"Have you ever considered why the surface of Mars is so barren?" the Professor's luncheon guest questioned over the rim of his steaming teacup. "If there was life here once, where did it all go that no trace was left for us to find when we got here?"

"I assume by your question, you have an answer," the Professor theorized.

"Of course," the guest confirmed, taking a tentative sip of his hot tea. "I posed the question to find out if you came to the same conclusion."

The two men sat in high-backed chairs of caramel brown on opposing sides of a small table where a silver tea pitcher let loose a slow curl of hot vapor from its spout. The ancient clock standing by the manual-style door ticked rhythmically in a relaxing manner. The walls, with the exception of the one holding a reinforced window looking out across the barren red soil of Mars, were covered in bookshelves. Old style books bound in varying shades of leather filled the shelves with the knowledge of many worlds.

Although computers held more information and had faster retrieval options than books, the Professor loved his books, even converting modern writings to paper as books were harder to change than a computer file, and when something was good or true, it didn't need to be changed. Books had a more tangible finality to them, and the Professor ardently refused to give them up.

"I suppose there are two possibilities," the Professor considered aloud. "Firstly, the storms of high winds and blowing rock and sand have, over time, worn down everything to dust. Secondly, the natives never lived on the surface because it was too inhospitable."

"I know the answer as to which it is," his guest announced, saluting the Professor with his cup.

"Indeed?" the Professor questioned. "If this is so, why haven't you announced your discovery?"

The guest set down his cup with a soft clink upon its matching saucer before leaning back in his chair and fixing the Professor with an appraising stare.

"The worlds have forgotten me," the guest informed his host.

"Nonsense," the Professor interrupted. "You're the foremost authority in several scientific fields."

"Don't flatter the ego of an old man," the guest dismissed, waving away the compliment like an annoying insect. "Although many of my accomplishments have been well received, my theories have more often than not been less than welcome, some of them inviting ridicule. As my name slipped from public notice, I found it offered a freedom I haven't known in some time. I am allowed to work without the constant expectation of delivering brilliant new findings on a regular basis. Although I may have found something tremendous, I would rather my name be kept out of it when you tell the worlds the truth of things."

"I can't take credit for another man's discovery," the Professor protested.

"I'm not asking you to," his guest denied. "I simply want you to go somewhere and tell people what you found there. That's all. No one needs to know I pointed you in that direction."

"I don't like it, but I shall respect your wishes," the Professor relented.

"Good," the guest accepted. He pulled a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his brown suit. "Here, when you translate the code, you'll have all the information you need to get started."

"Code?" the Professor questioned.

"This will be no ordinary scientific exploration," the guest warned him. The thick gray mustache on his upper lip seemed to intensify his serious expression. "Such an undertaking requires a man intelligent of mind and resourceful in its application. If you can decode my message, I'll know I picked the right man for the task."

His guest stood and headed for the door. Taking the handle, he paused before turning back to his host.

"I'm counting on you," he told the Professor. "Keep my name out of any discoveries you make."

"You need not fear," the Professor assured him. "I won't mention the name Saknussemm."

***

The outer airlock cycled, breathable air flooding into the chamber while the inhospitable Martian atmosphere was flushed out. The newest visitor to the Professor's home waited until the indicator lights on the wall turned green before stepping forward into the alcove to the left of the interior door. Pressure on the plate under his boots activated the system concealed within the wall.

A large panel in the wall opened, and mechanical arms extended out to grip and unlock the various pieces of the visitor's environment suit, deconstructing it and taking each piece into the wall compartment for storage. When the suit had been collected and the arms withdrawn, the mechanism provided a crystalline rod the length and width of man's index finger. The rod glowed slightly blue until it was removed from the aperture where it had protruded. The visitor took the crystal access key in order to retrieve his suit when he departed.

The visitor brushed a hand through his dark brown hair to try and neatened it up after being crammed inside a helmet. He tugged his gray suit jacket to remove any accumulated wrinkles before pressing the button to open the interior hatch of the airlock.

The airlock and the outside world of the Martian colony were advanced in design and function, but the interior space was from another century. Wood paneled walls and floors, ornate light fixtures, and golden framed paintings decorating the walls. A balding man in a dark suit approached.

"May I help you?" the man questioned.

"I'm here to see the Professor," the visitor announced.

"He's been isolated in his office for two days," the servant replied. "He sees no one,"

The visitor sighed having encountered this particular wall before.

"Tell Professor Mason Brock," the visitor began in an overly formal and dramatic manner, "his nephew, J Vernon, is here to see him,"

"I know well your name, Master Vernon as you have been here before," the servant answered indignantly.

"Just tell him, Wallace," Vernon insisted.

"Very well, wait here," Wallace instructed, vanishing through the door into the Professor's home office.

Although unable to hear the words through the heavy wood door, Vernon could hear the shouting. Wallace emerged a moment later.

"He'll see no one," Wallace reported.

Vernon nodded as if accepting the answer and dismissed the butler, going through the door into the office the moment the servant had departed.

"Greetings Uncle," Vernon announced pleasantly.

The Professor looked up from books scattered across his desk only long enough to glower at the intruder who'd interrupted him. It had always seemed to Vernon that the Professor kept his face clean shaven simply so nothing would interfere with the scowl he displayed on a near perpetual basis. Constantly being lost in thought, the Professor had little time or patience for courtesies he believed were simply a mask when people didn't want to say what they really felt.

"I told Wallace I didn't want to be disturbed," the Professor grumbled, shifting some of his books around to page through a different volume before checking another.

"I'm not disturbing you," Vernon denied. "I'm visiting."

"I've no time for visitors either," the Professor snapped. "I'm involved in a project of immense complexity, and this very conversation is delaying my efforts by dividing my concentration. So, please be so kind as to leave."

Vernon ignored the suggestion and moved to get a better look at what his uncle was working on. In the center of the book pile was a single sheet of paper with lines of strangely written symbols.

"It looks like some kind of code," Vernon observed.

The Professor's hands tightened into fists as they dropped heavily upon the books and desk. He turned from his work and confronted his intrusive nephew.

"Yes, it's a code," the Professor told him hotly. "I've been trying to decrypt it for two days. It holds the key to a tremendous scientific breakthrough if I can be left alone long enough to figure it out."

"Why is it on paper?" Vernon questioned. "Did you write it down that way?"

"No," the Professor denied. "It was given to me this way."

"Why?" Vernon asked, seemingly oblivious to the Professor's growing ire.

"What difference does it make?" the Professor demanded. "It's what's on the paper that matters, the code I can't unlock!"

"Uncle," Vernon offered in a patient tone. "I understand your reasoning for liking the old books and paper, but if whoever gave you this isn't of the same mind, then the format would seem to be significant. Why not use a data sheet? If it was put on paper, it was done so for a reason, don't you think?"

The Professor's dark eyes went wide, and he snatched the paper from the desk and began turning it over in the light, looking for anything out of the ordinary. When he held it up to the light, the translucent material allowed a muted view of the letters on the front.

"That's it!" the Professor shouted. Closing several of the open books on his desk and stacking them to one side to create room, the Professor began scribbling notes onto another sheet of paper, occasionally holding up the original code for reference. When he finished, he showed it happily to Vernon. "You see? The translation was correct, but the translated letters were in reverse, so none of the words made sense until seen from the other side of the page."

"What does it say?" Vernon inquired.

The Professor studied the translated message for a moment, went to one of his bookshelves and pulled out another text to add to the pile on the desk. Flipping through several pages, he stopped on a map of Mars.

"The message says that a passage exists to the interior of planet," the Professor explained. "It gives a date and time when the sunlight passing by the volcano Olympus Mons will point the path in the correct direction."

"We shouldn't have to wait for that if we were to use a computer model," Vernon suggested. "It could simulate the exact conditions over the area and show exactly where to go."

"Computer access logs might be discovered," the Professor cautioned. "We'll have to do everything by hand. It might not be as fast, but we'll get the information, and when we show up on the day in question, we'll know for sure if we can proceed."

"Proceed with what, Uncle?" Vernon insisted.

"To undertake the greatest advancement of science since the colonizing of this planet," the Professor replied. "This will be a chance to redefine our knowledge of the world, to go where no one has, the center of Mars itself."

"Sounds exciting," Vernon offered. "Be sure and tell me about it when you get back."

"You're coming with me," the Professor decreed.

"I'm no explorer or adventurer," Vernon protested.

"You are now," the Professor countered. "You were the one who figured out the key to unlocking the message. I'll need you on the expedition. Besides, I can't leave you here with the knowledge of what I'm trying to do. Someone else might find out. So, for the purpose of assisting me, and for added security, you're going. I'll make all the arrangements."

Vernon wanted to argue the point, but the Professor was no longer listening, lost in thought and in preparation.

***

Towering at 85,000 feet above the plains, the wide volcano of Olympus Mons squatted on the northwestern horizon as the Professor and Vernon drove across the volcanic plateau of Tharsis in their rover. Consisting of three sets of two wheels each under the main chassis, the rover had a reflective dome of black over the interior seats. Able to seat six, the places for three of the passengers had been filled with supplies unable to be wedged into the thoroughly packed storage compartment.

Vernon resided behind his uncle in the driver's seat while the front passenger seat was occupied by a local guide named Hans. The Professor had hired Hans to show them the way to the volcano where they needed to be.

South of volcanoes Ascraeus Mons and Pavonis Mons, Arsia Mons was their intended destination  where a number of cave entrances named Seven Sisters were located.

When the rover came to a stop near the cavern entrances, the three travelers donned their helmets before the atmosphere was vented and the canopy raised on a rear hinge. The three men stepped out onto the barren Martian soil. The sun, bright but heading down on the western horizon, hovered over the massive form of Olympus Mons.

"While we wait," the Professor suggested, "final equipment check."

The three men inspected their gear as the Professor mentioned each component. "Oxygen filtration systems? Terrain scanners? Map computers? Lights? Gravity tethers?"

When the last item was mentioned, the gravity tethers were switched on, creating a golden rope of energy between the three men and the devices on their belts. Flexible with adjustable length, the gravity tether could manipulate local gravity fields to anchor or lift a member of the party if they were either in danger of falling or had already fallen and required assistance.

The checklist was completed and the rover emptied of essential supplies. The sun was starting to sink behind Olympus Mons and cast more focused rays across the alien landscape from around the edge of the volcano. The explorers could only wait until the beams pointed to the entrance that would lead them to the center of Mars.