Page 30 of A World of Worlds


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  Dryer’s team disembarked onto the surface with Jax in tow. The ground was crystalline as far as the eye could see, all made up of a brilliant emerald rock that contrasted with the deep crimson of the sky. Ragged pillars of crystal jutted out all over the place. The surface of the planet was littered with the wreckage of ships that had been impaled on the green spikes. It had taken the Grey Mouse hours of circling before it found an area flat enough to land on.

  “Watch your step,” Dryer told his men as they followed him. “This terrain is hazardous. The atmosphere here is almost non-existent. You won’t last long if your suit is breached.”

  The men all acknowledged him. Dryer had the coordinates Richard Pierson had given them programmed into his datapad. The ship had landed as close to the coordinates as possible, but it was still a considerable march to reach it. As they approached their destination, the group froze.

  A large circular crater dropped away before them. The ground at its base was flat and level. In the center stood a massive monolith, jutting thousands of stories into the air. It was made from the same emerald material as the surface of the planet with a massive symbol none of them recognized carved onto one face.

  “Just a wild guess,” muttered Dryer. “That’s the broadcast tower.”

  Jax couldn’t argue with his logic. “Come on,” he said. “Time to interrupt the regularly scheduled program...”

  The group made their way down the slope of the crater. As they approached the monolith, it appeared to grow even taller and more oppressive. A walkway lined by large emerald crystals, jutting up like columns from the ground, led to a grand archway into the structure.

  There were no doors to the entrance. The team walked in, the lights on their weapons revealing their surroundings. In contrast to the green crystal outside, the interior of the monolith was made of veined grey rock. It was all chipped and crumbling, but still standing against the test of time. Majestic pillars lined the massive hallway inside. The veins in the rock glowed, giving an ethereal greenish-blue aura to the room. The group’s footsteps echoed as they walked.

  Jax had never seen anything like this in his life. The sheer majesty of the architecture captivated him. He gazed at the walls, which had drawings etched into them, the crevices of which glowed as well. There were pictures of what looked to be planets, surrounded by large spaceships. Images of alien soldiers clad in armor, with guns, killing other non-descript beings. Then, there was the same symbol that was carved into the face of the monolith, beams shooting from it, crushing all the aliens. Jax gazed at the drawings, trying to make sense of them. He figured it stood to reason that images would be a way of communicating to other races. But the images themselves were not very clear.

  The group made their way further into the structure until they came to a large set of doors.

  “Open it,” Dryer ordered.

  Two of his men rushed forward and pushed against the large double-doors as the rest of the group readied their weapons. A thick fog rolled out of the doorway, carpeting the floor around them. The inside was pitch-black, the darkness only broken up by the lights the group shined into it. Dryer checked his datapad.

  “It’s cold in there,” he said. “Sensors are reading fifteen degrees Fahrenheit.”

  “Interesting,” Jax replied. “Let’s see what needs to be kept on ice.”

  The group made their way in cautiously. There were alcoves in the walls, containing statues of aliens. They were broad, with long snouts - similar to those of elephants - which hung down to their chests. They stood seven feet tall, their skin a light blue color which seemed to catch the light. Their foreheads sloped back, ridges of bone protruding from them. And they had large eyes, all of which appeared closed. One of the men got close to a statue, examining it. He poked it with the muzzle of his rifle.

  “Ugly mothers,” he muttered…

  …right before the statue’s hand reached out and grabbed him.

  The soldier screamed as the alien’s fingers dug into his chest. The group turned and aimed their weapons at the creature, but it held their man like a shield before it. The soldier’s body convulsed as the alien pulled him tightly against its chest so he faced outward.

  Jax looked in horror as the man’s face lost all color, his mouth hanging open, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

  “Help… me…” he rasped.

  “Johnson!” Dryer called out to his man.

  “Not… Johnson…” the soldier said. “Help… me…”

  “Wait!” Jax shouted, keeping Dryer and his men from firing. The alien that held the soldier had its eyes open – large, cat-like eyes. It wasn’t a statue after all – it was alive, subsisting in some type of cryogenic suspension that Johnson’s prodding must have interrupted. “I think… I think it’s communicating…”

  “Yes…” Johnson replied, speaking for the alien.

  “Who are you?” Jax asked.

  “Prisoner… of the… signal…” it replied.

  “What is the signal?” Jax asked.

  “A powerful race… from long ago… set out to… conquer the galaxy…” it said. “Built this place… to prevent resistance…”

  “So they could travel using the N-wave, and no one else,” Jax muttered.

  “Yes…” it replied. “They’re… gone… but their prison… remains…”

  “Can you help us?” Jax asked. “Can you take us to the signal?”

  “Yes…” it said, nodding.

  The alien stepped forward with great difficulty, ice breaking from its body as it moved. It carried Johnson in front of it.

  “You’re seriously trusting this thing?” growled Dryer as they followed. “It killed one of my men!”

  “He might not be dead,” Jax whispered in reply. “And right now, it’s the only thing that knows what we need to destroy.”

  They walked down the hall. Jax eyed each alien in every alcove, wondering how many of them were actually alive. They followed the alien to the center of the monolith – a great, cylindrical chamber that shot straight up, seemingly going on forever. A crystalline structure stood in the middle of the chamber, vibrating ever so slightly. As they approached, they saw bones and decomposing bodies melded with the crystals – a grim graveyard of those who had come before them.

  And there, at the structure’s base, Jax saw his father.

  “Dad!” he cried, running forward, ignoring Dryer’s shouts of warning.

  Richard Pierson’s body slumped against the structure, unmoving. His suit’s helmet was off, his skin pale and white. Jax knelt beside him and shook him gently.

  “Dad?” he asked, hoping beyond hope he was still alive.

  His father’s eyes opened. They were cloudy, but they seemed to recognize him.

  “Jax…” he wheezed.

  Then, his father’s eyes transformed into green crystals. His mouth opened and an other-worldly voice spoke through him.

  “Aggatay. Zeppa Mine. Detaor Simpata. Aggatay…”

  His father’s hand shot out, trying to dig into Jax’s chest. Jax struggled to escape its grip.

  “Kill… it…” the alien said.

  Bullets tore into Richard Pierson’s body.

  “No!” Jax cried as he stumbled backwards, looking at Dryer in shock.

  “He was already dead!” Dryer yelled. “You saw it! Something had taken control of him. And the same will happen to us if we don’t blow this thing!”

  Jax looked at his father’s body. His heart grew cold as he saw this once great man reduced to a thin, bullet-riddled corpse. He steeled himself and decided to save his tears for later. He gazed up at the crystal structure, angry that it had robbed him of his father once more.

  “Fine,” he said. “Blow it to hell.”