Space 1999 #3 - The Space Guardians (13 page)

Koenig looked down. He unclipped the organitron from his belt and put it to the root.

The gauge hadn’t altered. The root was quite dead. What life had Piri once held? Why were all the Aphans so sure the planet was beautiful, when the reality was this? Koenig looked at the top of the black tower just as a jagged wave of light sprang from its summit.

Koenig’s hands went to his eyes. The black tower shimmered and seemed as if it might split. Yet there was no physical discomfort. The shock-wave of light enveloped him and then passed, but it left him comforted. Koenig again felt the sense of impending delight that had begun to spread throughout his body when he trod on the dead root. He looked towards the tower once more.

It was pulsing with shards of light. Piri was alive. Koenig was not surprised to see a girl advancing towards him. She was radiant, a young girl with the delicate skin and slender roundness of later adolescence.

‘Welcome to Piri,’ she said.

Koenig was stunned, not by her freshness and beauty nor by the suddenness of her appearance: it was the tremendous feeling of well-being that left him dazed.

She walked towards him, loose robe open so that he saw the rosebud nipples. She kissed him on the lips. It was a rebirth. All the bitterness of loss and regret ebbed away. All doubts vanished.

‘Piri the beautiful,’ he said. ‘Piri the end of our voyaging.’

He looked about him and saw that the planet was reborn too. He was standing, not on gritsand, but amongst meadow flowers. The green of the land was painfully beautiful.

‘This is where you settle, John,’ she assured him. ‘It is the wish of the Guardian that you are released from your suffering.’ She indicated the shining tower.

‘It depends on your viewpoint, I suppose,’ Koenig heard himself saying. ‘Bergman was right. So was Paul Morrow. And how David Kano must have laughed when I didn’t believe him!’

‘But now you see Piri as it is,’ agreed the girl. ‘Now you know the purpose of our planet. The Guardian has spread his light over you.’

Koenig looked about him. The planet was a garden. Everywhere he looked, there were bright flowers, trees dripping with fruit, small streams sparkling under bright sunlight. Koenig shook his head, still suffering from the shock of revelation that had come with the flow of light from the tower.

‘I can’t believe it!’ he said. ‘It’s an idyllic world.’

‘It was meant to be,’ said the girl. ‘Millennia ago this planet was designed by men and women with imagination and the technical skills to realize their dreams. They built machines to regulate all life on Piri. And then there was no further need for decision, for the machines in their turn created the Guardian. Life was perfect. Even time stopped.
See!’

She led him by the hand to a small hill. Beyond was the great tower. And there was Eagle Six, just as Carter had described it: poised in its last flight.

Koenig shook his head. A shred of disbelief remained. ‘The Eagles can’t hold that configuration!’

Nose down, the slender, elegant ship held position a few metres above the ground. Koenig looked away and saw Carter’s Eagle, at rest in a grove of citrus trees.

‘It’s true,’ said the Pirian girl. ‘For you, the Guardian has suspended time. In a perfect world, time must hold still, for time brings change and change is imperfection. See, your crewmen have made their choice.’

She pointed to a flower garden.

‘My men!’ Koenig shouted, running. ‘Carter! Barker!—’

The Pirian girl ran with him, easily, leisurely, her robe flowing with the disturbance of air. She laughed, and the garden seemed further away. None of the men appeared to notice Koenig. He stopped. It took him some time to regain his breath.

‘What have you done to my men?’

‘Not me, John!—the Guardian. The Guardian has allowed them to enter a new form of life.’

Koenig grasped at the almost-forgotten reason for his lack of trust in the bewitching girl.

‘But when Kano and I landed, I saw only gritsand and dead hills. The tower was black and ruined. And I found this!’ Koenig said, holding out the grey root.

‘The Guardian has ordained that Piri should live again for you,’ the girl said. ‘John, I was sent to check your doubts. Believe me, this is your home. It is the place of peace at last.’

Koenig shook his head: ‘I want my men.’

‘They are at peace, John.’

‘The peace of death!’ Koenig roared. He knew that the Zennites had given him the ability to see into the nature of reality in a way that was not shared by the Alphans. He could resist the spell of Piri.

‘I’m taking my men back!’

‘No,’ said the girl. ‘The Guardian will make you perfect too!’

She put a hand to his arm. It was a grip of steel. Her wide-set eyes stared into his and he shivered, for there was no spark of humanity, no exchange of emotion. Koenig pulled away. His arm was numb from the effort. And then he ran back towards Kano and the Eagle.

Kano ran to meet him.

‘Kano, get back to the ship!’ Koenig panted. ‘Lift off immediately!’

Kano was aghast. ‘But, John, the Guardian has given us the prime directive! We are to stay on—’

Koenig’s mind reeled. Kano knew that the Guardian existed! He pushed past him, making for the open port.

‘John, come back!’

He too gripped Koenig, but he had not the numbing power of the Pirian girl. Koenig easily twisted free. Kano leapt at him, his face full of a terrifying pity.

‘John, we have to keep you—’

There was an attempt at a cunning hold, but Koenig had heard enough. He bunched his fist and crashed it into Kano’s face. The man spun away, still pleading, but he was far from finished. He leapt like a cat, his face streaming blood. A boot lashed into Koenig’s side. Ribs cracked. Then Kano’s hand chopped like an axe. If it had landed as Kano intended, Koenig’s arm would have broken. But Koenig had reached the port. He kicked back and felt his boot land in Kano’s unprotected belly.

Kano fell back then. He was still trying to plead with him, Koenig realized. There was a look of trust, affection and despair in his dark eyes. He wanted to save his Commander from the suffering of Moonbase Alpha.

Koenig punched commands, and the Eagle rose fast into the strange dark sky. He looked down once and thought he saw cold dark hills stretching into the far distance. The pain from his side made him retch.

‘Commander to Moonbase,’ he said as a great tide of blackness rushed towards him. ‘Take over guidance of the Eagle. I am incapacitated and . . .’

He didn’t hear the answer from Bergman: ‘John? This is Victor. How come you got hurt down on Piri? The Guardian surely wouldn’t allow trouble? Get back soon, John—we’ll save you a glass of champagne!’

Koenig staggered into Main Mission Control when the party was in full swing.

‘John!’ boomed Paul Morrow. ‘You made it!’

Koenig’s senses reeled. No one seemed to have noticed his condition. Blood still streamed from his face. He clutched his side in agony, yet none of the Alphans seemed in the least concerned that he was hurt and exhausted.

Morrow came across: ‘Here’s to our very own Christopher Columbus—the founder of our New World!’

Koenig knew Morrow would slap him on the back. He couldn’t halt the affectionate blow, nor move fast enough to avoid it.

‘John Koenig!’ roared the Alphans in approval, their faces alight with the kind of awed wonder Koenig had seen on the faces of Carter and the other Eagle pilots.

Morrow’s hand came down, and Koenig pitched into agonized blackness.

A reedy electronics voice awoke Koenig.

‘Section G Seven will complete loading on schedule at 0958 Lunar Time.’

Koenig, knew he was hurt. He felt his side. His broken ribs had been strapped. Helena Russell had been at the party. Had she doctored him?

The party!
It had been a celebration in his honour. The Alphans had acclaimed him as their personal deliverer. Koenig threw back the covers. A medical orderly hurried across.

‘Commander, you should be moved by trolley.’

‘Moved? Moved where?’

‘Why, sir, to the scheduled Eagle.’ The orderly was used to the after-effects of shock. ‘Commander, you won’t be left behind. Don’t worry, sir. Dr Russell has personally arranged your transportation.’

Koenig got his feet to the floor.

‘Stay in bed, sir!’

‘Tell me why I’m being moved to the Eagle!’

‘Why, to ferry down to Piri, Commander,’ the man said. It was clear that Commander Koenig’s accident had left him with a degree of amnesia. Koenig glared back.

‘No one goes to Piri!’

‘Eagle Two-Six will lift off from Launch Pad One, taking up parking position on planetary surface as co-ordinates scheduled by the Guardian,’ reported the reedy electronic voice. ‘All Alphans in Section D-three prepare for evacuation in twenty minutes.’

‘Soon be our turn, Commander,’ said the orderly soothingly, yet with an excited, anticipatory glitter in his eyes. ‘Why don’t you relax?’

Koenig recognized the man’s excitement now. The orderly—like the rest of the Alphans—was in the grip of Piri’s hypnotic powers.

‘John!’ called Helena Russell. ‘You’re too ill to be on your feet—get back into bed!’

Koenig motioned the orderly, to leave them.

‘Helena, you too?’ he said, realizing that it was so.

‘If you don’t lie down, John Koenig, I’ll give you a knock-out jab,’ she warned. She smiled delightedly. ‘Though I don’t know . . . When we’re down on Piri, you’ll soon get fit. Just don’t exert yourself too much.’

Koenig took her slim hand. She looked down and smiled again, this time as if acknowledging a possibility.

‘John! Can’t it wait till we get to Piri?’

‘Helena, do I look as though I’m crazy?’ asked Koenig steadily.

‘No, John!’ she said, still kittenish. ‘I wondered if we’d ever—’

‘I’m not talking about you and me! I mean, do you think I am in a fit mental state to tell you about the real Piri—what it
is?’

‘Of course, John—but we’ve had your reports already. And very explicit they were.’

‘You’ve had reports from me?’

She smiled indulgently at him.

‘Yes!’

‘And I said that Piri is gritsand and dead ruins?’

‘Now you are talking crazy, John! Why, your report confirmed everything David Kano said about the planet.
And
what Carter and the other Eagle crew reported in.’

‘They’ve sent in reports?’

‘Of course! Everything’s been checked by computer, John. And computer’s not only recommended evacuation of Moonbase Alpha, its organized a schedule for evacuation: Operation Exodus.’

It wasn’t just the crewmen who were deceived by Piri’s strange glamour. Highly trained, intelligent men and women believed in the Guardian’s evil benevolence. Koenig felt cold. But he smiled back, as if he had been reassured.

‘Then that’s settled,’ he said. ‘I’ll check with Victor about securing Moonbase Alpha. I’d like to see computer’s programme for preservation.’

‘But we’ll never need Moonbase Alpha again!’

Koenig got to his feet. ‘It’ll make an interesting museum-piece for future generations. Let me have my way, Helena?’

She smiled and shook her head. Cautious to the last, that was John Koenig. Why couldn’t he let the Guardian worry about the future?

Main Mission Control was quiet, except for the occasional announcements of Eagle departures. The evacuation was progressing in an orderly fashion. Professor Bergman and Paul Morrow glanced up from the computer console as Koenig walked unsteadily across the dull black floor.

‘John! You should be in bed!’ said Bergman. Morrow joined in the concern for his welfare.

‘Thanks, I’m feeling better. Look, Victor, may I see the computer read-outs of my reports?’

‘But why?’ said Morrow. ‘You’ll be going down to Piri for good soon. John, don’t
worry
so much!’

‘Let the Guardian do the worrying now,’ said Bergman. ‘Relax! Take life easier—it’s the prime directive from now on.’

That phrase again:
the prime directive.
Koenig remembered Kano using it. A directive was an instruction. It was the Guardian’s command: relax, sleep, stop time,
die!
Yet how could he get Bergman to believe it?

He tried reason.

‘Victor,’ he said. ‘Just look at these read-outs.’

‘Well, John?’

Morrow busied himself monitoring the plans for the evacuation of the nuclear generating areas, the heart of Moonbase.

‘Victor, I reported that Piri was a dead .planet. The organitron showed no sign of life. There has been no living thing on Piri for millennia.’ Bergman stared back fixedly. He didn’t seem to have heard. Koenig went on, faster: ‘My orders were that we should not rely on computer. I believe it has been taken over by the Pirian machines that produced the Guardian. Victor, computer has been feeding us bogus information.’

Bergman nodded. ‘Sure, John. You’re right to stay sceptical. It wouldn’t be right to have a Garden of Eden without a doubter. But the Guardian will set your mind at rest. It’s the most civilized entity I could imagine.’

‘Civilized?’ Koenig shouted. ‘There’s a kind of civilization down there, but it’s one that reduces us to mindless apathy! Can’t you understand that there’s no such thing as perfection for us, Victor? Once we think that, we’re finished! Men aren’t docile! They’re not tractable! Victor, we’re born to struggle, and once we lose the will to fight, we all die!’

‘Ah, John,’ said Helena behind him. He had not heard her enter Main Mission Control. ‘You’re still getting memory-blank-offs from the crash at the crater. I think you should go into hypno-sleep until Operation Exodus is concluded. Just hold still, John.’

‘No!’ Koenig roared.

Morrow was moving towards him purposefully. And Morrow had the build of an ox. Koenig blindly staggered away. Under the anaesthetizing strappings, his ribs creaked painfully.

‘No, leave him, Paul!’ Bergman told Morrow. ‘And you, Helena, let him have his way. He’ll come to his senses soon. John,’ he said to Koenig, and he might have been a kindly father allowing a child to rebel and thus find his true strengths. ‘John, no one thinks you’re crazy.’