come on down to the Mermaid Cafe

The mechanism on the wall in front of them had been smashed to bits. Pieces of rock and what looked like translucent metal were scattered at the base of the cliff, most of it in a circular sector about three meters long. The square patch of glass above the ruined mechanism was intact, embedded in the rock face, but the circular panel had only a jagged corner edge left. Gone were any traces of the five-button configuration Truss had documented on his scouting mission.

"This happened recently," said a voice in his ear. Truss turned his head to look at his two crewmates. Proise shifted her weight and aimed her veebox down and then tilted it from side to side, continuing: "At most, five hours. Possibly fewer."

The comms clicked. Egorov's voice sounded in Truss's ear, slurring a little, as if he'd just woken up from a nap. "Something doesn't want us here." Click. Truss could practically hear Proise roll her eyes.

Click. "Or," she sighed, "it could have been struck. A lateral impact."

Click. "Not likely," Egorov said, "but I suppose possible."

The rock around the mechanism had several thin scratches on it.  Were they dark spindles from molten residue? No. The impact hadn't been strong enough. Was it ejecta splatter? He was talking out loud.

Proise was quick to reply. "No and no. Did you see these during your scout?"

"No. It was just the box. With five buttons. The rock face was pitted, not scarred. I didn't press anything. I'm sending you more images now."

"No need for that. Wait, I'm getting..."

Just as the red lights on Proise's veebox started blinking, Truss felt the atmosphere change. His stomach dropped. It was the sensation of falling from a great height. Tiny pebbles drifted down from the rock wall and struck the ground around their feet, kicking up slow clouds of lunar dust, and a rectangular portion of the rock face, three meters high and one meter across, slid open in front of them.

They stood there, moments, taking it in. Truss said “What the fuck,” but didn’t send it over comms. Besides, they were probably all thinking it.

"You two go." Proise's voice was quick, firm, and newly-engulfed in static. Truss sensed a bit of alarm, too, which was not like her. "Protocol’s clear, guys. I want to take more readings before I follow. But you should test comms after you get inside. I'll try to find the edge of..."

Her words splintered under the crackling static. Truss craned his neck forward. "You're breaking up, boss."

"...ger. You and Egorov go in. See if you get a better signal."

Egorov and Truss rogered back. Egorov went in first, Truss second. The men moved slowly, scanning for sharp edges that might puncture their suits. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, the wall behind them closed in a blink, silently. It happened so fast Truss didn't panic when a pale blue-green glow illuminated the space around them, with no discernible source but the smooth walls.

Truss tried his comm. Only static now. Egorov pointed at himself, then Truss, then into the corridor in front of them. They wouldn't need to use their lights.

As they moved forward, the corridor got narrower. Truss held out his glove and pressed Egorov on the arm. The military man turned around, his bearded face vaguely blue under the polycarbonate shield. The man's eyes looked a little unfocused. Truss gestured at his own oxygen tank, then Egorov's, then put out his hand flat in the air between them. Keep calm, carry on. We gotta make the oxygen last. Egorov nodded once and they continued.

***

The two astronauts squeezed into a vaulted chamber. Truss noted it was about ten meters in diameter and four meters tall, with illuminated lines etched all around the walls and up the dome. Truss followed the lines with his eyes, trying to track their origins, but none of them seemed to have an origin or endpoint. The designs reflected a vision worthy of Oseberg: ocean waves, ships, mountains, and sea creatures with long snouts and forked tails. It also made Truss think of the handprints in Chauvet, or the Nazca geoglyphs. His mind reeled.

At the center of the chamber was a console, about waist-high. A narrow rectangle was carved into the opposite wall, its borders dark.

Truss looked at the levels in his visor then clicked into comms. The static was gone. "What the fuck, Egorov?" A few seconds. He clicked over again. "There's oxygen in here. Egorov? And just shy of one gee. I can feel it. But I wouldn't..."

The Russian fiddled with the latch on his helmet and removed it. It happened so fast that Truss barely registered the action, but started when Egorov's helmet audibly clattered on the ground. Yes. Earth gravity and oxygen too, apparently. Egorov straightened and took a visible deep breath, then reached down toward the pedestal. On its face were two kidney-shaped buttons. He pressed the button on the right. Instantly the walls flickered and the lines began to move.

Egorov turned around and smiled at Truss - a blank, troubling smile.

The angular lines depicting ships around the walls began to animate. Truss moved closer to one of them. He could see the little masts of the ships, which floated slowly around the base of the dome atop curling waves. A step closer and Truss observed they were not masts but spindly sailors, thin and tall, crude as stick figures and waving their appendages in a kind of semaphore. Were the ships their bodies? Truss captured a few images in his visor. The closer he got to the walls, the more detailed the figures became. They had two eyes, all of which followed him when he moved from side to side.

Truss clicked into comms. "Proise? You still out there?"

Nothing. Truss turned his head to look at his crewmate. Egorov's eyes were wet and reflected the milky blue of the chamber; his mouth moved repetitively, like he was trying to remember a complex number. A dark space had appeared on the wall opposite the entrance, where the rectangular border had been.

Words began to echo around them, not visible but so loud and thick in the atmosphere that Truss’s suit vibrated. Louder and louder, strange sounds ricocheted inside the chamber. Truss noticed that Egorov's mouth movements matched the sounds almost exactly. They sounded familiar… human? But not English.

Erogov turned around and looked at Truss, with that same blank smile. The recitation had stopped. "Do you hear her?" he asked. "Look who it is!" He turned around and stepped through the opening just as Truss instinctively called out "Stop!" through his helmet. Too late.

The walls blinked and glowed around the rectangle-void.

Suddenly, Truss's own revelation was standing there, in the square black. The figure was barely visible. But within a few seconds he observed Franco, his dead love, standing at the threshold of the moon chamber, glowing with the darkness behind him. Why did that phrase come to him - "moon chamber"?

Because that's what it was... of course that's what it was.

Truss struggled with his helmet and removed it, dropped it to the floor. Tears welled up in his eyes. So this was his chance. His last chance! Franco moved towards him almost in reverse, as if a holocamera had recorded him backing into the void, then replayed out the scene in reverse. The milky glow of the room cut across the apparition like a jagged scar.

"Eccoti qui," said Franco, warmly, quietly. The words were so much less harsh to Truss with his helmet off. The figure's eyes danced. His chest was immaculate, his legs toned, his arms narrow but solid, with small hairs that glowed blue in the mysterious light. His swimsuit was slick and colorful, just as it had been on that day. It was as if he had just come from the ocean. Returned this time. Franco ducked slightly, glided to one side, then stepped closer.

"Eccoti qui," Franco said again, warmly. He opened his arms. He said the words again, then again, until it was all Truss could hear.

***

Proise scanned the broken mechanism one more time, then the sealed entrance. No signs on comms. When the door opened, she had no time to feel relieved. Her helmet's transmitter clicked and words screamed airlessly around her:

ECCOTI QUI ECCOTI QUI ECCOTI QUI

She backed away, holding her veebox like a gun. A tingle ran up her spine and she flipped her comms to a secondary channel. "Egorov. Truss. Come in. Egorov. Truss. Acknowledge." No more static, but no response, either. She flipped to ship comms. "Jiǎn, come in."

"Roger."

"Prep for takeoff. No questions." Click. The lights on her veebox blinked red. Vibrational evaluators were clearly useless here. She holstered it.

Almost at the same moment, Marcel, her dead son, emerged from the darkness in front of her.

ECCOTI QUI ECCOTI QUI

His hair blew in a nonexistent wind and its tips were covered in vibrating frost. He stepped, then stepped again, then stared pleadingly.

Proise fell and scrambled and screamed. Her boots slid across the ground, and within seconds the atmosphere was thick with lunar dust. By the time she was back on her boots, she didn't bother to turn around. She kicked back across the landscape. She emitted another mangled cry into her helmet.

***

When Proise neared the top of the landing ridge and climbed onto the plateau, she saw the oblong craft, its hatch open and gleaming in the earthlight. She waved her arms and bounded forward.

"Jiǎn!" she screamed into comms, "Lower it! Lower it!"

The cargo ramp emerged and dropped silently to the surface. Behind her, more dust billowed up around the edge of the plateau. Above, planet Earth turned like an unblinking eye. Proise stepped forward, slower now, aware of the pull behind her.

A gentle rhythm of words and footsteps patted in her mind, like a light rain. The atmosphere shifted, retreated, like the curling froth of a tide. Something was still speaking, softly, insistent. Two words. She knew she wanted to take off her helmet badly, but if she did it now, she couldn't kiss him even If he came bounding up over the top of the ridge and into her arms.

Jiǎn appeared at the hatch and beckoned to Proise with quick gestures of his hand. She hesitated at the base of the ramp, turned around, then took a breath and lifted her gloves. Her breath was steady and slow. One, two. One, two. She curled her fingers around the base of the helmet and felt for the latch.

ECCOTI QUI ECCOTI QUI ECCOTI QUI

She stumbled, but Jiǎn's glove caught her wrist and pulled hard back towards the hatch. The astronauts tumbled together into the dark opening, then the ramp lifted and the hatch sealed itself automatically behind them.

Outside, unnoticed by human eyes, a thin aquamarine etching ran around the base of the ship, then moved out in lengthening spirals, wider and wider, until thin patterns danced across the surface of the moon, to the dark side and back out into the light.