The mess hall was a fairly large room, which could easily accommodate at least a hundred people. Now it seemed empty. As we entered, I caught several curious looks from a few people sitting there. No wonder, I thought. We are probably the most interesting event in their lives. But, then again, maybe not, recalling what Trevor had said about the local species. It would be interesting to see them. Besides, what are we supposed to do now? Our mission has lost its purpose.
A dark-skinned man, whose appearance evoked thoughts of vegetarian cuisine, came to serve us food. His black eyes with bright whites, which created a stark contrast with his dark skin, shifted from one crew member to another.
“This is our cook, Raheem Khaji,” Dr. Hill said.
“I hope his meals aren’t quite as sour as his face,” another attempt of mine to lighten the mood with a joke, again failed, inevitably triggering Sheila's displeased stare.
Despite expectations, our lunch, dinner, or whatever meal of the day it was, included meat. We had chicken. Just a small portion, accompanied with some sort of boiled grass. In addition, we had porridge and tea, which, judging by the particles floating in it, had been made from the same grass as the side dish. Well, Terra Nova is anything but a gourmet paradise, I thought, picking at the gelatinous puree with a spoon. Anna came over with her tray and took a seat opposite me.
“Do you find our food unusual?”
“Compared to the nutrient solution pumped into my body for the last two hundred years, it's just ambrosia,” I replied and recklessly put a spoonful of the puree in my mouth.
The puree was expectedly tasteless, but it made the girl smile.
“What was the food like back on Earth?” she asked. “I heard there was some sort of a delicacy, oyster. Obviously, I've never tried it.”
“Well, it’s something like a sea worm in a shell. I've never liked oysters, they are highly overrated. I'd rather have a well-done steak with a glass of chilled wine.”
“A worm? Yuck!” Anna looked at me incredulously. “You are kidding, aren't you?”
“No. Why is he following us?” I pointed my spoon at Werner, who stayed at the entrance.
“Trevor probably asked him to keep an eye on you to prevent accidents. You're new to the base and MP.”
“What's MP?”
“You are definitely new here. It's what we call this world. Monster Planet, MP for short.”
“And the locals, what are they like?” I asked, sipping the unexpectedly good tea.
The girl closed up at once.
“Is something wrong?” I was already sorry that I had asked the question. Our relationship with this lovely girl was off to a good start and might blossom into something bigger. Although two hundred years in a capsule could have a negative effect on my body, I thought uneasily.
“They are aggressive, bad,” Anna replied. “They kill us. They must be exterminated.”
“Wow, such thirst for blood!” I pointedly raised my eyebrow in surprise.
“When your friends are murdered, the blood of your enemies seems – how did you put it? – like ambrosia.”
I chose not to say anything. Perhaps she had the right to say that, who knows.
“Are they really intelligent?” I asked instead.
“Yes and no.”
“What do you mean?”
“They are organized, social, but at the same time incapable of creative thinking. Many of their actions are instinctive, genetically coded, I believe. Like ants. I can't provide more details, I'm not a biologist.”
“But have you seen them?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” a grimace of disgust distorted Anna's pretty features. “I hope never to see them again.”
It was Finn who distracted me from the conversation.
“Max, get up. We have to get together and discuss the situation.”
“Anna, excuse me. It was very nice talking to you,” I said to the girl, standing up, “I hope we'll continue next time?”
“Absolutely,” the girl smiled, leaving her seat.
“You, French folks, just never change,” Finn commented, watching her go. “But we do have a lot to discuss, so let's meet at my place.”
A quarter of an hour later, after a short stay in my own compartment, I arrived at the commander's room. I came second after Boris and perched on the bed. Finn took a stool, while Leonov was sitting on a chair next to him. They looked like conspirators. The Russian astronaut was saying something, but stopped as I entered.
“I think we should present your theory to Max,” the commander told the biologist.
“What theory?” I asked, looking at my crew-mates.
“Boris thinks we haven't left Earth,” John continued.
“An interesting idea,” I remarked, looking at the frowning biologist. “Are there any arguments to support it?”
“Just open your eyes! Does it look like a space base to you?” Leonov rattled on. “And this tall story about new drives just doesn't hold water. Only a naive Asian could fall for such nonsense.”
He was obviously referring to Ji Cheng.
“Well, everything seems logical,” I noted, standing up for our astrophysicist.
“Oh, really?” the biologist threw up his hands, his sunken eyes darting nervously from me to Finn and back again. “I'm telling you, they're doing an experiment on us. Just like the flight to Mars! Do you remember? When they just locked up the crew on Earth.”
“But the participants knew it was staged,” the commander intervened.
“That's it. That's right,” Leonov quickly interrupted him. “They knew it, but we don't. Why? We've got to find an answer to this question. Why are they experimenting on us?”
“I think you're crazy,” I told him bluntly. “Some side effect of the conservation maybe.”
Leonov paused and looked at us. The commander's face showed doubt and pity. It was obvious that he agreed with me completely. The Russian got really worked up.
“I know better! I'm a doctor and a biologist, not you! What is it, do you think?” he asked, raising his hand.
“It's your right hand,” Lisa replied, entering the compartment.
“No,” Boris said after a solemn pause, “This is a bracelet they use to track us and take readings.”
“What's going on?” Lisa asked, perplexed. “Did I miss something?”
“Yep,” I said. “Our learned friend has put forward a conspiracy theory. He believes that there was no flight at all. Instead, we are a part of some experiment on Earth.”
Lisa eyed the biologist suspiciously for a moment, then turned to Finn.
“You know what? I do believe that something is wrong here,” she said.
“And not you alone,” John replied, “which is why we are here. By the way, where's Cheng?
“Powdering her nose maybe. I'll go get her,” Lisa went out.
“Listen, Boris. We readily support your point that this place is weird. But it's quite easy to check your theory. Why don't we…” I stopped mid-sentence, interrupted by a scream from the corridor.
“It's Lisa,” Finn said, as we rushed outside. The door to Cheng's compartment was open. I saw the ubiquitous Werner quickly entering the room. We hurried after him.
Lisa was standing there with her back to us. Cheng was on the bed, dead. Her eyes were rolled back, tongue out. Leonov elbowed his way to the body and felt for a pulse.
“She's