Alpha at worlds' end

“Wake up, Captain.” Said a bodiless female voice.

Sighing in his pod, “Are we there yet?” muttered the captain.

“We are in orbit of the sixth planet.” Came the reply.

Well, first things first thought the captain. Get up and about. The captain looked down at his feet,

“Wiggle your big toe.”

“But captain, as you well know, I do not possess any extremities or digits. Apart from ones and zeroes that is.”

“Is that a joke? Did you download a humor package while I was in hyper sleep?” the captain retorted wryly.

“I forget how you get before your morning pick me up. Your coffee is brewing.”

The captain took a deep whiff, Smelling the fresh pot from the galley across the hall. Finally, something worth getting up for.

“I am surprised the council puts up with your indulgence of recreational narcotics.” The computer said as Captain Baldwin stumbled towards the galley.

“Well, they have appointed me to research this planet, and they can be rather lenient with the amount of exposure we allow ourselves to our subject matter. Also, I can stop whenever I want to.” He said, smiling sardonically, while pouring himself a cup of the piping hot liquid.

“Speaking of research, how is the scan of the planet coming along?” Asked captain Baldwin.

“Atmosphere minimal, indications of past oceanic areas now long since evaporated, no signs of life. Nothing larger than microbial life anyway, and we will have to get closer to identify any as such. There are however anomalous clusters of oddly uniform hills.”

“Well then, let us get this show on the road. Prep the shuttle for descent.” He said, walking towards his locker, mug in hand. Opening the locker, he stared at the locket hanging on the inside of the locker door, swinging gently as the locker door opened. This golden, heart shaped locket, was a memory. From his first expedition. Fresh out of training, with no memory of what took place before. Programmed amnesia was part of the program, or so he was told. And yet, something tugged at his mind when he found this locket, so many years go.

“Pull yourself together man.” He told himself, slapping his own face.

Changing into his flight gear, he was thinking back about the day the council assigned him this expedition. Entering the council’s chambers, he stood before the dais where the three were seated, their faces high in the shadows, only their long slender fingers clasped together in front of them, resting on their respective desks.

“John Baldwin,” their voices spoke as one, with an echo he assumed was caused by the chamber’s structure, “we are sending you to the sixth planet in a solar system in the outer arms of a nearby spiral galaxy. You will survey it and return to us with a detailed report.”

Buckling the last strap on his boot, he heads towards the shuttle bay. The shuttle itself, being a small pod, teardrop shaped for a smoother entry into a planet’s atmosphere, not as essential with such a planet with a thin atmosphere, with a small cache of supplies for short expeditions.

A second shuttle is resting off to the side of the hangar, which in case of emergencies can be flown autonomically down to surface. The main shuttle’s canopy opened as he approached, system lights switching on. As he settled face down into the shuttle, hand up grasping the controls, “What destination are you plotting, captain?”

“Well, nature doesn’t usually create hills in neat rows, so I’ll head towards the nearest one of those.”

Klaxons went off as the shuttle’s antigrav systems engaged, and the hangar doors opened underneath the shuttle. As soon as the doors opened fully, the shuttle pushed away from the ship with its antigrav drive, plummeting towards the planet, as the shuttle drew closer to the atmosphere, John reoriented the craft so that the slender aft of the teardrop shape was pointed towards the planet, punching through the atmosphere, with what heat was generated by the friction dissipating through the shuttle’s material.

Slowing the shuttle’s descent, John set a course for the outskirts of the nearest formation of hills. This nearest formation formed a grid of seven by seven, John landing at the southernmost line of hills by the middle hill.

Shutting down the shuttle and opening the canopy, the captain steps out with a breathing mask strapped on and grabbing the backpack from the shuttle’s side compartment. Walking towards the base of the hill, he glances at the information the shuttle scanned during entry. While the grid was uniform, the hills varied in size, with the largest and tallest one sitting in the middle of the grid.

“What are you thinking captain?” the computer chimed in over the communication device in the mask.

“I’m thinking these hills are edifices, slowly covered by sediment over time. Hopefully, the one in the middle should not be covered so much, making it easier to locate an opening.” John said, walking towards the western side of the building, away from the morning sun, and heading north towards the third building. Roughly fifteen minutes, he arrived at the eastern side of the main structure.

As the eastern side seemed to be completely covered, John walked around towards the north side, as most often winds would come from east or west, he was hopeful to find an indication of an opening on the northern or southern sides. And sure enough, there it was. The outline of an arch in the middle of the northern wall. The interior of the arch is however still covered up, the door, if there is one, hidden away under soil and greenery.

Usually, John would use a pneumatic pen to cut away at the soil. With little to no atmosphere to draw on, he would have to use the RVA, remote vibration adjuster, to loosen the clumps of dirt from each other. He drew it out, starting at the top, waving it slowly and methodically from side to side, dropping down to the next line and going back towards the other side. Reaching the end of the bottom, he switches off the RVA, and mutters to himself “here comes the fun part” with a smile. Stepping back, he stomps down on the ground in front of the door, the loosened dirt flowing down and covering his boots like surf at the ocean, uncovering a closed, transparent door. Approaching the door, he attempts to open it. The door is locked. He taps on the transparent pane, assessing its material strength. While kicking it down seems like an option with his reinforced boots, he would rather avoid getting cut by any of the shards. Looking around, he spots a rock that seems hefty enough to break through, picks it up, steps back even further, and throws it at the pane, which cracks, but does not break. “Interesting.” He says to himself. Looking closely, he notices the cracks are slowly expanding. “Shit.” He cries out, and dives to the side. The glass shatters outward explosively as the cracks reach the edges of the door, weakening the integrity of the pane. Dusting himself off, he reaches for his scanner. “Computer, did what I think just happened happen?” Asked John. “Yes captain, explosive decompression due to the building's airtight environment, and the lack of atmosphere outside of it. The scanner is picking up traces of nitrogen, carbon monoxide as well as trace amounts of methane. As well, the building seems to be extremely cold.”

Zipping up the suit and stretching a hood out from his collar, he steps through the broken door. The suit is highly insulated, the scanner indicating that the building is as cold as a meat locker.

“I’m getting a bad feeling about this.” As he enters, lights flicker on in his immediate vicinity, highlighting signs he cannot decipher. “Computer, start a translation program.” Pointing the scanner at the signs he is coming across.

“They seem to be combinations of letters and numbers, likely with names attached, judging by what seems to be an ascending alphabetical order.” The computer’s voice came across.

“But there are no doors, what are the signs indicating?” Asked John.

“Unclear, captain. Each sign is assigned to a section of the wall that is roughly six cubits by six cubits.”

“Any signs pointing us in a direction towards their records or archives?” the captain asked.

“Still translating. I recommend heading towards the building’s center.”

The captain walks down the corridor towards the center of the building, where an octagonal counter seemed to stand. The lights and signs lighting up as he walked forward, shutting off as walked away from them. Approaching the counter, the lights all around it switch on, and the screens on the other side of the desk light up. He places the scanner in front of the screen.

“Adding to translation matrix.” As the system’s operating system seemed to boot up. “Detecting wireless communication in use by local hardware, standby.” And after a few moments the computer reported back “connected. Translation complete.”

“What have you got for me?” Asked John.

“The signs were indeed names. Bodies of individuals, couples, and at times more occupying each alcove.”

“This place is tomb.” Muttered captain Baldwin.

“Confirmed captain. Also, this terminal is connected to others in the surrounding buildings, and indeed across the planet. The people of this planet went to great length to ensure the remains of their people lasted well into the future. Or at least until someone threw a rock threw the front door.”

“It seemed like easy way to get inside.” Captain Baldwin said with a shrug.

“Captain, a search through the records has brought to a subject to my attention. An alcove on the 13th floor, west corridor, top section, 13 deep.”

He grabbed the scanner from the desk and began walking down the western corridor.

“So, which of these doors is a lift or a stairwell?” Asked captain Baldwin.

“Power is intermittent, as such, I would advise against using a lift. The sign above the next door on your left indicates a stairwell.”

“Guess I get to carry your heavy ass up 13 floors.” Joked the captain, as he pushed the stairwell door open and started climbing up the stairs. This climb would have been easy under ideal circumstances. Weighted down by his survival suit and breathing in the whisps of oxygen the rebreather offered, made this climb arduous. Struggling, his vision growing fuzzy, he reached the door of level 13.

Going through the door, he steadied himself, catching his breath. Once his vision cleared, he headed back down the western corridor, counting to alcove 13. “Nine, eleven, thirteen.” Staring at the still unfamiliar language, the computer chimed in “Name listed as Jianna Matar.”

John looked up, slightly puzzled. “Doesn’t sound familiar, what stood out in the records?”

“An item enclosed with the body, captain.”

“Well then, let’s open it up.” He said, in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

Digging up old civilizations and grave robbing was not unfamiliar to captain Baldwin. Every so often, there would be remains among the buildings and artifacts. Remembering the first remains of a body he uncovered and throwing up violently at the sight and smell.

Running his fingers around the edges of the alcove, he felt a slight give as he applied pressure. Pushing harder, he could feel the spring under the panel, which slid out and down as soon as he released the pressure, followed by a bed sliding out of the alcove. There seemed to be a single body resting on the bed, feet facing out, with a sheet covering it. Removing the sheet off the body, uncovering first the feet, stepping forward, uncovering more of the body, reaching the torso, he noticed the hands clasped together, with a gold necklace held between the fingers.

As is always the case with such trinkets, they catch his attention, much like the birds of old he read about. Crows. Which also seemed to feature heavily in horror themes. And here he was, embodying those aspects. Shiny trinkets amid dead, desolate worlds. Pulling the necklace free of the grasp, he stared in shock at the locket attached to the necklace. A golden heart, seemingly identical to the one in his locker.

“Computer,” he started with a shaky voice, “scan and compare to item Alpha 013.”

“Scanning.” Captain Baldwin, meanwhile, struggling with the implications of this seeming coincidence, was staring at the locket.

“Scan complete. 99.9% gold. Identical weight, identical design. Sub-atomic scan indicates particles are entangled with the locket in your locker, captain. Indicating the atoms were generated at the same place and time before being separated.”

John sank to his knees, the locket slipping from his grasp.

“What does this mean?”