Double Cross (8 page)

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Authors: Sigmund Brouwer

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BOOK: Double Cross
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Several hours passed while Dad recovered. During that time, the three of us watched the digital video scans over and over.

Now Rawling was at the controls of the platform buggy, driving us back in the direction of the main dome.

Dad and I sat facing the monitor. With the remote in his hand, Dad again clicked the digital video scan replay, and images flickered onto the screen. I saw on the monitor everything that the robot body had relayed up to the computer on the platform buggy.

The camera surveyed the first alien bodies up and down. It did the same with the other bodies in the other black boxes. Then the background blurred during the section where I'd raced back to the first bodies, which then began to melt.

Dad clicked the slow-motion button. “It's as if some kind of chemical reaction is taking place. Like the bodies were sealed until we opened the boxes.”

“And then,” Rawling added as he continued to drive, “the carbon dioxide of Mars's atmosphere must have reacted with a substance on the clear coating, turning it into an acid. … Hold on. I have to talk to Steven.” Rawling called up the main dome on our field radio.

While Rawling was patched in to Blaine Steven, I kept my eyes on the monitor, only half listening to Rawling's report.

“We'll relay all the video images immediately,” Rawling said to Steven. “It appears the artifacts had some sort of self-destruct timer. Everything was destroyed, but we've got it all on video.”

On the monitor, the first box exploded outward.

“Can you back up a few frames and go to super slow motion?” I asked Dad.

As Dad clicked back a few frames, Rawling continued to drive and speak into the field radio at the front of the platform.

“Please confirm by calling back when you receive the satellite relay,” Rawling told Blaine Steven. “I don't want to imagine the worst, but if anything should happen to us on the way back to the dome, I want to know that copies of the video footage are safe with you. What we saw down there was absolutely incredible. This can't be lost to the rest of humankind.”

Again, I was barely listening to Rawling. I was watching hard for the source of the explosion. Because the digital video scan was advancing frame by frame, in the first instant of the explosion I was able to see the first bloom of bright light in the bottom rear of the black box.

“Stop,” I told Dad. “Back it up again. Two frames. Then hold.”

“Yes,” Rawling was saying. “Unfortunately, there's no other evidence but the video feed. Once you have it, you've got all that we've got. But it should be enough to convince the Science Agency committee that something incredible is here. Somehow those aliens had the technology for anti-gravity and perpetual motion.”

I wasn't sure if I saw on the monitor what my mind thought I saw.

“We'll be back as soon as possible,” Rawling said. “See you then.”

“Stop!” I shouted, suddenly afraid.

Rawling hung up the radio speaker.

“But I've got it stopped,” Dad said to me. The frame was frozen on the monitor.

“No,” I said. “Stop the platform buggy! Now!”

There, on the monitor, in the back corner of one of the black boxes, was a small, gray, plastic box with antennae.

If I was right, that little gray box on the monitor had triggered the explosion that began in the next frame. And it was just like the one I'd seen on the axle of the platform buggy when I fixed the tire.

How long did we have until it exploded beneath us?

CHAPTER 21

Whoever this is, you are mean and nasty and rotten to pretend you are Tyce Sanders. Respect the memory of his death. Get off his computer and leave it alone. He was a true space hero. And he was my friend. I miss him very much. Please do not send me another e-mail.

I stared at the screen of the mainframe computer on the platform buggy. We were parked about five miles from the dome, behind a range of short mountains. It was the middle of the day, and I'd sent Ashley an e-mail on this computer about 10 minutes earlier.

I grinned at Ashley's return message. I could picture her and her mad frown as she banged at her keyboard. I was glad to read that she liked me.

I hit Reply. All the dome's computers were set up with an Internet system that let scientists and techies send each other e-mails.

The reply box appeared on my computer screen.

Ashley
,

It really is me. I know that everyone under the dome thinks we're dead. And my guess is that Blaine Steven announced it, right? But we're alive. It's important you keep this secret. Please e-mail me back and tell me that you will help.

I pressed Send.

Rawling and Dad were snoozing on the platform beds behind me. Taking turns, they had driven all of the previous night and the beginning of this day to get here.

But our mission wasn't finished.

We couldn't let anyone at the dome see the platform buggy. We guessed by now that they all believed it had been blown up in a mysterious accident. Dad was upset thinking how sad Mom must be. He wanted to get back to the dome as soon as possible to let her know we were alive. The thought of how Mom must be feeling tore me up inside too.

But we had to wait. On the long drive back, Dad and Rawling had begun to guess what had happened. If they were right, we'd find out soon. But only with Ashley's help.

The computer chirped.

If you don't stop with these messages, I'll go straight to the director. He'll track the message to see where it came from. I'll make sure you're punished. How could you dare pretend to be Tyce? Don't send me any more messages … please.

I knew by now that Mom would be crying. Dad and I wanted to send an e-mail to her, but Rawling asked us to wait just a few hours. He was afraid that if Mom showed happiness or excitement, then Director Steven might wonder what was happening.

And it was Blaine Steven who we needed to get. By himself. Away from the dome.

But how could I convince Ashley to help us? How could I convince her that I was alive and the e-mails truly were coming from me?

I remembered something. I reached into my pocket and held it in my hand.

You gave me one of your silver earrings. Remember?

I hit Send. Snores reached me. What was it about adults that made them snore? And what about those hairs on their shoulders and the backs of their arms? And the nostril hairs? And …

Her reply came 30 seconds later.

Tyce? I want so badly to believe it's you. But maybe the real Tyce told someone about the earring before leaving the dome. Maybe you heard about it and are pretending to be him, which would be the meanest thing in the world to do. So if you are Tyce Sanders, tell me what question I asked you on the day you left the dome.

I grinned. How could I forget her question? It was something to think about whenever I could, especially after what Dad and I had talked about.

I began to keyboard a reply.

Why is there something instead of nothing? Why not nothing? And where did the something come from? Did it exist forever? But how can something exist forever? But if first there was nothing, how did the nothing suddenly become something? How can stars and planets just come from empty air?

Once again, I sent the message. I leaned back in my wheelchair and waited.

The snoring behind me grew louder as Dad and Rawling fell deeper and deeper into sleep.

The computer chirped. I scanned her message.

Tyce
,

It is you! What happened? I mean, at the dome Director Steven announced that the platform buggy had exploded. He said there was no GPS signal, so you weren't traceable. The satellite photos showed a small crater where the platform buggy had sent its last signal. But if it didn't explode, why have you guys let everyone at the dome think you are dead?

I leaned forward in my wheelchair. Rawling had jotted down on a piece of paper the instructions to give to Ashley. I decided to dash off a quick e-mail to her before I began to keyboard them in.

Don't let anyone know we are alive. Tonight they'll find out anyway, and then I can explain. But first you need to help us. At 8:00 tonight, go to the dome entrance. Let me in without anyone knowing it. In the meantime, I'll be sending another long e-mail with more instructions.

Again, I sent the message.

I thought about our plan. The dome entrance had two ways of getting in. The first, of course, was through the large doors that allowed platform buggies in and out of the dome. The second was a normal-size door so techies and scientists could just walk out in space suits.

I'll keep it a secret. (So will Flip and Flop! They're sitting right beside me.) And I'll meet you there at 8:00. I think I know a way to get you in secretly. See you then.

Your happy, happy friend
,

Ashley

I sighed with satisfaction. Dad and Rawling would be happy to hear it too. If the rest of our plan worked, it would be great. If not …

I didn't want to think about it. Actually, it was tough to think about anything. Not with how both of them snored.

I tore a little strip of paper off the note Rawling had written. I wheeled over to where Dad was asleep and snoring like a chainsaw. I tickled the inside of his nostril with the paper.

Asleep, he swatted at it.

I tickled more.

He snorted and grunted and finally hit himself in the nose so hard that it woke him up.

“Hi,” I said innocently. “Want to hear about Ashley?”

CHAPTER 22

“What nonsense is this? Calling me here this late at night?”

The angry hiss belonged to Director Blaine Steven. He directed his questions to Ashley, who sat quietly on a bench near the tall, thick plants in the center of the dome, where she and I had met just an hour earlier.

“Thank you for coming,” she said sweetly.

It was dim. This late—just before 9:00—the dome lights were turned down. Most scientists and techies were reading or at their personal computers or getting ready to sleep. At the dome, the policy was early to bed and early to rise.

“I wouldn't be here if you hadn't sent that crazy message,” Director Steven continued in his low growl. Steven, who was over 60, ran his hands through his thick, wavy gray hair as he talked. “What do you mean Tyce Sanders sent you a message?”

“The aliens are fake,” Ashley said bluntly. “When an asteroid hit nearby, causing a quake, someone here triggered a bomb that exposed the black boxes. Just so people would think it was the asteroid that uncovered them. But all along, the so-called aliens had been set up and waiting. The Science Agency had been tracking the asteroid and knew when it would hit.”

“What?”

“It's in the e-mail Tyce sent me.”

That was true. Rawling and Dad had come up with the theory, hoping it had enough truth in it to be able to bluff Steven into admitting more. I'd sent it to Ashley by e-mail so she could be ready for this meeting.

“That's the most outrageous thing I've heard. Tyce is a space hero. I know you miss him badly, but you shouldn't make things up.”

“You see,” Ashley continued calmly, “when the dome was first established over 14 years ago, those black boxes were buried by someone on a secret mission from the dome. They were left there for an emergency.”

“I've had enough out of you.” Director Steven tried to look angry, but he couldn't quite pull it off. He seemed worried, and he looked around a few times as though he wondered if anyone was overhearing this.

“It was planned for the day or two before people on Earth who were part of the United Nations would have to decide whether or not to continue funding the dome. Fake aliens and fake antigravity and fake perpetual motion. If people believed in it, they wouldn't care how much was spent to keep the Mars Project going.”

“All of this is in your e-mail?”

It was. Rawling and Dad had had a lot of time to think this through—ever since the explosion that was supposed to kill us. Those boxes were set up to
look
very convincing. But if the stuff inside could have been examined, it could easily have been seen as fake. We were convinced that was the reason everything was rigged to blow up.

The revolving globe? We'd guessed that, with electromagnetics from an energy source hidden underneath the box, triggered by the opening of the door, a globe would float, repelled by magnetics. Which was why the robot had short-circuited once the arm reached inside and touched the invisible currents.

“And more,” Ashley said, plunging ahead and playing her role perfectly. “Tyce wrote that once the digital video scan had been made, someone here at the dome triggered devices to destroy all the alien artifacts. Because if anyone examined the aliens or the antigravity device, everybody would know they were fakes. But if video was all that remained, no one could dispute it.”

“Someone at the dome?” he asked, worry in his voice.

Someone, I thought, who at first insisted on reports every six hours but then kept contacting us every hour. Someone who had been speaking to Rawling on the radio while Dad and I were down at the black boxes, showing Rawling the aliens on the monitor. Someone who had heard all about it from Rawling as it happened. Someone who waited until the video feed had been beamed back to the dome by satellite and then …

“Yes,” Ashley told Director Steven. Her face was concerned. “Someone who then triggered a bomb to destroy the platform buggy. That explosion wasn't an accident. It was on purpose. Someone here at the dome wanted to kill the only witnesses to the fake aliens. With them dead, only the video would remain. People on Earth would fund the dome for another hundred years, hoping to find the secrets behind antigravity or perpetual motion. Secrets that don't exist.”

Director Steven ran his hands wildly through his hair. He glanced in all directions, then gave Ashley his attention. “And you have all this on e-mail? From Tyce? He sent it before the explosion?”

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