Visitation - Exodus (book 2 of 2)

I spent a few days fully recovering my physical self while the mind seemed to take care of itself most rapidly.

Those from Earth that were here in the Ark were the only people of that planet to go on, to continue their race, if it all turned out successfully. They would leave this part of the Universe becoming the pioneers of a civilisation, hopefully, somewhere distant and safe. Notwithstanding the ancient survivors on Mars, who it was hoped could be rescued and prove to be a significant contribution to the joint expedition, those from Earth could not now be added to. I had left behind many friends and a lot of family. They included those whom I had been allowed to contact, to be given the option, but had declined and decided to stay behind; I would never see them again.

There were those also who would find out, from my lengthy absence and possibly from the unfolding of events in the news that I was gone forever, disappeared, never to be seen again. Equally and it really struck home, that I would never see those family members or good friends ever again. That hurt deep inside, but such was the reality and I had to live with it. I had made my choice and they had made theirs. Much of my family were with me and that alleviated a lot of the hurt that I felt as the full realisation set in. The tears did flow, none the less, as had Caterin’s and for similar reasons.

I had to accept the situation now; I had a job to do and must just get on with it. We were on the way and would not be coming back, whatever happened. We had passed the point of no return, if ever there had been one in the first place. Life was to be permanently different from this moment forward and it had to be lived with, whatever we found or wherever we were to find ourselves. I was tired from my escapade back at the base, my suit had gone to Ed’s team for a thorough clean, the fine dust from the devastation of the base was far worse that a few crumbs from an overfilled mouth of, what was it, a sausage roll?

I had managed some food from the mess room, even though it was not entirely to my taste. Food was food and as the old saying from military days goes, ‘get it down you, you have no idea where the next meal is coming from’, or less politely ‘it goes in one hole and comes out of the other, don’t worry what it tastes like in between.’ I smiled at these memories and the fond recollections of the colleagues that had once spoken these words.

Caterin had asked me to locate the lowest point in the Ark, as far away as possible from anyone else, to minimise the damage I might cause when using my mental abilities at full power as I was now to practice. If I could not direct my thought messages towards the surface and they spilled everywhere, as had occurred at the base, then I may very well cause more unnecessary and serious damage once again. I was determined that I should seek out the lower levels and sought the assistance of Ed and Dr. Jarinda to prevent me becoming totally lost. Ed suggested that we take another stick of old fashioned waxy chalk to mark every corner or change of direction even to the point of writing text messages on walls and Dr. Jarinda kindly obliged. I took this to be a good practical idea in the absence of a ball of string.

So off we all went, chalk in hand although Dr. Jarinda was none too sure about our intentions and none too pleased when she saw me start scrawling my own rough notes and direction arrows in freehand on the walls below her strict interpretations of the various signs and symbols,.

It was hard to imagine the vastness of this Ark. We had taken somewhere close to about ten thousand people on board, lots of technical stuff in big cases but also four small craft from the base neatly nestled in the hangar between the much large craft. Yet when I embarked upon the search I was constantly impressed, overwhelmed more likely, by the number of levels, large and small rooms we took brief glances into, and the plethora of corridors and lifts we encountered that were all seemingly empty. Eventually, coming out of another and final lift, Dr. Jarinda advised that this was the lowest level to which we could descend. We walked forward; Dr. Jarinda confirmed that it was forward, for what seemed like an eternity.

Descending through the many levels by various lifts had seemed a long journey but this walk forward took much longer. I was reminded by Ed that from the outside our Ark resembled a large oval and rugged, even well cratered, greyish moon several miles in length and girth, within which the Ark was well protected by the immense thickness of a most durable protective crust. While this outer protective coating had taken much punishment from impacts with meteorites and other space debris over many tens of thousands of years, it had served its purpose well and only had to remain intact and protective for as long as it took for us to find the legendary Mother Ship. I was truly impressed by the scale of construction that had been undertaken in creating this craft.

At the end of this final long corridor we entered another large but empty storage space. It had to be assumed that these empty spaces had been intended for storage because of their size and, of course, Dr. Jarinda’s educated interpretations of the final signs we encountered. These storage spaces were as giant caverns within which the sound of every step or spoken word echoed but they had the advantage, thankfully, of being well lit automatically by presence detection as we entered. They had to have been sterilised or something similar because of the smell of strong disinfectant. Perhaps they were still being so sanitised, the pungent smell was very noticeable.I guess the size of this particular storage cavern could easily accommodate several football pitches; a match sounded like a good idea, but one which I had to dismiss quickly to keep my head on the task in hand.

It was not completely empty containing still a few discarded chairs, tables and one or two unopened packing cases. I had no idea if any of the other storage areas might have been left in the same condition. I found a seat to sit upon but Ed suggested I lay face down to project my thoughts forward and down more effectively, something in the style of an old fashioned WW2 aircraft bomb aimer. I gave Ed a questioning smile and declined his suggestion. I had the talent, not Ed, and I could see no sense in the few feet between laying and sitting and besides, I intended to be as comfortable as I possibly could, because my ribs and several other places were still a little delicate and susceptible to aching.

I also suggested that Dr. Jarinda leave us because I was uncertain how sensitive she might be and what amount of damage I might cause to her as I trained myself to turn up the volume, albeit and hopefully in a specific direction. I might not get it right first time, I was pretty certain that it would take time, and I had no wish to hurt anyone aboard. Ed said he was leaving with Dr. Jarinda but only temporarily as he insisted upon returning, some one hour or so later, in her company to ensure he didn’t get lost despite the improvised signage. He also came with a sort of mattress from the accommodation areas for me to lie upon more comfortably. I insisted that he was not to bother as the seat was most comfortable for the purpose and that he should find one for himself if he wished to be present as I practised.

He decided to accept my suggestion, a little reluctantly, and discarded the unwanted mattress somewhere behind us. He was intent on staying with me for a while, I guessed at Caterin’s insistence, to ensure that if anything went wrong, he would be able to help and because he had no mental sensitivity to be affected by my ‘transmissions’ however they went.

I thanked Dr. Jarinda, who then disappeared out of the door, while Ed walked away for a few steps to collect another abandoned chair. I sat there for over an hour gently playing with my ability albeit at low power while trying to give it specific direction. I was surprised to find that I could not only do this but could actually sense quite readily in which direction I was actually transmitting.

Ed looked totally bored seeing me sat there, facing the end wall, apparently doing nothing, especially with my eyes closed firmly from time to time. He lasted for a few sessions then decided he was not really needed, no doubt totally bored. I couldn’t criticise him, he meant well. For the rest of the journey to the red planet, I practised day after day until on one occasion I was interrupted by Caterin. She wanted to know why I had stopped my exercises as she had not heard anything up on the flight deck.

For weeks she had been picking up my thought practice, reducing slowly in intensity where she was concerned, but now it seemed completely absent and she was enquiring what had happened. Had I stopped from boredom, was I physically stressed, what was the problem? In fact there was no problem, I had just got right on top of the process at directing properly and with some intensity, exactly what I would have to recreate for the call to the surface of Mars, when we finally arrived.

Caterin’s concern for me turned to jubilation when I explained and also demonstrated in her presence, the extent of the strength and directional control of the level of ability that I had achieved. A combination of something in my DNA, from the benefit of generations of my ancestors and the work carried out on me upon my arrival at the base had provided me not only with the same mental ability as the most gifted of Settlers but at a volume they would not have encountered previously.

My elation at the first experience of this had almost caused a great deal of damage to the base occupants and had nearly alerted those aliens resident on Earth to our combined presence; now it was being put to good and proper use. I was now a freak that had initially been selected by the Settlers because of the book I had written with the assistance, it had to be accepted, of those in the Other Place perhaps; the Universal Conciousness by another name. I was the freak that had become the perfect tool to locate the survivors on, or more likely below the surface of, the ancient home planet of Mars. It had been assumed by the Settlers for some considerable time there had been no survivors on the surface of the planet and if any existed below the surface, they must be few in number. Moreover they could not have access to or the technical ability to employ the kind of communication systems capable of spanning the great distances of space between the planets.

My book had provided an explanation that not only did survivors indeed exist below the surface of the planet, at a single location for certain, but also the only communications able to confirm this had been piggy-backed on a NASA surface buggy probe. My story had predicted this event, before it occurred, and was both the reason certain parties wished to see me put out of action permanently and why I had been rescued by the Settlers and transported to their hidden base.

We were still a couple of weeks away from an intercept with Mars and I continued to practice in this solitary manner, still considering I might continue to be a safety hazard, but instinctively knowing the practice was being effective and nearing perfection. There was nobody in the darkness and depth of space to hear me, but there was some sort of internal mechanism within my mind telling me of my improving talent. Caterin’s regular checking on my progress also added an additional confirmation of how I was improving. Her continued lack of any detection of my broadcasts, as she told me, had her concerned that I was perhaps not putting in the work I should.

I had been aware on the odd occasion she was attempting to communicate with me. We were both became impressed that I could acknowledge and reply to her simultaneously while continuing with my powerful practice; there was no cross over at all. I was compartmentalising my talent in a most sophisticated manner, perhaps I guessed, as some sort of communications equipment that could receive and broadcast on different frequencies simultaneously.

How far I was projecting my mental message, restricting it to “Hello, are you there, can you hear me,” and a few other trial phrases, I did not know. I was hoping that while circling in orbit, miles above the surface of Mars, I would have the ability to project sufficiently over this substantial distance. Something I could not identify or put my finger on, yet again, was telling me I was quite capable of this feat. The more I practised, the more I realised there was some mechanism in my head checking itself as to how it was performing. I was almost sure, at one point that I could happily stand back and watch myself going through the practices and marking how well I was performing; there was much more to what was going on in my mind than I was aware of.

Soon it would be time to get back into my suit, now fully cleaned and devoid of the mess I brought it back in. For the present the clean lightweights that I had been provided with, were more than adequate. I was now spending every other afternoon with my family and was having great fun with my younger grandchildren who persisted with the idea that we were all in a giant caravan on a holiday of sorts. I didn’t spoil their illusory fun.

I had to discipline myself to rise early each morning from my bed in the crew quarters, where Caterin insisted I stay, to come down to this empty space for several hours intensive work of practice, practice and more practice. I should have been bored but I was noting and gaining great satisfaction from, each successive day’s exercise and the improvements being realised. I had come to like the basic food of the restaurant, finding a few new flavours that Ed’s test of the key press combinations had not discovered; some were quite pleasant, some not.

I also came to realise that the fruit juice I liked so much was doing more than benefiting my taste buds. My ability had been developing greatly but was being assisted by the juice, noticeably on those days that I craved and consumed more than perhaps I should. I had not found one in the restaurant that matched the taste of the one on Earth I guessed because it had contained the additional juices of Earthly fruits. Those here in the Ark did not have an Earthly component but presumably an assemblage of Martian flavours. I did find one not too sweet, as a result of playing with the dispenser buttons, that I instinctively felt to be having a beneficial effect on me, so I stuck with it.

This sensation of being aware of how I was performing and what was causing the improvements, as though I was stood outside of myself as some sort of silent watcher, was increasingly present and indeed most pleasant. The last time I had been anywhere near this sensation previously was during my running days back on Earth. I had often achieved the euphoria of a dislocated ‘running high’ but this was something of a higher order completely; I was now enjoying every moment of my practice.

I was changing and did not dissuade myself from doing so.