Space 1999 - The Time Fighters

by Michael Butterworth

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sandor’s conscious, motionless body lay tensed-up on one of the angled examination benches in the Medical Centre. Together with him, and illuminated by the bright lights that shone from above each bench, were the equally obliging Eva, Stevens and Cernik. Their temples and wrists were taped with electrodes that led to a mass of instrumentation over which Helena was poring. On the face of it, they were obliging; in fact, Sandor thought hotly, they were forced to be obliging. With an armed Guard outside they had no alternative.

  But he had had enough. He couldn’t stomach any more of this woman’s idiotic interference into their private lives. Every moment she wasted on them, she wasted of everyone on Alpha. If the Alphan work force didn’t oust Koenig and his echelon of selfish perverts from their ruling seat and colonize the new planet, then what there was left of Mankind on Alpha was doomed. If they didn’t take over control now they would never get off their prison and on to the kind of Earth-like home they were used to and by rights ought to have. They had let too long a period of time elapse since the Moon had first been blasted out of Earth orbit. They had let a thousand habitable worlds pass them by for one paltry reason or another...

  With renewed fervour he broke the restrainers that had been placed around him and ripped the wires from his temple and wrists. He sat up, drawing an angry, startled cry from Helena.

  ‘What are you doing? Your tests aren’t complete. Your body temperature fell dangerously low...’

  ‘What I should have done when you brought me in here,’ the big man told her. ‘I’m going to see Koenig.’

  ‘Koenig’s away...’ she began.

  ‘Well, I’m going to see Verdeschi, then!’ he shouted, striding towards the doors.

  ‘You can’t... You’re confined to Medical Centre until further notice...’

  ‘Who’s confining me?’ he roared.

  The doors slid open and two Security Guards entered. When they saw him they brought up their guns to fire, too late. With his great, meaty arms he grabbed them by their collars and slammed them together, face to face, like two cymbals. They slid limply to the floor.

  He crashed out into the corridor. When he arrived at the Command Centre, Verdeschi was looking at Helena’s anxiety-ridden face on his console monitor. ‘I couldn’t stop him, Tony,’ he heard her whining to him. ‘He’s on his way.’

  Verdeschi snapped the set off and spun round hard on him. His first impulse was to reach for his laser, but seeing Sandor unarmed and conceding that he was now Helena’s psychiatric patient, he desisted. ‘You were confined to Medical Centre!’

  ‘Sure,’ Sandor smiled easily, gazing cynically around him at the new and bandaged faces. ‘That way nobody hears what I have to say about the new planet.’

  ‘There is no new planet,’ Verdeschi gritted his teeth. ‘It’s a planet that’s going to collide with us and destroy us. The planet Koenig landed on was poisoned by a bug. The second planet Koenig tried was so hostile he... for all we know he died on it.’

  Sandor stared at him with hostility and contempt. ‘There is a habitable planet around that sun and you know it. But you’re not letting on.’

  ‘Why should I do that?’ Verdeschi asked, forcing down his quickly-fired feelings and trying his hand at humour. He stared at him curiously, sensing the man’s madness.

  ‘Because you can’t stand the thought of us having a normal life again.’ Realizing that he had a ready audience he spoke to the whole Command Centre. ‘Because in a normal life style we’d make our own decisions, have children, vote. There’d be no place for Commander Koenig’s dictatorship. That’s why you won’t tell us the truth.’

  ‘If there were a planet out there, everybody on Alpha would have been told.’

  Sandor snorted rudely. ‘Some of the people here may buy that – I don’t...’ He paused, reflectively. ‘I’ve come to tell you to relinquish control, Verdeschi. I’ve got sufficient support here to make life unpleasant for you again – like the striking and the rioting.’ He sneered. ‘You might have quelled it this once, but you won’t a second time.’

  ‘No deal, Sandor,’ Verdeschi snapped, his temper bursting through at the thought. ‘Now you happen to be wasting our time, and the lives of us all.’ He nodded almost imperceptibly to the Guards who had gathered in the corridor outside.

  But the big man noticed the silent signal and spun rapidly around. He made a rush for the Security Chief. He grasped hold of him and yanked his laser out of its holster. He pointed it at the Guards. ‘Get back!’ he raged, his manic, bird-bright eyes flashing wildly at everyone.

  The Guards formed a hasty passageway. He manhandled the red-faced Verdeschi past them and out of the Centre, his newly acquired gun pressed into his hostage’s ribs.

  Elizia’s vast hall was empty save for herself, Crael, a new prisoner which the ineffectual barrister had brought before her, and two of the head woman’s scarlet Huntresses.

  Crael smiled hopefully. He knew that this prisoner had a good behaviour record, and expected success. But success depended on Elizia’s moods. For every dozen prisoners he defended, he usually managed to persuade her to allow at least one of them to go free. Not much of a success rate, he knew; in fact the whole idea of him representing the prisoners was, he knew, a sham – a bizarre game played by the sadistic women prison rulers of Entra. But it was a game he played willingly if it released just one man in every twelve. And just recently, his success rate had gone up. More prisoners than ever were being released.

  ‘Well, prisoner, are you ready to go home?’ Elizia asked the grovelling man at her feet.

  ‘I am, Mistress.’

  ‘You see.’ She turned to Crael. ‘There is justice when one earns it...’ She flicked a switch on her armrest and a miniature screen presented her with the prisoner’s file. She studied it imperiously. ‘One year off for good behaviour... You have been a model prisoner, Beron, and have earned the right to return to our home planet.’

  The grovelling form at her feet backed away, licking the floor as it went, in between begging her to accept its thanks. ‘Thank you... I tried... I...’

  ‘I hope I will not see you up here again,’ she told him sternly.

  ‘Oh, no, never...’ Beron promised from the depths of his soiled and demolished soul.

  Elizia rose and marched towards the Trans Beam station. Crael urged the prisoner to his feet and they followed her.

  ‘Step inside the Transbeamer,’ she ordered him, a faint trace of amusement now behind her expression of severity.

  Beron obeyed, his face a mask of sheer delight at being returned to what he assumed was his home. He turned and saluted Crael to show his appreciation. ‘Good-bye. Thank you for your help, Crael. Good-bye, Oh Divine Mistress.’

  ‘Bye,’ Elizia smiled wickedly. ‘Whenever you are ready, you may activate.’

  Beron nodded eagerly and passed his hand over a coloured control in the floor.

  Crael nodded his acknowledgement to the prisoner and watched him blaze away in a pulse of matter – back to the society he had been exiled from, to the society which, many years ago, he had wronged.

  When Beron had gone, he turned to Elizia, puzzlement on his face. ‘Do you mind if I ask you a blunt question?’

  ‘To deny you that right would be to deny you freedom of speech – would it not?’ she asked, her moment of pleasure over, her countenance returned once more to an icy stare of contempt. ‘Ask your question.’

  ‘We have released many prisoners,’ he said to her uncomfortably. ‘Not only have we never heard of them again... But Ellna has stopped beaming up any new prisoners...’

  She shrugged. ‘The acts of crime for sending one to Entra have dropped.’

  ‘I’m not the only one to ask,’ he persisted, dissatisfied with her answer. ‘I speak for many others.’

  She swept indifferently past him, towards her throne and re-seated herself. ‘Everyone listens to the weekly reports beamed here... they hear news from their home... t
heir families... what is there to wonder about?’

  ‘Hearing news is not seeing news!’ Crael implored her. ‘There was a time a man could see his family on the screen... see his children. But not any more!’

  She turned on him, her eyes flashing hateful fire, her mood changing like the colour of a chameleon. ‘My rules!’

  Crael trembled. He was a compulsive coward, but somehow he forced himself to remain in her presence and put forward his case. ‘The prisoners don’t like that change, they demand...’

  ‘You prisoners are political troublemakers – it’s your nature to be discontented – to cause trouble...’

  ‘We cause no more trouble,’ he protested. ‘You have beaten us down; siphoned the militancy out of us.’

  ‘It’s not torture that has neutralized your militancy,’ she told him scornfully. ‘It’s the yearning in all of you to leave this sterile asteroid to return home to our beautiful Ellna.’

  ‘A yearning very few have realized,’ he mumbled.

  ‘There are two ways to realize it,’ she said, ignoring his attempt at sarcasm. ‘To complete the term of imprisonment on good behaviour or to beat the Hunt.’

  He looked at her with ambivalent feelings, knowing that this part of the game was almost over. He detected the boredom signs. He smiled fawningly and lightly clapped his hands –partly in satire, partly to appease her. ‘I applaud you for your understanding of human rights...’

  She smiled a scathing, sweet smile that turned his blood to ice. ‘How fortunate that you never cease to amuse me, Crael!’ She climbed down from her throne once more and swept arrogantly out of the hall.

  She strode away and at once boredom returned to her – the tiring, drab reality of life that she constantly sought to stimulate. Since Ellna had died there was no outside stimulation to be had. There were no pleasures left, except the prisoners. The prisoners were rapidly becoming used up – and growing militant.

  But at least there was now the alien Commander, procured for her by her girls who knew her tastes.

  He could provide a new source of pleasure – plus, possibly, a solution to her insurrection problems.

  Her metal-shod boots rang loudly on the floors as she hurried towards the Security Ward. She was angered for having allowed Crael to intrude on her at such an interesting moment.

  When she entered, the black clad Interrogator was busy running a film constructed from Koenig’s memory. The screen showed an image of Koenig kissing Helena. As she watched it, her blood pounded with sudden desire.

  ‘Have you taped his brain for medical knowledge yet?’ she demanded. ‘I want to know if he can produce immunity to nerve bacteria on our Home Planet – and why didn’t he die?’ She halted beneath the screen and trembled inwardly.

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ the other woman replied sullenly. ‘I can’t tell how much he knows. His brain resists certain questions. He has a strong will.’

  ‘Weaken it.’

  The Interrogator flinched hatefully at the command, but she concealed her reaction, feigning to study her instruments. ‘His brain composition differs from ours in certain areas...’

  ‘A leader...!’ Elizia commented disdainfully. ‘Treats people as equals... bends to their will occasionally...’

  ‘As should we all – on occasion,’ the cat woman murmured quietly.

  ‘Meaning?’ her Mistress asked sharply.

  The cat woman faced her squarely. ‘My security reports unrest among the prisoners... they are beginning to wonder about things on the Home Planet...’

  ‘And you’re beginning to sound like Crael!’ Elizia declared.

  The other ignored her. ‘Let them know the truth about Ellna now and they might understand.’

  ‘They would become ungovernable.’

  ‘They will learn the truth some day.’

  ‘If they learn the truth,’ Elizia shook her long, blue hair, ‘then we are all doomed!’ She thrust forth her breasts and erected herself majestically. ‘I am our barrier against disaster.’

  ‘He has seen the Home Planet. He will tell them,’ the Interrogator stabbed an accusing finger at the sleeping form of Koenig.

  ‘They won’t believe him. Their minds have been programmed to think my way!’

  ‘And if they break through that programming?’

  They eyed one another appraisingly. Elizia felt the sting of challenge from her political opponent.

  ‘I have nothing to fear,’ she stated eventually. She smiled. ‘After all, I have you as my Head of Security – the loyalty of our Guards...’ She paused, adding heavily, ‘Don’t I?’

  The Interrogator hesitated, caught in a verbal trap, and nodded unwillingly.

  Sensing her dilemma, Elizia leant forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘Cease interrogation, my Pretty. Send him to block three...’ She made as though to go, then added warningly: ‘But do nothing to disfigure him.’

  The black cat woman stared loathingly after her. Reluctantly she set to, to do her bidding.

  Memory returned to him like patterns kaleidoscoping into sudden, awful clarity. What he thought had been a bad dream became cold, undeniable facts: the Moon Base speeding on its way to collision to a planet within whose solar system he was trapped; the Moon Base under siege from an unknown mutiny; Fraser battling the reaches of Space to reach him in time and rescue him and Maine... only Maine was dead. Maine was dead. He remembered the bizarre Hunt, the man running for his life and the three Huntresses clad in red, cracking their electric whips...

  Groggily, he opened his eyes to find three gaunt, bearded faces peering suspiciously down at him.

  Shocked, he sat upright. The men fell back but they surged forward again almost immediately. They were dressed in the ubiquitous black and white jumper suits.

  ‘Where are you from, Alien?’ the eldest of the three men asked him, undisguised hostility in his voice.

  ‘I’m from Moon Base Alpha,’ Koenig replied.

  ‘Never heard of it,’ another of the three muttered. He had the most wasted look and displayed a row of gaps in his teeth.

  Koenig shook his head, still only half-awake. ‘My Eagle... my space craft crashed on your planet.’

  He realized he was sitting on the top tier of a bunk bed, his legs dangling over the edge. He dropped down in front of them.

  The Eldest Man leered distrustfully at him. ‘Elizia never tires of sending spies.’

  ‘Nobody sent me...’ Koenig began to defend himself.

  ‘Tell her we are not plotting an insurrection,’ the Man With The Gaps growled.

  ‘All we plan is how to outwit the Huntress,’ the Eldest Man stated firmly.

  ‘And that kind of plotting we are permitted to do,’ the Man With The Gaps rejoined again, a kind of triumphant gleam in his dull eyes.

  Scenes and images swam before Koenig. ‘...the Hunt?’ he asked uncertainly. ‘You mean you want to be hunted?’

  The men exchanged knowing looks. ‘That’s right, spy... Alien... whoever you are,’ the Man With The Gaps told him. ‘We volunteer for the Hunt. If we reach the Sanctuary Column without being killed first, we get to go free – to go home...’

  ‘You mean down there?’ Koenig pointed through the floor. He remembered the tall transmitter on the grassy horizon.

  The Eldest Man nodded: ‘To Ellna – the Home Planet.’

  Koenig stared at their ugly, dishevelled looks in sudden pity. He wondered whether to tell them the news that would spoil what little of their miserable lives they had left. In a gentle voice he said, ‘Everybody’s dead down there.’

  They reacted with anger and sarcasm. ‘Liar...!’ the Man With The Gaps shouted.

  ‘I know,’ Koenig followed up quickly before they could discredit him completely. ‘I was there. I saw the people. All of them dead!’

  The Eldest Man tensed in sudden rage. ‘My family is on Ellna...’

  ‘Elizia sent you to lie...’ the other took a step towards him menacingly.

  ‘She sent y
ou to torture us...’

  ‘One more way for her to try to drive us mad... with lies!’ All three were advancing on him now – the two who had spoken and the third, who seemed to be a deaf mute. Koenig struck out at the Man With The Gaps, sending him crashing into the wall. He had time to hit the Deaf Mute when the Eldest Man grabbed him round the neck from behind. He tried throwing him off, but the other two men were now back on their feet again, angrily facing him.

  ‘She’s trying to rob us of our chance to go home,’ the Man With The Gaps said.

  ‘Listen to me’! Koenig yelled at them desperately. ‘I was on Ellna... I saw a man transported there... He died... instantly!’

  The Eldest Man tightened his grip, half-strangling him. ‘What killed him... what killed all of them? And how come you didn’t die?’

  ‘I don’t know what killed them... Some kind of plague and I don’t know why I didn’t die... maybe an immunity!’

  There was confusion in the men’s faces now. But the confrontation was prevented from continuing by a sudden electronic signal which broke over a speaker in the corner of the small cell-like room.

  ‘Attention all prisoners... Attention all prisoners...’ a shrill, patronising voice sounded. ‘It is time for the weekly news from Home Planet.’

  Startled, Koenig listened. The Eldest Man had released him from the neck-breaking hold on him and he rubbed himself painfully.

  ‘The wife of Prisoner Branik gave birth to a son at midtime on Solarday,’ the broadcast began.

  For the moment the prisoners forgot Koenig and listened raptly for mention of their own or their family’s names. ‘Both are doing nicely. Congratulations, Prisoner Branik.

  ‘Warm winds from the channels off the eastern banks of Ellna sent temperatures rising and created a hot spell, sending Ellna to the cooling regions of the upper canal zone...

  ‘There was a large party given by the family and friends of Strat Distil, celebrating his beam back from the penal colony at Entra on...’

  When it became apparent that they weren’t going to hear any items connected with themselves, the three prisoners turned their attention to Koenig. They looked in an ugly mood.