Compensating for the tensions and worries that were associated with working and defending the runaway Moon Base, were an impressive and comprehensive range of cultural facilities. These ranged from indoor football and squash, to the intellectual pursuits of art and books. They had been built up gradually over the years, and whenever time and resources permitted, they were added to. On a recent planetary exploration team Helena found that her early artistic leanings were suddenly advanced with the discovery of a fine deposit of modelling clay, and took the opportunity to bring some of it back with her. That was more than twelve months ago. Now the shelves and alcoves in her room were thickly crowded with clay busts and abstract sculptures. Her latest, soon-to-be-revealed masterpiece was a self-portrait. It was a competent and faithful rendition of herself, done from her memory of years of beautifying treatments in front of mirrors.
Cantar had revived from the blast of the stun gun and Zova, his pretty wife, had made a successful recovery from her years of frozen sleep, While they demonstrated their alleged abilities to increase Alpha’s Life Support capacity, Helena found the time to finish off the sculpture.
‘Like it?’ she asked Maya, who was taking the opportunity to relax with her. Helena stood back from her creation and wiped her slender fingers on her apron. They were deceptively strong sensible fingers, in spite of the careful attention to manicure she paid to them. Maya put down the educational discs she had been ‘reading’ on Earth women’s clothing fashions and came to view. She looked suitably impressed, but she was still deeply immersed in her history lesson.
‘This women’s liberation...’ she asked Helena, ‘having provoked desire in the young males, you needed a weapon to fight them off?’
‘No...’ Helena answered her. ‘By the 1980s we were beginning to quite like men again. They had stopped taking themselves so seriously. They even learned to laugh at themselves on occasion.’
Maya looked astonished. ‘Commander Koenig, too?’
‘Why not? When he’s relaxed, off-duty, he’s really got a very nice sense of humour.’
‘He can laugh at himself?’
‘Certainly,’ Helena replied emphatically, with a smile.
The door buzzer sounded, and as though inviting himself to be tested by her claim, Koenig’s face appeared on the screen. Helena glanced anxiously at the moulded bust, to check that it was indeed complete. She peeled off her apron.
Maya looked amused by something. ‘You’re quite sure –about Commander Koenig’s sense of humour?’
Helena nodded, giving a sharp smirk as she caught Maya’s intention. As she pressed the button that opened the door, a burst of white light came from her side. When she looked up, she noticed that the Psychon had changed herself into an exact replica of herself. She was so perfect that not even Koenig would be able to tell who was who.
Koenig entered. During the last few hours the work load had diminished somewhat. He too felt more relaxed, though still uneasy. When he saw the two Helenas standing in front of him, he at first looked shocked, and then quickly smiled as he realized that he was to be the butt of a joke. But his mind was still very much preoccupied with practical arrangements.
‘Helena...?’ he spoke to both of them, embarrassed.
‘Yes John?’ Maya/Helena asked, fighting back the laughter she felt.
‘Okay,’ he grinned suddenly, jerking his head from woman to woman. ‘Which is it?’
‘You mean you can’t tell?’ the real Helena taunted.
‘Of course I can tell,’ Koenig laughed. ‘Maya can’t hold that form for more than an hour. All I do is sit back and wait.’ He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
‘An hour?’ Maya/Helena asked him. She smiled at Helena. ‘Why wait that long?’ She stepped forward and slipped her arms round his neck. With surprising vigour she kissed him hard on the mouth.
Bemused, and rather enjoying the sudden attention, Koenig waited for the other Helena to come to him. In the same manner as her replica she delivered the identical heady kiss. Both kisses felt exactly the same.
The women stepped back, smiling teasingly.
‘Well...?’ Helena asked him after a moment.
‘Well...?’ Maya/Helena copied her template.
Koenig shrugged, feigning indifference. ‘Nothing easier.’
‘Really?’ Maya/Helena asked.
‘Sure – there was absolutely no difference at all.’
‘What!’ the real Helena exploded, despite herself. ‘Well! Nobody can ever accuse you of being a man of perception, can they?’
Koenig laughed and gestured to her. ‘Okay Helena – time to get down to the Research Unit. Your friends are ready to start work.’ He turned to Maya/Helena. ‘And you, Maya... back to your station.’
Maya reverted to herself, and giggled. ‘Yes, Commander.’ She left the room, still very amused. Koenig turned to the bust which Helena had made and studied it closely.
‘Well, what do you think?’ she asked him, composing herself again.
‘With a subject like that, you can’t go wrong,’ Koenig turned and took her in his arms. ‘When do I get it?’
‘You get the bust right now,’ Helena replied, pulling herself away. She lifted the bust off its stand and presented it to him. ‘From me to you.’ She reached up and pecked him lightly on the cheek. ‘When I get back from my friends in the Life Support Centre, I might consider something else,’ she smiled abstrusely. So saying, she left, leaving him wondering amusedly to himself what it was that he was supposed to have done wrong.
The High Energy Physics Research Section in the Life Support Centre was awash with strobing waves and flashes of coloured lights. They were almost too much for Helena to bear as she entered through the transparent, sound-proofed door. Immediately her ears were assailed with a loud, continuous popping sound.
Cantar and Zova, both dressed in the identical yellow and red tunics they wore in their cryogenic coffins, were standing in front of a bench strewn with complex-looking equipment. They had their backs to her, but as she walked over to them they turned round from their work. They smiled, very cheerfully, Helena thought, considering they had almost run out of time.
When he saw Helena with her hands over her ears, Cantar obligingly switched off the instrument that was making the popping noise. He and Zova seemed unaffected by it.
‘Well...?’ Helena asked, after the ringing in her ears had lessened.
‘I think we’ve finished,’ Cantar surprised her.
‘But we can’t be certain until we can make a real test – in the power room,’ Zova put in, innocently. She turned and eyed an armed guard who was posted in front of the door to the Power Room. It led off the laboratory, and the poor man who was guarding it looked dizzy from the colours and noise.
Helena was firm. ‘You know the Commander’s orders – the Power Section’s off limits.’
Cantar looked imploring. ‘Please talk to the Commander. I’m sure he’ll understand.’
‘Only three hours five minutes before they blow themselves up,’ Koenig told Verdeschi, reading off the time indicator next to the Big screen. On the screen was the fleet of grey, fluted life-support canisters.
‘That’s what Cantar says,’ Verdeschi commented from his console. Koenig looked at him bleakly, prompting the Italian to add, ‘You still don’t trust him, do you?’
‘I trust everybody – and I check everybody.’ He leaned forward and touched a button. Helena’s face appeared on the console screen in front of him. ‘How’s it coming?’ he asked her.
‘They’re making very good progress, John.’ She looked upset. ‘But they need your permission to get into the Power Section.’
‘Negative,’ Koenig said brusquely, shaking his head.
‘John – they’ve only three hours to go.’
‘Still negative.’ He cut her off and turned towards Maya. ‘How long will it take you to figure out exactly what they’re doing?’
‘It would take careful observation,’
The Psychon replied.
‘Then get down there and observe. You too, Simon,’ he told Hayes. He turned back to Verdeschi. ‘We’re in the dark, and I don’t like it. How do we know what they’re making down there? How do we know they want to use our valuable power for the reason they say?’
Verdeschi nodded, slowly and with understanding.
Cantar and Zova diplomatically excused themselves from Helena and returned to their work. They looked upset. Cantar wore the same expression of anger that he had in the Command Centre after Koenig had told him that he wasn’t prepared to bring the other containers down. It was, in a sense, an unjustifiable anger, Helena thought to herself, considering they were guests. But she cast the thought from her mind, chastizing herself for thinking so unfairly of people who were merely trying to rejoin their kin.
‘Final test,’ Cantar warned.
Zova threw a switch. The lights began to strobe once more. The loud popping sound returned. This time the sound accelerated to such a pitch that the popping became one continuous screech of noise. Helena and the guard threw their hands over their ears in pain.
Cantar and Zova exchanged glances of complicity. Then, while the sound was at its peak, Cantar made a rush for the Power Room door.
‘Cantar!’ Helena shouted, but her voice went unheard. The guard stepped forward, dropping his hand and raising his gun. His teeth clenched in a snarl of pain.
Zova turned the equipment off, and as the sound died away the guard recovered. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he gasped. ‘My orders are that nobody enters this room.’
Cantar looked determined to enter. He continued moving towards the guard, who glanced enquiringly at Helena. Helena nodded, tensely. The gun went off and a thin white laser beam found its target on the boy. Instead of collapsing as he had done when Koenig fired on him, Cantar stood his ground and sneered. He advanced on the guard and a short scuffle followed, terminated when Cantar neatly touched a point at the base of the other man’s spine. His victim collapsed unconscious to the floor with a cry of agony.
The alien youth picked up the guard’s gun. He waved it at Helena and pushed open the door to the Power Room with his free hand. An anxious look crossed his face. He glanced at Zova to see if she had finished, but the girl was still making adjustments to their equipment. Evidently deciding that there wasn’t time to wait for her, he disappeared inside the Power Room, giving Helena the opportunity to run forward.
Cantar had almost thrown himself on the Power Room controls that lined the walls; as though entry to the room was all that he had ever wished. He seemed oblivious of Helena, and once inside she made a dash for the large, red alarm button on the wall. Her hand scarcely reached it when she felt a sudden, crippling pain explode throughout her body. It came from her back, and she just had time to remember Zova before she lost consciousness.
The doors to the laboratory slid open and Verdeschi and Maya ran into the room. They had seen the scuffling from afar, and both had their guns drawn. They glanced quickly round the deserted room. The Security Chief noticed the Power Room door being closed and sprang towards it, in time to prevent it being locked. He forced his way in, hurling Zova across the Power Room floor. Cantar turned from the controls and aimed the guard’s gun. Verdeschi ducked and launched himself at the Alarm button. The second time, the stun gun got him, and he began sliding down the wall, unconscious; but not before he had alerted the Moon Base.
A fierce snarling sound came from the laboratory, and Cantar ran to the door in an attempt to close it. Too late, as a slavering, vicious Alsatian sprang through and leapt at his throat. With a look of absolute desperation and terror on his face, he was thrown to the ground. His gun was sent flying from his grip and slid to where Zova was groggily picking herself up from the ground. She snatched it up and fired it at the snarling, snapping dog, stunning it. The Maya/Alsatian keeled over in mid-spring and fell on its side. With a determined effort, Zova ran and locked the door. Cantar rose to his feet and staggered resolutely back to the controls.
Alerted by the alarm, Koenig and two guards rushed into the Physics laboratory. Seeing the room empty and noticing the prostrate Power Room Guard, they ran to the door and tried unsuccessfully to open it.
Livid with rage, Koenig pressed his face to the observation window set in the door. He saw Cantar and Zova at the controls and the motionless bodies of Verdeschi, Helena and Maya. He ripped his gun from its holster and blasted it at the door mechanism. They erupted in a burst of flame and pungent smoke. One of the guards shoved at the door, trying to slide it open. He pushed and strained, in vain.
‘It’s jammed, sir,’ he wheezed.
Scarcely listening, Koenig fired his gun at the control box of the door until it was a totally shattered, flaming wreck. At length the obstinate doors slid apart and they rushed in.
Screaming sound pulsations erupted from the room, causing them to double up in pain. They still fought their way inside, into an intense spinning vortex of blue light that made their skins tingle with negative energy.
Dimly, Koenig made out the forms of Cantar and Zova, and the bodies on the floor. He struggled towards them, shielding his eyes from the light. A drop in the intensity of both light and sound occurred, and the vast flow of energy that was being released from the Alphan supplies gradually died away. As it did so, and as the light and sound cleared away altogether, Koenig saw with horror that the two aliens and the bodies of Helena and Verdeschi had vanished.
Apart from the prostrate form of Maya, the Power Room was empty.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Helena awoke hazily to find herself assaulted by graphic, vivid images. She was only partly awake and could have been dreaming. Whether dream or reality, the cold, blue, sickening vortex down which she was falling, was a nightmare, and there was no escaping from it. She fell down and down, helplessly. Her ears rang again with the rapid popping sounds she remembered having heard in the laboratory. At length, the blue, rushing vapour vanished, and she fell headlong into a dense fog. Through the fog walls she caught fleeting glimpses of a cratered, mountainous landscape covered sparsely with greenery and lakes of water. As she fell closer, she saw cities of low, flat-roofed buildings and rapid transit tubes cutting across the valley floors and into the sides of the mountains.
The falling sensation ceased abruptly. She found herself standing with Verdeschi in a large, colourful room filled with consoles. Opposite her, beyond a large central control table, the figures of Cantar and Zova materialized.
Two scientists sat with their backs to her, working at the table. They looked up abruptly at Cantar and Zova. The elder of the two rose from his seat and pointed at them. He gave a cry of horror. ‘Exiles...’
The other scientist scrambled from his seat, but before they could reach what Helena took for an alarm button, Zova fired the Alphan stun gun. The glass dome housing the button melted away, leaving it inoperable.
Shocked, and still overcome by their strange passage through space, the Alphans stared at the scene of ruthless violence that was being enacted before them. Never had they thought it possible that the two good-looking, seemingly charming young aliens were, in effect, gangsters.
Cantar too produced a gun and aimed it at a complex assembly of glass tubes and reservoirs that stood in the centre of the control dais. The tubes were filled with delicate shades of coloured liquids that rushed and bubbled inside. ‘A puny weapon against us,’ he told the scientists. ‘But it has its uses...’
The elder scientist turned towards him, a horrified expression on his face. Despite his age the watching Alphans could see that certain characteristics in his face closely resembled those of Cantar and Zova. ‘No!’ he pleaded desperately. ‘Destroy that system and within hours hundreds of our people die..!’
Cantar laughed and fired. Several tubes shattered and the liquids inside boiled out in clouds of hissing vapours. He pointed his gun at the central assembly causing the elder scientist to protest more desperately than ever. ‘Don’t! It’s the
Main Plant. You’ll kill everybody on Golos!’
Cantar laughed again at the frightened man’s plight. He did not fire. ‘Bring Ragnar here,’ he demanded of the man. ‘Tell him Cantar will destroy all life on Golos unless he comes along.’
The scientist looked wretchedly indecisive. He tried to stammer something out, but Cantar cut him off. ‘Bring him!’ he shouted at him. He fired his gun, shattering more tubes. The scientists cringed with fear and ran quickly from the room.
The youthful killer turned to the Alphans. He smiled imperiously at them, his clear, blue eyes flashing with a young vigour and vitality that shocked them. Helena could see now what it was in him that she wasn’t sure about. She had been too kind to them and she cursed herself a thousand times for having talked Koenig into compromising his decision. The alien looked at her. ‘You look at me with surprise, Doctor Russell,’ he said.
‘Contempt, Cantar,’ she told him, collecting her wits.
Cantar snarled bitterly. ‘You’re like the people here on Golos – crippled by your moral ideas of loyalty, gratitude, fair play...’
‘Whereas you and Zova – you’re free spirits, I suppose,’ she countered, coldly. ‘Free to hate and threaten and kill...’
Verdeschi nudged her. ‘You’re wasting your breath, Helena. He doesn’t understand what you’re talking about.’
‘Let her speak. It amuses me,’ the youth replied haughtily.
‘It’s not hard to see why Ragnar exiled you,’ Helena continued scathingly. ‘The surprise is he let you live at all.’
‘That’s enough!’ Cantar snapped, raising his gun threateningly at her.
A whirring sound came and a door opened. They all turned. A flood of green light issued from the doorway. In its frame appeared a very old, very dignified and very powerful lady. She was about seventy, and she looked around the room with a gaze of supreme power and wisdom. The Alphans felt awed, and the two exiles nervous. Once she was satisfied that her presence had been properly sensed, she stepped out of the green light into the room. The door slid shut behind her and they could see that she wore a long, simple robe of the deepest saffron. Her silver hair was long and luxuriant, and allowed to hang loose.
Space 1999 - The Space-Jackers Page 13
