Rockets in Ursa Major (3 page)

`I think this is what we've been looking for.'

I took my pen and scratched it over the markings. `That's Fanshawe's signature,' said Sir John. 'Ganges, come here a moment.'

Ganges was already looking over Sir John's shoulder. `Can you remember what Fanshawe's signature looked like?' I said.

`I think I can,' said Ganges peering hard. 'Yes, that's it. What was he doing?'

I went on covering the area with the black ink. We all read the message at the same time. I don't know what their reaction was, but I certainly felt very strange.

IF THIS SHIP RETURNS TO EARTH, THEN MANKIND IS IN DEADLY PERIL.

GOD HELP YOU.

FANSHAWE.

It was a macabre situation. No one offered a comment. It was too unreal, uncanny, spine chilling.

The doctor was the first to move.

'If I'm wanted I'll be over at control,' he said as he led his men out of the cabin.

Ganges waited for them to go. 'Can't make it out. What kind of situation could Tubby Fanshawe have got into?'

'Whatever it was, it's serious and sinister,' Sir John said somberly.

We all made our way to the lift. Below were a large number of people.

'Ruddy press,' Ganges mumbled under his breath.

I wondered how he would handle the battery of TV cameras and reporters.

The lift came to a halt. The men and women in front of us moved forward. Military police advanced to clear a path.

'Colonel Ganges. Have you a comment?' said a man holding a microphone close to us.

'Yes,' Ganges replied. 'Get yourself and your gear back to the main building and wait for a press announcement. Sergeant Major?'

'Sir.'

'Cordon off this ship -- top security. Report to me if my of the press crosses the boundary and I'll do the rest.'

The crowd parted and allowed us through. Everyone was subdued.

'I'll get on to the Minister of Defense, and see what kind of press release we'll put out,' Ganges said and moved in the direction of the control building. 'I'll be in touch.'

Sir John and I walked off towards the helicopter. Running footsteps behind us made him increase his pace.

`Sir John, was there something wrong with the ship's equipment?' came a voice from alongside us.

'As you heard, you'll have to wait until there's an official press release,' Sir John said, turning on his questioner.

`But Sir John, if it wasn't the equipment, how did the men die?'

Flash bulbs popped. Sir John turned on his heel. The press men followed us. I caught hold of the reporter who'd been asking questions. We stopped, allowing Sir John to get to the helicopter.

Before I could speak the M.P.'s were around us and the reporter moved for an uncomfortable interview with Ganges.

I climbed into the helicopter.

`Thank you, Dick. It could be very tricky if they found out that the ship's empty.'

'Well, Ganges knows his job and they won't be told anything they're not supposed to know.' I slotted the card into the reader. The green light came on and off we went.

After a very quiet ride back, the helicopter started to home in on Six John's residence. I kept the blip in the middle of the scope and we were soon down.

'Is there anything I can do?'

'No, not yet,' Sir John said with a tired smile. 'I'll give you a call if anything comes up.'

'Fine. I'll just stroll back to college; it looks as though it might be a fine morning.'

'Hum. By the way, if you should get any press . . 'Don't worry. I don't know anything,' I said, and made my way to the side entrance.

The summer mist was lying lightly on the river, and the early sun was catching the massive exteriors of the colleges. It was a strange discord that on such a beautiful morning there should be the nightmare aspect of the DSP 15 weighing heavily on our minds. My watch showed 08.15; breakfast in Hall wouldn't be until 08.30. I decided I'd go back to my rooms until around 09.00; by that time most of the college would have had their meal, I'd be able to have mine in peace.

But when I opened the door to my room, the phone was buzzing away imperiously.

`Hello, Dick,' said Sir John. 'The Minister of Defense has called an emergency meeting for ten-thirty this morning. I told the secretary that I would like to bring you along and he agreed. I'm off now to get one or two preliminaries worked out.'

`Fine. I'll be there, but why do you want me?' 'I think they'll be wanting your radar valve.'

'My valve, but it's only in the experimental stage?' 'Certainly, but time may be pressing. So be at the Ministry of Defense at 10.30 a.m.'

'O.K. Where do I go when I get there?'

'Room two,' said Sir John, vanishing from the screen.

Why on earth might they need my valve? What was to be gained at this stage by its use in a radio or radar system? I made myself a cup of coffee and went over to my desk. A few minutes of rummaging through one of the drawers and I found the necessary data. Putting it into my brief-case, I looked up the list of the helicopter services running from Cambridge to London. Once every quarter of an hour, which meant I could either catch the 09.30 or, at a pinch, the 09.45.

A shower, shave and change of clothes made me feel better. By the time I'd finished I was running late. The gate at the Heliport for the 09.30 to London was closed, but I caught the 09.45 and arrived at the Hampstead terminal around 10.15. I rushed out of the arrival building to find a taxi.

`If you're waiting for a taxi, I don't think you'll have much luck as I've been here fifteen minutes,' said a man sitting dejectedly at the head of the taxi queue.

`Thanks,' I said, going back into the building and making my way to the Underground.

The Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey stood gracefully surrounded by the greenery of a large park which had replaced the old buildings, such as Scotland Yard and other government offices. Alongside the ancient shining cannons little concrete bunkers were in evidence. These were the mammoth outlets for the air conditioning units under the ground.

I walked to the war monument in the middle of Whitehall. A couple of security guards stood outside.

`Yes, sir?' said one of the large fellows.

`Dr Warboys. I have a meeting with the Minister of Defense at 10.30,' I said.

`Running late,' the guard smiled as he checked a list. `Dr Warboys. Fine.'

He opened a door and I stepped into the lift. It went down and down into a huge rabbit warren of government offices. Across the central hall another lift led straight into a vast conference room. Sitting at a large oval table were the Minister of Defense, the Chief of Staff and Sir John, with others I didn't recognize. The Chief of Staff was doodling away and Sir John was watching him as I stepped in.

`Ah, Dick,' said Sir John, getting up from the table and coming over to me. Under the briskness he still looked strained.

`Sorry I'm late,' I said contritely.

`It's all right, I told Lomax that you would be your usual punctual self. Minister, may I introduce Dr Richard Warboys,' said Sir John, addressing Sir Henry Lomax, the Minister of Defense.

`Good morning, Dr Warboys,' said the Minister curtly.

I sat down next to Sir John and acknowledged the head noddings of the other men sitting at the table.

`Gentlemen. In view of the potential gravity of the situation, I thought it advisable to keep our meeting small in number,' said the Minister.

Everyone agreed.

`I think we should decide this morning on a plan of action which can then be passed on to World Space Headquarters. John,' said the Minister, turning in our direction, 'has any of the equipment in the DSP 15 been checked?'

`In what sense?' asked Sir John.

Was it all functioning properly?' said the Minister.

`Well, we've run some preliminary tests and checked them against original data files. There's certainly nothing missing in the sense of components.'

The Chief of Staff suddenly looked up from his doodling and said: 'Well?'

`Well, until we have had time to run exhaustive tests, I can't be absolutely certain about a couple of points.' `What do you mean?' said the minister.

`Just strange little things. The computer will not operate on a simple test problem, and also there's nothing missing that could conceivably have been used to fire the rockets from outside.'

`I don't understand the problem with the computer. Surely it could have been damaged?' said the Chief of Staff.

`No, it looks more as if someone had wiped all the memories clean,' said Sir John.

'Ha But getting back to the fact that there is no missing equipment. You mean that the crew didn't abandon ship?' said the Minister of Defense.

`No, the crew didn't abandon ship,' said Sir John quickly.

Unless they left it after the last firing, when it was automatically locked on a homeward course,' the doodler said.

`Yes. That's a possibility, but think of the problems,' Sir John replied.

'I agree, Sir John. But it is a possibility,' said the Chief of Staff.

`But I don't take that argument very seriously, Bob,' said the Minister to the Chief of Staff. Then he turned to Sir John. 'Just how do you reconstruct what might have happened?'

'I think the crew must have been taken forcibly from the ship, which was then deliberately set on its homeward course.'

'How?' said the Minister.

By radio signals from outside,' said Sir John. 'From what equipment?' asked the Chief of Staff. 'It could have been equipment possessed by an alien intelligence,' said Sir John.

There was a stir around the table.

Tim. An alien intelligence,' said the Minister. 'What would you say to that, Bob?' turning to the Chief of Staff.

Without looking up from his doodling: 'The sooner I get a scout patrol out on the far side of the Sun, the happier I'll be.'

'You accept Sir John's reconstruction?' asked the Minister.

'Not unreservedly,' said the Chief of Staff, looking up. 'I'd rather say it's a fair possibility, and one we ought to act on. Look, put it this way; sheer prudence demands we take this strange Fanshawe message seriously. Although it's a bit lurid, isn't it,' he said, picking up a sheet of paper and reading: '"If this ship returns to Earth, then mankind is in deadly peril. God help you!"'

'Let's hope it isn't as bad as that,' said the Minister.

'The one thing I'm really worried about is our lack of radar range. It just isn't enough, not to deal with a full-scale attack from space. This is something I was talking to you about the other day, Sir John.' The Chief of Staff got up and walked to a large wall chart showing the planetary orbits. He moved the pointer around.

`What I'd like to do is to be able to cover distances as far out as Neptune at least -- in all directions,' he said, decisively.

`Just remind me on one point,' said the Minister. 'How is it that our radar beams aren't strong enough to detect ships as far out as Neptune?'

Two reasons. We have to detect ships by radar, and radar is a two-way affair. The radio waves travel outwards to the ship you want to find, the ship then reflects them, and you proceed to pick up these waves. When you're guiding a ship the signals only have to go one way -- the waves only have to travel from Earth to the ship, which makes life a lot easier. Besides, you can put a much bigger transmitter on the ground and there are no limits on space or electrical power.'

`I don't quite understand why we couldn't use massive ground-based radar,' said the Minister thoughtfully.

`Well,' went on the Chief of Staff, 'because of the Sun. It gives out strong radio waves which swamp weak reflections from ships in its direction. Of course we can use ground-based stuff for the other directions, but we're forced to put ships right on the far side of the Sun -- otherwise we'd be completely blind on that side.'

`Radar must always look away from the Sun, never into it,' said the Minister.

`Exactly. It's the same for radar as it is for ordinary light -- the Sun is too bright,' the Chief of Staff said, looking at me.

'I see,' said the Minister. 'Except for one point. Ships over on the opposite side of the Sun may be able to cover directions we can't from Earth, but what good is that? Information can't be sent through to Earth because the Sun lies in the way.'

'It sounds very convincing, but there is an answer,' said Sir John smiling.

'There certainly is,' said the Chief of Staff, alert and precise. 'Our ships can send us information even past the Sun, because that part of the job is only a one-way affair! It's the reflected signals which are the weak ones.'

'Yes, yes. I see it now. The trouble with your patrol ships -- the ones sent to the far side of the Sun -- is that even from there they can't see far enough into space.'

'Yes, that's it. That's it exactly. The trouble is we can't get much beyond Jupiter, and I'd really like to get at least as far as Neptune,' said the Chief of Staff emphatically as he sat down.

'May I interrupt for a moment?' said Sir John. 'Dr Warboys here has been developing a new transmitting valve, one that could greatly increase radar range.'

'Dr Warboys,' the Minister said, looking round at me.

'Yes, Minister,' I replied.

'You have a new device that might be of help to us in this problem of radar penetration?' said the Minister.

I was about to reply when the Chief of Staff said: 'Excuse me a moment; would you mind if one of my men sits in on this? If anything comes of the new transmitting valve, it'll probably be Colonel Rhodes who'll have the job of getting it operational.'

'Certainly. Please call Colonel Rhodes,' said the Minister to his secretary. 'Tell me, why are you so keen on Neptune as a yardstick in this business?' went on the Minister.