Meltdown Ophilion - Book One

38_DEEP UNDERGROUND

Orion instinctively took his medallion from under the light, durable fabric of his jacket. He fingered it for a few seconds then gazed fully on it in the light of the projector. It was still there – the feeling of hope, the connection to an alien ship far above, in the asteroid belt. The Antarion. He hoped they were aware of them, entombed as they were between two mechanic fields and a scrap metal barge.

But there was still an exit: the way they had entered. They could return. The Elen Tron would be waiting for them. Orion looked to his left at their only other source of light – a haze of artificial luminescence between jagged metal. He had a chance to retreat – they had a chance to call this off and let the aliens deal with it – allow Destiny to make of their world what it would. Orion replaced his pendant and drew in a deep breath. Destiny, Arthur had told them, is a choice.

"What does the reference number mean," Jenna asked? "JT-16. We've never seen a reference number on a projection before."

"I don't know," Celli responded, "it could be a passage or a gate or something."

Orion activated the searchbeam strapped to his forearm. It penetrated only twenty meters into the field, being obstructed by debris. The others watched with him, observing what they could of their eerie surroundings. Orion took the first step. They began gingerly picking their way through the lost museum of ancient technology, feeling that at any moment something might spring out at them from behind an engine or a transport or a droid. Nothing did. There was no indication of life. They were alone here.

After fifteen mec-tah Celli stopped dead and called in a stage whisper. "Look!" Her searchbeam was trained on a door to the right. The door was set into a small structure just three meters square, and on the door was painted in white: 'JT-23'. They stood, staring at it in silence. Water dripped from somewhere above and splashed rhythmically onto the roof of the structure then made its way down the metal frame where a reddish-brown streak attested to its many years of regularity.

"It's a sub-level access door," Fel said.

"Below this level?" Jenna hoped it wasn't true.

Fel nodded. "Not whole levels like this one, but service tunnels and things like that." They all hoped they would not be required to descend further underground. "So," Fel continued, "we just follow the trail till we find number sixteen. It should be straight ahead; that's what the projector showed." It seemed simple, but the further they went from their exit the more claustrophobic they felt. The deeper they plunged into the forgotten underbelly of the com zone the more dream-like the Antarious seemed. They hadn't perceived it yet, but it was already taking a toll on them.

***

After more than an hour of searching they found the door they were looking for. They could make out the faded 'JT-16' in white paint on the front.

"Look!" Celli said, directing her beam to the floor at the corner of the building. They all saw it clearly – "Footprints! Somebody's been here recently."

"Yea, but where did they go?" asked Orion. "I only see two footprints."

Celli was already looking for clues. "Up there," she said pointing to the burned-out frame of an old transport, "he climbed up there and... then jumped to that one over there. Then he probably took that service conveyer, he must have it working, he could be at the docks in ten mec-tah." Orion had to admire Celli's logic.

"So, do you think these are the Chiefs?" Fel asked.

"I really don't think it could be anyone else," Orion hoped, "but this is our next position so..."

"Let's do it," Jenna said, eager to move ahead. She sensed her primal fears beginning to constrict her will. "Either we trust the projection or we don't."