Lifeforce (3 page)

Each building stood separate; it struck Carlsen that they were like a group of Egyptian tombs. They counted thirty in all. In each lay a sleeper: eight older men, six older women, six younger males and ten women whose ages may have ranged between eighteen and twenty-five.

“But how did they get into the damn things?”

Murchison was right; there were no doors. They walked around the buildings, examining every inch of the glass surface. It was unbroken. The roofs, made of semi-transparent crystal, also seemed to be joined or welded to the glass.

“They’re not tombs,” Carlsen said. “Otherwise they wouldn’t need furniture.”

“The ancient Egyptians buried furniture with their dead.” Ives had a passion for archaeology.

For some reason, Carlsen felt a flash of irritation. “But they expected to take their goods to the underworld. These people don’t look that stupid.”

Craigie said: “All the same, they could hope to rise from the dead.”

Carlsen said angrily: “Don’t talk bloody nonsense.” Then, as he caught Craigie’s startled glance through the glass of the helmet: “I”m sorry. I think I must be hungry.”

Back in the Hermes , Steinberg had cooked the meal intended for Christmas Day. It was now mid-October; they were scheduled to leave for earth in the second week of November, arriving in mid-January. (At top speed, the Hermes covered four million miles a day.) No one had any doubt that they would be leaving sooner than that. This find was more important than a dozen unknown asteroids.

The atmosphere was now relaxed and festive. They drank champagne with the goose, and brandy with the Christmas pudding. Ives, Murchison and Craigie talked almost without pause; the others were happy to listen. Carlsen was oddly tired. He felt as if he had been awake for two days. Everything was slightly unreal. He wondered if it could be the effect of radioactivity, then dismissed the idea. In that case, the others would feel it too. Their spacesuits were now in the decontaminator unit, and the meter showed that absorption had been minimal.

Farmer said: “Olof, you’re not saying much.”

“Tired, that’s all.”

Dabrowsky asked him: “What’s your theory about all this? Why did they build that thing?”

They all waited for Carlsen to speak, but he shook his head.

“Then let me tell you mine.” Farmer said. He was smoking a pipe and used the stem to gesture. “From what you say, all those stairways couldn’t serve any practical purpose. Right? So, as Olof said this morning, it’s probably an impractical purpose — an aesthetic or religious purpose.”

“All right,” Steinberg said, “so it’s a kind of floating cathedral. It still doesn’t make sense.”

“Let me go on. We know these creatures aren’t from within the solar system. So they’re from another system, perhaps another galaxy.”

“Impossible, unless they’ve been travelling for a hundred million years or so.”

“All right.” Farmer was unperturbed. “But they could have come from another star system. If they could reach half the speed of light, Alpha Centauri’s only nine years away.” He waved aside interruption. “We know they must have come from another star system. So the only question is which one. And if they’ve travelled that far, then the size of the ship becomes logical. It’s the equivalent of an ocean liner. Our ship’s no more than a rowboat by comparison. Now…” He turned to Ives. “If people migrate, what’s the first thing they take with them?”

“Their gods.”

“Quite. The Israelites travelled with the Ark of the Covenant. These people brought a temple.”

Steinberg said: “And it still doesn’t make sense. If we all migrated to Mars, we wouldn’t try to take Canterbury Cathedral. We’d build another on Mars.”

“You forget that the cathedral’s also a home. Suppose they land on Mars? It’s an inhospitable place. It might take them years to establish a city under a glass dome. But they’ve brought their dome with them.”

The others were impressed. Dabrowsky asked: “But why the stairways and catwalks?”

“Because they’re the basic necessities of a new city. Their size is limited. As the population increases, they have to expand upwards. It’s the only direction. So they’ve built the skeleton of a multilevel city.”

Ives said with excitement: “I’ll tell you another thing. They wouldn’t be alone. They’d send two or three ships. And they wouldn’t land on Mars, because it doesn’t support life. They’d land on earth.”

They all stared at him. Even Carlsen suddenly felt more awake. Craigie said slowly: “Of course…”

They sat in silence. Murchison whistled.

Steinberg voiced their thought. “So those creatures could be our ancestors?”

“Not our ancestors,” Craigie said. ” Theywere the ones who reached earth. But the brothers and sisters of our ancestors.”

They all began to speak at once. Farmer’s slow Northumberland voice emerged after a few seconds. “So we’ve explained the basic problem of human evolution — why man is so unlike the apes. We didn’t evolve from apes. We evolved from them .”

Carlsen asked: “And what about Neanderthal man and all the rest?”

“A different line entirely.”

He was interrupted by the radio buzzer. Craigie switched it on. They all listened intently. Zelensky’s voice said, “Gentlemen, I have a surprise for you. The Prime Minister of the United European States, George Magill.”

They looked at one another in pleased surprise. If the world could be said to have one statesman who emerged head and shoulders above the others, it was Magill, the architect of World Unity.

The familiar deep voice came into the room. “Gentlemen, I daresay you have realised this already, but you are now the most famous human beings in the solar system. I’m relaying this message immediately after seeing your film of the inside of the ship. Even with some truly infuriating interferences, it is the most remarkable film I have ever seen. You are to be congratulated on your extraordinary adventure. You will have…” At this point, his voice was drowned with static. When it again sounded clearly, he was saying: “…agrees with me that the first and most important task is to bring back to earth at least one of these beings, and if possible, more than one. Of course, we shall have to rely upon your judgement as to whether this is feasible. We realise that when you break into the tombs, they may crumble to dust like so many mummies. On the other hand, it should be possible for you to ascertain whether these tombs contain an atmosphere, or whether they are vacuums. If they are vacuums, then you should have no problem…”

Carlsen groaned. ” Whydoes the idiot want to rush things?” He subsided as he saw the others straining their ears to catch the rest of Magill’s message. He sat there gloomily for the next five minutes while Magill boomed on, spelling out the scientific and political implications of their discovery.

Then Zelensky came on again. “Well, boys, you heard what the man said. I agree with him. If it’s possible, we want one or two of these creatures brought back to earth. Cut your way into one of the tombs. Bear in mind they may not be dead, but only in a state of suspended animation. If you get them into the ship, seal them in the freezing compartment, and leave it sealed until you get back to moonbase. Leave them untouched.”

Carlsen stood up and left the room. He went to his own quarters and used the lavatory, then lay down on the bed. Almost instantly, he was asleep.

He woke up to find Steinberg standing over him. He sat up. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Seven hours. You looked so tired we decided not to wake you.”

“What’s happening?”

“Four of us have just got back. We’ve opened one of the tombs.”

“Oh, Christ, why? Why couldn’t you wait until I woke up?”

“Zelensky’s orders.”

“ Igive the orders while I’m captain.”

Steinberg was apologetic. “We thought you’d be pleased. We’ve cut a doorway in the tomb, and it’s a vacuum. The body didn’t crumble to dust. There shouldn’t be any problem getting him into the freezer.”

Five minutes later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he went down to the control room. Through the port, he could see the familiar blue-green glow. The ship had been manoeuvred opposite the chamber of the humanoids: he could see the tombs clearly.

Dabrowsky said: “Did Dave tell you it wasn’t made of glass?”

“No? What was it?”

“Metal. A transparent metal. We’ve put the segment in the decontamination chamber, but it doesn’t seem to be radioactive. And there’s no radioactivity in the tomb. It’s a shield against radioactivity.”

“How did you get in?”

“The heat laser sliced straight through it.”

Carlsen said irritably: “Next time, you wait for my orders.” He brushed aside an interruption. “I meant to contact moonbase and suggest we leave the tombs untouched for a later expedition. Suppose that thing was in a state of suspended animation? And suppose you’ve now killed it?”

“There’s twenty-nine more,” Murchison said.

“That’s not the point. You’ve thrown away a life, just because the damn fools back on earth don’t know the meaning of the word patience. It’d take a few months to get a fully equipped expedition here. They could tow this thing into earth orbit, and spend the next ten years learning all about it. Instead —”

Dabrowsky interrupted firmly: “Excuse my saying so, Skip, but this is your fault. You got them into this state by talking about giants.”

“Giants?” Carlsen had forgotten what he said.

“You said it looked as if it had been built by giants. That’s the story that went out on the television news last night:EXPLORERS DISCOVER SPACESHIP BUILT BY GIANTS.”

Carlsen said: “Oh, shit.”

“You can imagine the result. Everyone’s been waiting to hear about the giants. A spaceship fifty miles long built by creatures a mile high… They’re all dying for the next instalment.”

Carlsen stared gloomily through the port. He picked up a mug of coffee from the table and absent-mindedly took a sip. “I suppose I’d better go and look…”

Ten minutes later he was standing beside the bed, looking down at the naked man. He had removed the canvas blanket by cutting it. Now he could see that the man was held by metal bands. The flesh looked shrunken and cold; when he touched it, it moved under his gloved fingers like jelly. The glassy stare made him uncomfortable. He tried to close an eyelid, but it sprang open again.

“That’s strange.”

Craigie, back in the ship said: “What?”

“The skin’s still elastic.” He looked down at the thin legs, the sinewy feet. Blue veins showed through the marble-coloured flesh. “Any idea how we get these bands off?”

“Burn them with the laser,” said Murchison, who was standing behind him.

“Okay. Try it.”

The wine-red beam stabbed from the end of the portable laser, but before Murchison could raise it, the metal bands retracted, sliding into holes in the bed.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. I wasn’t even touching it.” Carlsen placed his hand under the feet and raised them. They floated into the air. The body remained at an angle, the head now floating clear of the canvas roll that served as a pillow.

Carlsen turned to Steinberg and Ives, who were waiting outside. “Come and get him.”

The body was placed in a grey metal shell. It was cigar-shaped and had two handles in the middle, giving it the appearance of an overlong carpetbag. In the ship’s inventory, this was known as a “specimen collector”; but all knew they were intended to serve as coffins in the event of a death in space. Dixon’s body now lay in a similar shell.

When Steinberg and Ives had left with the body, Carlsen examined every inch of the surface of the bed. It was in fact little more than a metal slab, and when he removed the canvas underlay, there was no sign of buttons or levers. He crawled underneath, but the underside was also smooth and unbroken.

Murchison said: “Perhaps it responded to your thought.”

“We’ll find out with the others.”

They spent half an hour examining and photographing the chamber; nothing of importance was revealed. Everything appeared to be purely functional.

He watched with interest as the laser cut through the wall of the next room. The spectroanalyser showed it to be of some unknown alloy; at least, the molecular patterns were typically metallic. In every other way, it resembled glass. It was about three inches thick. He had wondered why Murchison had carved a comparatively small entrance in the other chamber; now he saw why. The metal resisted a beam that could normally slice Corsham steel like soft cheese. It took twenty minutes to cut out a segment four feet high by two feet wide.

This was the room containing the dark-haired girl. After testing for space virus and radioactivity, Carlsen stepped over the threshold. He crossed to the bed, unsheathed the scoring knife, and sliced through the canvas where it vanished into the metal. He threw back the sheet. She lay as if on a mortuary slab, the feet together. The breasts, unflattened by gravity, stood out as if they had been supported by a brassiere.

“Incredible,” Murchison said. “She looks alive.”

It was true; the flesh of the body had none of the flabbiness associated with death.

“Could be blood pressure. If she was placed in here immediately after death, there’d be enough pressure to make the body swell slightly in the vacuum.”

“Shall I start with the laser?” The eagerness in his voice made Carlsen smile. Without taking his eyes off the girl, he said: “Okay. Go ahead.” As he spoke, the metal bands slid back, leaving marks on the naked flesh of the belly and thighs.

“It must be some form of thought control. Let’s see if I can make them go back.” He stared at the bed, concentrating, but nothing happened. He turned and beckoned to Steinberg and Ives. “Okay. Take her back to the freezer.”

Steinberg said: “If there’s no room in the freezer, she can share my bed till we get back to earth.”

Carlsen grinned. “I don’t think you’d find her very responsive.” He turned to Murchison. “Let’s get back.”

“Is that all we’re taking?” Murchison sounded disappointed.

“Two’s enough, don’t you think?”

“There’s plenty of room for more in the freezer.”

Carlsen laughed. “All right. Just one more.”