by John Rankine
Helena took Koenig along to see her.
‘She’s completely rejected the child.’
‘I suppose that’s an understandable reaction.’
‘Everybody else on Alpha’s taken to him. But she’s refusing to come out of this state of shock. She won’t let him come near. I get the feeling that if only I could show her how he’s leading a comparatively normal life . . .’
‘It’s how he reached that stage that’s disturbing. I have to say I still can’t accept that either.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘I saw him with Bergman as I came through.’
‘That’s all right. Victor’s good with him. I believe if anybody can get him to talk it will be Victor. He has marvellous sympathy and patience.’
‘I like to watch him at it. I’ll join them. You take a break. You give all your time to him.’
Bergman had Jackie Crawford beside him at his desk and they were still flogging at the buttercup. Jackie was making a bad copy, but Bergman never stopped giving praise.
‘That’s good Jackie. Very good. Would you like to do another?’
He set up a fresh sheet of paper as his commlock buzzed from the desk. Quick as a flash Jackie reached over and pressed the right button. Koenig’s face glowed on the miniature screen.
Following the correct sequence Jackie picked another stud and the doors opened to admit Koenig himself.
‘He’s making progress, Victor.’
‘John, there’s not a doubt about it. He’s bright. Very bright.’
Koenig leaned over, the table and spoke quietly close to Bergman’s head. ‘You’re sure?’
‘As I read him, he’s perfectly normal.’
‘Is he Victor? Is he? We want to believe it. I think our critical faculties might have been put to sleep by young Jackie’s charm.’
He would have been more sure of that if he had seen the boy’s eyes. He would have known for a start that the conversation was being heard and understood.
Bergman said, ‘So he’s still under observation?’
‘He has to be Victor.’
Both looked at the boy who was now only looking at his drawing. Trying hard to be friendly, Koenig said, ‘Let me look. What have you been drawing?’
As he stretched out a hand for the paper, Jackie quickly crumpled it in a tight ball.
Bergman laughed, ‘Young children are like young animals John. They have an extra keen sense about people. He knows you’re not as willing to take him at face value as the rest of us.’
Koenig’s commlock buzzed urgently and he missed the look that Jackie Crawford was giving it. There was expectation there as though he knew the message before Paul Morrow’s concerned face on the miniature screen could deliver it.
‘Commander. Will you come into Main Mission at once please?’
‘Right away.’
There was activity all around. The full staff were on the floor. Morrow said, ‘Sandra. Give me a reading.’
‘Velocity two seven five and closing.’
Koenig was behind his chair watching the console.
‘Scanner’s on to something, Commander. Heading right for us.’
Alan Carter whistled, ‘Only look at that! By god it’s moving fast!’
Koenig called, ‘Kano?’
‘Nothing yet from the computer, Commander.’
‘Let’s have it on the main scanner.’
Paul Morrow threw switches. There was the familiar star map and the infinite corridors of space-time; random alleys for their Moon ball to rattle in. But something new, a feature with a harmonic of menace, even before it crystalised out into a recognisable artifact. There was a throbbing pulse of viridian light coming in on a collision course and moving with unbelievable speed.
Morrow asked, ‘Red Alert?’
‘Red Alert.’
Klaxons sounded out and red tell tales winked in every corner of the complex. The green light was shaking out into definition. It was a spacer of unfamiliar pattern, though they could have had a preview of it if anybody had uncurled the tight ball of paper in Bergman’s waste bin. Jackie Crawford had already drawn it out to the last fluted dome.
Paul Morrow had a directional fix. ‘It’s headed for the North quadrant, Commander.’
Koenig left the group to see it live from the external vision ports. Alan Carter joined him. There was the spread of the complex as clear as day under the floods and the huge bulk of the spacer hovering over the perimeter markers of the North Quadrant. Morrow left the scanner, then Kano. They all lined up at the direct vision ports as if to convince themselves that it was true and not something cooked up by micro gremlins in the hardware.
For the first time since his birth, Jackie Crawford was not the centre of attention. He walked in from Koenig’s office and stood at the back of the line. Then he looked round Main Mission with adult, intelligent eyes like a new manager taking a sneak preview of the general office while the staff was out on a coffee break.
There was no doubt about the air of menace, but there was no communication. Koenig came to a decision and pulled Carter out of the ruck. Jackie Crawford followed them through into the command office and sat silent looking from one face to the other as Koenig briefed his chief pilot for a reconnaissance mission.
When it was done, Koenig stood up. He knew what he was asking and he didn’t like any part of it. ‘All right, Alan. You know what to do.’
‘And if I’m attacked?’
‘Don’t wait for me to give the order.’
Koenig was not the only one who disliked sending Carter out. As the pilot turned to go, the boy ran to his side and took his arm as though to hold him back. Koenig said, ‘Good luck, Alan,’ but Carter was side-tracked by Jackie’s obvious worry. He ruffled the boy’s hair, leaned down and said clearly, ‘I’ll be back.’
There was no change. The boy either did not understand or did not believe it. Carter went down to a full knee bend that brought their heads on a level and really worked at it, ‘It’s—all—right, I’ll—be—back.’
There was still no joy. Koenig said, ‘Here Jackie,’ and made a beckoning mime that was impossible to miss. ‘Here. We’ll watch from my desk.’
It earned him a curious look which was only partly agreement. There was an element in it which said, ‘All right then, Commander. Just for now I’ll do what you want. But not for long. Not for very long. Soon, I shall be telling you.’
They saw Carter gun his motor and lift his Eagle in a surge of power off the pad. Then he was doing a discreet circuit of the spacer. Koenig had all personnel back at stations and had forgotten Jackie Crawford still sitting quietly at his desk.
He called through to Kano, ‘What’s holding you? I want computer analysis of that spacer.’
‘Coming through now, Commander.’
Koenig looked at the blow up on the main scanner, ‘It’s in advance of anything we have, but it looks as though the evolution of design has gone along a path we know. That points to an intelligence we would recognise.’ Paul Morrow said, ‘I agree, Commander. But why don’t they communicate?’
‘Keep trying on all channels. Monitor all frequencies for any kind of response. Anything.’
He switched to the roving Eagle and Carter’s command module came up on his screen with Carter and his co-pilot staring fixedly ahead. ‘Any sign of action, Alan?’
‘Not a thing, Commander. Except the flicker on this green light. Comes from the dome, right on top. There’s no movement. They’re just hanging there like a putrified marrow.’
‘You hang right in there with them. Report any sign of life.’
‘Check. I’m going in closer. We’ll let you know if they fire. Three knocks on the table.’
A blip from Kano’s desk had Koenig reluctantly switching channels.
Kano swivelled in his seat with a print-out in his hand and said, ‘It’s made of an alloy, but we don’t have any matching symbols for the composition. It’s one hundred metres in diameter, forty m
etres high, but it has this fantastically low density.’
‘You’re telling me there’s room for a battalion in there.’
‘Computer finds some life form indicated, but not human. Computer is insufficiently programmed to identify it.’
Paul Morrow cut in, ‘They could blast us at any second if it suited their book. Why should they give any warning?’
‘Maybe they’ve done the same kind of breakdown and like us they’re waiting for the other side to make the first move.’
‘Either way, their behaviour is suspicious.’
Sandra Benes supported her chief, ‘If they’re friendly, they only have to say so.’
Morrow checked on the Eagle. ‘Alan’s real close, Commander. I think we should make the first move.’
Information was crowding Koenig’s network. Carter himself came through, ‘I have it lined up, Commander. Lasers set for maximum strike. I can’t miss. Carve up that green dome for a sure thing.’
Morrow said, ‘Better safe than sorry. I think we should do just that, Commander.’
Koenig looked from screen to screen. Carter and Morrow. The axeman and the advisor. But the final say had to be his. It was the ultimate loneliness of command to have the life or death decision.
Jackie Crawford had moved round the desk and his eyes were fixed on Koenig’s face in a steady penetrating stare as though he knew precisely what was going on in the Commander’s head and had a personal stake in it.
Koenig was suddenly sidetracked. Beyond the child’s face he could see Helena Russell and the care she had taken to preserve life. Intelligent life was rare enough in the wastes of space to have its right to survive. Who was he to pull the plug and wipe it out?
Somewhere in the subconscious where every man is a stranger to his own motivation, relays clicked and the decision was made. He spoke to Carter. ‘Alan. Return to base.’
Shocked into protest, Carter’s single word came back, ‘Why?’
‘They could have blasted you out of the sky. They didn’t. They had every right to believe you were the aggressor.’
Paul Morrow intervened, voicing the doubt showing on every face in Main Mission. ‘Commander. We’re wide open. Maybe they’re getting just everything they want by keeping quiet.’
Koenig ignored him, staying with Carter, trying to force conviction. ‘See it their way, Alan. When we do a reconnaissance on an alien planet we try to communicate all we can. It’s not out intention to attack. Maybe that ship holds peaceful people trying to make contact and we’re just not hearing or understanding yet.’
‘That’s not my reading, Commander.’
‘Ignorance is no reason to start shooting. We’re all afraid of the unknown. As a matter of plain fact I’m scared of Jackie Crawford here.’
It was a sudden change of tack, and he saw surprise and disbelief on every face as he went on, ‘I know you’ve all come to accept him. But you’ve put aside the fact that we don’t know why he’s like he is. We can’t explain it or understand it. For me that’s still difficult to take. But I don’t shoot him.’
‘I follow that Commander. But I still think you have it wrong. Pulling out. Returning to base.’
Koenig passed a hand wearily, over his forehead. He was suddenly very tired. He looked for Jackie Crawford to reassure him if the boy had picked up any overtones in the exchange, and was feeling threatened; but he had wandered off.
He had gone where he was sure of a welcome and was in the medicentre sidling up to Helena Russell and taking her hand. She had been attending to Cynthia Crawford and they were not two metres from the bed when Cynthia opened her eyes.
Before Helena could speak, her face distorted with fear and her body arched violently from the bed. Mouth wide, she began to scream. ‘No. Don’t let him. Take him away. He’s killing me.’ She fell back racked by hysterical sobbing.
Mathias and Paula were quickly at her side, beating Helena to it. She said, ‘Paula. I’ll attend to her. Take Jackie out.’
As she handed him over, she stooped clown to reassure him and was suddenly appalled. He was smiling. He knew what was happening to Cynthia: but it made no difference. He wanted it. For some reason he wanted it that way.
Cynthia’s cries were more urgent. Helena joined Mathias. As they calmed her, Jackie Crawford waited for Paula to use her commlock on the medicentre hatch and then walked quickly out with a purposeful step which was all at odds with his child’s shape.
Helena Russell felt she owed Koenig an apology. She had been critical of his attitude; but now her eyes were open. As soon as Cynthia was quiet again she went to find him.
‘John. It was horrible. There was something about the way he smiled. It sent a chill right through me. He knew. It was as though he were enjoying his mother’s agony.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘I don’t know. With Paula somewhere.’
Koenig called Morrow, ‘Paul. Find Jackie Crawford and don’t let him out of your sight.’
Helena looked defeated and he went round his desk and took her hands. ‘Don’t blame yourself. Everybody felt the same way about him. We all bent backwards to look for the good things, to accept him as normal. But now we know he’s not. He’s too bright. Too much charm. Like with a precocious child, he makes you feel uneasy. As though you were being judged.’
‘He knew you had reservations.’
‘Helena, he’s fooled us all.’
Paul Morrow called urgently, ‘Commander. Three more spacers running in to Alpha.’
Koenig was on the way as the Red Alert klaxons sounded out and he was saying to himself as much as to her, ‘Maybe there’s a connection?’
Sandra Benes looked white, ‘Confirmed, Commander. Three more. Identical with the first.’
The main scanner had the picture. They were in echelon, closing fast with green lights in a pulsing triangle.
Koenig snapped out, ‘Carter. Take three flights of Eagles and intercept’
‘Preventive mission?’
‘No. Let them see we’re ready for them. Where’s Jackie?’
Helena saw him. He was on the balcony above the operations floor. Koenig followed her eyes and saw the boy’s fixed smile.
‘Get to him Helena.’
At the same time, long streamers of green light seared out from the racing craft and the main scanner blanked out.
Morrow said, ‘They’ve knocked out all cameras, Commander.’
Carter turned from the hatch and said definitively, ‘It’s an attack.’
Koenig saw Helena reach the boy and he saw the smile hardening into something like triumph. He said, ‘Stop them, Alan.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Carter too was looking at the boy and seemed to be suddenly beset by indecision. Koenig’s shout, ‘Move man! Get on with it,’ tipped the scale and got him in motion again.
Koenig himself raced for the balcony and Jackie Crawford shook himself free of Helena’s hand and stumbled backwards until he was brought up by the curved bulkhead at his back. Suddenly the smile faded. He looked like a trapped animal. Hands covering his face, he began to shake as though with pain. Slowly he dropped to his knees and then pitched forward face down.
Koenig said, ‘All right, Helena. Get him into the medicentre. Keep him under watch.’
Through the direct vision ports on the balcony he saw Carter’s squadron lifting off. One after another, six Eagles blasted from the strip and Carter took them in a tight formation into the path of the oncoming spacers.
Carter’s voice came up on the commlock, ‘Eagle leader to Alpha. Do you read me?’
Koenig said, ‘Commander Alpha. I read you.’
‘Alien space ships dead ahead.’
‘Fire as you bear.’
There was no mistaking the relief in Alan Carter’s voice.
‘Now you’re talking. Eagle leader to Eagle squadron. Select on-board ranging. Manual override. Fire as you bear.’
Through the direct vision port Koenig saw the thin be
ams flare out from the hurrying Eagles. Against all logic, there was not a hit. He said urgently, ‘Switch to main computer. Check and fire.’
Carter’s repetition was instant but carried a charge that sent a quick frown over Koenig’s face. Carter said again, ‘Manual override. Check and fire,’ and a second pattern blossomed out with the lines bending away without penetration. Carter said angrily, ‘It’s no good. We can’t get a hit.’
‘Come in from behind. Maybe they have a blind quarter.’
The Eagles were turning, coming round to a new vector. Suddenly a volley of green rays streamed out from the spacers which had positioned themselves round the quadrants of the Alpha base. Each Eagle was bathed in a green glow. Koenig saw them check in flight and begin to float down to the moon’s surface.
Main Mission had gone quiet. Everybody sat still, one question on every face. Outside, the four spacers hovered on station, their green domes pulsing with light. There was a feeling of impotence, a sense of waiting for something terrible to happen.
CHAPTER TWO
John Koenig stood at his command desk trying to think it through. Being a hard critic of himself, he was trying to pinpoint the place in time when the situation had escalated out of control and when something he had done or not done had put the base under this threat. Every time he came back to Jackie Crawford. In some way the key had to be there.
Maybe there was still something to be done? He used his commlock to open his door and strode out into Main Mission. All staff were still at action stations and he felt the weight of unspoken questions as he went through without a word.
In the medicentre, Helena Russell was standing in front of a monitoring console dividing her attention between the scopes and a bank of flickering equipment beyond a glass screen. Behind the screen in a cubicle bathed in blue light, Jackie Crawford was lying under a clutter of sophisticated support gear.
Noise from the monitors was building and Koenig was behind her before she heard his step. As though to stop something she could not bear to hear, she flipped switches in a row to turn off audio repeaters and there was instant silence.
