PHOBOS

"And then there were two," Reynolds said grimly.

Travis Lyle couldn’t pull his eyes away to give him a dirty look. "Do you have to put it that way?"

"Sorry," Reynolds said. "I forgot."

Before them lay a deep crater of the Martian moon Phobos. Barely visible at the bottom was the broken form of their fallen comrade, Jennings. He was lying very still indeed.

And then there were two, Lyle thought. No, no, no….

"Acrophobia," Reynolds observed. "Fear of heights."

Now Lyle turned to look at him, his jaw dropped inside his helmet. "He was, wasn’t he?" That meant--oh, no!

"Those devils, they read us like a book," Reynolds growled.

"Who?" Lyle asked, clinging to his denial as if it were a life raft.

"The Phobosites, or whatever you want to call them--the creatures living here. They’re telepaths or something; they would have to be. How else could they know what we’re each afraid of?"

Lyle said nothing. If only the brass from the Headquarters could see this! An uninhabited moon, they said. They had no idea.

Reynolds liked the sound of his own voice too well to stop talking now. "Think about it. Everything, every death, has been aimed at our fears. When they wrecked all of our shuttles and communications, they tapped into everyone’s agoraphobia. Especially Lansing, who got so distraught that he hanged himself. Osgood was a claustrophobic, and he got buried alive in that cave-in. Peterson had pyrophobia, and he somehow fell into the incinerator. And then there was that really weird bit with Commander Xavier with the hydrophobia…."

"I know," Lyle snapped, more fiercely than he had intended. He supposed that there was wisdom in Headquarters’ decision to send a psychologist, but did they have to choose one who talked so much?

Actually, it wasn’t how much he talked so much as what he said. He couldn’t bear to take events to their logical conclusion, and he certainly didn’t need Reynolds to expound upon it. Then again, only a fool could believe that all of the death and disaster had been a coincidence.

"So, I’ll be next," Reynolds said emotionlessly.

No! Shut up! Lyle wanted to scream. Instead, he stammered, "What makes you say that? There’s a fifty-fifty chance, right?"

Reynolds faced him, his eyes betraying a fear his voice somehow concealed. "If I don’t die first, your phobia won’t be realized."

Exactly what I was afraid you’d say, Lyle thought.

#

"Reynolds! Can you hear me? Reynolds!" Lyle shouted into his comlink the next day.

No answer. No sound at all, except the hammering of his heart in his chest. He could feel his blood pressure rising by the second.

The fool! The blasted, educated fool--the worst kind of all! Lyle had told him they needed to stick together, and he thought that Mr. Know-It-All would have understood why. Alas, his words had fallen on deaf ears. Why should a man with more degrees than a thermometer listen to a rank-and-file…?

"Aiiieee!" The bloodcurdling scream blasted through the comlink, nearly making Lyle jump out of his skin. It took him a second to realize that it was Reynolds. "Help me, Lyle! They’re after me! They’re…AARGH!"

After that, there was only silence.

Quickly Lyle activated the tracking device in the comlink. Reynolds’ signal came from two levels down, almost directly beneath him. Frantically he sprinted for the nearest ladder. Instead of climbing normally, he held the sides loosely and slid down. Even that wasn’t fast enough to suit Lyle; trap doors would have been a blessing.

Please, God, don’t let him die! Lyle didn’t care much for Reynolds personally, but he represented all the human companionship left now. Better than nothing!

Finally he reached the lower level, but he could only see the soles of Reynolds’ boots. The gargantuan spider that had attacked him had obscured the rest of his prostrate form. Instinctively, Lyle knew that he had been too late, that Reynolds was dead.

Lyle drew his ray gun and squeezed off a shot. Despite his terror, his aim had been perfect. A concentrated bolt of energy pierced the spider’s hide and jolted it off of its prey. The spider slid across to the other side of the corridor and moved no more.

So that was his phobia, Lyle thought grimly. He was no expert, but he did know that the fear of spiders was known as arachnophobia. Since coming to Phobos, he had learned a lot about the subject of fear.

For instance, he now knew that the fear of being alone--his fear--was called autophobia. Now, just like his fallen comrades, he was about to live out that fear.

As the weight of this reality settled upon him, he could feel himself trembling uncontrollably inside his envirosuit. The sweat of his palms now drenched the lining of his gloves. Fear clutched Lyle so tightly that he felt as if he were about to die--wished he could, actually. Death would be sweet, the ultimate relief.

If nothing else, it would be preferable to being left here alone, with no one to talk to, no one to commiserate with….

#

He wasn’t sure what made him decide to seek out the Phobosites. The aliens--the monsters, whatever they were--had dispatched six of his comrades into the hereafter, showing the adding cruelty of killing them all in means consistent with their deepest, darkest phobias. If anything, logically Lyle should have wanted to avoid them for as long as he could manage.

Ironically, the Phobosites themselves held little horror for him. Knowing that they had killed his comrades bore no weight, for death itself did not frighten him. His faith gave him a calm assurance about his prospects in the hereafter. If they killed him, so be it. Anything would be better than being left alone.

For that matter, the company would the Phobosites would be preferable.

He set off walking forward, going deeper into the subterranean caverns. The deaths had not started until they had mined down to a certain level, where they had discovered a pre-existing network of tunnels, suggesting that the creatures dwelt underground. Before Lyle had walked ten paces, the Phobosites themselves confirmed his speculations.

Turn back, Earthman! bellowed a shrill voice inside his mind. Only death awaits you if you invade further! So unexpected was the warning that Lyle’s heart skipped a beat, and his gut reaction was to tuck tail and run for refuge back in his quarters.

Before he could turn, however, Lyle had talked himself out of it. The manmade structures they had erected upon their arrival could provide no defense against the Phobosites; more than one of his friends’ deaths had demonstrated that. For him to expect that he should be any safer there than his comrades would be insanity. He had nothing to lose by going forward.

Besides that, there was no one on the upper levels. To go back would be to be alone, and he couldn’t handle that.

Uttering a prayer with each stride, Lyle forged ahead. Years ago he had memorized the Twenty-third Psalm, and now he replayed it in his mind continuously to steady himself. No matter what awaited him, he would not face it alone. Even as fear besieged him, that simple faith gave him courage.

Did you not hear us, Earthman? Go back! You will die if you persist! The admonition was fiercer this time, more insistent. Lyle wondered if they had communicated with any of the others. If they had, wouldn’t one of them have said something? Why should he be any different?

"I’m not turning back," Lyle said. He didn’t know if anyone would hear him, but he couldn’t resist responding.

Apparently that didn’t sit will with the Phobosites. A terrific pain assaulted his head, feeling as if someone had stabbed him through the temple with an ice pick. It was worse than any migraine he had ever suffered, complete with the accompanying nausea. Staying on his feet required a Herculean effort, and he found himself leaning against the tunnel wall for support.

Rallying his strength, Lyle pressed forward, even though the pain intensified with each step. He felt certain that the Phobosites were doing this to turn him back, and he would not have it. No, I won’t quit, even if it kills me. I can’t be alone!

Surprisingly, his headache subsided as abruptly as it had begun, as if in surrender to his determination. Lyle blinked slowly, straightening himself. He exhaled, relieved that it was over.

Lyle’s relief proved to be short-lived. After another dozen steps, the tunnels pitched violently in the throes of an earthquake, knocking him off his feet. Having grown up in the Deep South, he had virtually no experience with earthquakes, let alone any of such magnitude. Many times in his youth he had envied his computer pen pal from southern California for a variety of reasons, but never before had he envied his experience with earthquakes. If he had known more about them, he reasoned, he would not have been so frightened. As it stood, this was almost as alarming as being alone--almost.

Steeling himself, Lyle pulled himself onto all fours and began to crawl. For a moment the tremors intensified in response to his defiance, but he persisted in spite of his frazzled nerves. Every inch forward required more courage than the last, and he could feel his reserves waning.

Just when he was sure he could take no more, the earthquake stopped. For a moment he froze, fully expecting the tremors to return. Several minutes of eerie stillness passed before he convinced himself that it was over. Nevertheless he was only able to pull himself to his feet with the utmost caution.

Why will you persist, Earthman? Why do you still court your own demise? Is it not enough that you are completely, utterly alone?

The emphasis had clearly been calculated to play upon Lyle’s phobia, but instead it only enraged him. The Phobosites had played their sick game with the others, reading their fears and turning them into modes of execution, and now they had the same in mind for him. Although he couldn’t deny being afraid--terrified, even--he also felt violated.

Turn back or die, Earthman! If it were possible for telepathy, the voice seemed to be screaming.

"No. I’m coming to find you." He wasn’t sure what he would do when he did, but that did nothing to lessen his determination.

Then you must die! Was it just Lyle’s imagination, or did the voice seem panicky, frantic?

"Not without a fight," Lyle countered.

#

After several minutes’ descent, the backdrop reverted from crude, bare caverns to more refined and metallic walls. Obviously he had penetrated the inner sanctum of the Phobosites’ dwelling. If he could have harbored any doubts, the continued telepathic assault would have erased them. Lyle could not so much as breathe without the Phobosites reminding him of his solitude and his fear of it. Please, God, help me, he pleaded.

Soon he faced two metallic doors. To the naked eye, the portals were identical, but the aliens’ telepathy told him otherwise. Looking at the door to his right, he perceived darkness, emptiness, and a loneliness like none he could imagine. Mortal fear gripped his heart, and of course the Phobosites jumped to reinforce it. You will surely die if you choose that door, Earthman!

Instinctively Lyle looked away, causing his gaze to fall upon the second door. This time the telepathy brought tears to his eyes rather than striking fear into his heart. Although the door was tightly closed, he could see the other side as clearly as if it had been wide open. Beyond the portal stood Rachel, his late fiancée, whose death had motivated him to leave Earth for space. For that matter, her passing had caused of his autophobia in the first place.

Rachel stood wearing a white wedding dress and holding a bouquet of red roses. Although he had never been allowed to see it, Lyle somehow knew with absolute certainty that this was the dress she had selected for the wedding that would never happen. Try as he might, he could do nothing to arrest the tears streaming down his face. It can’t be!

Then she saw him. She smiled sweetly, scrunching her nose and shoulders in that adorable way that had always reduced him to putty in her dainty little hands. Here, he realized, was the antidote to the loneliness that he was so desperate to escape. Every detail was exactly right, from the bluish flecks in her green eyes to the tiny scar on her back that she had gotten from climbing through a barbed wire fence as a child….

But wait! From this angle, there was no way that he should have been able to lay eyes on that scar. So how could he see it?

Raged boiled within him. Tapping into his deepest fears had been bad enough, and of course there was what they had done to the others. However, bringing Rachel into play went well over the line. He could not let their offenses upon his mind go unanswered.

If they were willing to go to such lengths to lure him towards the left door, he reasoned, there must be something behind the right door that they didn’t want him to see. Fear had not repelled him, so they used Rachel’s image to throw him a curveball. His conviction was unshakable. Bracing himself against the telepathic backlash that he knew would follow, Lyle stepped towards the door….

…And then stopped himself as a cold realization hit him. Given the way that these creatures could play with his head, how much could he trust his senses? How could he possibly distinguish between reality and illusion?

Lyle could only think of one way. Please, God, help me.

In that moment an uncanny clarity came to Lyle. He was still aware of the telepathic projections linked to each door, but they now seemed hollow. Even as he perceived them, he was acutely aware of their unreality. Somehow the Phobosites’ illusions no longer had any power over him. Just as he knew that Rachel wasn’t really there, the dreadful loneliness connected to the right-hand door was now obviously a sham.

Pushing through the door, Lyle found himself in the middle of a large, metallic chamber. Try as the Phobosites might to hide it from his view, the far wall featured seven tubes that, despite their alien engineering, were obviously part of a suspended-animation unit. Only six of the tubes were occupied, but Lyle was stunned at the occupants’ identities: Reynolds, Commander Xavier, and all the others. Although there were in stasis, Lyle felt sure that they were still alive. Their presence made the empty tube ominous, for Lyle knew for whom it was intended.

He is no longer deceived! a frantic Phobosite voice cried in his head. Now what?

To his left Lyle spotted two creatures that might have passed for groundhogs if not for their blue fur. Fear shone through their eyes, their gestures, and even the sounds that they made. Desperately they were trying to project all manner of fearful images in the place of their true selves, a series of replicas of every monster from every movie Lyle had ever seen and every nightmare he could remember. Without the clarity he had received, any image in the montage might have been terrifying. As it stood, Lyle couldn’t help laughing out loud, so comical was their desperation.

Why do you laugh at us, Earthman? one of the Phobosites demanded. The creature’s panic was unmistakable.

They’re afraid of me! Lyle realized. Suddenly their anxiety no longer struck him as funny. In a way that he never would have believed, he found himself sympathizing with them. As frightened as he had been, they were even more afraid. The only difference was that their phobia was xenophobia, the fear of strangers.

Yes, Earthman, we fear you. You invaded our world, and we were afraid. That is why we played upon your fears, to protect ourselves.

"My comrades--are they alive?"

We could not bring ourselves to actually kill another living being. All of these deaths were illusions to explain their absence after we captured them. Once we had you all, we were going to use one of your shuttles to send you back to Earth--with your memories appropriately adjusted, of course.

"Our shuttles? Do you mean…?"

Another illusion. You must realize that we feared for our lives.

"We meant you no harm. We’re a mining expedition."

What about when you were outside? You thought of killing us!

Rather than attempting to verbalize a response, Lyle opened himself to their telepathy as best he could. After a moment, the response came: Now we understand. You are not so different as we thought. For the first time, their tone was optimistic.

"I guess not." After all, how would humans have responded to a perceived invasion? They would have fought back with whatever they had.

Perhaps we can reach an understanding.

"Will you release the others?"

Momentary hesitation. What if they are not as receptive as you?

"I’ll help you. Remember, they are afraid, too."

As the Phobosites began thawing the others, Lyle breathed a prayer of thanks. He hadn’t been alone after all.