vingnette ~ The 11th Planet, chapter 3

He tossed his backpack and duffel in the skimmer and headed out of town. Might as well do some exploring, he thought.

It was only three years ago that settlers had come to this planet. The terrain was flat, rocky, dusty, and fairly inhospitable. After quite a bit of searching, the first settlers founded a community in the only logical place -- right over a vast chamber of water which only stretched about five miles across, but was deeper than they could estimate.

With a little bit of construction here, hydroseeding there, and adjusting to the local peculiarities, a base of about 1500 people had materialized and settled in -- give or take 20 or 30 in any given week, the difference being travelers and visitors. The planet was positioned as a good stopping point and had finally been added to most of the runs in this solar system.

In spite of the fact that almost all of the planet was very unfriendly, Mark’s curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had loaded up with enough supplies to stay away from the town for at least four days. He had sophisticated travel gear in his backpack, so there was no worry about getting lost or not making it back to town, and as he glided on out he started a rudimentary cataloging and mapping system to help him make sense of the sameness.

The skimmer smoothed along as he checked the area ... rocks here, rocks there, rocks, rocks, rocks. But the sun was warm, the temperature a steady 48 degrees, and the isolation soothing to his soul.

Damn that mess at headquarters! But unless a miracle occurred and he found out who had sabotaged him, it wouldn’t do any good to replay the horrors he’d faced. What was done was done and he was light-years away from all that malignance. He forcibly reminded himself there was no way they could trace his location, wormholes being undependable that way, and he dragged his attention back to the rocks.

Taking a deep breath, he studied what was ahead. There actually is variety in the landscape, he realized after several hours. What looked like simply a pile of rocks at first, eventually became recognizable as a crescent-shaped pile or an amorphous-shaped pile, a lateral pile, a steep pile or a pyramidal pile. There was never variation on the rest of it though -- no vegetation or life-forms, and never any water. There was no soil either, the gritty surface varying from small pebbles to large stones, without any uniformity or shape to the overall design.

But finally, after he’d been exploring and observing for about eight hours, it occurred to him that there actually was order to the placement of the crescent-shaped rock piles. He had kept to an easterly path all day and eventually noticed the crescent rock piles, or cressies as he had begun thinking of them, showed up at a regular rate. Sometimes they were off to the left of the skimmer and sometimes off to the right, but they were definitely more prevalent than any of the other formations.

He decided to check out one such formation about the same time he realized it was time to eat some supper. He swung over to the rocks, circled them slowly so as to make sure there were no surprises around, although he couldn’t imagine what would pass for a surprise in this desolation, then stopped the skimmer just outside the crescent area.

He ate and mulled over the possibilities that the placement of these rocks did not seem to be random. Yet if they weren’t random, that meant purpose, and purpose meant intelligence, and he’d never yet heard of an intelligent rock.

Grinning, he remembered that his grandfather invariably had to remind him that the universe was much more complex and diverse than we could ever imagine. Mark, everything you can see is just the beginning. There are things out there you can’t see, sounds you can’t hear, and wonders you can’t imagine. As long as you stay open to possibilities, you just may realize those things are there when they appear in front of your nose.

Thinking about his grandfather made him sad, then mad, as his thoughts segued to Hilson and the mess he’d ended up in. Sighing, he jerked his thoughts back to the rocks and finished his meal.

When he cleaned up and put everything away, he left the skimmer and walked to the center of the crescent. They were actually pretty rocks up close. From three feet away he could see blue and green in the fissures of the rocks, and occasionally a deep purple.

He chuckled. I haven’t enjoyed looking at rocks since I was a kid, he mused, and shook his head at himself. Gingerly dropping to his knees, he was reaching out to touch the rock when he realized there was a lateral opening in the center of the crescent. He hadn’t noticed it before, which seemed astonishing because now that he could see it, it was obvious. It was about two inches high and ran across the center of the formation for about two feet.

He moved his hand toward the opening and felt cool air. That’s a surprise ... I wonder what’s down there? Then he moved his hand above the cool air and touched the rock. It was warm and almost soft and, oddly enough, made him feel ... happy. Whoa, that’s weird, but as he withdrew his hand, the area where he was kneeling collapsed inward, throwing him down on the inside of the rock.