by John Rankine
Linden was still totally concentrated, hammering away at his complicated sequences, watching the impressive display on his flickering device as though mesmerised by it. Suddenly there was a change. He was over the hill and the response patterns levelled off to a low steady pulse.
Far away, Voyager One’s frenetic acceleration had eased down. Chemical rocket motors had taken over the drive. He was exhausted, slumping forward over his console, hands slack.
In Main Mission the rumbling and the vibration died away. Personnel looked at each other straining to hear what was no longer there.
Sandra called Koenig, ‘Commander!’
Koenig was ahead of her, but waited to hear her confirm what he guessed.
‘The Queller Drive. It’s shut down!’
The communications post blipped and it was Linden. He had hauled himself together to make his report. Face looking ghastly on the screen he articulated slowly like a man in a coma, ‘You took a chance, Commander. I am very grateful.’
Koenig said, ‘So am I.’
‘Where would you like Voyager One to land?’
‘Launch pad four.’
The screen blanked. Koenig turned to Carter. ‘Alan. Keep those Eagles in position.’ Without waiting for a reply he began talking to his chief executive, making everything seem normal, giving them all an ongoing task to ease down the tension. ‘Paul, prepare for boarding Voyager One as soon as she hits the deck.’
It had become a routine chore. Escorted by an Eagle outrider, Voyager One eased itself into a perfect approach line for its designated pad and came in with a burst of retro. The moment it touched down on its hydraulic jacks the engines cut. It looked innocent and beautiful under the floods, a triumph of engineering skill, a perfect thing in its own field. A boarding tube snaked out like an umbilical cord, giving access and symbolically asserting that its long lonely mission was over.
Linden was looking more human. The haunting anxiety had drained from his eyes. He could even see Helena Russell and make a human contact. He smiled at her and she said gently, ‘You’ve done your job. Now I’ve got to do mine. Sick bay for you.’
He would have argued, but he could see that although she was no longer an enemy, she was determined about it. He shrugged and allowed her to help him to walk to the hatch.
Main Mission staff were trying hard to erase any impression they might have given that they were critical of Koenig.
Carter said deferentially, ‘Voyager One ready for boarding, Commander.’
Koenig called off the patrolling Eagle, ‘Stand down Eagle Five.’
They were a long way from being out of the wood. There could be tougher decisions to make yet.
Bergman said, ‘The three alien ships are still closing.’
It had never been out of his mind and he looked at Carter’s console, ‘Keep watching, Alan.’ Then he took Bergman on a sick visit.
Helena was looking more friendly when he asked, ‘How is he making out?’
‘He’s taken a tremendous hammering.’
She led them along to Linden’s bed. He was awake, looking relaxed and showed almost boyish embarrassment when Koenig said, ‘Thank you.’
Another thought struck Koenig and he voiced it, ‘The ship is now ready to enter. You should be the first to board her. What do you think, Helena? Is he fit to get up?’
Her eyes told him that she appreciated the gesture he was making. Her voice had its old warmth as she said, ‘No. But I don’t think I can stop him.’
‘You can come along and keep an eye on him.’
Koenig kept his word. When the boarding tube clunked into place on Voyager’s main hatch, he stepped aside ceremonially for Linden to do the honours.
Ernst Linden drew himself up, looked at each one in turn and walked forward, pressed a switch and the hatch sliced open as though it was a factory fresh model. They followed him on board into a spacious interior, eerily empty of human personnel.
Although unmanned, Voyager was a prototype for future passenger ships on interstellar passage. There were swivel chairs in the command cabin waiting for a crew, living quarters fitted out for those who were to come, future ghosts of the unborn. Koenig was impressed and looked at Linden with open admiration.
Too moved to speak, Linden crossed to the main control panel and stood looking at the superstructure. The others joined him. Scrawled on a flat panel were three names. CHARLES BORGES NEILL CAMERON ERNST QUELLER.
Speaking to Helena, Linden said shyly, ‘My colleagues. We were all quite young.’ He moved switches on the console below and went on simply, ‘The Drive is now safe, Commander. This is very strange. Very strange for me to be in here again. As you see it was designed to carry crews at a later stage when men had developed the techniques of interstellar travel. But it was not to be. Well, where would you like to begin? The data is in those banks over there.’
A blip came from Koenig’s commlock and he pulled it from his belt. On the miniature screen Paul Morrow appeared looking anxious. ‘Commander, we’re picking up a lot of magnetic activity inside Voyager One.’
It surprised Linden. He turned to the main console and checked instrumentation. He said, ‘But that’s not possible. The ship is completely deactivated.’
A pinging noise repeated on a two second beat and close to orchestral A, filled the cabin. Morrow called again. ‘Intensity building rapidly now!’
The noise increased. Helena Russell, hands to her ears said ‘John,’ and went close to Koenig.
A thin column of light was standing like an instant prop from the deck to the roof of the command cabin. It widened, blocked itself out in a brilliant cube. As they watched it became opaque and appeared solid as a marble block. Changing all the time, it cleared again and a face began to form deep in the mass.
It was humanoid, but strangely alien, fierce, bony with an enlarged cranium. Eyes glared angrily from deep sockets, looking at them in turn as though taking information for a black book. The thin feline mouth moved and the voice was speaking inside their heads, ringing, authoritative, each word carefully separated.
‘Who speaks for you?’
Koenig took half a pace forward, ‘I am John Koenig, Commander of this colony.’
‘John Koenig you are communicating with Aarchon. I am Aarchon, Chief Justifier of the Federated Worlds of Sidon.’ The way he told it, it was a good thing to be; but Koenig needed more information. He asked, ‘What is your purpose here?’
Aarchon liked to ask the questions himself and ignored it. ‘Are you citizens of the planet Earth?’
‘That is so.’
The grim lines on the talking head deepened. ‘Do you accept responsibility for the primitive craft known as Voyager One?’
‘On behalf of the people of planet Earth, yes.’
‘Then your colony, in keeping with your world must bear the judgement of Sidon.’
It was very clear which way the judgement was tending. Aarchon had not made the trip to hand out some Galactic prize. Aarchon. went on, ‘Your craft, Voyager One intruded into the Sidon worlds on the outer Galaxy . . .’
Unable to keep silent any longer, Linden stepped towards the cube, ‘It came in peace. It was a peaceful mission.’
The head in the cube swivelled on its axis to fix the speaker with a hard glare. Aarchon’s voice was flatly positive, ‘That is false. Contact was made with two of our outer worlds. Your primitive craft was received with welcome according to our ancient tradition of hospitality to the stranger. Now they are sterile deserts. All life on those two worlds is extinguished.’
For Linden, the nightmare had begun again. Whatever he had done to clear his debt was long gone, swallowed up in this enormous catalogue of guilt. He stared wildly at Aarchon’s face trying for some sign to believe that it was not true. Inexorably, the harsh voice went on, ‘You came proclaiming peace, while you wrought utter destruction. Only a debased culture could perpetrate such an act of genocide.’
Linden’s hands were covering his face. Ko
enig said urgently, ‘Aarchon, you have to believe this. Such destruction was no part of Voyager’s mission. It was launched with goodwill and the best of intentions.’
It made no impact. Aarchon might well have heard nothing. He went on with his brief. ‘The High Council of the Federated Worlds of Sidon have determined it will not happen again. We have followed the primitive machine, Voyager One. As soon as we have located its source of origin, that planet and all living things upon it will be destroyed.’
Bergman and Helena Russell were aghast. Linden had slipped back into the state of shock which had followed his accident. Koenig said, ‘That can only be for revenge. You use the word, primitive freely enough. I tell you, revenge is the most primitive motive in the book.’
‘We do not recognise this concept. The judgement of Sidon is unquestionable.’
Victor Bergman found his voice and picked up the point that was rankling him. ‘You say we have a debased culture. Revenge sanctioned by authority is also a sign of a debased culture.’
‘Argument is useless. Soon our fleet will be in effective range.’ He paused, looked round the human faces as though relishing the effect he was having. Annihilation was one thing but they should savour it and go through some mental anguish first. He turned the screw another thread, ‘Once we have determined the location of Planet Earth your colony will be extinguished.’
Grim faced, Koenig said, ‘These people have committed no crime. We shall resist.’
Aarchon’s bony head projected a chilling menace, his confidence was absolute, ‘Be warned. Nothing you can do can change the judgement of Sidon. Resistance will simply alter the manner of your destruction, not the fact.’
Before Koenig could reply, the cube clouded, becoming opaque again and the face was gone. The cube elongated, narrowed to a glowing band, a bright thread that dissolved and left them alone in Voyager’s silent command cabin.
Linden buckled slowly from the knees, arms clutching at his chest and pitched full length to the deck.
Main Mission was dominated by the picture on the big screen. Sandra had the three Sidon ships on all the magnification she could get. Lean and powerful they were a war party that looked well able to carry out Aarchon’s mission of destruction. But there had to be something they could do.
Alan Carter at the Eagle Command console said emphatically, ‘We can’t just wait. We can’t stay on our fannies like sitting ducks. I say we go out there and hit them with everything we’ve got.’
Morrow had been studying the detail on the hurrying spacers. ‘They’re military craft. Designed for war. Your Eagles have a defence potential but they’re not in the same class. They don’t have any sort of a chance.’
Privately Koenig could go along with that and he could see that Bergman had the same opinion. But such defeatism would be likely to spread. Morale needed a booster shot action of some kind, however hopeless, and fast. Making his voice sound confident even to his own ears, he said, ‘We’re going to have a damn good try. They won’t have it all their own way. Alan, move Eagles Four, Six and Ten to extreme intercept vectors.’
Reaction was immediate. He had pulled out of difficulties before and he would do it again. Carter’s, ‘Yes, Commander!’ signalled a wave of optimism.
It was not shared by the man himself. Koenig turned away and went up the steps to his command office.
Helena Russell was, at the moment, detached from the battle. Patiently concentrating on her medical chores she was taking one thing at a time. She wrote up her log, checked the monitor readings on Linden’s internal progress and stood by his bed, taking his wrist for a direct personal diagnosis.
The touch disturbed him. He opened his eyes.
‘How do you feel?’
His voice was weak, hardly more than a whisper, ‘Foolish . . . arrogant. For all those years I truly believed I had helped to push back the boundaries of man’s knowledge. Now it has come to this!’
‘Don’t punish yourself. Many people have put science before responsibility.’
‘I alone bear the responsibility for what Voyager did to the Sidons. Two worlds. Millions of dead. How can a man’s mind accept that? It was never my wish to harm them. Believe me, I have never consciously wished harm to any man.’
‘Doctor . . . the road to hell . . .’
‘I know, paved with good intentions.’
He was becoming more agitated and she settled him down. ‘Relax. All that is academic now. Try to rest.’
When she left him his eyes were closed.
Victor Bergman had followed Koenig to his office. Meticulously squaring it off, he put a black box on the desk in front of the Moonbase Commander.
‘Well, we have it John. What we tried for. That’s the memory bank from Voyager. It’s all there. Planets . . . compositions . . . life support estimates. I’ve not checked the half of it but it’s packed with vital information.’
Koenig was looking at it but hardly seeing it. Helena Russell came in and stood quietly beside Bergman. Their eyes met over the box. Now there was no barrier between them. For him it was a personal gain which outweighed any data bank.
Still obsessed with his topic Bergman went on, ‘The irony of it. All that information and we’re not going to have the chance to use it.’
Koenig was seeing only Helena’s neat head and the wide spaced, intelligent eyes. There was the loss if anywhere. Human identity was linked to a short fuse. He realised Bergman was talking and forced himself to listen. ‘If you were a betting man, John, what would you reckon the odds? Fifty-fifty? Worse?’
This time Bergman got a reply. ‘A thousand to one.’
‘Against?’
‘Against. But then I’m not a betting man, Victor. What we need is another chance.’
‘You don’t think Aarchon can be made to change his mind?’
‘No.’
‘How then?’
Koenig was speaking to Helena, ‘Out of evil must come good. You have to believe that. There has to be a break out of the ring of violence. Destruction, killing, revenge. The cycle has to stop. Mankind knows that at heart. He always tries. Cries out for a second chance.’
‘But how often has he got it?’
‘Often Victor. Often.’
Bergman looked at him with affection. It was not scientific argument but it was a human one. He picked up his black box and went to the hatch. They were both quite still. As he went out, he said, ‘Then I’ll keep this. Just in case.’
In the absence of his medical jailer, Ernst Linden was ignoring her good advice. Biting his lips against the pain, he rummaged about for his uniform and zipped himself into it. There was a check while he searched for his commlock, then he was away for the hatch, anxious to be out before he could be stopped.
It took a while. Eyes clouded with pain, he saw two hatches side by side and had to wait, swaying on his feet until the attack passed and he could line up the commlock on the real panel. In the corridor, there was another hazard. Two security men approached and he had to straighten his back and make a normal casual walk. They passed. He was clear, but in an agony of pain. At the door of his experimental lab he had to stop again, hands flat to the wall. Then he was inside walking steadily past the duty technicians to his own restricted area.
The control device for Voyager was dark and silent; he sat himself at the console and hammered out a quick sequence. The circuit pattern came to life, glowing and pulsing. Linden waited, watching the power build, impatient to get on before he could be questioned. When he was sure, he made a slow deliberate job of a final sequence, tapping it out with neat, precise movements. Inside the command module of Voyager One the control console flickered into action. Linden stood up slowly, looked round his workshop, drew his strength together and walked out the way he had come.
The technicians looked up to see him go, sensing something unusual. But there was no challenge. In the corridor again, he began to hurry, spurred by his desperate purpose, finding a nervous strength to move him on.
The detailed scan of the Sidon ships was crystal clear. Nerves in Main Mission were at a stretch. Koenig asked for a range figure and Paul Morrow read it off.
‘Seventy-five thousand.’
Koenig said evenly, ‘Eagles Four, Six and Ten. As soon as the Sidon ships are in range, open fire.’
Eagle Leader answered, ‘Check, Commander. We’re ready.’
They could only wait. Koenig turned to Carter, ‘Every other Eagle on standby alert.’
‘Have done, Commander.’
Helena Russell was looking for her patient. Standing by the empty bed she questioned Mathias, ‘You say he’s nowhere in the medical area?’
‘Nowhere.’
‘He could set himself back months. Get an all-sections call out.’
Jim Haines heard it in the experimental lab. He was looking incredulously at the pulsing circuit pattern when the announcer’s voice from the communications post chimed with his thinking.
‘All Alpha personnel. You are instructed to report the whereabouts of Doctor Linden. This is urgent.’
Haines was out at a run. He knew where Linden would be. Outside there was ordered chaos as the hive reacted and crews moved to the stand by Eagles. Haines checked launch pad signs and picked the one where Voyager had been berthed. He reached the intersection as Linden was two paces from the tube entry point and hurled himself forward to bar the way.
Linden was grey, almost finished. He said heavily, ‘You’re the last person who should try to stop me.’
‘I’m not stopping you. I’m coming with you.’
It was a deadlock. Emotion choked Linden, he said, ‘Jim. Please understand why I have to do this alone.’
Eyes held for a count. It was true. There was a kind of inevitable logic about it. Haines could not speak but he touched Linden’s arm and stood aside.
Linden said simply, ‘Thank you.’ It was a quittance and a benediction. The hatch sliced open and he was through. It closed at his back and Haines was left staring at it.
When he reached Voyager One, Linden was calm, moving with new confidence. He knew now he would do what he had set out to do. He locked the hatch and seated himself at the command console under the scrawled names of his friends. He began to tap out an operating sequence.
