by John Rankine
Helena Russell moved slowly into Main Mission. Medical instinct gave her bewildered mind a holdfast and she dropped wearily on her knees beside Sandra, loosened her tunic and smoothed her hair from her face. She reassured Kano. ‘Don’t worry. She’s going to be all right.’
Now she could think it through, she was assessing their symptoms. Whatever Jarak had drummed up had struck at the central nervous system like a knock out blow to the diaphragm. Hopefully, now that the effect had stopped there would be no permanent damage. Feeling better by the minute, she looked around for Koenig and went on to find him.
Jarak and Rena, lasers set for a stun beam, were ahead of the posse. Racing along a connecting corridor, they bore down on a group of Alphans, who were dusting off and checking that they were still drawing living breath. A lithe girl, straightening her inner suit with a wiggle, saw them first and opened her mouth for a scream that never materialised. She was down again with the rest falling everywhichway.
There was one still on his feet who had nipped smartly behind the communications post, and Jarak and Rena, with perfect co-ordination, turned in as they ran past one either side and fired simultaneously. He fell like a tree.
They ran on, aiming for the medicentre as though Jarak had indentified that area as his home ground. At the door, Jarak used Koenig’s commlock and they were through, Rena ran in like a commando, stun gun ready.
They were doing better than the hunted spacers. In the bitter dog fight across the stars, the five vengeful seekers had closed in. They were not having it easy. Working in concert, Jarak’s two ships drove to break the net, firing tracers of green light at a single enemy. It disintegrated in a blinding flash and they were momentarily in the clear, separating to split the pack, one in a screaming climb, one dropping away.
The execution squad divided, two to each quarry. The lower one was a fraction slow and they were on it like stooping falcons, striking again and again until there was only a white void and the whole force could beat away after the single survivor.
On the ground, Jarak was using Koenig’s commlock to close the hatch of the medicentre while Rena had Mathias at gun point. Paula, taking longer to recover was still out, propped against pillows on a spare cot.
Jarak used the commlock to close the door, picked another channel and raised direct computer service. Mimicking Koenig’s voice and transmitting a mental picture of Koenig’s face to the screen he said, ‘Computer?’ waited a second for clearance and went on, ‘Medicentre doors are to remain on lock until this direct command order is rescinded. Check?’
‘Check, Commander.’
Satisfied, Jarak turned to Mathias, ‘Now Doctor Mathias, I hope you will help me persuade your Commander to accept us as Alphans.’
Koenig’s party fanned out round the medicentre door and Koenig, missing his commlock, called on Carter, ‘Right Alan. Open it.’ Carter’s commlock buzzed and then blipped for non op. The door stayed shut. The commlock buzzed again and Kano’s face appeared on the miniature screen, ‘Alan, is the Commander with you?’
Koenig took it. ‘Here Kano.’ Kano looked worried, ‘According to computer, you are inside the medicentre and have just issued a command that the door is to remain on lock.’
Morrow’s commlock buzzed and Koenig checked the call over his shoulder, It was Jarak. Helena joined the group in time to hear him say, ‘Commander Koenig?’
‘Here.’
‘We wish to negotiate.’
Helena cut in, ‘He has Doctor Mathias and Paula.’
Koenig looked at her, made no comment, said evenly, ‘Make your demands.’
Jarak’s voice was conciliatory, ‘Requests, Commander. We are no longer in a position to make demands.’
‘Then it’s simple. Open the door.’
‘As a human, Commander, you are prey to emotion. Your heart is full of resentment at my treatment of Alpha’s first mother and child.’
‘Don’t give me that, Jarak. You tried to kill us all.’
‘It was to be a painless process of change. The combination of Alphan bodies and the minds of my people would have been splendid. The result would have ensured a great future for Alpha.’
‘And us? Where would we be?’
‘You would have become part of us. But we have failed. The rest of my people have been discovered and by now destroyed. Our request now is a modest one that we should become part of you.’
Not impressed, Koenig said, ‘Jarak, you have just killed more of my people. You are holding two hostages.’
Jarak was almost pleading, ‘Commander, once you chose to bargain with your own life. It is not our purpose to destroy. Your people are not dead.’
Helena Russell touched Koenig’s arm, ‘That is true. I checked. They are stunned only. They will recover.’
Jarak had gone silent and his face winced with pain as though he had received a sudden wound. Thousands of kilometres above his head the lone survivor of his fleet had taken its death knock, fighting to the last, but outgunned and out-manoeuvred by its four tormentors.
Jarak’s face smoothed and he went on, ‘We had become human and we translated our power and our threats into terms that human minds could understand. Now we are appealing to you as humans ourselves, appealing for your mercy.’
All eyes were on Koenig. It was a command decision that he could not pass on. It was a hard one. How could he not give them their chance? How could he gamble with the very lives of his own people? The biological computer had more data than simple fact to sort through.
A commlock buzzed to break his concentration and Sandra was calling in from Main Mission, ‘Commander, the spaceships are back.’
There was a pause as she watched them settle on the quadrants, taking up the positions that Jarak’s force had held. Sandra said defeatedly, ‘They have resumed their old stations and, Commander—’ her voice notched up in agitation, ‘the green lights are pulsating.’
Jarak’s face on the commlock was running with sweat. He said hoarsely and with terrible finality, ‘The people from our planet have found us, Commander. To destroy us they will destroy the whole of Alpha.’
The screen blanked as the commlock fell from his hand and Jarak took stumbling steps to meet Rena.
Green light was flooding in from every direct vision port, draining colour from every face, pulsing to a hypnotic flicker rhythm that held the Alphans still.
Mathias saw Jarak and Rena meet and cling, hungry and desperate for the comfort neither could give. He thought of Paula, turned to her and knelt by the bed, leaned over her as though to protect her with his body from the all pervading green light. How long he stayed there he never knew, but he sensed there was a change. The light had stopped. He could feel the movement of her diaphragm, she would be all right.
He pulled himself to his feet and looked around, checked even Cynthia Crawford’s bed and then was back bewildered and doubting his sanity, trying to get through to Paula for another human opinion to tell him he was not mad.
Sandra Benes, putting the obvious on record, or convincing herself said, ‘Commander, it has stopped and wait, I think yes,’ excitement was choking her, ‘they’re leaving. The spaceships are leaving. They’re pulling away.’
Koenig said urgently, ‘Jarak?’ There was no reply and he called again, ‘Mathias?’
Nobody was answering. Switching his gun to laser beam, he sent a fine searing needle into the door panel to cut out the lock.
Carter and Paul Morrow forced back the door and Koenig went in at a run, laser ready to fire. Helena was close behind him and at first thought that Paula was dead and that Mathias was out of his mind with grief. She said sharply, ‘Dr Mathias! Bob!’
But he was beyond rational speech, he could only point and she followed the direction.
Behind the screen, she met Cynthia Crawford’s radiant eyes as she sat like any Madonna nursing her day-old child.
She called, ‘John!’ and he rounded the barrier ready for the next disaster.
It was unbelievable. It was true. It was a pay off that they had never expected to see. Something Jarak had said rose in Koenig’s mind and he said slowly, ‘Somehow, they must have made it good. They must have given themselves up to save the whole community.’
Koenig’s commlock buzzed and as he flipped it open, Sandra’s face, full of excitement appeared on the miniature screen. He had time to think, ‘This is where we came in. Now they all go out of their heads over the baby.’ But it was not Jackie Crawford that was lighting her lamp. She said, ‘Commander. Please come to Main Mission. There’s something you should see. I’ve alerted Professor Bergman.’
‘What is it?’
‘Long range probes are pulling something in. A small solar system. On this course we should pass close.’
CHAPTER THREE
It could be what they were looking for and it could be the run up to another disappointment. John Koenig wondered just how much his people could stand. But even Bergman was getting enthusiastic and only the biggest grouch of all time could not be moved by the optimism that was stirring through the base like an epidemic. Every spin of their hurrying moon brought confirmation. It looked good. It had to be good.
The scanner in Main Mission was showing a picture that outranked any Picasso. Lovingly tuned by Sandra Benes, there was a brilliant sun on a black velvet pad with a single satellite planet, rosy veined, shrouded in milk white cloud.
John Koenig studied the distant system from a direct vision port and turned to Bergman to see the astro chart he had drawn up. In plan, there was a simplicity and perfection about the system that clearly delighted the scientist. There was the sun with two planets on the same circular orbital path around it, balanced like balls on a governor in the piping days of steam.
At a tangent to the circle and running close to the planet with the atmosphere shown on the scanner, Bergman had projected a tentative line of the course the Moon would take.
He said, ‘It’s incredible, John. A sun like ours, the planet Ariel with its atmosphere. It’s a perfectly balanced little solar system.’
Koenig tapped the chart and tried to keep it rational, ‘But if we go into orbit we’ll offend your sense of symmetry, Victor.’
‘If we go into orbit, I won’t care about symmetry.’
‘That will depend whether the planet lives up to Computer predictions. We should know soon enough. Alan should be getting close.’
He crossed to Sandra’s desk and looked over her shoulder at the monitor. Alan Carter’s leading Eagle was nudging into the upper limits of Ariel’s atmosphere and the sound of rocket motors working in rarefied air was suddenly delivered strength nine. Carter’s voice, sounding pleased, came up, ‘Vapour trails. I’d almost forgotten how they looked.’
Sandra Benes put in a warning note, ‘Eagle outer skin temperatures on the move. Going up fast!’
Beside her, Paul Morrow checked readings and spoke to Carter, ‘Turn un the heat shields four points, Alan. Keep an eye on them.’
Over right, Helena Russell watched the sequence at her own desk. Making a subjective judgement, she said, ‘This is not a computer analysis, but I’d say they were in a regular stratosphere.’
Koenig let the general euphoria wash over him. He knew what it meant to all personnel on Alpha. There were smiling faces all round Main Mission and Carter himself, seen in the distant Eagle was grinning like a boy. Falling into the mood, Koenig asked, ‘How does it feel to be flying an airplane instead of a space shuttle, Alan?’
‘It feels just great, Commander.’
Computer, joining in the exchange went into spasm and Kano tore off a read out and handed it to Bergman, ‘Computer’s flight plan for their planetfall.’
‘No problems?’
‘No problems.’
Bergman confirmed with a quick glance through and handed it on to Paul Morrow. ‘Put it through to the on-board computer, Paul.’
It was going too well. Koenig’s mind was probing ahead, trying to drum up snags they might have to meet. It was all too easy. The warning bleep on Carter’s console, picked up by the repeater in Main Mission, jerked him out of his reverie.
Face suddenly serious, Sandra zoomed for a closer look and they picked it up as Carter’s voice announced it. ‘I have scanner contact. Alien object approaching.’
Out of the cloud layer below the Eagles, a bright sphere had surfaced like a mine bobbing to the surface of the sea. Then it was rising with increasing acceleration into full vision, round and brilliant with six projecting tubes in a frill.
Carter had it in direct vision, ‘Visual contact. Alien object closing fast.’
They saw him bank steeply and turn off. But the sphere was throwing itself across the sky to stay dead ahead and cut the distance between them.
He tried again, throwing in every erg from the Eagle’s screaming motors in a climb that pinned him back to his seat under mounting G. His voice was incredulous as he jerked out, ‘It’s homing on me. It’s some kind of missile.’
Main Mission had gone quiet in a stunned silence. Carter, fighting it out to the last, was throwing the Eagle everywhichway with Johnson, the co-pilot and himself strained against their straps. It was not going to be any good. Johnson had his hands to his face in an instinctive gesture to protect himself as the sphere manoeuvred effortlessly to beat every avoiding ploy and closed in for the strike.
Cracked with effort, Carter’s voice said ‘I . . . can’t . . . shake . . . it . . . off!’ and his arm went up to shield his eyes from the blast.
There was not even the check of collision. When he slowly moved his arm to look out, he had gotten a bulbous end to the Eagle’s nose cone. He was still staring at it, hardly daring to move, when Koenig’s urgent voice cracked through the command cabin.
‘Carter. Carter!’
Still moving slowly as though any sudden jolt might trigger the device, Carter said, ‘We’re still alive, Commander. It . . . it didn’t detonate. It’s just settled, soft as a puff ball.’
Main Mission was slow to react. As yet they had not had time to think of disappointment, another dream gone sour. They were simply bewildered by the suddenness of it. Koenig looked grimly along the line of faces, and leaned forward to speak into Sandra’s intercom, ‘Eagle Two and Eagle Seven—return to base.’
Then he spoke to Paul Morrow who seemed to have suddenly come alive and was staring at Sandra’s classic profile as she looked at the scanner in bitter dismay.
‘Paul. Evacuate personnel from launch pad One. Crash Unit stand by. Red Alert.’
Action broke the tension. All personnel moved to action stations. The promised land might have taken a knock, but they were professionals.
Koenig thought of the precept, ‘Living is struggling. You’d better learn to like it.’ Maybe that’s what they were best at and a land flowing with milk and honey was not for them.
He watched the Eagles pull away and set a course for Alpha. He was still there monitoring every second of the mission as Carter brought Eagle Two in on a proving orbit with Eagle Seven keeping station.
Carter said, ‘Approaching now for final descent.’
Koenig said, ‘Pad one is sealed off. The moment your ship lands get the hell out of it. Skip procedures. Just aim to break records getting clear.’
Johnson and Carter exchanged glances. Carter said, ‘Check, Commander. It hasn’t stirred a hair so far.’
‘My guess is it won’t show its hand until you’ve brought it down.’
They watched him come in on the main scanner, until the Eagle was a bare metre off its pad. Paul Morrow took over control, delicately judging distances a centimetre at a time. A boarding tube snaked out urgently for the hatch and Carter and Johnson could be seen unclipping harness and making ready for a sprint start.
Release of tension could be felt all round the control desks as the two men whipped out of sight into the passenger module and a monitor flipped tell tales in a row to show its movement out.
Victor Bergman was a puzz
led man. Nothing he could do was giving any information. Working from the Technical Work Shop, he was probing with remote X-Ray gear but he might as well have been using a pin hole camera.
A bleap sounded from the communications post and Koenig was back again asking questions. ‘Victor, what are you getting?’
‘Nothing, John. I can’t get any readings at all.’
‘Density? Radiation?’
‘That object is totally resistant to any remote analysis technique we have.’
‘Then we’ll just have to bring it inside for you.’
When it was done and the sphere lay impassively on a work top, it reminded Koenig of an early Earth satellite, something meteorologists might have sent up. He said slowly, ‘An intelligent civilisation, living in an atmosphere similar to Earth’s, sees Earthmen coming and tries to prevent them. So by means of creating a diversion, it sets up a problem that it knows they will try to solve. And it works out. That’s how we reacted. Does that make sense?’
Bergman said, ‘It makes sense, but why should they do it?’
‘To gain time? To find out more about us?’
Helena carried it one step further on, ‘And to prevent us finding out anything about them?’
There was silence and they stood round the shining sphere. Alan Carter, anxious to try again said, ‘I say let the Professor prod it about as much as he likes to keep it happy. But don’t let’s waste any more time before having another crack at the planet.’
Helena said, ‘If we go into orbit round this sun, we’ll have all the time we need.’
Optimism was rearing its head and Koenig said shortly, ‘We don’t know that.’ It earned him a wide-eyed look from the medico, but he stuck to it, ‘We don’t know if we will go into orbit, any more than we know if this thing is friendly or hostile. But even if it turns out to be some kind of invitation card, we still have to play this step by step. What do you have this far, Victor?’
