Extreme Difference (25 page)

‘What’s that smell?’ asked Greg, who had stopped a few steps ahead of the others and was sniffing the air. ‘If we could bottle that, we’d make a fortune.’

‘I think it might be coming from those.’ Ben replied, pointing to several large white trumpet shaped flowers adorning the strands of rope like vine hanging from one of the trees. ‘I didn’t notice it before.’

Greg went over to the plant, cradling one of the delicate blooms in his hands, and taking a deep draft of the heady perfume. Within seconds, his eyes glazed over, and he staggered about like a drunk, giggling childishly.

He would have fallen to the ground in a stupor if the others had not grabbed him and dragged him away from the flower’s hypnotic influence. Sandy slapped his face hard, twice, but he just continued to giggle.

‘There’s nothing we can do except let that stuff work its way out of his system,’ Sandy said, deeply concerned, ‘I think we got him away just in time.’

Ben had gone over to the cluster of vines bearing the deadly flowers, taking a deep breath and holding it as he drew near.

‘There are some little white sticks around the base of this tree,’ he exclaimed, poking about in the grass with his foot, ‘and some feathery things. Hey, these aren't sticks, they’re bones! Good God, there’s hundreds of ’em.’

Leaving Greg, Sandy went over to see what Ben had found.

‘Now that’s interesting,’ he remarked, ‘some of those bones have begun to break down, see how soft and crumbly they are. That means something in the ground or perhaps exuded from the tree, is doing that. Bones don’t normally go soft, unless something attacks their structure.’

‘That implies the vine is trapping creatures to use as food, but you said the ground here is very rich from volcanic ash, so why would the plant need to do that?’ asked Ben.

‘The ash is rich in minerals, but plants also need nitrogen, some more than others, and they can get it from breaking down flesh, or almost anything else which grows.’

Sandy walked around the huge tree trunk, keeping well away from the enticing white flowers as he did so.

‘I think there’s a symbiotic relationship between the vine and this tree,’ he began, ‘there’s no sign of the vine roots reaching the ground, so it must have tapped into the tree somewhere. The vine catches nitrogen bearing creatures by stupefying them with its perfume, and they quickly die near the tree base. The tree releases some sort of enzyme which breaks the bodies down, the roots absorb it, and as it gets transported around the tree, the vine takes its share. Don’t like it, but it’s bloody neat.’ he concluded.

‘I think we’d better get away from that plant, me legs are getting a bit wobbly.’ Sandy’s words were slightly slurred, showing how powerful the perfume could be.

Greg was now sitting upright, and looking very foolish.

‘That's one of the most weird experiences I've ever had,' he exclaimed, as the others gathered around. ‘It was like dreaming, but only of pleasant things. I felt great but sleepy, and my body felt like lead, but I didn’t seem to mind.’

They continued on towards the open plain, the eyes still watching them, fascinated by the strange little bipeds and wondering if they would make a good meal.

‘Must say, I feel a bit safer out here,’ Ben said, as they left the last of the trees behind, ‘at least you can see what’s around you.’ The others nodded, but still kept a good lookout for anything which did not seem to fit in naturally with the landscape, but then, what was natural?

The ground changed from being a hard crust with shattered pieces of rock protruding from its surface, to one of sand, and this slowed them down considerably. The high cliffs of the volcano's base still towered above them on their left, while on their right, the endless plain of sand and gravel banks seemed to go on to the horizon, finally disappearing in the distant blue haze.

The sand eventually gave way to firmer ground again, and they stopped for a meal break, their legs aching from the struggle of tramping through the soft sand.

‘We’ll go on ’till evening, and then make camp. Tomorrow we’ll have to head back home as our water will run out if we don’t find any, and the others will get worried if we stay away too long.’ Sandy announced.

They walked on, with less of a spring in their footsteps than they had earlier.

R
ounding a spur of frozen lava which jutted out from the main mass of the cliffs, they stopped. Ahead, an enormous ledge of rock hung out from the cliffs above like a huge shelf, throwing a dark shadow beneath it.

‘What the hell’s that?’ Ben eventually said.

‘Looks like an ancient lava flow, and the ground beneath it has been cut away,’ Sandy offered as an explanation of the impossible, ‘but I don’t see how so much rock can sustain itself without breaking off under its own weight.’

‘It doesn’t look safe to me.’ Greg muttered, knowing full well they would have to get considerably closer, if only to satisfy Sandy’s curiosity of such things.

As they drew nearer to the massive overhang, the true size of the rock shelf became apparent. One hundred metres above their heads, the underside of the old lava flow leaned out for a distance of some six hundred metres, casting an area of gloom beneath it.

‘It looks as if the lava flowed out over a bed of sandstone, and the softer stone has been eroded away over the years.’ Sandy stated, his memory of geology returning as he looked at the bizarre freak of nature. ‘It’s been like this for God knows how long, so it should be safe enough for us to go underneath it.’ So saying, he strode forward, the others following reluctantly on behind and frequently glancing upwards, fearing the worst.

Having reached the centre of the overhang, they turned and looked out over the plain, the shadow they stood in making the rest of the world look much brighter.

Ben, who was in front of the others and still feeling nervous about the overhang, turned to face them, when his eyes locked straight ahead and his jaw dropped.

Slowly he raised his arm, pointing at the back of the ledge where it met the cliff and nodding his head up and down.

The others turned as one, and they too froze at what they saw. At the base of the cliff in the deepest shadows, a vast oval silver object lay on the ground, the back edge slightly raised as though it had skidded to a stop, the front end having dug itself into the soft ground and then met the hard rock of the cliff.

‘What the hell is that,’ gasped Greg, when he was able to draw breath, ‘don’t tell me that grew here!’

‘It certainly didn’t,’ Sandy said quietly, ‘that’s been manufactured, and I think I know what it might be.’

‘What?’ the others chorused in unison.

‘Can’t be sure yet, so let’s get a little closer.’ Sandy replied, taking a few tentative steps towards the huge shape.

Their natural fear of the unknown made the others hold back, while Ben warned Sandy to be careful.

‘I think it’s been here a long time, look at the way the wind has blown the sand up around it in ripples, that doesn’t happen overnight. Come on, it’s quite safe as long as we don’t fiddle with anything.’ He now strode out confidently towards the silver object, waving his arm to bring the others forward.

As they drew nearer, the full size of the vehicle became apparent, towering over them by some fifteen metres.

‘What’s it doing here? Do you think someone put it here to keep it out of sight?’ asked Ben.

‘I don’t think so.’ Sandy replied, turning and looking back towards the open plain. ‘There’s a shallow furrow going out some way onto the plain which I didn’t notice before. It’s got partly filled with wind blown sand, so it only shows up from this angle, and then only faintly.’

Ben, having lost some of his fear, reached up and hit the side of the vehicle with his clenched fist. He had expected a hollow booming sound, but there was no more response than if he had hit a piece of solid rock.

‘Not quite what you expected.’ commented Sandy, who had stooped down to look underneath the curved body of the craft. ‘See these marks under here, I’ll bet they’re access panels and if we could get them open, we could get inside.’

‘You’re joking!’ Greg exploded, ‘you’re not seriously thinking of going into that thing. God knows what would happen.’

What do you think would happen?’ asked Sandy calmly. ‘It’s been sitting here for years, so there’ll be no sign of life in it. It’s just a mechanical thing someone has made, and if we don’t push any buttons or tweak any switches, it should just sit there.’  The others were not convinced.

They walked around the huge shape, looking for an entry point, but found nothing which was an obvious doorway into the interior of the craft.

‘I’ve found something!’ the distant voice of Ben echoed around the huge cave-like overhang of rock, ‘it’s different to the other markings we’ve found.’ The others hurried around to where Ben was looking intently at a slight recess in the outer skin of the vehicle.

‘It’s a sort of inviting shape,’ he said, ‘something I feel I should put my hand on.’

‘Well, go on then,’ Sandy said, ‘I don’t see what harm it’ll do.’ Ben placed his hand in the shallow recess. A faint only just discernible hum sounded, and a pulse of light flashed beneath Ben’s hand. Greg, who had been standing behind Ben, now went flying as Ben accelerated backwards, a look of horror on his face.

‘Hey, take it easy,’ Sandy yelled, as he too was thrust to one side, ‘we’re going to injure each other more than that craft is likely to.’

Having got over their shock, they regrouped around the mystery panel. This time Sandy placed his hand in the recess. Again, the quiet hum, the panel flashed, but nothing else happened.

‘What do you think it’s supposed to do?’ asked Ben contritely, ‘it must have a purpose.’

‘Of course it has,’ replied Sandy sharply, ‘it’s just that we haven’t figured it out yet.’ He placed his hand in the recess again, with the same result, then stood back, deep in thought.

‘I think this is a means of identifying those allowed to enter the craft, and it won’t open for others, like us. So what’s the difference between hands?’

‘There’re all different,’ said Ben, ‘some are large, some small, others have knobbly joints. Surely that thing can’t tell differences like that.’

‘It would seem to.’ replied Sandy, pensively.

Each tried their hands in turn, but the door, if indeed there was one, remained stubbornly shut.

Frustration was beginning to get the better of them, and they were about to give up on the idea of trying to fool the door sensor, when Greg said he would like to give it a kick.

‘And just how are you going to reach it?’ asked Ben.

‘Hey, wait a minute you two, that’s the only thing we haven’t tried.’ said Sandy, hopefully.

‘You’ve got to be bloody joking.’ Ben said, wondering if his mentor had finally cracked under the strain.

‘No, I don’t mean kick it, I mean stick a foot on it.’

‘Oh, come on. People don’t go around opening doors by plonking their feet on them.’ Ben retorted tartly.

Sandy untied the holding cords and kicked his home-made shoes off.

‘Come on, someone help me up.’ They all stood around in disbelief while Sandy tried in vain to fling his leg high enough to reach the recess.

‘What are you lot waiting for?’ he asked angrily. ‘I need a hand up.’

‘You need something, and it’s not a hand.’ mumbled Ben, and then wished he had kept his counsel.

Reluctant hands lifted Sandy up until he could place his foot firmly into the recess. The gentle hum was followed by the light flash, a faint ‘ting’ from somewhere within the craft, and a door hissed open beside the sensor panel, emitting a gush of stale and fetid air.  Angrily Sandy heaved himself back to his feet and dusted himself down, after being dropped by his helpers when the door unexpectedly opened.

‘What’s the matter with you lot?’ he growled. ‘You’re as jumpy as a bunch of bloody girls.’

‘How the hell did that work?’ asked Greg, the first to recover his composure.

‘That thing recognizes hand shapes, and a foot has the same number of digits, only a different shape. From that we can deduce that those allowed to enter have long hands and stubby fingers, while we don’t, and aren’t allowed in.’

Apologies were offered, but were shrugged off by a still seething Sandy, and it was only when he suggested they try to climb into the now inviting hole in the side of the craft that things returned to near normal.

‘OK, I'll go in first then.’ he said, noticing the others had taken a step backwards immediately after the suggestion.

Sandy heaved himself up into the opening, and vanished, only to return a few seconds later, with a grin on his face.

‘Come along girls, who’s next?’ Sandy was enjoying himself having made his point and gained entry to the alien transport vessel.

One by one, they climbed on board, wrinkling their noses at the tainted air, but driven forward by their curiosity.

They found themselves in a long passage, and although there was no direct light source as such, the walls themselves seemed to gently glow, giving adequate light to safely move about.

‘Why are you lot whispering?’ Sandy’s voice boomed out in the confined space, ‘there’s no one alive on this thing!’

They tramped on, the passage ending in what they thought at first was a blank wall, but it was just that the door had been carefully designed to blend in with its surroundings.

‘Right, shoes off,’ someone called from the back, but Sandy had already found the release stud, and the door swung open.

Again, that whoosh of stale air, and they all held their breath for a moment, allowing fresh air from outside to swirl in.

‘Looks like this could be the control room,’ Sandy announced confidently, ‘and those are the controller’s chairs,’ he said, pointing to three high backed seats in front of a huge viewing screen.

Sandy was the first to approach the seats, and he stopped dead in his tracks. The others, sensing something was amiss, hurried to his side and stopped also. Three mummified figures occupied the three seats, safety harnesses still holding the withered bodies in place, but all three had their heads bent forward at an unnatural angle.