Space 1999 #3 - The Space Guardians (10 page)

‘Commander, can you get down here,’ a tired Kano asked during one long watch.

‘Gladly,’ said Koenig and meant it.

There was no ceremony, though every one of the technicians who had worked on the generator was there.

‘Your privilege, Commander,’ said David Kano, indicating the switch which would release the flow of power into the great complex of systems.

‘What took so long?’ he called. ‘A little job like this—now if it had been something serious . . .’

The rest of his words were lost in the laughter.

When they were quiet again Koenig said:

‘I never doubted you could do it. Thanks, my thanks to you all.’

Quietly, the technicians watched him press the switch. They drifted away when the generator began to pump its vital and massive energies into the heart of Moonbase Alpha.

David Kano stayed. He looked at Koenig closely.

‘You’ve had the scar fixed,’ he said.

Koenig nodded.

It was time he came to terms with the loss of Vana and the brilliant civilization of the Zennites.

‘One generator repaired, one scar healed. It took about the same length of time.’

Kano’s eyes were half closed.

‘Now get some sleep,’ Koenig ordered. ‘You and the rest of the Technical Sections. You deserve it.’

He remembered something when he was on his way back to Main Mission Control. He stopped off at Medical Centre.

‘Well, you’re looking fine!’ called Helena Russell. ‘You know, in a few days the skin-graft will be completely absorbed. Not a sign of rejection.’

‘I didn’t come about that. How’s Technician Eva Zoref?’

Helena crossed to him. ‘How long did it take you to get over what happened on Zenno?’

Koenig looked into the calm blue eyes. He was surprised to see a strong reaction there. She was seeing him as a man again, not a patient. He was about to tell Helena Russell that his experiences on Zenno were in no way similar to Eva Zoref’s loss of a man who had become possessed by an aberrant creature from the void, but he stopped.

There was a parallel—loss.

‘So she’ll never recover?’ he said.

‘Never is too long. She’s busy working and she’s apparently adjusted to the idea of her husband’s transmutation. But until she can say to herself that there’s a life for her, there will only be grief and guilt and longing.’

‘I’ll see she’s kept busy,’ Koenig said.

‘It worked in your case.’

They looked at one another for a while, and then Koenig was conscious of the interested gaze of a young female orderly. Obviously, she had never seen the Medical Director in quite such a light before.

‘Dr Russell, I’ll look in again.’

Helena Russell saw the change in his expression.

‘Any time, Commander.’

She watched him go, a tall, straight-backed man with an easy walk and a certain quiet confidence that soothed her and yet made her pulse quicken whenever she saw him. Given other circumstances, she thought. Given the time and the place, and the absence of pressures . . .

She too noticed the young orderly.

‘Now you,’ Helena told her, ‘can get down to Diagnostic
fast
!’

The girl hastened about her duties. She was still smiling, though.
Dr Russell and the Commander back together? Now, how would that sound to the rest of the girls?

Koenig told the Section chief to ply Eva Zoref with sheer hard work. It was all he could do for her now.

During the day cycles that followed, the Alphans caught up on their lost sleep. A week drifted by, and soon the routine maintenance of Moonbase was in hand again. A system of random checks had been instituted to guard against an over-reliance on instrumentation; the checks turned up very little, but the exercise was a useful one. It kept the Technical crews busy and it created an additional confidence amongst the rest of the Alphans.

Gradually, however, the sense of isolation began to oppress them. The deep sable of the gulf had a bleakly depressing effect on men and women who were used to the diamond tracery of stars.

There were no clouds of star-debris; no stray asteroids on their lonely journeys around the massive star-systems; no flaring of supernovae into awesome majesty: there was nothing to see but the funereal reaches of dead-black space.

Koenig noticed the edginess amongst the lower grades of Service personnel. The girl who brought the coffee had lost her cheerfulness. The woman who collected the laundry looked positively sullen. And Dr Russell reported three cases of drug-stealing. It was the sleep-inducing pills that went. She suspected one of the orderlies and had her transferred to other duties.

The thefts stopped, but the morning clinic became a lengthy affair. Staff complained of dizziness, headaches, sleeplessness.

‘Classic disorientation symptoms,’ Bergman told Koenig, when they looked at the sick-returns. ‘They can be induced in any black box experiment. What we’re getting now is a response to a feeling of total isolation.’ He pointed to the forward con. ‘When
I
look out there, I feel we’re heading for the end of Creation. If I let myself dream about it, I’d ask for happy-pills too.’

Helena Russell agreed.

‘We’re used to trouble. The Alphans are conditioned to violent action, to emergencies—they, we, can cope with trouble.’ She too looked at the oppressive dark. ‘If I thought there was a God, I’d say He’s lost us.’

Koenig touched the side of his head. The skin was unblemished, yet there was still a tingling of remembrance. Both Bergman and Helena were right. No one had time for traumas when Moonbase was under siege. Isolation and inaction were the subtler enemies. Koenig called the Section chiefs to discuss ways of counter-acting the loss of morale.

‘Tighten maintenance procedures,’ Koenig ordered. ‘Get a new programme of checks for the Eagles. And run pilot courses for anyone interested,’ he told Paul Morrow. ‘I want everyone
busy.’

‘I could offer medical training for a limited number,’ said Helena Russell.

‘Advanced computer analysis,’ Kano said.

Koenig nodded.

‘Anyone else?’

‘Simulated astro-readings,’ Bergman offered. ‘Useful if we ever see the stars again.’

Koenig smiled. There was no edge of bitterness in Bergman’s voice. He hadn’t cracked.

‘Flower arrangement?’ someone muttered.

Koenig looked up sharply. A fattish service engineer of considerable seniority was looking intently at the floor.

‘If it keeps someone off drugs, then yes, flower arrangement!’ Koenig called.

‘First find your flowers,’ someone else muttered, and this time there was a hint of despair. Koenig ignored it.

‘We’re beyond the islands in deep space,’ he said. ‘We’re out beyond the range of Earth’s furthest-ranging scanners, but that shouldn’t worry us. Keep it firmly before your Sections—there’s no way back for us! We go where the Moon’s flight-path takes us, and we live with it. Make sure that every last man and woman on Moonbase Alpha understands: until we’re across the gulf, there can be no more talk of a future anywhere except here, on this planet, on this base, right here! There’s nothing, but nothing, out there!’

Only ten hours later, Koenig wondered at the irony of it all.

Normally a heavy sleeper, he was in only a light and semi-conscious state when the news broke:

‘Commander to Main Mission Control!’ a voice was calling urgently. ‘Commander Koenig to Main Mission Control!’

Koenig rolled over and sprang to his feet.

‘Report!’ he called to the excited duty officer.

David Kano’s smiling features appeared:

‘You’ve got to come up here to see it, John! It’s showing better all the time!’

Koenig fastened his belt. Jumbled ideas slipped through his mind. What had turned David Kano into a grinning idiot? Why the insane reports? Was everyone at Main Mission on some sort of hypno-jag? Had they been feeding one another happy-pills?

He looked at the screen again. Bergman was gesticulating with all the elegance of an animated scarecrow:

‘John, we’re getting long-range scans, and the data shows it’s a planet-sized mass!’

Koenig’s heart jerked. Hope flooded through him. So, after all, the gulf was not empty!

He raced to Main Mission Control, to find it filling with jubilant Alphans.

‘Let’s have it!’ he called, pushing past a gaggle of Service engineers who had no right at all to invade the nerve-centre of the Moonbase complex.

‘It’s genuine, Commander,’ called Paul Morrow, his large red face split by a huge grin. ‘I don’t know how or why an isolated planet and a small star should have got out there, but they are—just coming into visual range now!’

Koenig could have sung. Not much smaller than Earth. A hot-enough sun. And simulated visual patterns showing a gaseous envelope.

‘It’s the jackpot!’ Kano shouted. ‘We’ve hit it—we’ve got lucky, right out here in the gulf!’

Koenig held back for a while, but the emotions of the Alphans caught him up.

‘We’ll have a closer look at it,’ he said. ‘I’ll clear an exploratory mission. Paul, detail two men and a survey Eagle.’

‘Right away, Commander!’

‘And clear Main Mission! This is a working-space, not a viewing gallery!’

A security section-leader recollected his duties and began easing the excited Alphans out of Main Mission Control. Technicians calmed and settled to their consoles. Within a couple of minutes, the big desk was a scene of quiet concentration. Yet, in the low-humming quietness, a whisper came to Koenig’s ear:

‘How about that fiower-arrangement!’

Again, Koenig employed a commander’s privilege to adjust his hearing-levels. And he could marvel at the turn-around of events. Isolation had been about to induce a general despair; this new sighting had come at exactly the right moment.

He checked with Bergman and Kano before making the confirmatory announcement of what everyone already knew. It was unnecessary, but there had to be a due form to acknowledge the change in events.

‘This is Commander John Koenig,’ he announced. ‘Our scanners have ranged on a planet a little above Earth’s dimensions, and with an attendant sun that is enough to give it the possibility of an Earth-type atmosphere and climatic conditions.’ He waited and his tone changed. ‘I don’t think that’s news to any Alphan. I can tell you now that computer has advised the sending of an exploratory mission, and I have ordered a survey Eagle to stand by. But I ask that there be no undue optimism! We’ve been fooled before. If this is the real thing, then we all have a cause for rejoicing. For the moment, let’s wait.’ Koenig allowed himself a smile. ‘All Alphans not engaged on essential duties have permission to view events as they occur.’

‘Now that, John, was a good move,’ Professor Bergman said, immediately after Koenig’s announcement. ‘It’s going to make everybody feel involved. The raw edges were beginning to show.’

Koenig’s hand went instinctively to the site of the scar. It was quite smooth. He felt himself whole again. His own raw edges had healed.

‘Well, David,’ he asked Kano, ‘what are the chances?’

Kano frowned.

‘Nothing beyond the initial recommendation to send out a survey Eagle. Computer won’t say that the planet is viable for humans. See.’ He indicated the latest read-outs. ‘Everything from a projected breathable atmosphere with temperate climates to a planet of ashes and dust.’

‘That’s computers,’ Bergman put in. ‘They take account of probabilities, come up with extreme variations of interpretations, and then sit on the fence when you ask for a definite answer.’

‘They just don’t care!’ Paul Morrow said. ‘The only way is to send out the survey party.’

‘Your recommendations for pilots?’ asked Koenig.

‘Myself as first pilot and—’

‘Not you, Paul,’ said Koenig quietly.

Morrow’s face expressed dismay. He didn’t argue, though.

‘Barker as first, Irving as co-pilot, Commander.’

‘Barker’s steady enough, but Irving?’

‘Noisy, but good in an emergency. He’s got the quickest reactions in the whole of Reconnaissance. And Barker will keep him quiet.’

Irving was an extrovert, something of a joker. It was an important mission, perhaps the most important Eagle survey ever. Koenig hesitated for a moment.

‘Have them sent up here, Paul.’

The men were eager to carry out their mission. Irving’s dark eyes gleamed with excitement. Barker’s large, solid shape was taut with tension.

‘You understand, I want no heroics,’ Koenig said. ‘Your instructions will come through computer. Get the atmosphere and surface samples just as computer directs. No private forays, no souvenir-hunting. You’ll stick to the flight-path the computer gives you. Controller Carter tells me you’re the best team for the job. Prove it.’

‘We will, sir,’ said Barker.

‘Commander, count the goods as already delivered!’ Irving grinned.

‘Good luck,’ Koenig said, shaking both men by the hand. Irving’s grin was infectious. Everyone on the desk was caught up in the little man’s enthusiasm.

‘Launch Pad Six,’ a technician called. ‘Eagle Six ready for launch, Commander.’

The two men hurried away, the shorter man leading.

‘I wanted to see them,’ Koenig told Paul Morrow. ‘Now I have, I’m satisfied. They’ll do.’

There was silence in Main Mission Control as the graceful shape of the survey Eagle filled the big screen. Two space-suited figures clambered up the ramp. The difference in size between them was emphasized by the bulky orange Reconnaissance suits. Koenig could see that Irving was still grinning.

‘Ready for launching, Commander,’ reported the flight director.

‘Launch,’ ordered Koenig.

The Eagle rode on twin gouts of white fire for a few seconds, then it climbed like a huge dragonfly into the blackness.

Orbital scanners recorded its flight beyond the Moon’s horizon. There were only a few whispered comments, until the scanners showed the tiny skeletal shape lifting clear of the Moon and making for the dark planet.

‘Eagle Six on flight-path,’ reported an electronic voice. ‘No malfunctions.’

‘A perfect launch,’ said David Kano. ‘The new maintenance schedules paid off.’