Rockets in Ursa Major (8 page)

`Why, are you worried that we might attack you?' Colonel said.

`Not at all. Your forces have been recalled out of the area, which is a wise decision.'

Colonel was silent. The expression on his face made me wonder whether he was feeling a little subdued at the thought that his ships were outclassed. It was a natural feeling for a military man.

`Are you expecting more trouble?' I asked, breaking the silence.

`Trouble for you, I think. If they get by my defenses, they'll burn you up.'

`What! Set the Earth on fire?' I said.

Not only the Earth, but everything surrounding it,' Betelgeuse said, with a hardness in his voice.

`Is that why you're here -- to help us?' Colonel said.

`To warn Earth, not to protect Earth. I hope that my warning comes early enough, so that you can build space craft similar to this one and leave your homes. That's your only chance of survival.'

`That ridiculous,' Colonel said.

`It may seem so, but we'll see.'

`But supposing you are right,' I said, 'how did this happen?'

Betelgeuse laughed. 'Well, for many years now we have been fighting a space war; and recently, over the past thirty years or so, alien space ships have appeared. You can imagine what was suspected. The Yela, who are one of the groups we are involved in fighting, thought that these ships were something to do with me. They apparently captured one, removed the crew, sent it back to its destination and followed it.'

`So they thought you were using our planet as a port of call,' I said, reflecting that it was probably what had happened to Tubby Fanshawe.

`Yes, a repair depot,' Betelgeuse said, interrupting my thoughts.

`Of course. Since the ship was crewed by people who looked like you, the deductions seemed so obviously true.'

`Quite. I think if you Earth people had had a different appearance, you'd have been fairly safe.'

`You remind me of the Flying Dutchman,' I said. Betelgeuse looked puzzled.

`The Flying Dutchman sailed the seas of the Earth, but could never land. You sail the seas of space,' I said, feeling my remark had gone very flat.

`That's all very well, Dick, but how does the Yela burn up a planet?' Colonel asked.

`By manipulation of the Earth's atmosphere,' Betelgeuse said.

`Is that possible?' Colonel said with dismay.

`For the Yela, yes.' Betelgeuse was interrupted by a voice on the intercom.

`We are nearing Earth.'

`What are our landing instructions?' Betelgeuse said.

`Well,' Colonel looked at me for a moment, 'Dick and I have decided not to take you to our main Earth space centre, but to return to my own headquarters.'

`So we can't learn too much about your landing instructions,' Betelgeuse said, laughing.

I felt the blood rush to my face.

`Yes, but there is possibly another valid point,' Colonel said, trying to cover up the embarrassment. 'You will be interrogated. At home we can put a good word in for you, but we couldn't guarantee this from the World Security fellows.'

This point hadn't crossed my mind; it sounded quite reasonable.

`You haven't time to worry about us, you must start building ships,' Betelgeuse said with feeling.

`I understand that, but you will still have to explain it to our political leaders.'

`All right. What do we do now?' Betelgeuse asked. `Have you got any maps of the Earth?'

A moment or so later a large map appeared on a panel, and at the same time the lift doors opened and the rest of the crew appeared.

`World Space H.Q. is here at longitude 28°, latitude 39°. The homing wave length is 26.705 meters. Now, we really want to come down here at longitude 0°30, latitude 52°20. The homing wave is 20.96 meters.'

`I understand, so you want me to cut from one wave length to the other before landing,' Betelgeuse said, with a smile.

Rigel and the crew began to make preparations and within a second or two the sound of the homing bleep filled the cabin.

`How long will it take?' I asked.

`Not long. We will give your Earth people a show of aerobatics,' Rigel said.

`What do you do about deceleration pressure?' Colonel asked, obviously looking round for something to lie on.

`Oh, you have nothing to worry about. The cabin has counter gravitation to allow normal movement up to 10 gravities. Beyond that it is advisable to use couches,' Betelgeuse said with pride.

`Fine. What do you do about living accommodation?' Colonel asked.

`That is all below this cabin. When it is possible I'll show you round.'

`Would you like to hear your Space Control?' Rigel asked.

Colonel nodded. Rigel turned up the sound and we heard an American voice giving instructions for our arrival. Then suddenly: 'My God. The ship's out of control.

Hello, hello, calling all space controls monitoring space craft. Possibility of crash landing, repeat, possibility of crash landing.' The replies and questions to his message came in from all over the world.

Betelgeuse had turned on one of the tele-cine cameras, which showed the Earth and our approach. It became bigger and bigger until we seemed to be right on top of the south-eastern part of England. We saw towns, trees, animals grazing and then -- nothing.

`We are down,' Betelgeuse announced.

`Incredible landing,' Colonel said, obviously not believing it.

Colonel, Betelgeuse and myself descended in the lift. At last, terra firma. It was a marvelous sight. Unfortunately, my legs began to feel spongy and I sank in a very undignified way on to the ground.

`Hey, what's the matter, Dick?' Colonel asked.

`Nothing a night's sleep wouldn't put right,' I said, listening to running footsteps. Betelgeuse went back into the ship, and eventually returned with a small box.

`I think I might need a translator,' he said.

The security fellows arrived all out of breath. Their · faces reflected the emotions that probably were being experienced by everyone on the base -- fear, excitement and curiosity at the arrival of an alien space ship.

`Colonel Rhodes?'

`Yes, sergeant.'

`My instructions are to take you to security to await...' `In London?' Colonel cut in.

`Yes, sir.'

`Well, Dr Warboys here is very tired. I will make his excuses. So run him back to Cambridge.'

`Well . .

`That's an order, sergeant.'

`Yes, sir.'

`Dick, you go off home and get some rest. If there is a scene from security, I'll fend them off. You've had a strenuous trip.'

`What about you?' I asked.

`I think we are a little more used to it,' Colonel said, looking at Betelgeuse.

`What about the ship?' I asked again.

`That'll be under heavy guard, sir,' said the soldier.

`Betelgeuse, are you . . . ?'

`It's all right,' Betelgeuse interrupted. 'My crew will wait until I return. If, however, I don't, their instructions are to leave Earth and take our fleet out of your Solar System.'

`Good,' I laughed. 'You're right to be suspicious.'

Betelgeuse handed me some capsules. 'Take one if you feel the balance in your ears is upset. They will bring it back to the normal state.'

The three of them moved off, to a helicopter that had just arrived. I waved a feeble goodbye and staggered towards the terminal. A couple of soldiers were on their way towards me, arriving just in time before I collapsed again. They carried me like a sack of potatoes and placed me with care in another helicopter.

`Thanks,' I said.

`Our pleasure,' smiled one of the young soldiers as he got in and took over the controls.

We rose high over the space craft and set off in the direction of Cambridge.

`What's the time?' I asked.

`19.05, sir.'

I reset my watch. It didn't seem to want to go, so I took it off and shook it vigorously. Nothing happened.

`Should think your batteries are dead,' came the observation. 'I've got a spare if you would like one.'

Opening the watch revealed nothing. I took out the miniature heat battery and shorted it across my tongue. `I think you're right,' I said. I had felt no tingling. Changing the battery, I cleaned a speck of fluff from the transistor, and then closed the watch up and put it back on my wrist.

`Here we are, sir,' said the soldier. Looking out of the cockpit I could see King's College Chapel below.

`Can you put me down over there by the old tennis courts.'

The helicopter settled gently on St John's grass tennis courts. If the head gardener had seen this he'd probably have shot me with his evil smelling insecticide.

The soldier didn't leave straightaway, just in case I crumpled up again. My mind was almost blank. The thought of a good wholesome steak filled the blankness as I walked unsteadily into the college buildings.

`Good evening, Dr Warboys,' said the voice of the head porter as I tried to slip unnoticed to my rooms.

`Good evening,' I replied, longing to hurry on.

`A Colonel Ganges telephoned,' he said, falling into step beside me. 'And gave me instructions to see that you were well fed.'

I thanked him.

Once inside my room, I locked the door, flicked the TV on and went into the kitchenette to find the material of a substantial meal set on a tray. I opened the oven; it smelt delicious. A bottle of the College's best claret was already airing. Pleasurable anticipation swept most of my fatigue away.

Within five minutes I was sitting in front of the TV.

`Good evening,' said the announcer. 'All twenty-eight channels will now be showing a special political broadcast.' The Prime Minister's face appeared on the screen.

No choice, I thought; he's got all the channels. I tucked into my supper with relish as I watched with a jaundiced eye.

`Good evening,' said the Prime Minister. 'As all of you are fully aware what has been happening during the last week, I do not think you will wish me to mince matters. The Solar System has been invaded by a powerful alien fleet of -- ah hem -- space ships. Who, or what these aliens may have been is unknown to us. Why the attack was prosecuted so fiercely, so relentlessly, is unknown to us. From whence the aliens came we do not know.'

How can he say things like that, I thought as he went on:

`For two days' duration, a fierce battle has raged in the vast spaces surrounding our Earth. The outcome has been a complete victory for the brilliantly controlled forces of the World Space Fleet. The unprovoked, unsought attack is over. Our bitter, hostile, implacable enemy, has retreated beyond the confines of the Solar System, his fleet shattered and broken.'

`You wait until the papers print the real story in the morning,' I said to the TV, but the Prime Minister just went on.

`My purpose tonight is to inform you of a further most remarkable circumstance -- that near the end of the battle our World Fleet was joined by a second fleet, from outside our Solar System. This second fleet appears to be just as friendlily disposed to us, as the first was hostile. You will therefore realize that no cause for alarm exists when I say that – a -- ha, hem -- a ship of this second fleet has landed on Earth. Why it has entered the regions of the Solar System and from whence it came will shortly be known.

`I wish to conclude this announcement with an appeal. These are exciting times -- the wind of change blows unceasingly. But I need hardly say that a vast gulf exists -- between a justifiable pride and excitement in the achievements of our species -- and the hysteria of unbridled curiosity. I therefore trust, and the government behind me trusts, that during the next few days no unseemly demonstrations will take place here in Britain -- whatsoever may happen in the -- ah, hem -- rest of the world.'

I listened to the speech with amazement and amusement. The information given was such a distortion of the truth; but then politicians had their own ways of leading the people along. It might not appeal to me, but it seemed to work.

The Prime Minister's smiling face vanished from the screen and back came the newscaster.

`After that important statement from the Prime Minister, we are now being joined by a world wide span of stations, including CBS and UBC of the United States of America, VDKA of Asia and the fraternal network of Africa. Our Master of Ceremonies for tonight is the distinguished American commentator, Dave Swan Vespa,' said the newscaster enthusiastically. The voices faded as I drifted into deep sleep.

The buzz of the door bell woke me. I peered blearily through a small magic eye which allowed me to see who was standing there. It was Sir John Fielding.

`Come in, Sir John,' I said, opening the door.

`Hello, Dick. How are the space legs?'

`Rather badly fitted to my misused body, but never mind. Sit down,' I said, moving my supper tray into the kitchen and switching off the television set. 'Can I get you a drink?'

`Thank you. I'll have a whisky and soda if you've got it.'

`What time is it?' I asked, as I made two drinks.

`About midnight. Thank you,' Sir John said, taking the drink I handed him.

No wonder I'm stiff, sleeping in a chair for so long,' I said. 'Well, you look very thoughtful.'

`I am, Dick. I've been up in London listening to Colonel Rhodes and this fellow Betelgeuse.'

`Do you believe that Betelgeuse is for us, not against us?' I asked.

`We all have to, whether we like it or not. We have no way of proving him wrong, and he hasn't done anything that could be classed as a hostility.'

`What about this invasion business?'

`Again, very difficult to say. He holds all the interesting answers. What I'd like to know at this moment is what are the odds of humanoid creatures living in Ursa Major?'