Space 1999 - The Time Fighters

by Michael Butterworth

  CHAPTER SIX

  The sparkling tepid waters of the swimming pool washed sensuously against her skin. The water toned and enlivened her. Its gentle, liquid pressures banished the weariness other duties had caused. It brought memories of the cool blue lagoons, the tinkling mountain streams and the gushing waterfalls of Earth. In fact the water in the small health complex was probably clearer and purer than any that would have been found on her home planet. Ironically, although still splendidly beautiful, Earth was also severely polluted.

  She swam languidly across the pool towards the steps and climbed out. She shook the water from her ears, tossing her short blonde hair from side to side. Then she strolled along the path through the garden towards the changing rooms.

  As well as a swimming pool, the Moon Base Health Complex comprised a sauna and solarium, a squash court, and a gymnasium. Apart from the Hydroponics Section where Alpha’s vegetable food was grown, it was the only Earth-like part of the Moon Base. During off-duty periods it provided a welcome contrast to the clinical squareness and lines from which the remainder of the Base seemed to be fashioned.

  The recent ordeal with Koenig and Maya over, Helena was feeling particularly good, and was taking every advantage of the relative peace in order to make up for the hours of tension and sleeplessness which she had endured. She waved happily to other members of the Moon Base who were sunning themselves on the grass beneath the artificial sunlight. They too were as happy as it was possible for unwilling prisoners to be.

  She passed through the steaming sauna – not her preference – and into the empty changing room. Most people were clever, she thought, eyeing the piles of discarded clothing. They avoided employing themselves in responsible jobs and relaxed while they could. But she, alas, had had ambitions, and forever paid the cost. A doctor’s work was never done, especially a head doctor’s.

  She wrung and dried her hair with a large beach towel. She dried her ears and face and took off her red and gold bikini. Lazily, she towelled the rest of her body down, savouring the free moments. Finally, she got dressed, donning the awful regulation-grey jumper and pale blue jammer tunic that she had to wear on top of it. She brushed her hair and tidied herself up as much as she could with the inadequate facilities. The moment of magic over, she stepped out of the rooms into the corridor, back into grey routine, back into responsibility.

  Koenig was away again, as he always seemed to be these days, heading an expedition to locate suitable planets for colonization. After they had emerged from the Space Warp they discovered how close they had been brought to several medium-white suns of an Earth-type. It had been impossible to resist looking closer. The desire to find colonizable planets was as strong as ever among the Moon Men – even though they had managed to adapt much better to their claustrophobic prison.

  But she didn’t object to Koenig being away. She worried about him, naturally – but worry was something one had to accept if one found oneself in love with a Space Commander. After he had successfully managed to find his way back through the Warp and after things had quietened down, they had made a point of spending a few complete days together – he and she, and Maya and Verdeschi, another couple who needed a well-deserved break after the long period of separation. While they shirked their duties, Carter had volunteered to continue in his post as Acting Commander.

  Now the holiday was over. She stepped smartly towards her quarters, her mind automatically re-adjusting again to her job. She found herself pondering over one of her persistent concerns – the question of human adaptability. As she had been thinking not long ago, the Alphans had more or less adapted to their new lives away from Earth. But now she found herself questioning that assumption. She had evidence of late that distinctly showed that if most people had adapted, a few hadn’t.

  She found herself thinking in particular of a small group of people who had recently been behaving extremely rebelliously – and they all seemed to revqlve around one man. He was a big, fat, ginger-haired, one-time welder called Sandor. ‘One-time’ because he was now ‘unemployed’. He had gone on strike, refusing work. And to strike in a colony the size of the Moon Base, in a colony drastically vulnerable to slight irregularity in the work routines, just wasn’t on.

  She had reached her room when the monitor bleeped. Maya announced herself.

  ‘Ready yet?’ the Psychon asked her, smiling.

  Helena nodded. ‘I just can’t manage to give it up... luxury, I mean!’

  ‘Who can?’ Maya sniggered. She grew more serious. ‘Talking of work, it looks like there’s more of it on the way.’

  Helena raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh? In what form, may I inquire?’

  ‘In the form of an amazingly advanced, amazingly large visitor from the North Quadrant.’

  ‘Is he handsome?’

  ‘He is not.’

  ‘You mean a space ship? Another space ship?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘What next!’ Helena’s amusement replaced itself with a look of mock resignation. ‘You sure it’s not John returning down a black hole?’

  They exploded into laughter again.

  ‘Okay, then I’d better be along, I suppose,’ she admitted. ‘Just give me a moment to plaster on some of my stuff.’

  Maya broke off. Her face with its charming smile disappeared, and Helena hurriedly applied her make-up. She gave herself a last once-over in the dressing-table mirror, and rushed out.

  The alien craft hung among the stars depicted on the Big Screen.

  It seemed more sinister than its predecessor – partly because it was intact, and obviously manned; partly because of its sheer size and strange design. Its design looked advanced – fantastically advanced, compared with the Alphan Eagle Ships.

  Yet Maya was less worried about it than Carter and Verdeschi, for she had seen ships like it on Psychon – of an identical technological level. To her it seemed more logical to suppose that its highly-evolved crew were benignly rather than malignantly disposed. She tried to convince her Alphan friends of this fact, but without much success. They were doggedly sticking to their procedure, and that procedure was to assume nothing, to check everything.

  She sighed good-naturedly as she watched the craft drawing closer. She had a lot to be grateful for. Despite their intellectual inferiority her friends certainly had a more highly-evolved ethical code of behaviour. They were humane and they stuck by their friends. Theirs was a species that would prosper in almost any situation; it had great ability to adapt and succeed, and this more than made up for its weaknesses.

  And when they had nervous breakdowns they didn’t put a whole civilization in jeopardy as she had done, she smiled to herself.

  After the worst of her illness was over, and she lay nearly dying in the Medical Centre bed, Helena and Vincent had nursed her back to normality again. They were helped by a little molecular auto-surgery of her own, although she wasn’t going to tell Helena about that.

  It was the second breakdown she’d had in her life. Breakdowns were fairly common occurrences in her species and were another penalty that she had to pay for being extra-bright. Both of her breakdowns had occurred for the same reasons – on Earth humans called it dreaming; on Psychon it was called a breakdown. Both human dreaming and Psychon breakdowns served exactly the same purpose. They re-ordered, re-programmed the mind. The difficulty was that whereas on Psychon her behaviour would have been expected and adequately contained, on the Moon there were no provisions for it.

  She hoped that now everyone knew about her proneness to breakdowns, that when the next one happened they would be able to control her better. She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about them before now because she had felt slightly frightened to.

  She turned her attention back to the screen. She studied the print-outs on her console, then glanced at Verdeschi. ‘Tony, it’s in a position to go into a high orbit around us.’

  The ship was almost saucer-shaped, with a collar of glowing portholes around it. The circular shape was broken
by its nose, which swept sleekly forward towards them. At the end of the nose was a glowing red globe in which they assumed lay the control section. Its speed was excessive, many times faster than that of the Eagles, and she was obviously a star-going vessel.

  ‘Magnify!’ Verdeschi ordered. While Koenig was away he had now become the Acting Commander.

  Yasko, their oriental Computer Operator, made the necessary adjustments and the image on the screen grew even larger. Now it almost filled the Command Centre with its presence. The lights pouring off seemed to shine into the very room.

  Carter whistled. ‘Our Eagles are Model T’s compared to that.’

  ‘It’s changed course.’ Yasko frowned, studying her readings. ‘Heading?’

  ‘Directly towards us.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ Helena said from behind them as she came into the room. They looked round at her. ‘It’s too... I don’t know, arrived too quickly after the other...’

  Verdeschi nodded. He looked grim. ‘I know,’ he agreed. He was about to add something else, but pressed a communicator button instead. The console screen in front of him lit up and an engineer from the Weapons Section appeared on it.

  ‘Prepare lasers,’ he told the engineer. ‘Target – approaching ship!’

  Maya heard him and looked alarmed. ‘But I’m quite sure...’ she began. He cut her off.

  ‘We can’t take chances,’ he told her. ‘There’ll be no harm done, unless they try anything first.’

  Maya shrugged. She had strong feelings about this one that it was going to be all right. Something about the ship’s design niggled her. She felt that she knew it from somewhere, but her memory was unclear.

  Their attention was suddenly arrested by the image of the star ship vanishing from the screen. It vanished abruptly, replaced by white flashes and patches of intergalactic static.

  Verdeschi turned to Yasko in consternation, but she looked as startled as he. He pressed several of the buttons in front of him, but with no success. He was about to order an inspection of the communications system when the white, crackling static disappeared as quickly as it had come. In its place appeared the stunningly beautiful image of.a humanlike woman.

  Her hair was golden and her cheeks were rosy red. Her eyes were blue and sparkled like clear water. Childlike innocence reigned on her features, enhancing their natural beauty, filling her with a divine radiance that effused off her and out of the screen.

  The Alphans were staggered. Never had they seen such exquisite looks. They gaped, waiting for her to speak, which at length she did. But when she spoke she surprised them again. Instead of hearing the happy, bubbling voice they expected, they heard instead a voice that was grave and heavy with fear. It was sad and urgent, and it filled them all with a profound, unknown horror.

  ‘Permission to land... urgent... we require permission to land...’ she broadcast, without formality.

  There was an intense silence during which the listening Alphans shuffled uncomfortably. Verdeschi was the first to speak. ‘Identify yourself, please.’

  The hauntingly beautiful face creased slightly, showing the first outward signs of the gravity that lay inside it. ‘My name is Sahala,’ she began, as though beginning a mournful fairytale. ‘I come from the Galaxy of Croton. We were sucked through a...’ She hesitated, ‘...we went through a kind of disturbance. One of my crew is dead, another severely injured. I am left alone to control this ship. Will you permit me to touch down?’

  A look of acute sympathy appeared on Carter’s face. Plainly attracted by the strange woman’s beauty he was about to give consent on behalf of the Moon Base, forgetting for an instant that he was no longer in a Commanding position. He was cut off by Verdeschi.

  ‘No!’ the Security Chief said unequivocally. ‘You do not have permission to touch down.’

  Carter gasped. He turned on Verdeschi. ‘But she says she has injured on board, Tony!’

  ‘Sahala, you say you have Death on board your ship,’ Helena addressed the Alien gravely. ‘Is it illness?’

  The woman hesitated. ‘That is true,’ she said in her mournful voice. ‘We have a plague on board... but isolated... there can be no danger to you.’ Her voice rose and became more pleading. ‘Please help us.’

  Helena and Verdeschi exchanged looks. The Italian looked distinctly unsettled. He turned to Maya. ‘Run a scan on that ship.’

  Maya obeyed. She operated her controls, activating the delicate scanning sensors outside the Moon Base which now locked on to the craft. Sheets of print began pumping out of the computer and she began studying the data on them. As she looked she calculated rapidly in her head, and was soon able to make her report. ‘Croton,’ she stated. ‘Our Psychon astronomers did identify controlled sources of photon emission in the Third Galaxy... Scanner confirms the ship is photon driven.’

  ‘Armament?’

  ‘It has no armament.’

  Verdeschi nodded with satisfaction. ‘Helena, will you get a medical team to the Launch Area to look after the injured. Wear anti-contamination suits and check that there’s absolutely no danger to us from the plague ship before you board her.’

  Helena nodded, already on her way out.

  He turned back to the screen, unsmiling. ‘You have permission to land.’

  The alien’s face almost contorted with gratification. ‘Thank you,’ she said to them. ‘Thank you a thousand times.’ Her wondrous image vanished and the white static re-appeared.

  Carter looked mortified at the loss, but picked up interest again when the picture of the Croton ship was returned to the screen.

  The alien ship was now extremely close to them. While its Commander had been negotiating landing permission she had taken her craft almost to the Alphans’ Launch Pads, as though anticipating permission.

  The screen cleared again, and the next shot was of the ship manoeuvring to touch down. Unnerved, Verdeschi turned to Carter and Maya. ‘Alan, you and Maya meet that landing party. Make sure there’s no threat...’

  They ran hurriedly from the Centre.

  Wearing anti-contamination suits, Helena and a crew of Medical Attendants were already on their way to the Launch Reception Area. The Travel Tube in which they sat slowed to a halt. The doors opened and they rushed out, wheeling trolleys and hefting medical bags and equipment.

  A heavy guard had been mounted at the doors leading to the Eagle Hangars – the doors through which the alien party would enter. As the doctor arrived the Guards waved her to stand back. She complied, impatiently. But she didn’t have to wait long. The doors soon opened and framed in them the rapturous Sahala, infinitely more radiant in the flesh. Supported in her arms was a young, equally attractive Croton female – attractive, but obviously seriously injured.

  Helena started forward in alarm. The Guards, seeing no apparent threat, allowed her through. At first she was too stunned to speak to the alien Commander, concerned only for the injured girl. She began an examination while the other woman obligingly held her for inspection.

  The girl’s skull and face were bloody and had already been clumsily and inexpertly bandaged. Her body had been bruised extensively and many of her bones broken. She was only barely alive and should never have been moved from her bed.

  Appalled at the extent of the injuries and the slipshod manner in which they had been attended to, she threw a sharp, reproachful glare at the Commander. Sahala shrugged defensively, her hauntingly beautiful face flushing with deep embarrassment.

  ‘I’ve been on my own,’ she pleaded. ‘We had no medic. Just us three on a routine run... we had no reason to expect... catastrophe.’ She looked concerned. ‘You are a doctor? How is Yesta?’

  Helena nodded, relenting, but confused by the alien’s manner. Such startling beauty and such deep sincerity which she seemed to display, married incongruously. ‘It’s a possible skull fracture,’ she replied. She motioned to her medics who wheeled the trolley over. ‘She’s lost a lot of blood. She might stand a chance if we rush her to the
Operating Theatre immediately,’ she advised. Meeting no opposition to her proposal she helped the injured child on the trolley and began wheeling her back to the hospital.

  Sahala trailed behind, showing flustered anxiety. ‘But with your help we can save her. We must.’

  ‘How did it happen?’ Helena asked.

  ‘We have a criminal on board – one who almost destroyed our civilization.’ Sahala paused dramatically. ‘My mission is to deliver him to exile on Theselina – the most distant planet of the Croton system. For a few disastrous minutes, he broke loose... after our instruments broke down and we were dragged off course by a Time Warp.’ She pointed a slender, well-manicured finger at Yesta. ‘This is the result.’

  They paused while they wheeled the trolley into the Travel Tube and dragged in their equipment. Under Helena’s watchful eye the medics were already applying preliminary treatment to the patient, stopping the bleeding, cleaning the wounds and administering a sedative. She listened intently to the Commander’s woeful tale, wondering whether to believe it or not. She was still worried about one point. ‘This criminal, then,’ she stated. ‘He is the nature of the plague you carry.’

  Again the woman hesitated, as though inventing. But she sounded weary when she said: ‘Yes. And we have him safe in isolation again.’

  Helena nodded, relieved.

  The Tube whisked them away and they soon reached the underground section of the Moon Base. Carter and Maya, accompanied by two more Guards were waiting there to meet them.

  ‘We will take Yesta right to Medical Centre for a full check,’ Helena told Sahala as they wheeled the trolley out.

  ‘Thank you,’ Sahala muttered. Her eyes had met Maya’s and a sudden tenseness came over her.

  Carter, already taken by the woman, was staring at her, almost entranced, unable to use his laser. The two Guards, put off the alert by the apparent lack of danger, were gazing in awe at the stricken beauty of the unconscious child.

  They did not notice Sahala’s agitation turn to fear. Before anyone could stop her the she-goddess had reached inside her sleeve and had drawn out a small hand weapon which she directed at the Psychon.