Space 1999 #10 - Phoenix Of Megaron

by John Rankine

  Rhoda was on hands and knees to check him in. She said, ‘Karl! I knew you’d find me.’

  Twisting her head to speak over her shoulder and bring Carter into the group, she called, ‘Alan! This is Karl. Now you will be all right.’

  Karl heaved himself out of the hole. Wherever Rhoda was, there was likely to be an animated scene, but there was clearly more going on than he expected. He was a short, powerfully built man with a close-trimmed, greying beard and deep-set eyes. His voice had some of Rhoda’s husky vibration in it as he said, ‘Who are these people, Rhoda?’

  ‘You won’t believe it, Karl.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘They’re not from Megaron at all.’

  Told her way, it was going to take some time. He said hastily, ‘It will have to wait. We should get out of here. The question is whether or not they are to come with us.’

  ‘Of course they come with us. They helped me. And Alan over there got himself whipped on my account.’

  ‘Go down. I will see to it. Send up Lampon and Eris.’

  Rhoda went back to Carter, picked his tunic from the deck and draped it over her shoulders. A quick pressure and she was away again and the prison floor seemed quieter and less full of people. Koenig said, ‘We cannot leave without Captain Carter.’

  Karl was already assembling a power tool that worked from a hand pumped generator. He said, ‘We were not sure whether Rhoda would be free to move or whether there would be restraints. This will cut most metals.’

  Bergman said, ‘A vibrator?’

  ‘The same. You know of this principle?’

  Lampon and Eris came through the hatch, dressed like Karl in round miner’s helmets and a semimilitary rig of pants and battle-dress top in olive drab.

  Lampon leaned on the nearest wall and fixed his eyes on the distant gantry, his machine pistol aimed at the hatch. Eris joined his leader and they made a quick, methodical job of shearing away Carter’s clips. Karl said, ‘Go down. We will bring him. Go down. You will find the others at the first intersection.’

  There was nothing to wait for. In a manner of speaking, they had come naked into this world and were leaving it without having gathered any possessions. Last to go, Koenig saw Carter move stiffly from his post.

  The shaft was hardly two metres deep. It had been broken through from the roof of a massive, brick-lined culvert. There was a support file at the bottom of the ladder to wave him on after the column. In the bottom of the culvert, there was a black cable with a diameter of at least a metre and a half, carried on saddles spaced every ten paces. Lights ahead showed where the rest of the party were waiting. He balance-walked along the top of the cable. Bergman met him. ‘That’s a fantastic power cable, John. I’d say it was a relic from an older city. But where does it come from and, for that matter, where does it go?’

  The intersection was made by another culvert cutting across at right angles. Four more men, all heavily armed, were waiting for the signal to move on. It soon came. Karl was clearly not one to hang about. The ladder had been broken down into three sections and each of the final assault group had a piece when they appeared along the cable.

  Karl made no stop, turned left into the intersection, which was wider, but not as high as the culvert, and picked his way over a ribbed floor littered with loose cables and the maintenance covers of lighting ports.

  Fifty metres on, two men were waiting at an open trap and the ladder was assembled again for a drop into a large tunnel, walled with white ceramic tiles in metre-square sections and with a pale-green ribbed floor, a centimetre deep in grey dust like the finest talcum powder. When all were assembled and the hatch shut, there were enough lamps on the set to give fair light for fifty metres all round. As they moved off, the fine dust rose thigh deep in a swirling cloud. Rhoda had found Alan Carter and was holding his hand. After all the aggro, it was a surrealist-type sequence, like finding a drawing room at the bottom of a lake.

  Koenig stopped thinking. It could be as Rhoda had said, that the food was doped. His mind was open and accepting. If Karl had led them in a circle and back up the shaft into the prison, he would have gone on putting one foot after the other. Beside him, Helena Russell was in a similar state. His left hand was comfortably chocked on her hip. He could feel the supple movement, proving that they were in fact walking, but they could have been drifting in a cloud.

  There was no sense of time or distance gone, but there was a change. Karl had opened a service panel in the right-hand wall. There was a confusing scramble through a number of ducts and conduits and another drop using the ladder. This time they came out into a tunnel which showed signs of more recent use. The roof had a deep box-section slot which was the housing for a continuous metal strip. Waiting for the party was a low, toast-rack trolley with seats for fifty. It had very small wheels and only centimetres of ground clearance. Duplicate control consoles were set at either end and in the middle, a spring-loaded contact bar was swung up like a mast to within a few centimetres of the metal strip.

  The embussing operation took only seconds and Karl was thumping the engineer on his tin hat for him to take it away.

  The power scoop clunked home for a full due. A motor began to hum and the trolley was away in a smooth surge. Once the operation was successful, Karl seemed to have forgotten about the brands plucked from the burning. He sat behind his driver, hands in pockets, hunched down in his coat and looking dead ahead.

  The air was fresh, colder, with a damp chill about it. Helena shivered. This molelike tunnelling and the whole bit since Eagle Seven had dived low over Caster was a far cry from what they had expected of Megaron. She could see Koenig’s profile, set and hard, as he stared ahead. It was worse for him. Knowing the way his mind worked, she knew he would be blaming himself for the decision that had robbed Alpha of four senior executives and landed that same quartette on a dogs’ island.

  She twisted in her seat to look up the car. All the light from the lamps was forward and it was not easy to make out who was in the rumble. But there were two without hats. Rhoda never missed a trick. There was one Alphan, at least, who would have a hard row to hoe, if he wanted to find an unfilled minute to catalogue his regrets.

  On her other side, Victor Bergman was still batting, watching the gear and changing features of the underground system. He felt her eyes on him and managed a wry smile.

  ‘How do you feel, Victor?’

  ‘Better all the time. Rhoda was right. There was an additive in that food. Wearing off now, but for people eating it regularly, there’d be a compulsion to accept anything that was going on without opposition.’

  ‘When you think about it, that’s the ultimate in social engineering. Contentment all round.’

  ‘But who decides where the level is that’s acceptable?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  Bergman looked closely at her. ‘That’s a more cynical remark than I ever expected to hear from you, Helena.’

  ‘A position for argument only.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  The character of the tunnel changed. It opened out in height and width. Massive cross-ribs ran from side to side and the power feed was carried on hanging pylons. The note of the motor dropped to a growl and they climbed a long, easy incline with a sudden change overhead, as they ran into an open cutting crossed by flyovers.

  It was a warm, Mediterranean-type night, with stars in unfamiliar constellations. Koenig could imagine his Eagle fleet coming into a landfall on such a night. Instead, his people were beating back to the silent cinder heap that had carried them across the galaxy. It was a lot to accept.

  The right-hand wall of the cutting peeled away and they were running on a corniche with open sea reflecting the myriad stars and one feature that was clearly a novelty to Karl and his party. Earth’s moon was racing across the night sky of Megaron for a one-off performance.

  They rounded a bluff, bore inland for a kilometre and the open trolley slowed to a stop in what had been the b
asement of some immense building. The squat piers that supported the roof were designed to bear a tremendous load; but, in fact, the glimpse they had of the structure, before they went under it, showed that there was only one intact floor, and above that, a gaunt tangle of twisted girder work and fallen masonry, rearing its grotesque bulk against the sky, like a man-made Eiger.

  Karl said, ‘Come,’ and led the way up a broad ramp which gave access to the ground floor. They immerged into a vast lobby with subdued lighting that had no identifiable source.

  Rhoda said, ‘This is where the Outfarers live. There is plenty of room. We hardly use a tenth of the space. If you are accepted, you will be given an apartment and put on the schedules for whatever kind of work you can do. That will be easy for you, Helena, being a doctor. There’s a whole clinic, but no really professional staff. Then there’s the technical service and the defence corps.’ She gave Alan Carter a confidential pat. ‘A niche for everybody, you might say.’

  Koenig was talking to Karl. ‘Will there be reprisals? They will know where to look.’

  ‘So far we have had very little trouble from Caster. They don’t like to send their people much beyond a ten-kilometre zone round the city. Outside that limit, the mental control field is too weak to be fully effective. What we get, we can deal with. You will understand, when I show you our organisation. But first, there will have to be a meeting. You will have to be accepted by all the people.’

  ‘That sounds like democracy in action.’

  ‘The community is still small enough to make democracy a workable system. Tonight, I will find you accommodation close to my quarters. Come this way.’

  In its heyday, the first floor of the ziggurat had been given over to public rooms and admin spreads. To bring in a domestic scale, divisons had been run up to make apartments. Even so, they had tended to give themselves plenty of elbow room. Karl’s pad had a lounge area twenty-metres square with one wall as a continuous observation window, overlooking the sea.

  As they trekked through it, a small, dark woman, in a flame caftan, jacked herself out of a club chair and almost ran to meet them. Rhoda had stayed with the party to see them settled and there was enough family likeness to make no surprise when she said, ‘Mother. You waited up for me! Alan, this is my mother, Gelanor.’

  In point of fact, Gelanor’s eyes had been on Karl, and the open pleasure she was clocking up showed her concern for his safe return. In appearance, she was a mature version of Rhoda, with slightly buck teeth that kept her full lips in a permanent, good-natured smile. Reminded of nature’s call, and with hardly less delight, she changed course and converged on her daughter.

  ‘Rhoda, my pet! Karl got you out. I knew he would. I said to myself, “If anybody can free Rhoda from that vile place, it will be Karl.” And I was right, wasn’t I? How do you feel, my precious? What did they do to you, then? Why are you wearing that bizarre jacket? That colour is not for you . . .’

  Rhoda had made several efforts to break in without success. Cued in by the fashion angle, she slipped off Carter’s tunic and Gelanor was silenced. Soberly, she took Rhoda’s hand. ‘Oh, my dear. I am sorry. We moved as soon as we could. But there was much to plan. Karl and I were frantic for you. And Melanion—

  ‘Where is my father?’

  ‘On duty in the power centre. You know there is no one else with the knowledge he has of the power circuits. Without power in those old tunnels, nothing could have been done. Where are you taking them, Karl?’

  ‘That spare suite next door.’

  ‘Before they go, they must have something to eat and drink. Make them comfortable. It won’t take long.’

  Being home and dry suddenly got to Rhoda. The pressures of the jailbreak had kept her moving. Now, all the weariness of the past days pushed over the threshold. Carter, who was getting to be the Alpha expert in the field, caught her as her knees crumpled, and Gelanor said, almost humbly, ‘I am the most thoughtless parent. I should have seen she was overstrained. Alan, isn’t it? Alan, bring her along. The rest of you make yourselves comfortable. I shall not be long.’

  The family apartment was another divison of the long room, reaching through an arch hung with a tinkling bead curtain. Following the animated wiggle of her expressive back, Carter disappeared, to an ironic wave from Koenig. Coping with a mother would be breaking new ground for his chief pilot, and it looked as though he had met his Waterloo.

  Helena said, ‘Don’t be like that, John. He’s enjoying it. She’s a very nice girl.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  ‘So I’ve noticed. Perhaps you’d rather be doing it yourself?’

  There was no immediate answer to that one and he conducted her formally to a deeply cushioned chair. Gelanor was as good as her word. It was likely that she had it all ready for the party’s return. She was in again, before the sudden silence had gotten out of hand. Carter, the new household favourite, was carrying a large tray.

  There was a tall, white pot of dark liquid, which tasted not unlike hot chocolate when their hostess had handed it around in delicate, ceramic beakers and some freshly baked biscuits stamped out to a heart shape.

  Gelanor said, ‘Now, don’t be taciturn, Karl. Tell them about us.’

  ‘About Megaron?’

  ‘Don’t they know about Megaron?’

  ‘They say they came from another planet. On that moon that appeared.’

  She appealed to Bergman, since he looked most like a sage. Squatting on her heels, with her flame caftan falling dramatically from the jut of her full breasts, she opened her eyes wide. ‘Is that true? Did you come from there?’

  ‘It is true enough. We were the advance party. We were to signal the rest of our people to follow, if Megaron was fit for occupation. But we were attacked near Caster and the signal was never made. The fleet will have turned back. We have no ship, no choice, but to stay.’

  Karl said slowly, ‘Megaron had an advanced civilisation so long ago that the records we have do not tell of its beginning. Caster is a barbaric village compared with what had been. The ruins of the great cities are all that remain of the last great phase. But we know that there have been many civilisations that have risen and flourished and then died. As long as there are a few free survivors like ourselves, the process will start over again. We shall not see it, but there will be a great future yet for Megaron.’

  Helena said, ‘We crossed a great continent, which I believe you call Hyria. There was evidence of radiation. Life there would be hazardous for some years yet.’

  ‘True. Life here is not completely straightforward. We live unnaturally, as you see, amongst the ruins. But a great deal of the farmland is poisoned. We could not feed very many more people than we have at the moment. We use a hydroponic system, and that puts a limit on production.’

  Koenig, who had been thinking that his Eagle fleet ought to have taken a chance and landed, looked more cheerful. ‘So the Alphans could not have landed anywhere and started a farming commune?’

  ‘Not at all. By no means. You would all have been dead in a week. Turning up the soil would release nerve gases. We are working very slowly to clear a few hectares on this peninsula.’

  Bergman asked, ‘Are there other communities besides Caster?’

  ‘There are some, we believe, but we have no communication. Nor do we want any, until we are stronger. Who knows how they have organised themselves? Caster has gone to one extreme to preserve itself without change. Others might be worse.’

  Helena Russell said, ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘Most of us were born here. There has been a small community of Outfarers in this place for several centuries at least. From time to time others have found their way to join us. Equipment and supplies are plentiful. Water from the sea, through a desalination plant. Food from the hydroponic farm. Time is on our side. We can move slowly.’

  Koenig considered it. In the quiet circle of lamp light, surrounded by the trappings of comfort, it was a viable way of life. But Helen
a chimed with his thinking when she said, ‘It is Moonbase Alpha over again and maybe time is not as firmly on your side as you suppose. As I understand it, there is no standing still. Living is struggling and a community either goes forward or regresses.’

  Karl stood up and took his beaker to the tray. He said, ‘It is late. I can see we shall have some interesting discussions. Thank you, Gelanor. I will take them to their quarters. We will all meet in the morning.’

  Except for a small duty group, detailed to keep the eager young busy, and a few oldsters who were relieved of all citizen responsibilities, there was a full set of Outfarers to hear the Alphans present their case. The venue was an actualiser theatre where the long-gone Megaronians of the tower block had watched sophisticated 3-D presentations on a circular stage in the centre of the auditorium.

  There was a line of chairs on the platform, four for the Alphans over on the left, five for Karl and his management team. The hoi polloi filled three rows of the front stalls. House lights were dimmed and the platform party were isolated in a shaft of light from a battery of spots on a boom.

  Koenig reckoned there could be a couple of hundred out front, and suddenly realised that they were involved in something more than a formality. Karl had introduced the business and was doing a fair job of being a neutral chairman. When he had finished, the floor had been given an open choice. Karl had explained that if the Alphans were accepted, they would be full citizens with a right to negotiate pairing contracts, and that this would involve the acceptance of an alien genetic strain into the Megaronian stock. The consequences could be good or bad, but they would certainly bring change. The strangers had skills to offer, but they would also have ideas which might rock the boat.

  Nobody on the platform had anything to add and Karl threw it open to speakers from the floor. Rhoda was first on her feet, identifiable by her voice, which was husky and passionate in support. A more sober, male voice followed, urging a period of trial. This was a very unusual case and they should meet again, when they knew more about the Alphans. Meantime, they could be given temporary status.