‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s the docking system. I can’t disengage it. It must be jammed.’
Bond swore and activated the exit hatch on his side of the cabin. As it slid back he jumped out and moved to the access hatch of the Moonraker. The whole binding rod assembly had been jerked sideways and was now buckled in its setting so that the thick metal pincers would not open. They stuttered feebly like the mouth of a dying fish. Bond dropped to his knees and tried to pull them apart. A second’s effort told him that he was wasting his time. Behind him there was a sharp crack like an ice floe beginning to break up. Bond’s forehead was lathered with sweat. Fear ran through him like a fast-moving current. He turned to see if there was anything he could use as a lever. Almost opposite the nose of the Moonraker was a turn-table launching ramp bearing one of the globular space carts. Bond turned again and found himself face to face with Jaws. There was a trickle of blood running down from the corner of his mouth and his clothes were torn. His eyes were those of a wild animal caught in a car’s headlights.
Bond waited for the man to act. Was it going to be life or death? Jaws looked at Bond and then down to the binding rods. Without a gesture, he lumbered forward and sank to his knees. His huge hands closed on the metal bars and he pulled until the veins stood out on his forehead like pencils. One two-inch bar rose from its setting and Jaws dropped his head and closed his blood-stained teeth about it. There was a harsh grating noise and Bond saw the steel teeth slowly bite through the metal. It snapped, and at that instant the satellite dropped ten feet. Bond was thrown backwards. He rose to find that although one of the binding rods was free, the fall had caused the air-lock securing assembly to wedge deeper into its housing. Jaws tore at it with his hands but could not separate the Gordian knot of twisted metal. Bond joined him but their combined efforts quickly proved that the task was beyond human strength. Jaws rose, breathing heavily, and pressed his hands against the structure of the Moonraker. He pushed and looked to see what was happening to the metal housing. There was a faint upward movement. Jaws looked round the satellite. The cracking sound was now continuous, as if a crevasse was opening up. Jaws pointed to himself and gestured towards the space cart. Then he pushed Bond towards the door of the Moonraker. Bond hesitated but Jaws was already pulling open the hatch of the space cart. Bond pulled himself into the Moonraker beside Holly. She turned to him anxiously.
‘What’s happening?’
‘I don’t really know. I think he’s going to try and push us out.’
Holly gave the disengage switch one more abortive ffick and sat back in her seat. ‘Jesus!’
Bond said nothing. Jaws was now inside the space cart, looking like a goldfish that had outgrown its bowl. As the craft started to tremble, another figure appeared in the satellite. A pretty girl in astronaut’s uniform. She ran forward and beat on the side of the space cart. Jaws slid.pen the hatch and she scrambled in. Now there was a noise like a ship beginning to founder and Bond could feel the tail of the Moonraker tilting upwards. The satellite was beginning to break away; but the nose of the shuttle still held securely. It would be dragged down to inevitable destruction. Holly was manipulating the controls like an organ console. The space cart started.down the ramp as if fired from a gun, and there was a crash that jarred Bond sideways and then back in his seat. He glimpsed Jaws’s face pressed against the screen of the.space cart and then felt the whole structure of the Moonraker jerk sideways. Suddenly the satellite dropped away and he was looking across the infinity of space towards a million stars. Beside him Holly whooped her delight.
‘We’re clear! We’re clear!’
Bond looked to his right and saw the central globe of the space station folding in on itself like a deflated football. Somewhere in its heart flames erupted and were rapidly snuffed. The remaining satellites were breaking away, carrying their buckled corridors with them. As they fell through space to enter the Earth’s atmosphere they began to glow red. One disintegrated in a meteor shower. Bond twisted his head and searched for the satellite they had just left. Had it carried Jaws and the girl to their deaths?
Holly manoeuvred the control lever and tapped Bond on the shoulder. ‘Over there.’
Bond turned and saw that Holly had brought them round on a course almost parallel to that of a space cart with a large dent in its nose and its laser gun twisted up against the cabin window like a windscreen wiper. Behind the window was Jaws, an expression of dogged concentration on his face as he grappled with the controls. The pretty girl looked over his shoulder.
Holly shook her head ruefully. ‘I don’t know if that craft is capable of re-entry.’
Bond smiled. ‘Jaws is capable of re-entering anything. How far is it to Earth?’
‘About a hundred miles.’
‘He’ll be home before we are.’ His face suddenly became grim. ‘If there’s anything to come home to.’
Holly said nothing but flicked on the radarscope. She knew what Bond was talking about. Out in space there were still three nerve gas spheres. Unless they were found and destroyed before they re-entered the Earth’s atmosphere, three hundred million people would die, which could spark off an atomic war that would destroy the rest of humanity. Her desperate eyes searched the screen. It was blank.
19
DESTROY TO LIVE
Bond looked anxiously at the concentric circles on the radarscope. They moved as innocently and treacherously as the ripples left by a drowning man.
‘How do we know they haven’t already re-entered?’
‘We don’t.’ Holly pummelled the controls and the Moonraker hurled itself through space.
‘Look!’
‘That’s them.’ Holly glanced knowingly at the three pinpoints on the screen. The one nearest the centre of the circles pulsed the most dynamically. ‘We should make visual contact in a few seconds.’
‘You mean, I should be able to see something,’ said Bond. ‘Why the hell don’t you speak English?’ He looked down at the ranging screen of the laser gun. ‘And how do you fire this thing?’
‘Very accurately if you want to save our lives.’ Holly took her eyes off the controls to glance out of the forward window. ‘Have you ever been to a fairground? Two red images will appear on that screen. They represent us and the individual nerve gas globes. Manipulate the two knobs until the circles overlap. They will then turn into one green circle. That means you are on target. Then press the fire button. I’ll switch you on to automatic and programme through the positions of the spheres.’ She spoke urgently but without any edge of panic. Bond, who loved order and calm in a woman, loved her at that moment. He looked ahead and saw something glinting in space.
‘Here you are.’
Bond looked down at the ranging screen and saw that two red circles had indeed appeared. Their movement was reassuringly. slow. A quick correction of the right-hand knob and one circle drifted into the path of the other. Red turned to green and Bond pressed the buttons embedded in the centre of each control knob. A flash of blinding white light knifed out from the nose of the Moonraker and the green circle disappeared. The screen was empty. Bond looked ahead. Whatever had been glinting was not there any more.
‘A sitting bird,’ said Bond.
Holly did not turn her head to bestow congratulations. ‘They’ll begin to flap their wings in a minute.’ As if to prove her words, the Moonraker began to shake violently. ‘We’re skipping on the Earth’s atmosphere.’
Bond knew what that meant. Very much lower and they would start to burn up like the space station. Their angle of descent was totally wrong for re-entry. He glanced at the ranging screen. Two more red circles had appeared. They were dancing like ping pong balls on the surface of a saucepan of boiling water. He began to aim urgently. The red circles crossed momentarily and then swam away again. The green image had held for a fraction of a second. Bond wiped the sweat from his eyes and concentrated again. Around him the atmosphere was becoming unbearably hot.
H
olly was staring out of the forward window, her lips pressed tight. ‘We’re in range.’
‘I know that, dammit! ‘ Bond’s fingers tensed against the two range finders. Another violent shudder ran through the Moonraker. Suddenly the shaking eased. He twisted the knobs violently. Sweat dropped on the screen. ‘Come on, my beauties!’ It was like some game found in a Christmas stocking. Only on its result depended the lives of one hundred million people. Two red arcs crossed each other and the area of intersection widened towards the formation of one complete circle. Bond held his breath. If his heart was beating, he could not feel it. Red on red became green and his fingers thrust against the steel nipples. The snake’s tongue of light scythed through the air. The screen went blank.
‘How am I doing?’
‘You’re winning.’ Holly’s voice was tense. She looked at the control panel and bit her lip. Her face was glistening with sweat. Bond touched the side of the cabin wall and cried out. They were being roasted as if in an oven. He moved his feet to rest them on his heels. The ranging screen was empty.
‘Pass me the next one.’
‘I have.’
The ranging screen was still empty. On the radarscope only the faintest pinpoint could be seen. The Moonraker was bouncing like a ball rolling down a corrugated iron roof. A frightening brown tint was spreading through the perspex of the forward window. He could smell something burning. Soon it would be him.
‘Where the hell is it?’ Bond followed Holly’s eyes to the control panel. On the upper right-hand side three separate needles were showing against the ‘Danger’ mark. Red lights were flashing all over the console. Everything was showing red except the ranging screen.
Holly spoke grimly. ‘We’ve got another 50,000 feet. If we don’t catch up with it by then, we’ll burn out.’
Bond looked at the altimeter: 250,000 feet, 240,000 feet. They were dropping at an angle that was suicidal for reentry. But they had no alternative. It was either that or leave a hundred million people to die.
‘There it is!’ Two red circles started to dance crazily on the screen. Holly was looking ahead to a tiny red sun bobbing in the distance. Bond knew why it was red. It was beginning to re-enter the Earth’s atmosphere. Just like them. The red circles lurched towards each other and there was a flash of green. Bond pressed. The circles stayed on the screen. Red. Holly cried out in pain as she jabbed at the controls.
‘I can’t hold this course much longer. We’ll break up.’
Bond said nothing. 220,000 feet. His eyes were almost falling out of his head. The heat was agonizing. The two circles overlapped momentarily and there was another stab of green. He pressed instantly. Again too late. The two circles rolled around the screen like socketless eyes mocking his ineptitude. A shrill, high-pitched buzz rang out from somewhere on the control panel. A whole section of lights began to blink in unison. 200,000 feet. Death, here is thy sting.
‘I’m losing the controls. The wings are starting to burn.’
Bond concentrated on the circles. They might be the last thing he ever concentrated on. The Moonraker was being shaken up and down as if by a giant hand. The noise from the control panel was ear-splitting. Distracting red lights flashed at the extremities of his vision. Smoke was billowing under his nose. His heels were on fire. Holly was crying out in pain. Bond strove to stay in control of his senses. The two circles performed kangaroo jumps and then moved into the same orbit. Come on, come on, damn you! It was like watching a putt hover on the lip of the hole. A putt with a hundred million lives riding on it. The circles trembled and then mounted each other to give birth to green. Bond pressed hot metal and looked out of the forward window. An arrow of white light streaked towards a white circle tinged with red. The circle disappeared. A violent explosion seemed to throw the Moonraker upwards and Bond saw Holly haul on the control column. Then he passed out.
20
COMING DOWN TO EARTH
Frederick Gray moved down the long corridor feeling pleased with himself. How fortunate that he, a key member of Her Majesty’s Government, should have found himself within reach of Houston at this time. He tried not to look too obviously at the camera crew who were filming as they retreated down the corridor before him. His picture appearing all over the world. What a well-deserved boost to his career. With the P.M.’s health in question and no successor immediately recognizable in a divided Cabinet, the opportunities for self-advancement were obvious. Frederick Gray, the man on the spot. All glory attached to Britain’s unexpected space coup would adhere to him. With M and his myrmidons safely ensconced in London, he would be seen as the trenchant mastermind behind Britain’s involvement. Which, of course, was just. He had pressed for the best man to be put on the job, and this fellow Bond seemed to have delivered the goods.
‘Hold it just there, gentlemen.’ The cameraman held up his hand and the phalanx stopped obediently. Cameras Whirred. Frederick Gray saw the microphone boom above his head. He began to speak with the slow, pompous delivery that had bored millions of television viewers: ‘... A great day for Anglo-American co-operation and a great day for the world.’
The general whose name he had not caught looked at him in surprise. ‘Yeah.’ He moved from behind the shoulder that Gray had thrust in front of him and addressed the camera crew. ‘We’re going in to Mission Control now. I would appreciate it if you were to keep behind the prescribed limits and not crowd us. Thank you.’
An armed guard in white helmet and gaiters swung open the door and Gray stepped forward smartly. At first glance he appeared to have walked into a theatre, but there were rows of consoles instead of seats. Where the stage would be was an enormous map of the world with lines of illuminated dots showing the paths of orbiting satellites. Gray thought of the famous space shots that had been shepherded from this hallowed room and wished that he could remember the names of some of them. He should have got his private secretary to bone up on the necessary background information. A few well-chosen words might have impressed viewers with his alertness and knowledge of everything that was going on in the world. He saw that the microphone boom was out of range and felt better. ‘Very impressive,’ he said, just in case anybody was listening. The general turned and looked at him with scarcely concealed dislike. He hated all politicians, but British politicians acting as though they still had an empire gave him a special pain that was worse than his ulcer.
An authoritative man bearing the words ‘Mission Control Director’ on the breast pocket of his short-sleeved shirt stepped forward and nodded to the assembled company. ‘Gentlemen, welcome to Mission Control, Houston. We have received a position report and should have visual contact at any moment. If you observe the wall map you can see the trail of green lights approaching the Indian Ocean. The red light that you see flashing represents our tracking ship. Once Commander Bond and Dr Goodhead come within range we should have audio-visual from the remote on-board T.V. monitors.’
Gray began to relate to the excitement that was building up in the room, but for different reasons. He had heard his name mentioned twice by the man who was talking into the hand-held microphone to the television crew. They were transmitting live, and would be received at every corner of the globe. Not since the landing of Armstrong and Aldrin had there been an event like it.
The Mission Control Director began to speak again. His eyes sought out Gray. ‘We’re particularly glad to have you with us, Mr Gray. Because of the historical significance of this mission, I’m having this patched directly to the White House and Buckingham Palace, by satellite.’
Gray’s cup overranneth. ‘Most kind,’ was all he could blurt out. He could imagine the royal hand putting down the Spode cup, the corgi’s eyes obediently following its mistress’s to the screen. At such moments a man might be excused his dreams. What would his thought be, he wondered, when the call came from the Palace? He imagined himself sitting in the Rolls-Royce as it purred down the Mall, a sprinkling of sightseers craning forward as the sentries saluted and he sailed th
rough the gates. ‘Will you form a government, Mr Gray?’ ‘Of course, Ma’am.’ The first of many meetings, perhaps culminating in the moment when his knee sank towards the damask cushion and there was a slight tap on his shoulder. ‘Arise, Sir Frederick.’ Sir Frederick Gray. The three words that formed a poem more lovely than any Shakespeare Sonnet.
‘We’re getting something!’ A technician spoke out excitedly from his position beside a large monitor screen and Gray elbowed aside the general. The camera crew closed in. A cueman. had his arm raised. This was the moment. Gray craned forward so that the world could see the tears of pride in his eyes as he welcomed back his protégé. His eyes opened in wonder as he took in the scene and then, very slowly, little by little, he began to edge back behind the general.
‘The Shoshones used to make love after battle to give thanks for still being alive,’ said Holly.
Bond kissed her naked shoulder and watched a flimsy undergarment drifting by. ‘Say not the struggle nought availeth,’ he murmured. ‘What a pity they couldn’t do it when they were weightless.’
‘I expect they found other compensations.’ Holly kissed Bond on the mouth and spread her arms wide. ‘Oh James, this is heaven.’
James Bond and Moonraker Page 20
