REDEMPTION TRAIL

The service tug stood motionless in the deathly stillness of the unlikely clearing. The surface of Theti, which was once thriving with the chatter of krellos, birds, and other wildlife, had become so ominously silent that the sound of a single footstep could have been heard for quite some distance. The sun was hot, the skies were clear, and the air hung stagnate and heavy over Theti's endless tons of scattered debris.
The eerie silence was momentarily broken as a cargo door on the side of the service tug swung down to form a loading ramp. Krey stood at the top of the ramp burdened with 125 pounds of assorted equipment. A high-tech torch was perched on his back like a backpack, a large satchel of tools hung from his shoulder, and a small, portable communications device was nervously clenched in his hand.
Krey started down the ramp at a cautious pace until an uncanny, almost apocalyptic feeling slowed him to a dead halt just short of stepping onto the ground. An eerie sense of dread or doom seemed to hang in the muggy, stagnant air of that devastated planet; Krey felt somewhat akin to a fly landing on a web, or like a moth being lured to a flame. His hardy sense of adventure quickly faded as he surveyed the strange, unearthly clearing; it was nothing like what he had expected.
From Krey's new vantage point, he could see that the clearing was far from being a make-shift landing field; it looked more like a major construction project that would have taken a teem of civil engineers months to complete. The ground was smooth like pavement; it appeared to be perfectly level and lacked so much as the tiniest irregularity or depressiondespite the fact that another vehicle had already landed there. The dirt ridges surrounding the landing field were also flawlessly uniform and impressively designed; their smooth, 80-foot slopes became progressively steeper toward the top as they approached a near-vertical grade. Krey had serious doubts about being able to climb themwith or without the burden of his equipment. He realized that just beyond those ridges were countless acres of debris stacked to a height of one hundred feet or more; under it, somewhere, was the entrance to the disaster shelter.
With a certain degree of reservation, Krey carefully stepped onto the tightly-compressed dirt of the clearing; it was unnaturally solid, like concrete or asphalt, yet it appeared to be nothing more than native dirt. He kicked at the hard surface several times, but was unable to raise any dust or loosen so much as a single grain. Krey wondered if the slopes that towered around the clearing had been fabricated in the same fashion. He carefully lowered his burden to the ground, then nervously surveyed the surrounding clearing.
It was then that Krey noticed a rectangular, doorway-sized tunnel, which was built into the face of the ridge. Something seemed to be peculiar about the unlikely tunnel; it beckoned like an opened vaultor like an entrance to a roach motel. To Krey, it almost seemed as if it was designed with the specific intent of luring someone in. An uneasiness crept over him when he realized that, like it or not, the tunnel was the only way out of the landing field.
Krey decided to get a closer look at the strange opening from a safe distance. He lifted the portable communications device up to his eye, as if it were a camcorder, then looked into an electronic viewfinder at one end while he pointed the camera lens toward the tunnel. After fiddling around with the controls for a moment or two, he zoomed in on the eerie threshold.
With a much closer perspective, Krey could see that the tunnel was perfectly rectangular with inside surfaces that appeared to be as flat and true as the rest of the clearing. He could also see that the tunnel made a sharp turn to the left somewhere just beyond the opening. The fact that the tunnel didn't appear to be lined with anything led Krey to believe that the ridge, like the landing field, was constructed out of the same tightly compressed dirt as the pavement of the landing field.
Krey drew an uneasy breath as he lowered the portable. He felt as if he had mistakenly landed, in a macabre kind of way, on a strange alien world that had somehow escaped from the pages of a science fiction novel. After a moment or two of hesitation, he did the inevitable; he started walking toward the awaiting tunnel.

The experience of Cassie's close scrape with the robotic insect left her somewhat unwilling to sit at her computer console in a proper, lady-like fashion; she was sitting on the backrest of the copilot's seat as her uneasy eyes gazed at the massive graveyard beyond the forward windows. She thought about the millions annihilated in concentration camps during World War Two and the billions massacred during World War Five; she remembered reading about the horrible atrocities committed during those massacres, and the humanitarian relief efforts that followed.
Cassie realized that the rest of the human realm had probably not yet heard of the massacre at Thetiotherwise the orbits above the planet would have been filled with emergency vehicles. That thought alone grated at her as she idly gazed at the wreckage beyond the windows of the Star Saber; where was the United Nations during this unprecedented time of need?
The more she thought about it, the more it tormented her. Because of her experiences with illegal implants, she had a very accurate picture of how the UN mainframeas well as the UN itselfresponded to emergencies. She wondered how the demise of Theti fell through the mainframe's series of checks and balances. She ran every possible scenario through her head; wouldn't the UN be alerted to the fact that routine transmissions between Theti and the UN were no-longer taking place? What about the lack of space traffic coming from Theti? As far as that went, what about the lack of space traffic going to Theti?
Cassie thought about the circumstances surrounding Theti's demise with unprecedented concentration. How could anyone or anything reap such havoc without raising an eyebrow from the rest of the human civilizations? It seemed impossible and inconceivable; every detail of life was tracked, to one degree or another, by computers of various sorts. No-one could have possibly committed such a heinous act without drawing attentionno matter how diligently they tried to cover it up.
Cassie furrowed her brow as she thought about the problem of covering up an atrocity such as Theti. It seemed impossible on the surface, until she started looking at the problem as if she, herself, were charged with the task of hiding such vast destruction from the rest of the human realm. Almost immediately, she came up with several possibilities.
One of the first thoughts that came to Cassie was the possibility of exploiting her illegal implant in the UN mainframe to divert suspicious information, or to simulate seemingly normal conditions. She took the thought deeper; she realized that she could use her implant to deny clearance for any space vehicles traveling to Thetibased on data that fictitiously paints a picture of congested space routes. Another alternative would be to intercept all space traffic between Theti and the rest of the realm; every flight plan filed, sooner or later, reaches the UN mainframe.
Suddenly, it hit her; before she had ever met Krey, she checked on the status of RQ-733 and discovered that Krey had not filed a flight plan! As a result, neither the UN mainframe, nor any of its illegal implants knew that RQ-733 had departed for Theti. Cassie realized that their haphazard exodus was probably the only flight leaving UN jurisdiction that was not properly reported to the UN mainframe; it was also the only flight to arrive at Theti since its demise. She began to wonder if Krey's irresponsible lack of a flight plan might have actually bought them safe passage to the devastated world of Theti; she wondered if they too would have met their demise along the way if the UN mainframe had known about their flight.
Cassie snapped her head toward her Model 7, which was still plugged into the computer console; it contained a copy of the strange, unrecognizable implant that she stumbled across just before leaving Unli. She realized that the implant could have been used to mask everything from the absence of goods being delivered to and from Theti, to simulating fictitious reports of personal communications. Each and every scenario she came up with could be, to one degree or another, covered-up by her implantat least for a week or so.
A wild excitement came over Cassie as she turned to the computer, though she prudently kept her legs out from under the console for fear of insects. Within a matter of seconds, she ordered the Model 7 to display a copy of the strange implant, and was just about to begin analysis of its code when, suddenly, the alarm on the overhead panel came to life.
"Now, what?"
Cassie reached up to the overhead panel, then pressed several keys on its keypad in an effort to determine the extent of the malfunction. A moment or two later, Cassie realized what, exactly, had gone wrong; her expression suddenly changed to dread.
"Oh, no!"

Krey had already entered the tunnel and was cautiously making his way through the strange, unearthly passageway. Just as he had expected, the ridge, and the tunnel, had been constructed using the same, compressed dirt technique as the landing field; it was as solid as concrete. The tunnel was also immaculately clean, though it became dark, sinister, and creepy once he passed the first bend just beyond the entrance.
Krey was using the light on the portable's camera like a flashlight as he carefully, and cautiously, edged his way down the long, curved passage. He guessed that he had already walked something on the order of one hundred feet since the first bend, which proved to be the only sharp turn in the tunnel. The rest of the tunnel was bent in a gradual curve, which followed the curvature of the ridge.
It had been quite some time since Krey lost sight of the first bend and, as far as the camera's light would reveal, the curve continued uninterrupted. Krey wondered where it would lead; it certainly didn't loop all the way around in a complete circle because there had been no sign, as yet, that it joined up with the entrance. Besides, what would be the point of building such an elaborate tunnel, only to have it lead to essentially nowhere? Krey's best guess was that it ultimately led to the outside of the ridge, or that it terminated in some kind of a macabre trap.
That thought drove shivers down Krey's spine as he carefully inched his way down the tunnel. Hardly three or four steps later, he came into view of what appeared to be an abrupt dead end. He took several more cautious steps, then stopped to get a better view of the passage ahead by looking through the camera.
The camera on the portable proved to be much more sensitive than his eyes; after zooming in on the dead end, he realized that the tunnel made a sharp, possibly shear drop just before the end. His suspicions of the tunnel terminating in a trap suddenly heightened. He lowered the portable, then carefully continued down the eerie passage.
As Krey approached the end of the tunnel, he realized that it was not a shear drop at all; the compressed, pavement-like floor of the tunnel gave way to a long set of stairs, which led to a stout, nuclear-hardened hatch at the bottom. The staircase and hatch was, by far, much older than the rest of the tunnel, and seemed to have been constructed of more conventional materials, such as concrete and steel.
Krey stood at the top of the stairs as he scrutinized the sight. There was a thin layer of dust on the aged, cracked steps, which was in stark contrast to the immaculate cleanliness of the tunnel. The concrete walls at either side of the staircase were cracked in numerous places, as if they had been under great stress at one time or another. The hatch at the bottom of the stairs also had its share of battle scars; there were several burn marks around the latch, as well as other tooling marks scattered haphazardly across its face. Krey lowered his brow in confusion; could this be the disaster shelter that he was looking for?
As Krey began the slow, cautious descent down the stairs, he noticed a series of strange tracks imprinted in the thick dust. An uneasiness crept over him as he crouched down to examine the unusual imprints. The impressions in the dust were apparently made by some kind of boot, though it was nothing like a boot that could have fit a human foot. The overall length of the Y-shaped track was something on the order of ten inches. The heel area was about two inches wide, which narrowed to less than an inch at the arch, then widened as the track split into two toe-like appendages. One of the toes was noticeably larger than the other, and the overall track had a slight curve which arched away from the smaller toe. He also noticed that each imprint was paired with a similar track of opposite curvature.
"Hmm..."
Krey nervously rose to his feet, then pointed the portable's camera at the unusual imprints. After taking several seconds to record a picture on the portable's videopack, he lowered the camera, then carefully stepped around the tracks as he cautiously resumed his descent to the hatch.
When Krey reached the hatch, he immediately trained his light on the burned latch. A look of confusion came over him as he examined the deep burn marks, which were apparently the result of an extremely hot torch. The burn marks were certainly deep enough that the torch could have cut through the hatch with a little persistence; why didn't they finish the job? Upon closer examination, he realized that the purpose of the cut was to fuse the latch in a closed position. He lowered his brow in confusion, then passed the light over the tooling marks, which were scattered across the face of the hatch. His voice broke in a cold, uneasy whisper.
"My God!"
He came to the sudden realization that the strange tooling marks were not tooling marks at all; they were actually a series of short, worm-like crystals unlike anything he had ever seen. The clear crystals were curved, semicircular shafts, which had been deposited on the hatch in what appeared to be a random fashion. Krey looked across the hatch in disbelief; there were about three dozen of the crystals deposited on the face of the hatch with many of them bridging the gap between the hatch and the frame.
He was just about to reach up and examine one of the crystals when he was suddenly startled.
"This is Cassella Hempton, RQ-733, are you there, Krey?"
Krey nearly jumped out of his skin, then let out a sigh of relief when he realized that the noise was nothing more than Cassie's voice coming in over the portable. He took a moment to gather his composure, then lifted the portable to the side of his head as if it were a walkie-talkie.
"Yeah, I'm hereyou scared the crap out of me!"
"We have big problems up here, Kreyyou better come back."
"What kind of problems?"
"I just got an alarm on the life support system; it stopped recycling air."
Krey let out a disgruntled moan, "It's probably just clogged. I'll clean it out when I get back." His voice quickly took on a more ominous tone, "This place is weird, Cassie; I'm at the end of a long, dark tunnel, there's all these wormy little crystals hangin' around, and I found a footprint that looks like something out of a monster movie."
He patiently waited for Cassie's reply to his startling news.
"No, it's not clogged! According to the computer the compressor is seized upyou better get up here and fix it!" There was a short, uneasy pause filled with nothing but dead carrier. "What do you mean?... Monsters?"
An uneasy look came over Krey, "Seized up? Shit... I don't know if I can fix it. We don't have a spare compressor and I don't think the one in the service tug will fit."
There was dead silence as Krey concentrated on the compressor problem. He often took great pride in his resourcefulness and ability to fix almost anything under the most adverse conditions, but trying to repair a seize-up compressor without proper parts was like trying to cook without heat.
"Are you still there, Krey?... Where are you?... What do you mean, `wormy little crystals'?"
Krey looked at the hatch; the fittings on it closely resembled the fittings aboard RQ-733. Hope came to his face as he lifted the portable to his ear.
"We might be in luck, Cassie. Did you say the survivor's emergency beacon was a World War Five vintage?"
"It was."
"I think I'm standing right in front of the hatch to their shelter; the fittings on it are just like those on my shipthe same vintage. Chances are that their life support system is also the same vintagetheir compressor just might fit!"
"Goodgrab it and get up here."
"I can't," Krey retorted, "I've been trying to tell yousomething weird is going on here!"

Concern covered The General's face as he nervously listened with his ear against the hatch. Chellaina, as usual, was not far away.
"What are they saying," she whispered.
The General shook his head, "Don't know... Sounds like some kind of argument."
"Are they people like us?"
There was an uneasy pause, "Don't know. I think so... Should I bang on the hatch?"
"No! What if it's them?"

Once again, Krey was using the portable like a camcorder as he sent live pictures of the strange crystals up to Cassie. He had already described the strange nature of the landing field, tunnel, and footprints, and had already presented his theory on what he thought might be going on.
"I think you're right, Krey. It's a trapand the survivors are the bait."
Krey turned off the camera, then held the portable up to his ear, "Have you seen anything like it before?"
"No. It doesn't look like human technology."
"If not human, then what?"
"I don't know. My guess would be; as soon as you crack one of those crystalsyou've stepped on the trip wire."
Krey studied the door for a moment or two. "I might be able to cut around them with a torch."
"I don't knowthey might be heat-sensitive. Think about it; they build a convenient landing pad that only allows access to the survivorsif indeed that is their shelterthen they weld the door shut so it can only be opened with a torch. It would seem likely that the crystals are heat-sensitive. That might be why it's at the end of such a long tunnel; to keep the heat of engine thrust off of the crystals when someone lands or takes off."
"What will happen if we deliberately trip this thing? Will the tunnel collapse? Will the tug blow up?"
"Who knows. I doubt that the tunnel will collapse; if so it would have probable already happened... same for the tug. I don't know what will happen if we trip it, but we need that compressor or we're all dead; I'll suffocate up here, the survivors will die in the shelter, and you'll be stranded on a dead star system. Is there any way you could tunnel around the door?"
Krey took a moment to examine one of the devastating cracks in the concrete wall, "No. The concrete looks to be at least a foot thickprobably more. I think the only way in is cutting through the door. Damn thing's built like a vault."
"Listen, Krey, there's basically two ways to steal something from a vault; stealth or brute force. With stealth you can take your time, but you have to know the alarm system in great detail. With brute force you do a crash and dash; have everything ready at the onslaught, smash anything that gets in your way, move quickly, and hope for the best."
Krey's voice was clearly uneasy, "Which method would you recommend?"
"We don't know enough about the crystals to bypass them, which brings us to the problem of the compressor. How long will it take you to remove it?"

The General had been listening to the muffled exchange for quite some time, though he was unable to make out any words through the thick steel hatch.
"They must be people, Fenny, because I could hear those strange voices real loudnot muffled like this."
"Sh..." The General insisted with the wave of a hand. He listened in silence for a moment or two, then a look of disappointment came over him as he moved away from the hatch.
"I think they left." He shook his head to emphasize his point, "I don't hear anything anymore."
There was silence for a moment or two, then the receiver on the life support equipment suddenly came to life.
"This is Cassella Hempton, tail number RQ- 733, are you there, General Raver?"
A relieved smile came to The General's face as he hurried to the radio as fast as his aging body would allow. There was clearly a note of pride to his voice as he picked up the microphone and replied, "Yes, RQ-733, we're here."
"We've found your shelterat least we think so."
The General nodded to Chellaina as he replied, "Yes, we heard your crew outside the hatch."
"Good. Krey went back to the tug to get some tools, he should be returning in ten minutes or so to cut you out of there with a torchyou and your wife should stay away from the hatch."
Chellaina drew a quick, excited breath as a bright, cheerful smile graced her tenderly aged face; tears of joy began to trickle down her cheeks, "We're going to be saved, Fenny!"
The General offered Chellaina a proud, assuring nod, then keyed the microphone, "I knew you would come through for us, RQ-733you always have before."
"Listen, General, ah... The hatch to your shelter has been booby-trapped; we have no choicewe'll have to cut the trip wire. You and your wife should be ready to move as soon as the hatch opens."
A look of concern dominated The General's face, "Booby trapped? Are we at war or something?"
"We haven't heard any official word on it yet, but it certainly looks that way from here. Also, we're short a compressor for the life support system, so Krey will have to cannibalize yours. Is it accessible?"
"No. It's buried under the rubblethis whole place is just about ready to cave in. We've been using the portable system for air."
"You have a portable life support system!?"
"Yes; nuclear powered, self propelled... It could run a whole ship."
"Perfect! Can you have it ready to move in ten minutes?"