need anymore and which could be used to identify them as enemy soldiers who might know where the tomb was, before departing, covering their tracks.
Venturing further down, Josh came to a dead end; the bottom of the lake suddenly ended on the edge of a deep crevasse. Looking down, it seemed to go on for miles, straight into a black, bottomless abyss. No way could he make it down to such a depth in his spacesuit. Even if it didn't implode, the water pressure down there alone would surely kill him. And if the Mice had ditched the treasure down there, it could never be recovered.
Looking down again, setting his suit lights on full luminosity to pierce the darkness, he noticed a ledge partway down the crevasse wall. On it, he could just make out the outline of what looked like a rectangular-shaped box, resembling a coffin. A sarcophagus! At long last, they'd found the tomb! Then came the hard part.
Josh estimated the ledge to be about 200 feet down. His spacesuit could probably still function at that depth, but that wasn't the problem. As a man who regularly worked with pressure suits, Josh knew a few things about scuba diving, including the danger of nitrogen narcosis.
The deeper and longer a man ventured underwater, the concentration of nitrogen in his blood increased, until it literally started poisoning him. Symptoms resembled those of heavy drinking, beginning with mild dizziness, disorientation, tunnel-vision, hallucinations and inability to focus, followed by unconsciousness and finally death. The only way to prevent narcosis from kicking in at that depth was by breathing a special cocktail of mixed gases, including oxygen and helium. Unfortunately, he had no helium and it couldn't be manufactured artificially; he could lower the partial pressure of nitrogen in his suit's air supply to buy himself a little more bottom time, but it didn't get any better than that. No, he thought, this would require some careful thinking.
Taking a few pictures of the ledge and the sarcophagus, and picking up a sword from the discarded Mice armours to take back as a sample, he turned back up the incline towards the surface. His friends were waiting for him. Bernard gasped as Josh presented him with the sword he'd found. The iron blade was all rusted, but the gold hilt still gleamed like knew.
"Definitely from Igor Mousekewitz's army," said Bernard, examining the engravings on the sword, "I can't believe I'm actually holding a weapon that belonged to someone who was once in the servitude of the First King! What else did you find?"
Josh told them about the sarcophagus he'd seen down on the ledge. "The thing looked pretty solid. I don't think I'll be able to get it open underwater with only hand tools, certainly not in the short time allowed me down there. I'd be dead from narcosis long before I could cut it open."
"Can't you come up, recover and go down again?" asked Brutus, clearly not catching on. Josh shook his head.
"I do that, decompression sickness would kill me instead." Besides the danger of nitrogen narcosis, there was likewise the risk of decompression sickness to consider; ascending from a great depth without safety stops to decompress, Josh could get a potentially fatal embolism - nitrogen bubbles in the blood. Any one of those becoming lodged his heart or his brain and he'd have it. And if they included safety stops, plus several hours of recovery time after each dive, the job could take forever, "No, the only way is to somehow bring that thing up to the surface."
"How? We don't have any pulleys or heavy lifting equipment," said Ages in exasperation, thinking of the salvage system he'd invented to salvage Josh's pod from the lake months ago. Josh considered. The only piece of hardware they had that was remotely capable of lifting something that heavy was the winch on the Rover; only problem was, there was no way they could drive the Rover up the mountain - the terrain was too steep -, much less get it through the cave's narrow opening. The solution was obvious: disconnect the winch from the Rover's mainframe and cart it up here.
Leaving Elizabeth and Ages with the sedated Fitzgibbons, Josh took Justin, Brutus and Bernard and they hurried out of the cave and back down the mountain. They found the Rover and Fitzgibbons' pod where they'd left them that morning, both completely undisturbed.
Josh got to work without delay. Using a wrench, he unfastened the winch, motor and all, from the Rover's front and loaded it onto a small cart used for moving bits of equipment around, which he'd brought from the Hab. They also loaded some titanium polls used for reinforcement and scaffolding, spare cable, and all the tools they needed. Justin looked at the setting suns on the horizon.
"It'll be dark by the time we get back," he said, "We'll spend the night in the cave and get to work in the morning." Josh was a little concerned about leaving the Rover, their only means of getting back to Thorn Valley, unguarded overnight, but didn't make a fuss about it. After all, what should he be worried about? That someone might come along and steal it? They were hundreds of miles from the nearest outpost, in the middle of a desert, where no Rat Patrols or bandits would ever venture, or so he thought.
Carting their equipment along, they made their way back up the mountain to the cave, unaware that they were being watched...
Nearby, concealed behind a large rock, Warren T and his mercenaries watched as the fugitives left. Although too far away to eavesdrop, they could see they were headed up the mountainside, bringing all that equipment with them. No doubt they'd found something of interest up there.
"We'll camp here until morning and then follow them. No reason to interrupt them in the middle of their work," said Warren T smugly, "Exploiting their labours will save us a lot of trouble." He greedily rubbed his hands together. Soon, the final piece of the Stone would be his! And, as a bonus, he'd have the pleasure of personally delivering that accursed human who'd ruined him and mutilated his hand to his master for the reward, after he'd forced him to watch all of his friends being killed...
It was dark by the time they returned to the cave. Above their heads, the nebulous Nimh-Alpha, two-thirds of it in shadow, shone its ominous orange glow in the night sky. All of the equipment was carted into the cave and down to the lakeshore, where Ages and Elizabeth had been busy setting up camp for the night.
As they had nothing to build a fire with, Josh instead set up a small portable infrared heater for them to crowd around for the night. Although not as warm or as comforting as a roaring campfire, it would at least make the chilly night bearable.
Josh handed out rations and the group sat down to dinner, feeling more cheerful that they had in days, now that they'd finally found the tomb. All except Commander Fitzgibbons that is, who sat away from all of them, not saying a word, almost as if in a catatonic state. Josh wondered if his Commander would ever recover and what kind of future lay in store for him here if he did. Unlike Josh, Fitzgibbons was a husk of his former self, half-crazed, stripped of his command, and with a loaded conscience. He would no doubt be a burden and Josh sincerely hoped he could shield his friends from any possible harm that might come from that walking powder-keg of a man.
Work resumed on schedule the next morning. The winch was set up on the lakeshore and anchored down tightly with stout pegs planted into the ground. Using a utility battery, Josh was able to splice the circuitry of the winch's motor, giving it some juice. With their makeshift salvage operation all set up, they were ready to commence.
The first job was to clear a path for the sarcophagus to be dragged along the bottom, all the way to the shallows. The bottom of the lake was littered with all the discarded suits of armour and weapons the Mice had left behind, which had to be cleared away, along with any other obstacles.
Josh, Justin and Brutus, stripped to their waists, tirelessly took turns diving down and moving all the bits of gold armour plating aside, clearing a trail all the way down to the edge of the crevasse. They found many interesting items among the junk, including helmets, swords, daggers, chariots, as well as plenty of personal effects of the soldiers. One particularly interesting find was a suit of armour lined with beautiful gold decorations, which seemed to have belonged to an officer or royal official. This masterpiece, when brought to the surface in a net, along with several other items they'd found, was identified as being of great historical importance by Bernard, as it belonged to none other than his own ancestor.
"Igor Mousekewitz was a favourite of the King's, besides being his general," he said, nearly driven to tears at the sight of the custom-made armour, still perfectly preserved after a thousand years, which had been an honorary gift to Igor for his many years of loyal service to his king, according to Bernard. "He remained true to his duty to the end, hiding his master's tomb out here where no grave robbers who'd want to desecrate it would ever find it."
Spreading out the different pieces of the armour on the rocks to clean them, they found a message engraved on the inside of the breastplate, left by Igor:
'Only those who treasure that other than gold shall ever know the secret. You, unworthy intruder, who dare come this far with intentions of greed, beware. You disturb the eternal rest of my King at your peril!'
The expeditionaries looked at each other in confusion. The tomb had been found all right, but so far there was no sign of any treasure. The only place they hadn't looked was inside the sarcophagus on the bottom of the lake, and they wouldn't be able to until it was raised to the surface...if they managed to raise it at all. With the path finally cleared, it was time for the hard part.
The cable from the winch was unwound from its spool and lowered into the water. Suited up in full gear and laden down with tools, Josh made his way underwater, down the incline, until he got to the edge of the crevasse overlooking the ledge where the sarcophagus was.
Fastening a couple of ascenders to the cable, Josh began making his way down the crevasse like a mountain climber on a cliff-face. With every step, he could feel the water pressure building outside his suit, making his ears ache. The buzzing of multiple warnings from his suit's computer could be heard over the comm, as it automatically adjusted the partial pressures of nitrogen and oxygen in his air mix, to compensate for the depth.
At last, at 185 feet down, his feet touched bottom on the ledge. According to his suit computer, he could hold out for no longer than six or seven minutes before narcosis began kicking in. There was no time to lose.
Up this close he could see the box was indeed a sarcophagus, lined with similar gold engravings, like the suits of armour. This thing alone was a priceless work of art, Josh thought. The sarcophagus, he noticed, was loaded onto a large cart, which was probably originally towed by giant rabbits. It seemed the Mice had pushed the cart into the water, letting it roll down the incline and over the edge of the crevasse, intent on ditching it in deep water, where it could never be recovered. Only by the sheerest luck had this ledge kept it from disappearing into the abyss forever. And now, the cart, nicely preserved just like its cargo, would make the job of bringing their prize to the surface a lot easier.
Placing several glow-sticks on the surrounding rocks to help him see what he was doing, Josh to work. First, he threw several nylon straps over the sarcophagus, tying down securely to the cart, as the original rope ones had long since rotted away. Then, he secured the hook of the winch to the bolt-hole in front of the cart, where the traces and harnesses for the rabbits were usually attached. It seemed the thing would hold together. Just as he'd finished making sure the cart was properly aligned with the crevasse wall, his suit's computer alarm sounded again. His bottom time was up. Wooziness and a sense of euphoria were already starting to kick in, as his body slowly succumbed to the effects of narcosis.
His job complete, Josh dropped his weights and, grabbing his ascenders, kicked for the surface. But not all the way, not yet. At the top of the crevasse, 50 feet shy of the surface, he consulted his computer again. According to the readings, he was out of the danger zone, but needed to wait 15 minutes to decompress before he could ascend any further, followed by a second, briefer safety stop at 20 feet, and finally a period of non-diving for the rest of the day. And, as Josh had planned, those fifteen minutes wouldn't be wasted.
While debating on how to raise the sarcophagus last night, it had occurred to Josh that it would be a monumental challenge winching the sarcophagus up from the ledge without some kind of aid. With the tether from the winch digging into the edge of the crevasse would put a lot of strain on the cable, maybe even snap it. That was why he would have to build a davit.
Using a couple of the reinforcement poles he'd brought down there for that purpose, he got to work clamping them together, improvising a triangular assembly; then, attaching a pulley to the assembly for the cable to be fed through, his makeshift davit was ready. Taking his latest contraption, he placed it in position over the edge of the crevasse, using boulders to anchor it down. Flimsy and rickety, to say the least, and certain to fail after any prolonged use, but that didn't matter. Once the cart and sarcophagus were out of the crevasse, they could winch it up to the shallows on its own wheels. As long as the davit held together for two minutes, it would do the job.
Having used up his 15 minutes, Josh made one last check on the equipment, making sure nothing was amiss, and left to return to the surface. Little did he know that his friends had had an unwelcome guest come pay them a surprise visit in his absence...
Outside the cave, Warren T Rat and his henchmen had finally made it to the top, where the entrance was. Warren T wore his usual sinister smile he always had when confronted with imminent success achieved by dirty means - and bloodshed. At long last, he'd found the tomb! Only the minor inconvenience of disposing of that human and his fugitive friends remained, and then the prize was all his! And this time, he wouldn't be taking any chances.
"Captain, have several of your men guard this entrance," he told the mercenary commander, "Tell them, if anyone besides us comes out, kill him. If we're not back within an hour, seal up this cave with anyone still inside it." He took out a sand-clock from inside his robes and placed it on a rock, letting the sand trickle down, "The rest of you with me. Let's go!"
After Josh had gone down, the Rats sat waiting for their friend to return. With Justin and Brutus gingerly unwinding the tether, Elizabeth sat with Bernard, worried sick. Ages was buried in his own work, examining and cataloguing all the artefacts they'd collected from the bottom of the lake. Only Fitzgibbons sat like a zombie, awake, but barely registering anyone, his expression vacant.
Elizabeth kept staring at the water where Josh had disappeared. Although he'd reassured her the dive would take no longer than 30 minutes and he'd be back by her side in no time, every minute felt like a lifetime. What her beloved Josh was doing was so scary, so incomprehensible. Why, he was actually breathing underwater! Then again, so were all of his miraculous feats that never ceased to impress them. In a way, he reminded her of Jonathan, who'd never hesitate to brave the unknown; the very reason why Nicodemus had chosen him for the mission to find Thorn Valley. The thought of something happening to him, like it had her late husband, made her shudder.
Noticing her distress, Bernard moved to comfort her. "It's all right, child," he said gently, "Josh is brave, but he's no fool; he wouldn't do anything foolhardy that would put his life in danger."
"Thank you Bernard," said Elizabeth, gratefully hugging the older mouse. In truth, it didn't make her feel any more reassured, but at least it comforted her.
"He cares for you," Bernard continued with a reassuring smile, "You're a very lucky girl to have him. The Great Mouse of Minsk was certainly smiling on you the day he brought him into your life..."
"Just like the Great Owl in all His graces is smiling on me today," interrupted a familiar oily voice. Whirling round, the party came face-to-face with several thuggish-looking soldier Rats, bearing spears and crossbows poised in their direction. And accompanying them was none other than...
"Warren T Rat?" gasped Justin, staring back at their old nemesis, whom they'd last seen sitting behind bars in the Minsk prison, now free once again and back to his old mischief by the looks of it, "How did you find us?"
"Because of you and your friends not taking enough steps to conceal your tracks, I suppose," said Warren T smoothly, "You saved us a lot of trouble, finding this place for me. I thank you."
"You'll eat your words, when I cut off the rest of your fingers, traitor!" growled Brutus, moving forward to strike Warren T, but his soldiers aimed their weapons in his direction, threatening instant death if he, or anyone else, took a step closer. Warren T shook his head in mock disappointment.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he said, mocking Brutus, "Such a temper, Sergeant. Must it always end in violence? After all, we're supposed to be civilised gentlemen."
"You hypocrite!" shouted Bernard, disgusted by Warren T's false civility, "You're the one to talk about civility when you've tortured and murdered so many innocents and stole their fortunes! You killed my sister, left me and my wife to die buried alive, sold our son into slavery… Where's your shame?!" Warren T turned to look at Bernard, his face curling into an expression of utmost hate. Angrily, he struck Bernard across the face with his cane.
"No lowly mouse scum ever talks to me with such disrespect!" he hissed, "I made a big mistake by not killing you and your entire family long ago Mousekewitz! I'll be sure to remedy that very soon, make no mistake! But first I want my prize. Where is it?" Bernard glared defiantly back at Warren T, saying nothing. He would rather die than surrender his people's legacy now, not when he'd come so close to finding it at last. Losing patience, Warren T seemed about to strike Bernard again, but was interrupted by one of his soldiers.
"There's someone in the water, sir!"
The mercenaries instantly trained their weapons on the water, ready to intercept whoever it was. At that moment, Josh resurfaced. Warren T's face curled into a hateful sneer; he had a personal score to settle with this accursed human who'd mutilated his hand. It would be his pleasure to make him and his little friends suffer now!
Josh frowned as he opened his faceplate, laying eyes on the reception committee awaiting him: several soldier Rats, many of which he recognized as former members of the Governor's Guard back at Minsk, holding his friends at sword-point. And towering above him, arms crossed triumphantly, was Warren T Rat.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the esteemed human Commissioner-turned-traitor," he sneered, "I must admit, I'm surprised we meet again and here of all places. I thought you and your fellow fugitives would have gone to ground by now, seeing as there is a price on your heads."
"Speaking of heads, have you checked yours lately?" growled Josh menacingly, pulling a pickaxe from his utility belt, "Because it's going to look terribly unsightly when I bury this pickaxe in your skull!" He was about to lunge at Warren T, but the soldiers instantly tightened their grip on their prisoners, blades drawn, threatening instant death if Josh dared even try to carry out his threat. Warren T smirked.
"Resistance is futile, human," he said, "Should you so much as lay a finger on me, your friends will be cut up into little pieces – starting with the charming young lady over there." He gestured at Elizabeth, who was being held by a thuggish soldier. Josh's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"If you hurt her, I'll rip you apart, you sick bloody bastard…!"
"Tut, tut. A gentleman using profanity in front of a lady? How disgraceful," said Warren T mockingly, clearly enjoying the taunting, "But, unfortunately, I haven't got time to educate you in better manners, human. I want my treasure and I want my piece of the Stone!"
"Well, you can want it all you want, but you're not getting it. No one is. It's down there, in an abyssal trench, completely out of reach," Josh smirked. "The whole thing's a dead deal." As long as Warren T and his thugs didn't know they had a plan to raise the sarcophagus, the prize would remain safely out of reach. Unfortunately, Warren T didn't seem to be buying the bluff as he stared at the winch and all the equipment they'd set up.
"Then I strongly suggest you figure out a way to get it up, now," said Warren T, losing his smile, "It wouldn't be in anybody's best interests if you were to fail now, least of all your own. There's a generous reward for anyone who brings in the murderer of the late King Nicodemus, or any of his associates. If I can't have the Stone, then I can always settle for the reward money instead. King Jenner will pay a king's ransom if I deliver him not just you, but the whole caboodle!"
"Isn't that what you're going to do to us anyway?" asked Josh, who had a bad feeling that Warren T wasn't interested in bargaining. He'd just get what he wanted and then turn them in to Jenner, if not kill them outright.
"Oh come now, there's no need to be so rash, Anderson," said Warren T silkily, "I have no interest in what you've done; as far as I'm concerned, the world is far better off without that pathetic old fool anyway." Brutus's face became contorted with fury at hearing his sovereign master's memory insulted, but Warren T ignored him.
"All I care about is that last piece of the Stone," he told Josh, "Seeing as Jenner's lost the other two pieces makes that last third piece beyond priceless. So here's the deal: you get me my piece of the Stone and I'll let you all go free. We'll part company without violence or bloodshed and each of us go our own way. I'll even lie to Jenner on your behalf and tell him I never saw you. What do you say?"
Personally, Josh wouldn't touch any deal the likes of Warren T would throw at him with a barge pole; but, on the other hand, that scumbag would go at any lengths to get the Stone, including killing them all if necessary. Of course, if he went back on his word and handed them over to Jenner once they got him the Stone, it would all be over. Attempting to resist would be equally fruitless; Warren's thugs outnumbered them two to one and Fitzgibbons' gun was back in its survival kit, which was hanging on the cave wall nearby and out of reach. Fearing his half-crazed Commander might go berserk again, Josh had personally made sure to keep it well away from the man, ironically leaving him unarmed when he needed it the most. The way he saw it, this might be their only chance of getting out of this mess in one piece. They could always get the Stone back later. Sure enough, Elizabeth looked at Josh pleadingly.
"Please do what he says, Josh," she said, "The Stone isn't worth our lives; our children need us more than we need it." Resigning himself to the inevitable, he turned back to Warren T.
"Very well, I accept," he said coldly. Boy, did Warren T smile from ear to ear!
"I'm glad to see you're willing to do business," he said, holding out his hand to shake, but Josh didn't take it. Forced to bargain with a murderer was hard enough, but to shake his hand too? Like hell would he take that kind of insult! Warren T frowned at Josh's lack of manners, but shrugged it off. He took a seat on a nearby rock. "Now then, you and your friends get back to work. History awaits us all!"
With Warren T's thugs standing guard all around, making sure nobody tried anything, and their master sitting smoking his pipe, Josh and the others got to work. At last the winch was ready. Josh connected the battery, powering it up.
"You aren't just going to hand the Stone over to that scoundrel?" asked Bernard incredulously, "You promised you'd protect my ancestor's legacy!"
"Right now, my first concern is making sure Fievel and Tanya see their father alive again, as should be yours," said Josh sharply, "And Elizabeth's children, their mother. I'm sorry, there's no contest."
"No talking!" barked one of the mercenaries, kicking Josh in the shin, "Get back to work!"
Josh powered up the winch motor. The cable reeled itself back in, stretching tight against the heavy weight on the other end. For a few seconds nothing happened. Then, inch by inch, it began to move…
Underwater, the cart containing the sarcophagus began to move. Tilting into a precarious, near-vertical position on the end of the cable, the straps Josh had used keeping the sarcophagus from falling off the back of the upturned cart, it was slowly pulled up the crevasse wall; as it righted itself on level ground at the top, it pushed the makeshift davit Josh had set up away, let it fold backwards onto itself and clearing the way up to the shallows.
As it gradually made its way uphill towards shallower water inch by inch, suddenly, the left wheel drove over a rock and into a hole on the lake bottom, becoming tightly wedged.
On the lakeshore, the salvage party saw the cable tighten and stop dead. The winch's motor began making terrible grinding noises, about to seize under the strain. Josh tried backing it up and reeling it in again, but the damn thing wouldn't budge.
"Damn, it's stuck!" Josh cursed, "Someone has to go down there and free it."
"But you can't go back down there again so soon, Josh," protested Justin, "You said you'd get narcosis…"
"Will you kindly cut your argument short and get on with solving the problem?" interrupted Warren T impatiently, "Time is money." Justin shot Warren T an incredulous look.
"You can't make him go back down there!" said Mr Ages furiously, "He'll get sick and die! That would be murder!" Warren T however was unconcerned.
"Details don't concern me, you old fool, only results do!" he said coldly, "The agreement was the treasure and the Stone for your lives. If Anderson needs to risk life and limb to honour his end of the bargain, then so be it." The group was incredulous.
"You heartless beast!" cried Bernard. "You don't care about the treasure at all. You just want to see him die!"
"Please, don't make him do this!" begged Elizabeth, close to tears. She desperately grabbed Warren T's arm, pleading with him, "Please, at least give him until tomorrow to fully recover…!" Warren T responded by furiously slapping her across the face and knocking her to the ground.
"Never dare touch me again, you filthy Mouse!"
"You son of a bitch!" With a roar of rage, Josh lunged at Warren T and punched him hard in the face. The evil Rat staggered backwards, clutching his blooded face. Before he could do any further damage however, several of Warren's mercenaries restrained him.
Warren T sat up, nursing his bloodied mouth. He glared at Josh. He couldn't let this go unpunished! Turning, he grabbed the dazed Elizabeth. Grasping her by the hair with one hand and using the other to pin her arms, he forced her head into the water. Elizabeth struggled frantically, quickly running out of breath, but Warren T was too strong for her.
"Let her go, you bastard!" yelled Josh, watching his beloved Elizabeth being drowned before his eyes, "I'll kill you, Warren T! I swear to God, I'll kill you…!" He struggled tooth and nail to break free, but Warren T's thugs held him too tightly. Elizabeth's frantic struggles began to diminish. The sadist Rat smirked in satisfaction.
"If you can't help me recover the Stone, then you're no use to me," he told Josh, still keeping Elizabeth's head submerged, "Useless things are a waste of space and therefore disposed off. Now then, Anderson, are you ready to do your duty like a good soldier?"
"All right, I'll go! I'll go!" shouted Josh, "Just let her go!"
Just a second before Elizabeth would lose the battle and drown, Warren T pulled her out, letting her breathe. He unceremoniously tossed her into the arms of Bernard and Mr Ages, who quickly bent her over, letting her cough up all the water she'd swallowed. Luckily, she hadn't been hurt, just badly frightened. Not sparing her a second thought, Warren T turned back to Josh. He picked up the suit's visor and shoved it into the man's arms.
"Get moving," he ordered, "And don't you dare fail, or you'll find all your friends on the bottom of that lake before the day's out!" Josh fixed Warren T with a deadly glare – the same one he'd given Castor many months ago.
"You're dead, Warren T," he growled softly in the Rat's face, "I'm going to kill you personally for what you just did to Elizabeth! Just you wait!" Warren T had to suppress a laugh; after all, what did he have to fear? This time he was in full control here, not this pathetic human who had the nerve to make threats. Instead, he spat at Josh right in the eye.
"You, human, are nothing but the lowest of scum; even lower than the Mice filth you rub shoulders with," he sneered, "You'll never fit into this world; history will bury you and the traitors who follow you forever, while Rats like me will always reign supreme!" In the back of his mind, Josh swore he would live to see Warren T eat his own words.
Suiting up again, he made his way back underwater, following the tether. His air supply read 42 minutes left; but his bottom time, with only a 20-minute break to recover from the last deep dive was only 17, and with only a maximum depth of 40 feet, or else risk decompression sickness. As long as he didn't exceed those limits, he should be fine.
Approaching the cart bearing the sarcophagus, he saw the left wheel had fallen into a hole on the bottom of the lake, immobilizing the cart. Using the same utility poles he'd used to make the davit, he fashioned a pair of crude levers and got to work trying to pry the wheel out. It wasn't easy; and not just because the cart was heavy.
Picking up a shoulder-plate from one of the many suits of armour littering the lake floor, he dropped it into the hole. Rather than simply sink to the bottom, he watched as it was caught in a strong current and dragged along, like debris going down a drain-pipe. Curious, Josh shown his flashlight down the hole. Sure enough, it led down into a long tunnel that seemed to go on forever. In the distance, he could just make out what looked like a beam of light coming from somewhere. Could it be another opening leading out somewhere on the mountain? But whatever it was, there was no time to think about that now. Time was running out for both his friends and himself.
After several futile tries, he finally managed to shift the jammed wheel out of the hole and back onto level ground. Giving the tether three tugs to signal that everything was in order, he kicked for the surface. But not to rejoin his friends, not yet…
Back on the lakeshore, the Rats, seeing Josh's signal, powered up the winch again. The tether stretched tight again, but then began to move. It was free! The sarcophagus was coming up! Brutus leaned over to whisper in Justin's ear, so that Warren T's thugs couldn't hear him.
"You do realize, once they have the Stone and the treasure, they're going to kill us anyway?" he said, "When they open that sarcophagus might be a good time to try and make a move. We each grab a weapon from the Rat nearest to us and strike fast and hard. If we catch them by surprise, we might be able to even out the odds before they can take up arms." But Justin shook his head.
"It's too dangerous, with Biff and Old Goat caught right in the middle of it." Any soldier worth his salt knew the likes of Warren T's guards wouldn't hesitate to use helpless non-combatants like Elizabeth and Mr Ages, maybe even Bernard too, as hostages at the slightest sign of resistance. "Besides, even if we take them all, they're probably many others still waiting outside. We'd be trapped." He turned to look at the water, "Josh, I hope you can come up with another of your brilliant ideas soon or we're all down the cat's throat."
The tether continued to reel itself back in; everyone held their breaths, staring down at the water. Suddenly, the top of the ancient sarcophagus broke the surface of its watery grave like an awkward hippo rising from the depths of its watering hole for a breath. The winch pulled the cart out of the water and onto the lakeshore.
Both parties stood marvelling the casket of the First King of Mice, finally seeing the light of day again after being lost into oblivion for over a thousand years. Its texture was all slimy and the once-polished brass was stained green from corrosion, but the beautiful gold engravings still shone like new. Bernard bowed his head respectfully, in honour of the memory of his people's long-deceased leader.
"All right, no time to waste on idle formalities," interrupted Warren T, unable to hold his patience any longer, "Get out your tools and get that thing open!"
Using crowbars and hammers, the Rats attacked the sarcophagus, trying to pry it open. It was far from easy; the casket was sealed tight, like a safe, stubbornly refusing to open. It took the combined strength of Justin, Brutus, Bernard and several of Warren T's strongest Rats before the airtight seal finally cracked with a faint hiss and the sarcophagus opened.
The Rats lifted the lid off of the casket. The inside of the sarcophagus was bone dry; even after being submerged in water for over a millennium, not a single drop of water had penetrated. Inside the sarcophagus, lying in state, with his arms crossed over his chest was the embalmed body of an elegant-looking Mouse.
Although the dead Mouse's flesh had shrivelled and cracked over the centuries, most of his brownish fur was still nicely preserved. His silk robes likewise looked like they'd come out of the tailor's shop, still good as new. And, clutched in the Mouse's embrace across his chest was a triangular-shaped oilskin package. But nothing else. Not a trace of gold, not a single jewel, nothing. Warren T's thugs were puzzled.
"What is this?" demanded the mercenary captain, "We were promised gold, not a stuffed dead Mouse! Where is the treasure?" The Rats furiously began pawing around in the sarcophagus, looking for some secret compartment they might have overlooked. Nothing. Not even the body had a single item of value on it. It was as if they were looking inside a pauper's grave, rather than a king's. All of the mercenary Rats were shouting and swearing. It seemed they'd all been duped by a thousand-year-old lie. The First King's legendary treasure had never been found because it had never existed to begin with.
"You see?" said Brutus, raising an eyebrow to Bernard, who seemed to be struck dumb with disbelief, "It was all just a stupid children's story." The mercenaries seemed ready to tear each other apart. Surprisingly, Warren T, although mildly surprised, wasn't all that disappointed, as he laid eyes on what he'd come here for.
"Stop behaving like a bunch of drunkards in a brawl!" he shouted, reaching out and prying the oilskin package out of the dead Mouse's rigid grip, "The real treasure is right here, gentlemen!" Laughing greedily, he tore up the oilskin, but what did he find inside?
Wrapped inside the package was something that looked like a piece of the Stone, only it wasn't the genuine article. Rather than being made of nickel and gold, this was made of cheap clay; and the engravings were just a painted checkers pattern of different colours, bearing no text at all. The Stone was a fake!
For a split-second Warren T was struck dumb with shock; then, with a roar of rage, he slammed the fake piece of the Stone on the cave floor, shattering it. Bellowing like a deranged madman, he drew his cane-sword, pointing it at each of the prisoners in turn. His henchmen, following their master's leads, also drew their weapons.
"Out with it!" he hissed, "Did you think you could fool me that easily? Now, where's the Stone?! Where's the treasure?!" he demanded. Nobody answered him, feeling just as baffled at this unexpected development as he was. Warren T began to lose whatever little patience he had left.
"You tell me where my Stone is, right now, or you'll all die slowly by savage torture!" he threatened, "And that accursed human leader of yours will be first… The human!" he exclaimed, only then suddenly realizing he'd forgotten all about Josh, who still hadn't come back, "Where is the human? Find him, you fools!"
"I'm right here, Warren!" growled a soft voice from behind. Whirling round, Warren T came face-to-face with Josh, Commander Fitzgibbons' gun clutched in the man's hand and aiming directly at his head. The tables had just been turned.
Author's note: My apologies for the delay, but work has been keeping me very busy lately. Hopefully, now I can resume all my stories. Thank you for bearing with me all this time. As always, enjoy and please review!