Space 1999 - The Psychomorph

by Michael Butterworth

  ‘Alan! Ehrlich!’ Verdeschi whispered hoarsely.

  ‘We see him!’ Ehrlich’s desperate voice called back.

  ‘We’re going in!’ Carter announced.

  A tearful Sahn made visual contact with the wrecked Eagle by activating the powerful zoom cameras mounted on the roof of the Observation Building – the tallest of the Moon Base’s surface buildings.

  The dust had cleared somewhat, and looming through the clouds came the outline of the landed Eagle. The ship did not appear to be damaged. It seemed to have landed in the swirling dust of its own volition. Only a thin column of black smoke streaming out from a rupture in its side told of the inferno that must be blazing within it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The pallid, drawn face of the commander lay enfolded in the white sheets of a Medical Centre bed. His body was perfectly still, and seemed scarcely to breathe. A maze of wires and tubes led from him – some carrying weak signals of his various bodily functions to the detectors, others feeding in precious blood and chemical drips.

  Equally drawn and pale, Helena worked by his side. She was helped by Doctor Ben Vincent. Maya and Tony Verdeschi stood nearby, the latter having decided to spend a few minutes of his ill-spared time away from his new Command duties. Now that Koenig had been incapacitated again, he had had to take over control once more.

  ‘He was lucky.’ Vincent scrutinized one of the madly-bleeping instruments faces. ‘He was strapped in. His helmet absorbed a lot of the impact.’

  ‘So he’s OK?’ Verdeschi asked hesitantly, drawing closer to them.

  Helena shook her head glumly. ‘No, he’s not. He’s got severe concussion. The monitors show it’s very deep.’

  ‘That’s why we’re trying this.’ Vincent straightened up and tapped the instrument in front of him with a well-mailicured nail.

  Maya frowned. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s a cerebral feedback,’ the doctor replied. He thrust his hands into his white coat pockets, but despite an air of casualness he kept a shrewd eye on the waves crackling across the screen. ‘It takes your brain impulses, modifies them, then feeds them back into the brain. It’s like a brain massage – electronic.’

  ‘I’ve never known you use it before,’ the Psychon probed. Helena looked up, bothered.

  ‘It’s still experimental,’ she told her.

  ‘Then you don’t know what side effects it may have! The human brain...’ Maya began, showing extreme surprise.

  Helena cut her off, her irritation mounting. ‘Maya, I know as much about the human brain as you do!’

  ‘Then you must know the risk if you use an unproven machine,’ Maya replied. She had joined Vincent and was studying the controls of the new machine. As Scientific Officer, she had a good grasp of instrumentation.

  ‘I know the risk if I don’t.’ Helena spoke as calmly as she could. ‘We could lose John!’ She bent over Koenig, operating delicate machinery close to his head.

  Maya left off, knowing that this was neither the time nor the place to argue. If Helena was right about the Brain Impulse Machine being the only chance Koenig had, then they had no option but to use it.

  Vincent changed the subject. ‘Is there any radiation leak from the dome he hit?’ he asked Verdeschi.

  ‘I’m sending Alan with Bartlett and Ehrlich to do a full twenty-four hour scan on the site – they’re the experts,’ Verdeschi replied. He paused. ‘Do we know what happened to John up there?’

  Vincent shook his head. ‘We haven’t a clue. The Lambda Effect is minimal now – but the possibility exists that John may never have recovered properly from his exposure to them. Maybe...’ He looked unhappily around the Centre at them, ‘... maybe none of us have.’

  Verdeschi returned thoughtfully to the Command Centre. Abjectly, he stared at the graceful shape of Eagle Two blasting off again from its launch pad. He followed it with the external cameras and watched Carter bring it down adjacent to the three domes and the wrecked Eagle Ten. The dust had cleared, and still the broken Eagle looked surprisingly intact. Yet it had burned through, from end to end, and John Koenig had only just been rescued from it in time.

  He watched Carter and the two nuclear scientists climb out of Eagle Two and walk clumsily towards the domes in their space suits. They carried geiger counters and as they went, scanned the jagged outcrops of Moon rocks for sign of radiation. The domes were all that remained of the nuclear dumps which Mankind had left years before on the lunar surface. Most of the dumps had been built on the Moon’s ‘dark side’ – when the Moon had a Sun to light its other side. These three dumps were the oldest and they had been built on the ‘light side’ – the side that had once faced Earth – before a new Atomic Waste Policy had been introduced. It had been decided that the wastes were potentially so deadly that they could not be left anywhere near the space colony.

  The nuclear waste had been accumulated in the first place by foolish Earth governments who had seen atomic energy as the quickest way out of the Earth energy crisis of the Seventies and Eighties. The waste was so pernicious to any kind of proteinaceous life that it had to be stored for tens of thousands of years before it would be rendered safe. Mankind had paid the price of his folly handsomely – and so had the Alphans, Verdeschi thought grimly. They were still feeling the after-effects now – living in fear of a thing which should never have been allowed in the first place.

  Tiranium, which the Moon Base used for its fuel, was a different question. Tiranium was radio-active, but it was a much more efficient kind of fuel, which left no waste except harmless gases. It had been a fortunate find. There were even dangers from this – the dangers of explosion, and the dangers of hi-jack by life-forms in need of such a fuel for themselves.

  Verdeschi wondered if there had been any special significance in Koenig’s repeated attacks on the domes which he made before he crashed the Eagle Ship. Was it possible that the Space Field, weak though it was, could have had a hand in sending the Commander round the bend... with the intention of getting him to bring about a nuclear explosion? If so, why?

  Carter and the two scientists had finished scanning the domes and now set out to check the wreckage of the Eagle. Verdeschi brought out his comlock and punched Carter’s frequency. ‘Alan, any problems at the nuclear waste dumps?’ he asked.

  Carter’s voice came back over his helmet radio. ‘No problems... the damage was superficial. The nuclear waste is stable.’

  ‘For how long?’ The Security Chief was relieved.

  There was an amused pause. Then, wryly: ‘Centuries... unless some fool drills a hot plutonium rod into one of the domes.’

  Verdeschi grunted. He broke off the communication as a bleep sounded on his console monitor. Helena’s face appeared on it, looking much happier.

  ‘How is he?’ Verdeschi asked, before she could speak.

  ‘He’s fine... he’ll be jumping about like a fire-cracker soon!’ She managed a smile.

  ‘Great!’ Verdeschi enthused. He smacked his hand down on the arm of the Command Chair. ‘When can we expect him to start jumping?’

  ‘Not too soon,’ Helena replied quickly. ‘He’s OK while he’s on this new equipment. At the moment it’s taken over his functioning. It may be some time until he is able to survive on his own.’

  Verdeschi nodded. ‘I see. Well, we’ll just have to be patient. Thanks Helena.’ He sat back, thoughtful once more as the doctor’s face faded from the small screen.

  The radiation monitoring team had finished scanning the crashed Eagle Ship and the three bulky figures were walking awkwardly back across the bleak lunar terrain towards the safety of Eagle Ship Two.

  Koenig had been right, he thought savagely. They couldn’t sit back and assume that the Space Field was inactive. The Lambda Waves were still weak, but while the field was at all present, they had to be on their guard. It was a game of nerves, waiting for something adverse to occur. Something... but what, and from what direction? He wished Koenig were off the bloody mother of a ma
chine.

  He glanced around the Command Centre. It was a normal scene. Alphan operators sitting down behind their consoles, busily operating the computerized Moon Base, keeping it all going with little flicks of switches and yards of print-out to read and log...

  Perhaps he was worrying too much. Perhaps there was nothing... He watched a frown cross Sahn’s face as the Indian operator checked her readings, then started.

  A sudden chill descended on him. Something happened... happened to his thinking. He didn’t know what it was. It was a kind of muggy, almost attractive feeling of mindless happiness...

  He shook his head and the feeling seemed to clear. But even though it seemed to go, Verdeschi half-sensed that the effect it had on him had been permanent. He wasn’t quite the same person any more.

  ‘We have something on radar!’ Sahn exclaimed. ‘Approaching fast!’

  Verdeschi acted swiftly. He cleared the Big Screen of the image of Eagle Ten, now blasting off towards its launch pad, and got Sahn to replace it with a picture of the object she had detected.

  A picture of stars came on the screen.

  ‘How far out?’ Verdeschi asked, puzzled by the lack of a visual target. He felt uncomfortable. Most probably the Force Field was up to its usual diaphanous tricks again.

  ‘Five million kilometres and closing... at fifty thousand kilometres a second!’

  That explained it. ‘I want it on the Big Screen as soon as you pick it up,’ he told Sahn. He brought his comlock out again and re-opened the channel with Carter. ‘There’s something else coming in. Get down fast, Alan.’

  He watched the Big screen impassively.

  ‘On visual now,’ he heard Sahn say after a minute or so. He frowned, peering at the myriad points of star-light for sign of something moving. He wouldn’t necessarily see it immediately. If it were heading straight at them, and if it were reflecting light, it would seem to be a point of light gradually expanding itself as it drew closer.

  All at once, he saw it. As he had supposed, a point of dullish light. He reached for the communicator button that would put him through to the Medical Centre, but then resisted. Although he needed John with him now he couldn’t have him.

  The object grew in size, only dimly discernible against the blackness of space in between the crowded stars. There were no suns bright enough nearby for it to be illuminated more greatly.

  ‘It’s a ship...’ someone in the Centre said.

  There was dead silence as the Alphans watched the screen, open-mouthed.

  A huge star ship, its speed now drastically reduced, came into resolution. It was Zeppelin-shaped, with massive fins and wings, obviously intended to carry a generation or two of life-forms. Probably it had journeyed for rnillenia, seeking a planet to colonize, or...

  Verdeschi stopped himself speculating. It was not the reality of what he was saying that arrested him. The ship was indeed that kind of a ship. It was the casualness of his speculating. He had completely taken for granted that the ship’s styling was that of an early Terran star-ship. It was from Earth.

  ‘It’s a... a Superswift!’ he gasped aloud, fumbling for the word.

  ‘It can’t be...’ Sahn said, feeling bewildered.

  ‘It is, I tell you...’ He leaned forward in excitement.

  ‘It never got off the drawing board,’ another operative commented cautiously.

  Verdeschi considered. The man was right... but... he felt optimistic. The sight of this Earthship was cheering. ‘It didn’t get off the drawing board while we were down on Earth, no – but things must have changed...’

  ‘Physics hasn’t changed. That’s what I mean,’ the other replied.

  ‘How do we know what’s been happening on Earth?’ Sahn asked.

  An enthusiastic babble of voices started up from around the consoles.

  ‘It could be from Earth!’ someone cried.

  ‘It’s like the drawings of the Superswift!’ another agreed.

  ‘How do we know how far they’ve got on Earth?’

  ‘Looks like human technology to me!’

  Verdeschi listened to them. He felt like joining in the general euphoria. But optimism or no, he had the welfare of the Moon Base in his care, and he had to act responsibly. He stopped them with an upraised hand. ‘It can’t be from Earth. We’ve no contact with Earth. We’ve been through at least two space warps, and we’ve been travelling for a good five years or more. Earth could never hope to find us.’

  The faces in front of him looked disappointed.

  ‘Whatever that thing is out there, don’t let’s get sentimental about it...’

  He was about to continue with his speech, when Sahn cut in: ‘Tony! It’s moving in to land!’

  ‘Uh?’ he asked instead. ‘Give me a hailing channel.’

  Sahn obliged him, and he began to address the strange ship. ‘Moon Base Alpha to... to Space Ship. Identify yourself. Identify yourself.’

  The big, swollen nose of the Superswift loomed closer. There was no reply.

  Verdeschi snapped at a button in front of him. ‘Weapons Section – arm all lasers.’

  A moment later the reply came back. ‘All lasers armed.’

  The Alphans in the Command Centre watched nervously as the great ship landed. It settled on a launch pad. In the foreground, the dish-shaped collar of a laser gun swivelled around and trained itself on the silent vessel.

  ‘Moon Base to Space Ship.’ Verdeschi tried again to make contact. ‘Identify yourself. Identify yourself.’

  There was another silence. Then Sahn cried: ‘They’re trying to come through!’ She pressed a number of buttons.

  The picture of the Superswift on the Big Screen disappeared. It was replaced suddenly by the broadly-smiling features of a young man.

  Verdeschi felt a sudden stab of yearning. Caution went to the wind.

  ‘Guido!’ he cried in a voice filled with emotion.

  The man on the screen was handsome and obviously Italian, like Verdeschi. He laughed a warm laugh of delight, flashing a set of perfectly white teeth. His laughter fell welcomely on ears that had not heard a human stranger’s laugh in years, and that thought they would never hear one again.

  Verdeschi turned to the Alphans with a mixture of pride, excitement and delirious happiness.

  ‘It’s Guido! It’s my brother Guido!’

  CHAPTER THREE

  The scene inside the Command Centre looked to Verdeschi like a post-atomic reception partly for the survivors of a nuclear war. The normally formal and non-descript control room was milling with Alphans and a host of visiting friends and relatives who had suddenly arrived on the Superswift They were hugging and clasping one another, and ardently shaking hands. The sight of the Earth costumes and the music of Earth voices was sheer bliss after the standardized tunics and the dull regulations of the Moon Base.

  On the screen, Guido, his old rogue of a younger brother, had looked good enough. In the flesh, he looked positively exquisite. A warm, golden feeling of euphoria swept repeatedly over Verdeschi as he and Guido clasped one another in a succession of mad Italian, back-thumping embraces.

  ‘Guido!’ the Alphan sobbed, tears streaming down his face.

  ‘Tony!’ his brother rejoined, likewise afflicted.

  The happy scene was surveyed by Clive Kander from the Moon Base Records Unit. The cold, indifferent eye of his small video movie camera swivelled about, this way and that, recording the once-in-a-lifetime event for posterity – and for analysis.

  He captured Alan Carter, standing on tip-toe amid the throng, looking above the heads of the crowd for someone he knew. It seemed that everyone on Alpha had a visitor. His face cracked into sudden recognition, and he charged through the fray towards a rugged, fair-haired man dressed in suede cowboy suit and big leather boots. ‘Ken! Ken Burdett!’ he cried.

  The man called Ken had been chatting up Maya, and turned round when he heard his name called. As he saw Carter he raised both fists in the air and let out a holler of we
lcome. When the Australian pilot had come within punching distance, he brought one of his big, hairy fists down and aimed a blow at his shoulder.

  Carter blocked it good-naturedly, and retaliated.

  ‘Still keeping that guard up, Carter!’ Ken Burdett grinned.

  ‘I’ve still got the Houston Base Championship, Cobber,’ the overjoyed pilot replied.

  ‘Only because I couldn’t get up here for a re-match!’ Burdett scoffed.

  The tiny camera of the Records Unit’s man panned round and caught another poignant reunion. A bewildered Helena Russell had just caught sight of two old colleagues and was waving furiously at them. One was a distinguished, slightly stooped, sandy-haired man in his early forties. The other was a rather haughty, sensuous-looking woman who might have stepped straight out of an important Board Meeting.

  ‘Diana! Dr Shaw!’ the doctor called. ‘Over here!’

  The haughty woman waved back vaguely, but responded no further, continuing instead with her search of the faces in the room. Obviously she had not yet found who she sought. But the distinguished Dr Shaw beamed broadly when he saw Helena, and came over to her at once. They hugged one another affectionately, and then withdrew. They began talking earnestly about old times.

  In another corner of the Command Centre, Sahn and a newcomer rushed into each other’s arms and began kissing fiercely. ‘Peter, Peter, Peter!’ the Indian operative exclaimed passionately. She shook her head and cried openly as they kissed. They gratified a long-lost relationship that had been cruelly broken when it had been at its peak.

  Joe Ehrlich stroked his chin and gazed amusedly about him. All at once he spotted someone, and raised a finger of recognition in the air.

  ‘Henry, you old hound dog!’ he exclaimed warmly, as an older, sporting type dressed in a chequered tweed suit approached him. ‘Henry’ shook hands with equal fervour.

  ‘How’s your handicap?’ he asked, breaking from the embrace and miming a golf swing.

  ‘I can put a ball in a crater from 1600 yards!’ Ehrlich laughed and slapped him on the back.