Al Clark-Thera: Al Clark, #3

By Jonathan G. Meyer

Finding a replacement for Earth is hard.

Long distances and time separate anyone hoping to find a more suitable world than Earth. Book three in the Al Clark series has our hero far from our beautiful blue marble, and trying to do exactly that. With the help of friends and alien technology, he must find a safe home for more than a thousand desperate colonists-and he is running out of time.

Other Books:

Al Clark (Book One)

Al Clark-Avalon (Book Two)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jonathan G. Meyer
• Release date: Jul 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781537051987

Jonathan G. Meyer

Jonathan G. Meyer is a Midwestern author with a passion for Science Fiction. He is a retired electrician fulfilling a lifetime ambition of creating Science Fiction that portrays the determination and drive of the human race. Currently, he is the author of the AL CLARK Series, and a stand-alone entitled- VINCENT.

Book preview

Chapter One

The journey lasted mere seconds. When it was over, and he opened his eyes, Al Clark knew that many light-years now separated him from home. To have his molecules disassembled, sent through an ancient alien machine, and recombined on a planet far, far away was disconcerting—to say the least. This trip, however, was not the first time he made use of this technology. The sudden change of address did not come as a surprise.

Darkness surrounded him. Only the soft blue glow of the exit button pierced the black, with little of his surroundings visible. He removed a small light from his pocket which allowed him to see the inside of a ten-foot clear cube, identical to the one he left so far behind. The box was familiar and expected. It meant that the transporter had worked, and the trip was successful. He had made it through the transfer in one piece.

The beam from his small, powerful light was unable to reach the walls outside the glass, hinting at an expansive interior. He waved his hand over the blue door icon on the wall, and an opening to the outside morphed into existence.

He stepped outside and was struck by the appearance of disuse. The view outside the teleporter showed all the signs of having been abandoned many years ago. Silent equipment crowded the space, leaving only narrow walkways with pipes and ductwork crisscrossing the overhead, heading eventually into the ceiling.

The room resembled a cave or a cavern, with smooth walls cut from solid stone. This dark, crowded hollow was very similar to the basement of the Caretaker station back on Avalon. The difference between the two appeared to be minimal, with both caverns unused for an extended period of time. Silence ruled the dead air.

Fifteen feet outside the dusty glass of the teleportation box, a control station displayed softly lit indicators that led him to believe the machine was operational. Al could not operate the controls and be inside the transport cube at the same time, so for now, he was trapped where he was until he could find someone to assist him. These thoughts crossed his mind, but his focus was on the next objective.

****

AL CLARK WAS ON A MISSION. He was in search of a new home for the people he left behind. His immediate task was to perform a quick survey of this planet, assess its viability for human occupation, and then hopefully locate someone intelligent enough to operate the controls and send him back. In his backpack, he carried enough supplies to last a week unless he could locate other provisions. Judging by the look of the place, the possibility of that seemed unlikely.

The long outdated information coaxed from the alien computer inside Overlook Mountain indicated this planet had been a candidate for human colonization. When the records were added to the Caretaker database more than a thousand years ago, the Earth-like world proved ideal for the transplants placed upon it and supported a healthy, growing population.

The facility he recently left was an abandoned alien outpost on a planet they called Avalon, and the long-departed aliens that built the outpost they named, ‘The Caretakers.' When the research facility was found, along with it came technology to boggle the mind. It was the teleporter technology found in the outpost that allowed Al the opportunity to search for a friendlier planet on which his people could settle. A long-dead alien researcher left a discrete trail to guide them to the hidden outpost and created a holographic representation of himself to guide the newcomers through the facility. Inside, they discovered highly advanced technology centuries ahead of anything on Earth.

Avalon is a beautiful world in many ways and referred to by many as a jewel among planets. Unfortunately, it is also infested with man-eating predators that refuse to share the bounty. The worst of the beasts, called Riktors, chased the colonists from more than one location until the survivors were forced to seek shelter inside the cramped basement cavern of the Caretaker’s Overlook Mountain. They fought a good fight. In the end, they were compelled to retreat.

As a result of the last attack, the settlement they worked so hard to create was left devastated. The village of Camelot was no longer viable. The Riktors and the animals which followed them came to the village en mass, and with a vengeance. The beasts were problem solvers and more intelligent than anyone imagined. As the head of security, Al felt partially responsible for the colonist’s fate. In his eyes, he had failed the settlement, and this excursion to search for a better world gave him a chance to make things right. He was determined to succeed.

****

HE CAUTIOUSLY WALKED through the narrow walkways to the lift that would take him to the level above. A fine layer of dust permeated everything, and particles liberated from the floor followed his footsteps, leaving a small cloud in his wake. The sounds produced by his passage echoed against a dark and silent landscape.

The platform squealed when it first started, then smoothed out and changed to a low pitched hum as the climb progressed. He rode the open elevator up one hundred feet to the ceiling, the entire time trying to see what he could in the massive, unlit cavern. From his perch, it still looked long abandoned and forgotten. He knew there were other rooms in this complex, and he would need to check those before he could make any serious determinations.

The belief was that the outpost he now explored would be similar to the one on Avalon, as they were both constructed by the Caretakers. The facility on this planet, as well as the one on Avalon, was meant to study the humans placed here by the benevolent race of ancient aliens. The information provided by the computer on Avalon allowed him a sense of familiarity, and he made his way to the Library, which should be the next room above.

The library was in the same condition as the basement cavern. Quiet, dark and deserted. Dead workstations and dusty monitors sat silent, with nothing to indicate they could help in his search. It was, however, not the library he expected. This room was different, with square hatches where hatches shouldn’t be, and it was missing the usual site-to-site transporter in the center of the space that served as the standard means of transport inside the Caretaker outpost on Avalon.

It was a boxy room, as tall as it was wide, with workstations occupying the four corners. One-inch data cubes stored in cabinets by each station held information gleaned from the Caretaker’s scientific observations. If the work areas had power, he might have learned a lot by reading the data stored in those transparent cubes. It did not appear to be an option.

The room was in disarray, with data cubes strewn across the floor. Like the other rooms, everything was coated with a layer of undisturbed dust. There were no footprints or marks on any surface, which served to remind Al how truly alone he was.

Three five-foot square hatches, centered on three of the four walls called for his attention. He chose the opening on his right. When he waved his hand over the control button, the door surprisingly stuttered open, and before him lay a spacious hangar bay. A hangar bay nothing like the one on the side of Overlook Mountain.

In this space, the aircraft gained access from above through a large metal door covering a thirty-foot circular shaft cut through the stone ceiling. The hangar bay on Avalon had a holographic camouflaged door to the side, where the ships flew in and out. Of course, it was halfway up a mountain. This outpost was clearly not the same.

He swung his pocket light around the large room, and some of its light fell on a small craft pushed up against one wall. Al moved closer for a better look. The compact shuttlecraft was unlike the colony shuttles. It was a sleek ship of unusual design without sharp edges that was not parked or pushed out of the way, but crashed and abandoned where it fell. Its canted position, scattered debris, and a scorched wall told the tale.

The rest of the room was similar to what he was used to, with maintenance bays, storage compartments, and a wide area for landing vehicles. The hatch he used to enter appeared to be the only exit, excluding the thirty-foot round door above him. This room was also missing the teleporter cube. It was like Avalon, and it was not. In this case, it appeared the people that once occupied this outpost left in a hurry.

He returned to the library and crossed to the hatchway on the left side of the room. While the square door activated he realized, the teleporter, the lift, and the doors work—and nothing else. Is the complex running on emergency power?

On the other side of the second hatch was a round metal room. It was not large, with only a ten-foot circumference, with a slender control pedestal conspicuously placed in the center. The dust was thicker in here, with a gritty quality approaching sand. After blowing the dust off the top of the pedestal, Al uncovered a single glowing blue button.

One button to do what?

He opted to see what lay behind hatch number three before finding out.

The third hatch led to sleeping quarters. Similar in design to the sleeping room at Overlook. This place, however, was not in the pristine, undisturbed condition they discovered at the Avalon research facility, nor was it as large. Food dishes lay abandoned on the desktops, half filled with a hardened unknown substance that sat next to the non-functioning food replicators. Even the bed coverings were rumpled, rotted, and covered by a thin layer of white powder.

He began to become concerned when it became apparent there was nothing here to help him. If this planet was as deserted as the outpost, there might not be someone to work the controls.

Tucked in a small pouch hung around his neck were the coordinates to return to Avalon. The small bag also held another address. His friend and colleague, Edward Florida, slipped in a backup address to another possible candidate. Neither option was possible unless he could find someone to operate the controls.

After searching the remainder of the outpost, and finding nothing useful, he decided it was time to try the intriguing blue button in the small round room.

****

HE HESITATED ONLY A second and touched his finger to the glowing icon. Dim lighting came on and exposed the interior, allowing him to get a better look at the room. The walls were a faded blue, and smooth. The interior was stark, and the hatch he entered through the only adornment on the walls. The control pedestal, the entrance, and a small hatch in the ceiling completed the furnishings.

A few seconds later the room shifted, groaned, and began to rise in an unwilling slow ascent.

It is an elevator! And it’s going up. Up to where?

Al grabbed the control column and held his breath. The lift vibrated and rattled as it rose until a final tortured squeal stopped the upward movement. Al watched the hatch in the ceiling forced downward by an unseen obstruction above. The hum of the lift quit just after the elevator stopped, and sparks flew from the control console. The already dim lighting went out. He pressed the button several times to no avail. The lift was stuck.

The hatch he used to enter was automatically locked closed when the trip began. Even if he could open it, he would only find the wall of the shaft on the other side. It was an unlikely exit. His only possible chance at escape was the small distorted hatch six feet above his outstretched hands.

Up to this point, Al had kept his energy usage conservative. This problem was one of those rare situations where he had little choice. It was the kind of excuse even his overly cautious wife, Elizabeth, would be unable to refute. Al Clark had an ace up his sleeve and decided he was justified in playing it.

He whispered the magic phrase, The metal of a man is measured by what is inside, to begin the process of changing himself from an ordinary person to something more.

The recently replaced power pack in his chest provided additional energy to the systems of his body, and when he opened his eyes after the transformation, the discreet indicator in his field of view displayed power levels above ninety percent. He was now capable of things most humans only dreamed about.

The power surged through him, and he welcomed the feeling. It was an addictive state of being. When in normal mode he was only marginally better than the average human, but while in enhanced mode, he was capable of much more.

Al Clark is a man that looks no different than anyone else except he has a cybernetic body and a human brain. Some have called him a Cyborg. Al believes the term brought to mind negative implications of science experiments gone wrong, so he referred to himself as a man with a prosthetic body; a body that was capable of propelling him thirty feet into the air and landing safely.

Al decided the quickest way out was up. He raised his titanium reinforced arms and used the power of his legs to jump towards the ceiling hatch. The already damaged obstruction yielded somewhat, and he was forced to step back and wait as sand filtered through widened gaps.

He repositioned himself and tried again, this time a little harder. The hatch gave way and forced its way up to sail out of sight. Sand immediately poured through the hole, leaving a pile on the floor three feet tall before it finally slowed to a stop. One more jump and he stood above ground with the hole beside him, into blinding sunlight.

Filters activated in his eyes and the dazzling glare of the foreign sun faded to something more tolerable. He turned a complete circle, slowly, and then again using the maximum magnification his robotic eyes allowed. All around him stretched sand dunes, and little else—as far as his high-tech eyes could see.

Chapter Two

The top of the lift was buried three feet below the surface, and except for the small hollow mound in the sand left no sign of the complex that lay below. It was hot, and the sun beat down on a desolate landscape, with dirty white sand reflecting both light and heat. A mile to the East, according to the indicators displayed in his visual display, was a dark hill; a solitary mound higher than anything around. On its peak stood the skeleton of a once proud tree. The only tree in sight. It made sense to take to the high ground for a better look.

His legs were designed to be strong, for obvious reasons, and also allowed for a high degree of mobility. Al could run. His son-in-law, Chris, had timed him once at almost sixty miles an hour.

Still trying to conserve energy, Al did not race to the mound. He maintained a ground eating trot until he was walking the last few steps to the tree at its peak. When he arrived, he repeated the phrase and powered his body down.

The sand did not stick here. The color of the soil was a dark gray as if burned by the relentless sun, and smooth as glass. Once again he rotated and searched for signs of civilization, slowly the first time and even slower the second.

He saw no sign of life anywhere, and the height the mound afforded him revealed nothing new.

Now what? I can’t go forward, and I can’t go back.

In the sun, the temperature was well over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. There was no distinct smell to the air that moved sluggishly past him; only the odor of heat and its effect on everything it touched.

The only shade on the hilltop was leeward of the dead tree trunk and Al took a seat to consider his options. His possibilities were limited. Pick a direction and trek across the desert to see what he could learn with the limited supplies he carried, or find a way back into the research outpost to search for anything useful to add to his pack.

He ate and drank like everybody else, but required less. His body broke down what he ate and supplied fluids and nutrients to his biological brain. If he did not get the sustenance his brain needed, he would sicken and die like anyone.

The idea of returning to the outpost was winning when he noticed a flicker in the shade next to him. He was staring at the spot when it happened again. For part of a second, he saw a lizard—with wings. Then it blended back into the background and disappeared.

Al jumped up and backed away, his eyes watching the spot where he saw his vision. It appeared the scales that covered its body allowed it to blend into its surroundings. When that failed, the lizard’s true colors took over.

It was wrapped up in its wings and curled in a ball, making it hard to judge its size. He guessed it to be three feet long from its nose to the tip of the tail, and several shades of green. The flight appendages had black stripes that started halfway up the wing and followed the long fingers to end at black wingtips.

Al felt the lump in his pocket made by the tiny good luck charm he carried. A small plastic dragon he removed from the bridge of the Excalibur on his final trip to the colonial starship before it fell from orbit. Someone taped it to a console for luck. Al found it ironic that a character originating in the magical mythology of a planet many light years away lie before him. Something only found in storybooks was sharing the only shade in sight. He was sitting next to a real live dragon.

****

THE CREATURE WAS NEARLY motionless, curled up in a small hollow taking slow, determined breaths. It was clearly struggling for life, and no longer conscious of its surroundings.

Al thought, I travel all this way searching for a place to escape the terror of dinosaurs, and the only life I find is