Sectret of The Marauder Satellite (v1.0)

by Unknown Author

  “There’s a good reason for this, and yesterday was the reason why. You went out about half an hour before a break in shift. Your monitor was scheduled to be replaced on that half hour.

  “Now, had he properly logged you, his replacement would ,have been following you, and immediately caught on to the significance of your dead radio. But you weren’t logged properly. Either no record was ever made, or some boob cleared the slate without checking, and erased you. We’re looking into that. At any rate, it would appear that your radio went dead during the actual period of changeover, and went unnoticed. The new man in Control, having no notion you were out there, never thought to check for open but dead radio circuits. Indeed, it wasn’t for several hours that you were missed. Then your mission supervisor, Crewman Hoffman, rang down to Control to find out what had happened to you; he’d just found out you weren’t back yet. We immediately activated a radar search, found the tug with the Titan, and almost immediately thereafter, you, approaching the docking collar.”

  “Somebody goofed,” I said quietly, a little bitterly.

  The commander nodded. “Somebody goofed,” he repeated soberly. “It’s not the sort of thing I can excuse, nor will I make excuses to you. That you are lying here alive today is solely a tribute to your own bravery and skill, son. And we—all of us—are in your debt.”

  The commander left not long after, but his absence was filled by the presence of Dr. Yentov—Dr. Sonya Yentov.

  Dr. Cramer introduced her, she was second in command of the Russian observation team, and in charge among them at present, since they alternated shifts and leadership.

  Dr. Yentov was not at all what I expected of a Soviet scientist. She reminded me more of the women who used to do wild dances at my parents’ parties.

  Her long hair was a raven black, and her skin pale. Her eyes were large and dark, and her face soft and feminine. She could’ve gone to Hollywood and landed the lead in any TV series. She was in her early thirties, I was told later, but I don’t believe it. She just didn’t look that old.

  She spoke with a soft voice, her English all but unaccented. She took my hand in the continental fashion, and told me, “You are a hero, Mr. Williams. The world will honor you.”

  The thought scared me stiff, and I blushed and muttered, “I hope not.”

  “However,” she said, her eyes sparkling, “I am not here to tell you what everyone will be telling you. I am much more interested in that which you know. Tell me, please, all that you can about the black satellite.”

  I ran through it again, trying to recall every detail of what happened, trying to describe what was for me nearly indescribable. Finally, I took the slate from Mary, and sitting up, made a rough sketch of the thing.

  “This doesn’t really do it justice,” I said. “The way I draw, it looks like a sponge.” I laughed. " That’s because everything I draw looks like a sponge.” Dr. Yentov laughed politely.

  “You realize, we cannot allow this thing to go on with its business,” she said at last. She was talking more to Dr. Cramer than to me. “It is obviously the infernal device we must thank for the failure of the Petrov mission.”

  “Can you be certain?”

  “Who can be certain?” She threw up her hands. “But how uncertain can we be without acting?”

  “There’s nothing to stop it from threatening us again,” I added. I had no idea how prophetic that comment was to be.

  Mary stayed after the other two left. She came over and sat on the side of my bed.

  “I’m not going to tell you again what a hero you are,” she said. " Pretty soon that’ 11 be running out of your ears. But I am awfully proud of you.” And without warning, and before I could dodge her, she was bending over me, planting-a kiss on my lips.

  We both blushed scarlet. Then grabbing her slate, she ran out of the room.

  “So why should that bother you?” Bix said with a grin. “A pretty girl like Mary—half the Station is chasing her, and the only reason the other half isn’t, is that the competition is too rough. They gave up. But you’ve had the inside track all along, fella.”

  I was back down in our room, staring at Bix’s bunk overhead. I had on a fresh jump suit, and had a good meal inside me. I had just finished telling my story all over again, for Bix.

  “I told you,” I said. “I’m not ready to think about things like that yet.”

  “Things like what?”

  “Aw, well, you know. Getting married and so on. My parents—I never told you anything about them. They, well, they had a pretty thin marriage, and they broke it up the year before I came to Space School. It—well, it wasn’t the sort of thing I’d like to repeat.”

  “So, hey, Paul. Who said anything about marrying the girl? If you asked her, Maty would probably say the same thing—she’s too young to be settling down to something like that yet. But that doesn’t mean that she can’t—I mean, that you two can’t—well, she could still be your girl friend. You better think fast, old buddy. That’s not just an ordinary girl, and odds are she knows it. She won’t wait around forever for you to start paying attention to her, sooner or later she’ll give up and pick somebody else. How about that Edwards guy, huh?”

  ‘‘You convinced me,” I said.

  We were still sitting around talking, when there was a knock at the door. I was on the bottom bunk, so I was closer. I got up and slid the door open.

  It was Bob Krassner.

  He looked nervous about something, and I could smell him sweating about it. He picked nervously at a raw-looking pimple on his neck. The sight of him disgusted me.

  " Uhh, Paul, I wonder if you could come down to the rec room with me for a moment?” He all but stuttered.

  I couldn’t figure it out. What did Krassner want me for? ‘‘Not right now, Krassner,” I said. “I’m busy.”

  “What’s he want?” said Bix.

  “I dunno,” I said.

  “Paul? It’s, umm, very important,” Krassner said. He * was shifting from one foot to the other.

  “Why don’t you see what he wants?” Bix suggested. He jumped down. “All right if I come along?” he asked Krassner.

  “Oh, yeah. Sure, I meant to ask you.”

  So we followed Krassner down the shaftway to the S Level, and the rec room. And all the time I had no notion of what he was up to.

  The rec room was dark when we entered it.

  “Hey,” I said, grabbing Krassner’s arm as he started in. “What’s going on?”

  Instantly the lights came on.

  I was surrounded by my fellow cadets, and a good number of the crewmen. Everyone was hoisting a glass, and all were raised toward me.

  Krassner turned toward me, and the look on his face— the simple look of pure hero worship I saw there— destroyed forever the contempt with which I’d regarded him. “A—a little party, Paul. A surprise party.”

  Imagine! Those guys had set up a whole party for me. They’d wheedled a cake out of commissary, and had it decorated with “Welcome home, Spaceman!” in blue icing. They must’ve all dug pretty deeply into their pockets; everything was on the house that night. Several of the men had musical instruments, and they set up a little combo, the drummer improvising with an empty air tank, filling the room with cheerfully loud music. Most of the unattached women were there, too, and there was a lot of dancing.

  What I liked best was that while the party was in my honor, they didn’t make me the center of attraction. I don’t think I could’ve sustained that kind of undiverted attention, and I’m grateful I didn’t have to. Because this way, I could join in arid have a good time.

  Mary came in after a short while, too, and although I’d always been pretty shy about dancing with girls, I asked her if we could dance, and we did. I had to sit out the fast numbers, but on the slow ones, I did my half-learned basic two-step, one arm around Mary’s waist, the other hand in hers, while she nimbly dodged my clumsy feet. We didn’t talk much, but she had a radiant glow to her, and I found myself
smiling and laughing much more freely than I ever had before.

  There’s a time when all things must come to an end, and the party was no exception. The shift was changing, and most of the guys had to leave, either for their rooms, and their eight hours in the sack, or for work. I found myself shaking hands with each guy as he left, and when it was Bob Krassner’s turn, I was pumping his hand firmly and saying, “Thanks, Bob. This was really great. I mean it—thanks!” And I did mean it.

  Then Mary and I were alone in one corner of the room.

  It was suddenly quiet, and I found myself kneeding the knuckles of my left hand, and trying to think of something to say.

  “Where do you suppose the Black Marauder came from,Paul?” Mary asked, breaking the awkward silence.

  “The Black Marauder? Is that what they’re calling it now?’’

  “Well," she giggled, “unofficially, at least. That’s what I called it in my notes.’’

  “It sounds like something right out of a science fiction story," I said.

  “Isn’t it? And don’t tell me you don’t read science fiction.’’

  “I figured it would be more fun to live it," I said ruefully. “Touche.”

  “But, really—where do you think it could come from? Not another planet in this solar system, surely.’’

  “No, I can’t see that. We know there’s no life to speak of on Mars, and nothing intelligent on Venus. They’ve got some crazy ideas about life on Jupiter, but it wouldn’t be life as we know it—not the sort to make artifacts and build spacecraft. If it didn’t come from Earth, it came from somewhere else entirely—somewhere outside our system.’’

  “And you don’t think it came from Earth?’’

  “No, I don’t. I can’t explain it, Mary. But if you ever see the thing, you’ll know what I mean.’’

  “It’s kinda scarey to think about," she said slowly. “I mean, if you stop to think what it must mean.’’

  “How do you figure it?’’

  “Well, for one thing it means that we’re not alone in space. Others have been here before us. That really makes you stop and think, you know? It puts chills up my spine." “I know what you mean," I said. “And it’s not just that they’ve been here ... they’ve been watching us, and—stopping us.’’

  “I wonder why.’’

  " Perhaps they don’t consider us fit to go about messing up their universe"

  “You got that out of a comic book.”

  “We haven’t exactly eliminated war, yet.”

  “And neither have they—the Black Marauder people, I mean. Look what they’ve been doing to us!"

  “Yeah. Plenty. And the way the thing works, you can’t even get close to it, without being sucked dead. Boy, that’s the perfect defense and offense.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I shouldn’t think it would be that hard to disarm the thing—if they can ever find it again.” “How do you—”

  “Hey, sorry to interupt, Paul, but they need you upstairs.” It was Lee Hoffman. “I thought I’d find you down here, Williams. Listen, the commander wants to talk to you. Get on over there right away, will you?”

  "Where? His office? That’s right around the corner ." “No, up in Control—Level Q. You know the way?” I’d never been there, but I knew where it was. I said so long to Mary, and followed Lee up the shaft way. I wondered what they wanted now.

  I looked around when I entered Control. It was not a large room, but it was crammed with equipment, floor to ceiling. On one wall was a bank of flat Sony screens. Some of them showing a relatively static scene of Earth below. Most of the others showed stars spinning past. Three were blank. I guessed those were the ones whose cameras pointed at the sun. Between them, they covered the entire periphery of the Station.

  On another wall was a huge flat radar screen, flanked by smaller ones. Below was a large chart table, presently strewn with maps of plastic and real paper. The third wall housed a portion of the computer section, which I knew extended into the Computer Control, next door. There were keyboards and print-out machines. I saw no cards, no tape reels. Everything up here was the latest in hardware: sophisticated solid-state stuff.

  There were several chairs in the center of the room.

  Everyone rose when I entered. The group included Commander Davidson, Dr. Cramer, Dr. Yentov, and two others whom I did not know.

  The commander wasted no time on preliminaries.

  “Williams, you’ve gone through a real strain. How would you like to try it again? How would you like to go out into space and see your Black Marauder again?”

  Chapter 15

  Lee Hoffman and I would be going out together on this mission.

  Based upon my sketchy description of its general direction, and of the time when I’d seen it, Houston’s computer-directed radar had found the Black Marauder. They had narrowed it down, slowly, into a narrow quadrant of space, which they had divided and searched, painstakingly, until they had located—something. It did not return a proper echo at all, but showed as a phantom on their screens. They had at first dismissed it, but when it tracked perfectly, in a long elliptoid orbit, they agreed they’d found it. The data was tight-beamed up to the * Station, and now our computers knew where the Marauder was too.

  We had two tugs, tied together. I had the piloting job, while Lee stood behind me, as he’d done on my first mission—how many incredibly long days ago?

  Our mission was a simple one: track down the Marauder, and then engage it.

  The second tug was fitted out with elaborate recording devices, and a power source that emitted radiation on virtually every wavelength, including the visible spectrum . It also had solar power accumulators.

  Our tug in turn was fitted out with a vast variety of telemetering devices, including a TV camera.

  We approached the Marauder from above, so that its silhouette would be visible against the Earth below. When we had slid into a matching orbit at what we hoped was the safe distance of five miles, Lee disconnected himself from his position behind me, and began unfastening the second tug.

  I twisted around in my seat to watch.

  He worked with economy and precision, the sunlight picking out smooth sharp highlights on his suit and the framework of the tugs. It was almost like watching an animated line drawing, the contrasts between light and shadow were so vivid.

  Then the second tug was free, drifting with us, but no longer tied to us. Lee gave himself a slight boost, and was up and at its controls. I watched him as he hunched over them for a moment, and jumped free, just as the big thrusters fired.

  While he hung overhead, the now-empty tug gave a leap forward, like a startled cat, its computers in sole charge. Lee gave a couple of negligent blasts with his backpack jets, and then was drifting easily back down to our tug.

  “Everything is Go,” he said with quiet satisfaction. “Are you getting a good picture, Control?”

  “Fine, Lee; just fine,” came the reply. “We can’t see Tug #2 yet, but you’re zeroed right in on the, uh, Black Marauder.”

  “What do you think of it?” I asked.

  “Hold on a moment. We’re using the camera on #2 now, too. It’s giving us a much closer picture.. .Hoo, boy! Would you look at that!”

  “I can see it just fine from where I am, thanks," I said.

  Tug #2 was dropping down closer, its framework a dark sketch over the blue radiance of Earth. Then—

  “We’ve just lost contact with #2,” said Control.

  “Radio dead?”

  “Everything—TV circuit, telemetry, everything. We’re using you exclusively now.”

  Down below, the Black Marauder seemed to sense the object dropping down on it. It began that peculiar roll again, new bumps and protuberances rotating into and out of view, and then it started to rise, to meet the tug.

  “Uh-oh,” Lee said. “You think it’s, umm, seen us?”

  “I don’t think so. I think it’s got its mind on Tug #2.”

  “I hope you’re
right.”

  I was. The Marauder rose up, directly under the tug, cutting off the light that had outlined its empty framework, eclipsing it in effect, so that we could no longer see anything but the menacing bulk of the Marauder itself.

  But then, a moment later, an eerie sparking discharge began to play around the tug’s framework, and we could see it again, illumined by its halo.

  “Would you pipe that...!” Hoffman breathed. “You can actually see it stealing the power!”

  “I hope we’re far enough back,” I muttered. I looked for any faint halos on our own suits, but I saw nothing, and we still had radio contact with the Station. We were safely out of harm’s way.

  Below, the scene was drawing to a close. Great sparks seemed to be arcing off the tug. Then the halo slowly dimmed, and finally vanished.

  The Black Marauder seemed to hang below the tug, motionless, for a breathlessly long moment, as though deliberating on its next course of action. Quite abruptly, it rolled on another, new axis, and flipped itself out and away from the tug on a new and different orbit. It vanished from our sight almost immediately.

  “O.K., Tug #1. Go make the pickup, and get back here, on the double,” came the orders from Control.

  Was it my imagination, or did Control seem a little upset?

  Control was upset.

  We reported in immediately upon our return, and found that not only Control, but the commander himself, was quite worried about something.

  Mary told me about it, during a brief aside while the instruments we’d brought back were being analyzed. “You know about the Mars Probe, don’t you?’’

  " Sure. " This was our manned probe to Mars. It wasn’t to land on Mars, but simply to set up in orbit, take a lot of pictures, drop supplies for the next expedition (which was to make a landing), and return.

  “Houston just told us that they’d reported seeing an alien artifact—Houston’s words—orbiting Mars!’’