Space 1999 #5 - Lunar Attack (10 page)

Koenig snapped, ‘Get back.’

Helena and Mathias joined him outside the square where he stood with Bergman.

Victor Bergman shoved down a stud and a slight crackle, like static was heard. He pointed to his square. ‘The area between those four beacons is lethal. Whatever happens stay outside.’

He switched off and the crackle died away. In the centre of the square, Mateo was responding to the powerful stimulant. The glazed look had gone from his eyes. He had become aware of his surroundings. Looking down he saw the restraining straps and his voice was clear and harsh, ‘What is this?’

It was a good question but nobody answered. He looked at them, Koenig and then Helena, ‘Let me go, Commander—Doctor—do you hear?’

Helena’s face was all compassion and she looked appealingly at Koenig, but his face was set and stony.

When he responded it was only to ask a technical question, ‘Will those straps hold?’

‘Yes, but . . .’

‘We have no other choice.’

Mateo was straining against his bonds, shouting now, ‘Do you hear—let me go!’

He screamed with frustration, writhing and twisting to break free, glaring like a madman at the watching Alphans. ‘You will pay for this, all of you!’

Rightly, he picked on Koenig as the prime mover against him and glared redly at him, ‘Let me out!’

A slight wind ruffled Helena’s hair and her hand went out to find Koenig. He touched her hand and leapt away, circling to the far side. A slight shimmer like a heat haze had grown round Mateo.

Bergman said tensely, ‘It’s working.’

A shadow grew beside Mateo. His spirit
doppelgänger
had come to serve his need.

Mateo, twisting to keep Koenig in vision, ground out. ‘I’ll kill you, Koenig.’

It was an order, a directive to his familiar and the grotesque figure picked it up, lurching forwards towards Koenig. As it reached the notional perimeter of the square, Bergman hit a switch and energy crackled between the beacons.

It tried to break through but the field was too strong. It recoiled and then hurled itself forward again. This time it was longer in the field before it was beaten back.

Mateo was staring at his struggling
alter ego,
face terrified, madness growing. His continuing scream seemed to urge the monster on and at the third rush it was almost through, holding on in a welter of crackling energy which ought to have destroyed it.

Bergman called out, ‘John! It’s not holding.’

Insane strength came to Mateo. The straps were fraying, started to burst. The spirit form rushed the force field boundary again, stood its ground, seemed to be gaining strength as it absorbed energy.

The four Alphans were backing away. Eyes on the figure, they did not see Mateo make a final heave and break free from his bonds.

In three frenzied strides, Mateo was in the field, grabbing for his zombie’s throat and bathed as it was itself in a blinding sheet of crackling energy.

Buffeted by the electric storm the two figures, locked together, wheeled and swayed. The watchers, held rigid, saw Mateo’s contorted face begin to take on the same form as the thing he fought. Then the two were coalescing, merging, becoming one and in a last blinding spasm of light, before the field collapsed and the room went still, there seemed only to be one madly gyrating figure in the dance of death.

As the moment of shock passed they saw clearly that only Mateo was lying there crumpled face down on the floor.

Helena knelt beside him, turned him over. No computer print out was needed. Mateo was dead. One side of his face was burned and scarred to the bone. He had carried into death an exact replica of the spirit creature that his own death had exorcised.

Head on his hands, John Koenig sat in the Command Office fighting a depression that refused to leave him.

Helena Russell came in quietly and was close before he looked up. She could read the pain in his eyes and sat down facing him across the desk.

‘You mustn’t blame yourself, John.’

‘Any death on this base is personal to me. But Mateo . . . I feel his just that little bit more.’

‘The spirit we saw was burned in precisely the same way as Mateo. It was inevitable he should die in that way—preordained. He was beyond our kind of help.’

Koenig stood up, rounded the desk. ‘I just can’t get it out of my mind. Life after death, okay, maybe it exists, maybe not. But Mateo—haunted by his own ghost . . . before he even dies . . . What sense can we make of that?’

‘Life and death, John. On earth, or even out here in space . . . they’re still the big mysteries . . .
the
greatest mystery.’

He looked at her. There was, after all, another side to the coin. Death was a mystery they would all have to face. But separately. It was the ultimate in privacy. But not yet. Just now, there were considerable collaterals to living. Like the way her hair touched the smooth line of her cheek and the candid open look of her eyes.

Rightly considered, he was as lucky as any man had any right to be. He leaned over the back of her chair and touched the side of her neck with his mouth.

It was a tribute to medical skill too. Another cure for the archives. Natural optimism took a surge.

If Koenig could have ranged out beyond the limit of Moonbase Alpha’s probing scanners, he might or might not have believed that optimism was a right and proper attitude for his computer too. The small solar system that was nudging into the outer limit of their scan, had many of the characteristics that Victor Bergman would rate as A-Okay.

If the probe could have gone deeper and run a surface take of the planet Betha, it would have found an architectural style that would have had Gropius stirring in his vault. Ordered, seemly, melding in form, colour and material with the bland, pleasing surface, it was advanced Earth style, but carried through on a big scale with no areas where a camera could not look.

In a control centre, topped by a sophisticated radio telescope, a young woman was looking up at the sky in the quarter where the hobo Moon would show.

The room she was in showed a nice balance of comfort and good taste. Décor was predominantly in soft, warm colours, wheat, oatmeal, brown, rust. Even the hardware was unobtrusive, with monitor screens set in low consoles and bowls of fresh flowers set on top.

Slim and elegant, in a deceptively simple looking dress, dark hair framing a regular, intelligent face, her name was Dione and she moved about her ivory tower with casual grace. Coming to rest in front of the radar screens, she sat elegantly on a low settee and gave them the benefit of a shrewd look from large kohl-rimmed eyes.

On one screen, a scanning beam was bringing up a bright blip with each sweep. The other screen was blank. She pressed switches recessed in the arm of the settee and the radar scan changed to a starmap with a small, shabby asteroid ploughing a lonely furrow.

The blank screen chimed softly like distant temple bells and a man’s face appeared. It wasted no time on courtly formalities and said its piece. ‘Dione, this rogue moon which approaches us will be in a perfect position for a pre-emptive strike in twenty-four hours’ time.’

‘Good. Thank you.’

Although it carried all the harmonics of a very feminine woman, there was no doubting the authority in her voice. The face dissolved, leaving the monitor once more blank and Dione selected another stud on the arm of her settee. The size of the approaching asteroid doubled and continued to grow until it filled the screen. The craters and plains of Earth’s wandering Moon were clear to see. It was no cosmic bonus, but to Dione it was obviously as welcome as a gold brick. Leaning forward to savour it, she said, ‘We have waited a long time for this.’

Moonbase Alpha’s scanners finally had the picture and a full count of senior personnel converged on Main Mission to check it out.

Sandra’s delicate fingers whipped around her console and the big screen had it clear. A distant sun glowed on the starmap like a jewel on a velvet pad.

Bergman, intense and concentrating called, ‘Magnification please, Sandra.’

Pressing switches, she said, ‘You have it. Times one thousand.’

The distant sun jumped closer and now two smaller features could be seen. Spaced either side on a diameter line, there were two attendant spheres.

Koenig said, ‘Two planets.’

Bergman, not committing himself, said, ‘Interesting.’

Swinging round from the computer spread, Kano filled in, ‘We’ll be in range for a survey in twenty-four hours.’

More cautious encouragement came from Sandra, ‘Still too far for visual analysis; but spectrographic survey looks good.’

Close to Koenig, Helena Russell said, Two planets. It would be great to have a choice.’

In her distant control tower, Dione was playing 3-D solitaire and looked up, with a piece poised for positioning, as the temple bell chime heralded another transmission. It was the same face, looking triumphant, ‘Latest data confirms. The asteroid will be in an ideal position in seven units universal time.’

‘Perfect. I want
Satazius
programmed for immediate launch.’

Coolly, she played the piece in her hand and then moved to a panoramic window spread. Below, the doors of a vast underground bunker were already rolling open. An immense space craft jacked itself up and out to the pad, dwarfing the support vehicles that assembled round it.

Unhurriedly, Dione walked to an elevator shaft without a backward look at the room. Fifteen minutes later
Satazius
was lifting its huge bulk into the clear sky of Betha.

On Moonbase Alpha, Sandra’s urgent call had Koenig moving to stand at her console, ‘Commander, I have a spaceship approaching Alpha.’

‘Put it on the screen.’

It was there, a tiny arrowing speck coming out of the sun.

‘Magnification.’

All eyes were on the big screen as Sandra brought it closer in a series of jumps.

Even at the distance, it looked huge and menacing. Koenig, a glutton for punishment, said sharply, ‘Closer.’

She gave it the full treatment and it filled the screen, looming over Main Mission like a vast angel of death.

Koenig hardly paused. ‘Red Alert! Alan, every Eagle to launch pads. Paul, activate defensive screens.’

Moonbase Alpha reacted like a disturbed hive. Iron tongued klaxons blared in the sections. Red lights flashed in every communications post. Personnel moved to stations at a run.

The gargantuan spacer was hurling itself at the battered Moon.

Koenig thought bitterly that against it their defences were just so many paper chains.

Moonbase Alpha slipped into high gear. Watching from the Command office, Koenig was satisfied that all hands were as ready as they would ever be. Non-essential personnel were moving underground into the prepared bunkers. Travel tubes raced to feed the Eagles with space-suited crews. The pylon screens on the perimeter of the site glowed crimson at full power.

He saw the Eagles trundle forward to their launch pads and left his office for Main Mission.

Paul Morrow met him at the foot of the steps. ‘I’ve tried all frequencies. Still no contact.’

Koenig nodded. The war machine that was hurling itself on Alpha had no need to announce its intentions. He turned to Carter, ‘Alan I want every serviceable Eagle airborne.’

‘The last flight’s moving to launch pads now, Commander. I’m on my way.’

As he passed, they exchanged looks. At the hatch, Carter turned round for another look at the big screen. The giant spacer was coming in like a falling cliff.

Koenig said, ‘Keep spread out. Synchronise and go in together. As soon as you have range, every Eagle fires simultaneously. Against that it’s the only hope.’

Both knew how slim a chance it was. Alan Carter said, ‘Yes, Commander,’ and was away.

The whole exercise was moving too fast for Victor Bergman and he voiced his disquiet, ‘Shoot first and ask questions after—this is not your style, John.’

‘We’ve been trying to ask questions. They don’t answer. Look at the size of it. It either contains an army or a fire power that could blast Alpha out of existence at one blow. You don’t need a ship that size to send a messenger or an ambassador of goodwill. No, Victor, its purpose has got to be aggressive.’

‘If it isn’t now, it soon will be if we start target practice on it.’

The same idea had crossed Koenig’s mind and had been discounted. For once he was impatient with his scientific adviser, ‘Are you prepared to wait and find out? I can’t risk it.’

Bergman looked at him and then at the screen. There was no easy answer.

Pilots were calling in completion of pre-flight checks and Paul Morrow was gathering the responses for onward transmission to Eagle Leader.

‘Eagle Five ready for lift off.’

‘Eagle Five hold.’

‘Eagle Two ready for lift off.’

‘Eagle Two hold.’

Carter himself came up on the net. ‘Eagle One hold,’ Morrow checked his list, ‘That’s your lot, Alan. All Eagles ready to go.’

‘Thanks, Paul,’—Carter shifted to the Eagle Command link and called all his pilots. ‘Eagle One to all Eagles. After lift off, centre on me above Beacon Four.’

Morrow gave the all clear, ‘Eagle One lift off.’

‘Copy.’

‘Eagle Two lift off.’

‘Copy.’

Watchers in Main Mission saw the flurries of moon dust as the motors delivered and then unexpectedly the turbulence subsided. Alan Carter, a puzzled man, was double checking his control gear. He called in to Morrow. ‘Eagle One to base. I have no lift off.’

Morrow said urgently, ‘Stand by. I’m taking you on remote.’

‘Copy.’

Morrow punched keys in sequence and Eagle One’s engines ignited. There was a short, savage blast and then the urge was gone and the Eagle settled back on her pad.

Carter’s voice was tight, ‘No go. All systems check. All dual systems check. All safety cut-outs functioning correctly.’

Morrow said, ‘Stand by, I’ll try again.’

Eagle Two called in, ‘Eagle Two to base. I have no liftoff.’

It was all bad news. Morrow said, ‘Base to Eagle Two. Wait in line. Stand by for controlled lift off.’ Koenig was behind Morrow’s chair wanting information, ‘What goes on, Paul?’