James Bond and Moonraker

by Christopher Wood

  Then Holly’s hand drew him away like a child from a sweet shop window. ‘Look at this.’ She led him to another porthole. Bond looked inside and saw a smaller sphere containing two familiar figures: the astronauts he had seen embracing in the personnel hold of Moonraker Six. Now they were naked and drifting in zero-gravity as if performing a sensuous mating ballet. A soft pink light throbbed at the speed of a heartbeat and fingers stretched out to touch, stroke and caress. Slowly, the light dimmed and the two bodies began to join into one.

  Bond turned away from the window. ‘Somebody’s taking Drax’s advice to heart.’

  ‘It’s incredible.’ Holly took a deep breath and shook her head. ‘I just can’t adjust to what’s going on up here. It’s like some kind of dream.’

  ‘Or nightmare,’ said Bond grimly. He started to move forward and nearly fell again. The image of the nightmare returned forcibly. To find one’s limbs locked in perpetual slow motion whilst evil ran with the speed of a greyhound — that was a recurring horror of bad dreams.

  ‘James, look!’ Holly pointed to a sign above one of the tubular corridors that connected with the gallery: ‘Satellite Two. Electronic Camouflage Unit’. ‘This must be it.’

  Bond glanced down the corridor and then back along the gallery. What he saw made him take Holly’s arm firmly and steer her as fast as he could along the perimeter of the globe. Moving towards them awkwardly was Jaws. Fortunately he was staring at his feet like a debutant skier or he would certainly have recognized Bond. One glance at Bond’s face told Holly that something was wrong, but she said nothing until they came to another corridor marked ‘Galley’.

  ‘Down here.’ She nudged him with her shoulder and Bond found himself approaching a brightly lit room laid out with parallel refectory tables that abutted one of the walls. The room was half full of astronauts and technicians. Holly led the way to the table that was farthest from the door and occupied by only one other man. Bond rubbed an eyebrow ruminatively so that he would not be recognized. They sat down with their backs to the assembly and Bond glanced over his shoulder. Jaws had come in and was sitting by the entrance. It would be foolish to try and leave before he did. He cursed himself for not having continued round the gallery. Now more time was going to be lost before they could get near the radar jamming system.

  Bond looked around again and turned to Holly. ‘Where do we have to go for food?’

  ‘We don’t.’ She indicated a list of dishes printed beside each place setting. Next to each choice was a recessed button. ‘Choose what you want and press the appropriate button.’ She pointed towards one of the walls. ‘That’s today’s special.’

  Bond looked through a glass panel and saw a large joint of roast beef revolving on a spit. A row of plates was positioned on a narrow conveyor belt beneath it. As Bond watched, a thin beam of light moved vertically down the beef and a slice dropped on the plate. The process was repeated and Bond realized that the joint was being carved with an automatically controlled laser beam. He thought of the laser torches being carried by the guards and winced. ‘I think I can resist the beef,’ he said. He made a quick choice of dishes and pressed the relevant buttons, adding as an afterthought one marked ‘Red wine’. Two minutes passed, in which he kept a wary eye on Jaws’s reflection in the outside glass, and then a hatch slid open at the end of the table. Two trays emerged and glided slowly down a shallow trough in the middle of the table. When they arrived in front of Bond and Holly they stopped. There was a click and the two trays were nudged off the feed line to arrive before the diners. Bond nodded approvingly at Holly. ‘Impressive.’ He picked up a small bottle of wine and examined the label. ‘Kubrick 2001. Excellent year.’

  Holly shook her head. ‘You’re incorrigible, James.’

  ‘Worried, too. I don’t like the look of those spheres we saw poking out of the side of the big globe. As soon as we’ve done something about the radar jamming system, we’ll take a look.’

  Holly put down her coffee cup and looked at Bond coolly. ‘Is that an order, Commander Bond? If it is, I’m bound to disobey it. My rank is equivalent to that of colonel. I outrank you, James.’

  ‘You chose an excellent moment to remind me,’ said Bond. ‘All right. Will you accept a respectful submission that we should take steps to check whether those spheres are full of nerve gas and ready to be launched?’

  ‘I will,’ said Holly graciously. She glanced round. ‘And now I think we can be on our way. Jaws doesn’t appear to be a heavy eater.’

  ‘It depends who the heavy is,’ said Bond. He pressed a button marked ‘disposal’ and a flap in the centre gully opened as the tray and its contents tilted to slide into it. The table was now ready to receive more diners.

  Bond rose and followed Holly to the door. With the movement towards the centre of the station the sensation of weightlessness became more marked. They turned down the gallery and were approaching the corridor to Satellite Two when Jaws appeared again. He was leaning forward and gazing moodily into the zero-gravity sphere that had contained the gymnasts. The expression on his face was almost wistful. He was positioned opposite the ‘Electronic Camouflage Unit’ sign.

  Bond cursed to himself and led the way up a steel spiral staircase which gave on to another circular corridor with doorless rooms leading off it. He looked inside one and saw that it was a dormitory with beds arranged in twos, separated by curved partitions like the petals of a flower. A couple of astronauts were sleeping in one of the cubicles, their hands stretching out towards each other across the intersection, fingertips touching as they rested on the floor.

  Bond looked round warily. ‘We might as well hang on here until the coast is clear.’ He entered the room and lay down on one of the beds. Holly followed more gingerly. ‘It brings back memories, doesn’t it?’ said Bond. Holly smiled. She turned her back and drew up her knees in a foetal position. There were no bedclothes, only a firm pillow. Bond rested his head on it and concentrated on staying awake. With his burns causing pain, this was not difficult.

  Hardly had he stretched out when another couple came into the dormitory and entered the cubicle opposite with predatory eagerness. They kissed passionately and broke apart to scramble on to their individual beds. At once, the man stretched out his arm and lifted up the small table between the beds. As this hinged back against the wall the two beds moved together and the sides of the partition curved up from the floor to meet and form a screen that hid from prying eyes what was happening on the double bed. Bond could only see two forms interlocking behind the opaque material.

  He was turning towards Holly for a reaction when Jaws appeared in the doorway. Bond quickly lifted his table and a startled Holly suddenly found his hand over her mouth as the partition panels closed above them. ‘Jaws!’ Bond whispered the word and Holly’s sharp nails withdrew from the flesh on the back of his hand. She lay still, looking with Bond towards the end of the beds. A huge dark outline showed that Jaws was standing in the middle of the dormitory. For seconds he did not move and then, as there was a gasp of pleasure from the beds opposite, the shadow withdrew. Bond waited a few more moments and then kissed Holly tenderly behind the ear before lowering the table. Noiselessly, the partitions slid back to their original position. There was no sign of Jaws. Bond swung his feet off the bed and made for the corridor. It was empty. Holly appeared beside him and they made their way back down the spiral staircase and along the gallery. There were few people about at this level, and they entered the tunnel leading to Satellite Two without passing anyone. Bond approached the door marked ‘Electric Camouflage Unit’ and peered through a glass panel. In the centre of a circular room was a bank of electrical circuits looking like a telephone exchange. Two technicians in white tunics were visible, seated before consoles at the far side of the room. They were watching monitors on which horizontal zig-zag lines chased each other from left to right. Bond turned to Holly and tapped his clenched fist against his palm. She nodded.

  The tap on the door was so ligh
t that the first technician did not hear it above the noise of the equipment. His companion nudged him and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Again, there was a discreet tap. The first technician sighed and stood up. Then he sighed again. Why should he always be the one to answer doors? He looked at his colleague and wondered whether to make an issue of it. Still, he was standing up now and it was hardly worth the trouble. Next time, Wilson could answer the door. He crossed the room and looked through the porthole. A handsome girl in a pilot’s uniform was standing outside. Her face looked vaguely familiar. The technician pressed the unlocking device and a buzzer sounded. Immediately the door swung open fast and the girl rushed past and headed for the consoles. The first technician turned to follow her. At that instant he heard another sound. He turned backs but too late. Bond’s fist caught him flush on the side of the jaw and he staggered backwards, his knees buckling. Another blow found the same target and he crashed against the centre stack, unconscious before he hit the ground.

  The second technician turned as Holly burst into the room. He started to rise to his feet and reached beside him for his laser torch. Holly swung her arm and a vicious karate chop sank into his stretched neck muscles. Crying out in pain and surprise, he swung a right hook. Holly swayed outside it and struck again with the side of her hand. This time there was no sound save that of the man collapsing at her feet.

  Bond looked down at the inert form with admiration. ‘Where did you learn to fight like that? NASA?’

  ‘No. Vassar.’ Holly moved swiftly to the centre stack and began pulling out banks of wires. Bond dropped to his knees and started trussing up the technicians. Holly took the laser torch and directed it at the circuit system. The thin ray of murderous green light played on the metal and smoke quickly rose into the air. The radar jamming system was melting into a foul-smelling glutinous mass. ‘Switched off?’ said Bond.

  ‘You could put it like that. Let’s say: non-operational.’

  ‘So now we can be seen from Earth?’

  Holly nodded. ‘That’s right. Let’s hope that somebody is watching.’

  16

  CAN YOU SEE ME MOTHER EARTH?

  Above Gregor Sverdlov’s head there was six feet of air, twelve feet of reinforced concrete and thirty feet of snow. At the Soviet army listening post in the Severnyy Anyuyskiy Khrebet the winters were long. Longer, it was said, than the intervals between the arrival of the samovars of lukewarm tea sweetened with the new state sweetener that left a taste of bitterness on the tongue akin to poison. It was rumoured that the aftertaste was due to a special ingredient added to eradicate anti-revolutionary sentiments, especially those that might be induced by contemplation of the vital parts of women. Gregor Sverdlov rubbed his hands together and looked round hopefully for sight of the creature, believed to be female, who brought the samovar. It was the tea that he was interested in, not the woman. To look upon her unwholesome appearance was merely to duplicate what the state was trying to achieve with its bromide. The woman not only discouraged amorous thoughts, she drove them before her like Gadarene swine eager to find any cliff to leap over.

  It was cold in the bunker. Not as cold as outside, where the radio masts lifted above the pines and the snowy wastes reached to the frozen waters of the Chaunskaya Guba, but cold enough to pinch a man’s bones as if an undertaker with icy fingers was counting them. Gregor Sverdlov stood up, swung his arms across his body and strolled down the room. Another hour before he was off duty, free to trudge through the banked snow to the log cabin he shared with eleven other radar operatives. The stove would be nearly out and the airless fug only marginally preferable to asphyxiation, but it would be warm. It was something to look forward to. Something more immediate than the day eighteen months hence when he was due to be released from the army.

  Gregor Sverdlov turned as he reached the end of the long console and cast a bored eye along the row of monitors. Immediately he started forward. Something was wrong. He pushed buttons. and twisted knobs. Something was still wrong. The satellite Kalinin was not due over for another twenty minutes. Why was he getting this signal? Surely he had not fallen asleep? The very thought of having committed a crime so heinous made him shiver with a fear that took over his body from the cold. But if he had not fallen asleep, how could he have avoided seeing this object enter his area? It could not suddenly appear in space. He operated the space tracker and the advance position spotter and waited nervously and impatiently whilst the machine churned and groaned over the information he had fed into it. Eventually there was the sound of mechanical spewing and a small print card entered his hand, covered in crisp perforations.

  Almost running, he crossed the chamber and pressed it down on the reception plate of the space image recorder. He pushed it home and waited as a pale translucence illuminated the screen of the large monitor. Ten seconds later an image appeared. An image so startling and unexpected that Gregor Sverdlov’s hand was still shaking as he pressed the button that would put him in immediate telephone contact with his regional controller.

  The bare foot attempted to hook the slipper from beneath the bed, and then abandoned the project. The red light had started flashing on top of the telephone, which meant that the President was waiting to speak. General Scott, U.S.M.C. withdrew the one arm that he had managed to thrust into his dressing gown when the telephone first rang and nodded his head aggressively in time with the speaker on the other line. Eventually his moment came to break in.

  ‘Listen, General Gogol. How many times do I have to tell you? We.didn’t put it there. We are as perplexed and disturbed as you are.’

  A wave of static broke over his words and he leant forward to pull back the curtain beside the bed. A siren was screaming and a lorry load of U.S. Space Marines converging on a shuttle and rocket positioned in the middle of a launching pad. The area was lit by searchlights like the start of a Twentieth Century-Fox film.

  ‘General Scott?’ The rasping Russian voice re-materialized out of the ether.

  ‘Yes, General Gogol. I’m still here.’

  ‘In the circumstances I am certain that you will have no objection if we make our own investigation. The satellite Kalinin is on a similar orbit collecting meteorological information —’

  ‘We know about the satellite,’ said Scott, allowing a hint of sarcasm to enter his voice. ‘I had no idea it was collecting meteorological information.’

  ‘The details are perhaps immaterial at this time,’ said Gogol coldly. ‘I propose that we divert Kalinin to investigate this intruder.’

  ‘Reports suggest that you have already done so,’ said Scott.

  There was a mounting roar from outside the window which told that the U.S. shuttle had achieved lift-off. ‘In the circumstances, I think that we will send up a vehicle ourselves to examine the situation. You will of course have no objections?’

  There was a slight pause and then Gogol’s voice came back colder than ever. ‘No. We will be in constant touch to review the situation. Goodnight, General Scott.’

  ‘Goodnight, General Gogol.’ Scott put down the telephone and promptly picked it up again. The President was on the line. ‘Yes, sir... A shuttle is on the way... Yes, the Russians will get there first... No, sir, I don’t think they had anything to do with it. I think they’re as much in the dark as we are... Yes, sir. If there is any doubt we’ll take the initiative... destroy it.’

  Gogol leant back against the pillow and his brows wrinkled in concentration. Were the Americans telling the truth or were they trying to provoke the first confrontation in space between the two great powers? The implications of such a course of action could be far-reaching and terrifying. Fortunately the satellite Kalinin was well able to defend herself. She must be prepared to bring her defensive capability to bear in an L.P.A. role. In Soviet army terminology L.P.A. stood for Liquidation of Potential Attacker.

  The two Drax guards moved slowly along the corridor and glanced hopefully through the porthole into one of the zero-gravity spheres. All was dark
ness. Frustrated in their voyeuristic impulses, they advanced towards the Electronic Camouflage Unit. When they had gone, Bond and Holly emerged from a side corridor and moved to a window that looked out on space. Below them and protruding from the side of the central globe was the cylinder that had contained three nerve-gas spheres. With a sinking heart, Bond saw that it now contained only two. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘we have a problem.’

  ‘Yes.’ Holly was not looking at Bond but over his shoulder. Her eyes were wide with fear. Bond spun round and saw Jaws looming above him like an angry bear. His arms were spread wide and his teeth bared like two rows of organ pipes. The huge hands clenched and Bond ducked and dived to one side. As Holly raised the laser torch that she had taken from one of the technicians, Jaws grabbed it and squeezed. The metal extruded from his fist like toothpaste. Jaws struck again and a metal guide rail was snapped off to fly across the floor. Bond threw himself on it and rose to lash out with a sblow that struck Jaws on the side of the jaw. There was a loud dong and the metal buckled. Jaws smiled. He came forward again and Bond jabbed with cruel force for his crutch. Again there was a dong. Jaws’s face registered distaste, like a vicar being told a crude joke. He still came forward. Bond spun round desperately. Before his nose was the threatening bulb of a laser gun; behind that a Drax guard with a determined expression on his face. Two other guards were covering him, each with a laser gun. Bond raised his hands in submission. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Take me to your leader.’