Space 1999 #2 - Moon Odyssey

by John Rankine

  The signal went on, an insistent reminder of what had brought them to investigate. Koenig looked about him. There was one lunar clock, hands stopped. He said, ‘Operation Exodus took place. Total Evacuation.’

  ‘But when, Commander?’

  ‘I don’t know when. But I’ll take a guess where to.’

  He was standing at the main console looking over a piece of equipment and pressing dusty switches. A slot in the main console opened grudgingly and extruded a cassette. The beacon signal stopped as he picked it out and Carter’s voice cracked into sudden silence, ‘Commander!’

  Koenig joined him at a direct vision port and followed the line of his pointing finger.

  A crashed Eagle was straddling a crater hollow on the perimeter of the base beside a sheer slab of lunar rock. There was something about it that drew them, something they both felt they had to see and they went out again, ungainly monsters in slow motion leaps, traipsing eerily over a technical graveyard.

  The entry hatch was torn and hanging askew. They climbed into the passenger module in a faint cloud of floating dust. There was no time clock of corrosion to put a date on how long it had been there. It was timeless, a wreck in a silent sea with no crabs to home in its twisted fabric.

  At each move, they disturbed more fine dust. Picking a way through crazily angled stanchions, they reached the command module hatch, which had burst from its frame and was hanging by a twist of metal. They leaned in and stopped. Evacuation Exodus had not been complete at that. The station had left its dead to keep an endless vigil.

  There was an astronaut in each pilot seat; still strapped in place; fixed to look out over the Eagle’s shattered cone to the domes and corridors of Moon-base Alpha.

  Koenig climbed through, followed by Carter. He moved left to the dead co-pilot and stared at the visor. It was masked by a film of dust and he brushed it with his gauntlet, clearing a window, half knowing who he would find behind the glass. But the reality was still a shock and when Carter’s face, set like a mask, appeared under his hand, he rocked back on his heels.

  Carter himself was reeling away from the pilot seat, pointing in a mime for him to take a look. Koenig edged round in the confined space. Looked at Carter then down at the body he had been examining. There was a round clear space where Carter had brushed off the dust. He went closer to look inside. Through the two bubbles of glass, he was staring at himself.

  He straightened up slowly. Whatever the situation, there was no doubt that he was still operating as a conscious agent. I think, therefore, I am. There could be information to be had from these deaths. Whether one was his own or not was irrelevant. He said, ‘All right, Alan. Get the harness off them. We’re taking them back.’

  Laid out on examination tables in the Medicentre’s special diagnostic unit and bathed in a soft light from the decontamination filters, the dead could have been asleep.

  Helena Russell wearing a white mask, drew the sheet to cover Carter’s face and moved over to Koenig. The sleeping and the dead. Where was the secret of the inner flame that made a person? Deep in thought, she did not hear the hatch open and when Koenig spoke she shuddered as though the words had come from his dead lips.

  ‘How did we . . . they . . . die?’

  She looked from the dead face to the living and went to meet him. ‘Something like five years ago their Eagle crashed on the Moon. They were both killed instantly on impact.’

  ‘They’ve been there five years?’

  ‘Yes. Preserved unchanged by the space vacuum.’

  ‘You know there’s only Santa Maria as a habitable site for the rest of the Alpha people, if they are still alive?’

  ‘I believe they are. Regina was trying to tell us that all along.’

  ‘We’ll soon know.’

  ‘You’re going down there?’—she was resigned to it, but there was no doubt she expected the worst.

  ‘Yes. I’ve activated operation Exodus.’

  ‘We’ve seen what happened to Regina as soon as we came into Earth orbit. It could happen to all of us.’

  ‘Why hasn’t it?’

  ‘Regina was hyper sensitive.’

  ‘And you believe that the nearer we get to Earth and these other people . . .’

  ‘Not other people—our other selves, John.’

  ‘It could happen again?’

  Memory of the still form under the sheets was vivid to her and she could not look at him, knowing he would read the fear in her eyes. She put her head on his chest and very gently he stroked the silky pad of hair under his chin. He said, ‘Don’t answer that. What has to be, will be. We’re not finished yet. I have to go, they’ll be almost ready in Main Mission.’

  Operation Exodus was moving inexorably through its stages, with timed announcements on the general net. Main Mission personnel were manning all desks for the rundown. Bergman watched the other Moon, still the dominating feature on the big screen. He was fascinated and repelled by it. He could not leave it alone. He said, ‘Give me all the magnification you can get.’

  He stared closely at the well known features, made calculations on a loose pad and crossed thoughtfully to Kano at the computer desk. ‘Run that through.’

  Kano accepted it without a word. For him, it was so much water under a bridge. They were leaving. One Moon, two Moons. He would settle for a half dozen if it got him to Earth planet. He looked at the figures, translated them for computer pillow talk and keyed them in. The print-out was almost instantaneous and Bergman ripped it off.

  Carter, who had been watching the operation, joined him. Bergman said slowly, ‘It’s increasing velocity.’

  ‘That’s not possible.’

  ‘Nevertheless, that is what is happening. It’s closing on us rapidly.’

  ‘How rapidly?’

  ‘If its present velocity is maintained, both Moons will collide in thirty-six hours.’

  John Koenig and Helena had gone through into the command office. Helena was staying close, as though she knew that their future together was balanced on a knife edge. Koenig called Bergman, ‘Have we enough time for the Phase One probe?’

  Bergman checked his calculations, ‘You will have only ten hours on the surface. We’ll need a full twenty-four hours for Phase Two . . . total evacuation.’

  Looking at Helena, Koenig said, ‘Activate Phase One, as of now.’

  He was on his way, cutting through all the mental doubts and reservations by simple physical action. But Helena had reacted faster and was between him and the hatch. Hands homed gently on his chest. He stopped. Other than trampling on her, he had no alternative. He said, ‘Don’t you see? We have no choice. If we don’t get off this Moon now everyone will die anyway.’

  He tried to pass, but she still held him. She said ‘Then only you and Carter must go. Your other selves died in another place. There should be no danger to you.’

  Koenig considered it. There was some other angle and he tried to find it but her eyes were clear and frank. She went on for the punch line, ‘And I must come with you.’

  It was out of the bag and he tried to think of the consequences for her. Carter and himself might well have a ticket for a death at another place and another time, but she had no such guarantee.

  She could read his mind and went on, ‘I have to go. Medically, we must know what is to happen.’

  He could have said that Bob Mathias would do the mission just as well but the pass had been sold where intellectual logic chopping could not reach. He wanted her with him for the last hours. She was determined to be with him. How could he stop her?

  He slid his hands under the silky bell of fair hair, touched her forehead with his mouth. They went out together walking soberly for the waiting Eagle.

  Carter in the pilot seat gave them a thumbs up signal and Koenig left him the command module to himself. He took Helena through into the passenger module. The boarding tube snaked away, Carter gunned the motors and lifted the Eagle in a surge of power like a free standing elevator.

/>   Through the vision ports, they could see the Earth, screening its ravaged surfaces in bland cloud. They could also see their two Moons racing on a collision course that no power could stop.

  Koenig knew she was watching him and looked at her. Her eyes were enormous, almost all pupil, avenues to enter and wander in, accepting, affirmative.

  He said, ‘What is time? Only the knocking of a subjective clock. If we say so, the seconds can be hours, the minutes years.’

  They heard Carter calling Moonbase Alpha. He said, ‘Eagle on course for Santa Maria touchdown.’

  Morrow’s voice answered, ‘E.T.A. 0400 hours Earth time. Good luck, Alan.’

  Helena’s voice was hardly above a breathing whisper, ‘On that calculation we have a lifetime before Alan takes us down. How shall we spend it?’

  Her lips were soft as unseen moss, an open O, dissolving, slightly salt. Their hurrying module was nowhere, a place of meeting outside space and time. The truth was a revealed thing to Koenig. There was nothing in the whole spread of the Universe that mattered to them as human beings, except what happened between a man and a woman. They were the still centre of the turning worlds.

  He was wise enough not to try to put it in words. Words were not necessary between them. They were on the same side of the equation. Mc² equals love.

  In Main Mission Sandra Benes said emotionally, ‘They’re on their way to Earth!’

  Bergman said, ‘And going back into a future time. It’s an interesting thought.’

  The Eagle was approaching Earth. Carter delayed heat shields. As they hit the outriders of the atmosphere, the Eagle glowed symbolically like a shooting star.

  Dust jetted in a hurricane storm round the landing Eagle, shrouding it in double darkness. Dawn was not far off. The Earth’s two moons and a scatter of stars gave some light as the dust settled uneasily.

  Carter gave them a little more time, slowly unbuckling his harness and leaving his console ready for a crash lift off. When he went through into the passenger module they were preparing to go out.

  Koenig paused with his hand on the hatch lever. It was now. The interlude was over.

  He said, ‘All right?’

  Helena’s steady ‘Yes,’ touched his heart. He pulled down the lever and shoved open the hatch. They stood looking out at a darkened wilderness.

  A dawn wind sighed, lifting spirals of dust. There were shadows folding on to themselves and the stark outlines of small stunted trees. He jumped down, held his arms for Helena and swung her out beside him. Leaving the Eagle, they struck out for the nearest man made artefact which looked, in silhouette, to resemble the top of a satellite control tower.

  When they reached it, there was no area of doubt. The top twenty metres stuck up out of ashy soil.

  Koenig said, ‘It’s the Santa Maria satellite tower.’

  Helena said, ‘John, there was a whole community of fifty thousand people. This tower is hundreds of metres high.’

  ‘Ash to this depth, what could have happened?’

  Carter had gone ahead and appeared out of the darkness, ‘Commander, there’s a settlement quite close. The houses, would you believe it, they’re the split image of what Regina was drawing?’

  They followed him round the tower to the crest of a rise and below them the settlement was spread out. The builders had gone for geodesic dome structures based on triangular units for strength. Some windows were showing flickering yellow light like a warm candle glow.

  As a defence against wind erosion, the settlers had planted a screen of low bushes on the perimeter of the cultivated area and the three Alphans stopped, suddenly aware that strangers approaching in the night might not be welcome.

  Koenig said, ‘You two go round and start from the other end of the settlement. I’ll work down from here. We’ll play this very slowly.’

  Koenig went forward, feet sinking in soft ash. He was twenty metres from the nearest dome on his side when a hatch opened and light spilled out. A figure robed like a monk appeared momentarily in silhouette and was gone as the door shut at its back.

  Koenig saw it again, moving his way and stayed still. In spite of the earliness of the hour, whoever it was was in a cheerful mood and was whistling quietly to himself. It was a routine check on something growing in the ashy soil. The figure bent down, examined a plant, straightened and came on.

  The tune was plain now. It was Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy,’ a tribute to optimism if ever there was and gave Koenig an identity clue.

  The figure reached a small cleared area and straining his eyes, Koenig could make out the form of a swivel mounted optical telescope. There was no doubt it had to be Victor Bergman, still batting and using what scientific gear he had been able to salvage.

  Bergman was clearly puzzled. Only one Moon was visible. A cloud bank had drifted over the other. But he was not happy with the one he had. It seemed to be in the wrong place. Obviously puzzled, he was turning about, searching the night sky.

  He swung the telescope, trained it on the cloud bank and was looking through it as the clouds drifted clear and the Moon he was looking for was staring down at him.

  Koenig came forward, heard Bergman say, ‘It’s happened!’ and was suddenly in his range of vision as though he had risen from the ground.

  Bergman said, ‘You’ve come back.’ There was no surprise in it. Just a flat finality. It was a statement, without any harmonics of welcome.

  Koenig said, ‘Yes. We’re back.’

  Alan Carter and Helena were cautiously approaching a geodesic dome at the far end of the settlement. There was some light from inside. Some at least of the straggling community were early risers.

  Carter motioned for Helena to stay back and went forward himself to look through a window.

  It was a scene as old as time, in spite of the sophisticated building techniques of the dome. Two women were preparing food on a stone built range. There was a round vessel blowing a plume of steam. They wore simple tunics. One was facing him and although she looked older, there was no doubt about identity. He was looking at Sandra Benes.

  The other woman straightened from the stove, walked to the table and turned her head. She was looking directly at his window and his reaction triggered sudden alarm in Helena. ‘What is it?’

  She moved beside him and he tried to stop her from looking in. But she was insistent. Whatever it was, she had to know.

  It was herself. Older, with lines of suffering around the eyes, dressed in a simple, one piece robe, she was there, living another life. A life where John Koenig had no place. A life where he was dead, strapped in a wrecked Eagle on an empty Moon.

  It was too much to bear. She said, ‘Alan!’

  The older Helena had sensed that something was strange. The slight noise confirmed it. She stared hard at the window, seeing her own reflection and then knew it was all wrong. No glass could be as flattering and peel away the years. Horror and realisation dawned on her. She fought a rearguard, trying to keep calm but it was too much. Panic pushed her over the edge and her mouth opened in a scream that died away as her mind blanked. She fell on her knees and folded to the floor.

  Pausing only to activate an alarm lever, Sandra rushed to her. She saw the younger Helena’s face still at the window and a sudden terror held her, open mouthed and very still.

  Keyed to the alarm, flood lights blazed out on the compound. Blinded by the sudden glare, Carter and Helena had hands to their eyes as they stumbled clear of the dome.

  When they could see, the area had come alive. They were close to a small area of cultivated garden. The property owners were turning out to defend their hard won clearing in the desert. Morrow, Kano, Tanya. All carrying stun guns.

  Wakened by the alarm, there was the high wail of a child crying.

  The Earth people moved up close. There was no pleasure or welcome in their faces. It was a hostile, defensive group, ready to fight for what it held.

  Bergman and Koenig ran up and Paul Morrow, falling back on a for
mula from the past said, ‘Commander Koenig!’

  Koenig said, ‘Paul! Kano!’

  The sun began to edge its way over the bleak horizon. It showed up the extent of their empire. It was pitiful. A finger-hold clawed in barren rock.

  Koenig sat on Bergman’s cleared patch near his telescope and tried to think it out. Two children ran from a dome, came towards him and stopped, fascinated by what they knew was strange and very fearful.

  Koenig called them. It was enough. They were away like rabbits to a safe burrow. Bergman joined him.

  Bergman was the only one still trying to find a way for them to live. He said, ‘How do I begin to make them understand?’

  ‘Have you tried?’

  ‘Effectively I told them a true ghost story and they couldn’t resist the temptation to come and look at a living ghost.’

  ‘They look fine kids.’

  ‘They are. That’s our finest achievement.’

  ‘Whose are they?’

  ‘Sandra’s and Paul’s. The children are our future. As our situation improves, there will be more.’

  ‘That’s a tremendous challenge. To bring back life to a dead world.’

  ‘It hasn’t been easy. It has meant total recycling of all our resources. Eagles. Life support systems, fuel sources. That’s why you could not contact us. We have used everything there was to make this place habitable.’

  ‘It works.’

  ‘It was a choice, a decision we had to take at the beginning. If we failed, that was it. There could be no second try.’

  ‘I think it was a wise decision.’

  ‘You should know. You made it.’

  Paul Morrow was showing Carter a flower strewn patch with a headstone incised by laser beams. It read REGINA CARTER. He said, ‘There was a terrible electric storm, as though comets were fighting, over the sky. Regina suffered most. Six days later she was dead.’

  ‘That was when we came into orbit. Our Regina died too. Both at the same time.’

  ‘Not a coincidence.’ He looked at Carter, face hard and unsympathetic.

  Helena Russell came to a sudden decision and pushed open the door of the living unit, where they had taken her other self. The older woman was lying on a daybed and opened her eyes, full of strain and fear.