Space 1999 - Mind-Breaks of Space

by Michael Butterworth

Maurna acknowledged that she believed her. ‘We know of the process on Archanon.’

  ‘You mean you could have cured Pasc... and you didn’t?’

  Maurna realized that the Doctor didn’t fully understand the significance of what had happened. ‘We knew of the cure,’ she explained, ‘but we could not use it. The Archanons do not have the necessary enzymes in their blood to replace what is lost. None of us could give the amount necessary for a transfusion and live ourselves.’

  Grim realization washed over Helena’s face. She knew then that Pasc was dying and could not be saved. The pulse rate began to fade even as she looked down at him.

  ‘It is the last privilege of the killing sickness...’ he said feebly, ‘to kill oneself.’ His head rolled to one side in the direction where Etrec was resting peacefully on the other couch. But his eyes could not longer see... and death took him.

  Maurna motioned to the other Archanons to come forward. ‘We will take Etrec home now,’ she said, ‘and Pasc too. We thank you for what you have done.’

  Helena nodded and turned away to hide her own sadness. Maurna watched as Pasc’s body was wrapped to be taken away. She was glad Etrec had not had to see his passing.

  ‘Uhmmm,’ Alan stepped beside Maurna and held out his football to her. Her eyebrows raised in surprise at the scuffed, brown sphere. ‘This is for Etrec...’ Alan said. ‘He’ll understand. Tell him his Cobber said good-bye.’

  Carefully Maurna took the object, holding it with the sort of reverence that she suspected it must deserve. ‘I will tell him,’ she said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Patrick Osgood stood in the centre of the tunnel and in his white coverall suit looked more like a larger-than-life statue of a man than a real one. Everything about him had a stone-like hardness, a monolithic rigidity in his nature that made him both respected and feared among the men who worked with him.

  A team of these stood nearby, about ten yards back in the tunnel from Osgood. There was only emergency lighting at this level... the lowest of all the man-made tunnel systems beneath Alpha Moon Base. With the assistance of small lamps on their helmets, the team was checking their position on a map.

  Some of the geological surveys had led mining teams farther afield to explore the Moon’s own natural caverns in the search for Tiranium. Osgood had elected to lead his team straight down... knowing that the closer to the Moon’s core they could get, the greater was the likelihood of locating the precious element.

  Most of the tunnels through which they had explored had been planned to eventually house a greatly expanded Alpha, Moon Base, back in the times before the fateful day that Luna broke away from Earth orbit. Now only the topmost levels were in use. On Koenig’s orders most of the Moon Base sections had been transferred just below the surface for added protection from the dangers of deep space.

  Osgood turned and walked back to his crew, his own doubts about the next step in the search resolved.

  His face was dark with heavy brows and a thickly woven beard. Intense, ebony eyes burned out from either side of a nobly-shaped, though broken, nose.

  ‘I want some more charges...’ his deep voice reverberated in the tunnel as he reached out a big hand and stabbed locations on the map, ‘placed here, here, here and here.’

  Several of the men shook their heads doubtfully, frowning with concern. Osgood looked resolutely at each of them, seeking their confidence with only the firmness of his expression.

  ‘I know we’ll find it this time,’ he said. ‘I have faith!’

  Osgood’s first assistant felt very reluctant to question the plan, understanding how much finding Tiranium meant to the big man personally... but he couldn’t ignore his professional responsibility.

  ‘Isn’t it a bit risky, Chief? You put that many charges along that line there and...’

  ‘Our job is to find Tiranium in these catacombs,’ Osgood interrupted.

  ‘We’ve already weakened the roof,’ the man persisted. ‘It’s a pretty treacherous rock formation just there.’

  Osgood laid a fatherly hand on the assistant’s shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. ‘Every rock formation we’ve come across in the Moon has been tricky. We must take risks in order to succeed... and this time we will. We must!’

  They all knew there was no arguing with him and turned away to prepare the charges. Osgood took a deep breath and put away the map. He knew that this attempt had to bear fruit or else they would have to give up the search. They didn’t have the right kind of equipment to go any deeper.

  When the satchels with their radio-activated blasting caps were ready, Osgood reached out and silently took them all... holding the weight easily over one arm. He turned and started off down the tunnel.

  ‘Hey, Chief,’ one of the crew called after him. ‘You’re not taking those down by yourself?’

  ‘Yes!’ Osgood’s voice thundered. ‘All of you move further back!’

  ‘But, Chief...’ the first assistant protested, ‘that Hypernitro is touchy as anything. You shouldn’t handle it by yourself. Just the slightest bump and...’

  ‘Move back!’

  The way Osgood stalked away made the satchels on his arm swing to and fro and bump together. Just watching it made most of the crew break out in a cold sweat. Quickly they gathered up their equipment and headed back to the lift shaft that connected with the next higher level.

  ‘The Chief sure don’t act like himself, no more,’ one of the men said as they moved through the roughly hewn tunnel.

  ‘If your wife was dying,’ the first assistant snapped edgily, ‘you wouldn’t be yourself either!’

  Osgood felt confident that he was doing the right thing. They had simply been too cautious so far and the standard strength of charges already in place along the tunnel wall would have given them yet another disappointment. With the addition of the explosives he was carrying they could be sure of a breakthrough.

  So caught up in his burning rhapsody of faith was he, Osgood didn’t realize he had reached the tunnel end until he nearly walked into it. The beam of his headlamp seemed to be fighting a losing battle against the overwhelming darkness. He could just make out the scars in the rock of earlier, unsuccessful explosions.

  More attentively he began to backtrack, siting the new charges at midpoints between those already in place. He anticipated the blast would collapse the wall of the tunnel nearly twenty yards in a northerly direction, right into the strata that seismographic readings told them was the most likely arrangement for Tiranium deposits.

  As he placed the explosives his sense of urgency began to build up again. He thought desperately of his wife, feeling the full weight of the knowledge that her survival depended on him. He had to succeed... he had to!

  He had nearly reached his starting point, with only one satchel left. Much less burdened, he was hurrying as much as he could, his massive shoulders stooped and just brushing the tunnel roof. Even if he had been fully concentrating on what he was doing, it was unlikely the brightness of his headlamp would have allowed him to see the rock in his path in time.

  He felt it start to roll under his boot and knew that his forward speed was too great to keep from falling. The last bag of delicate Hypernitro was still cradled in his arms and if he landed on it, the force was bound to set it off. He didn’t have to think about it... he knew. With great strength, he twisted in mid-sprawl. The satchel was safely cradled against his chest as he landed heavily on his back, feeling the agony of large stone fragments digging into him.

  Lying there, looking up at the pool of light that his headlamp threw on the roof, he cursed his own carelessness. The pains in his back began to subside and his heart beat slowed from its racing. Suddenly, he realized with a start, there was a whirring noise coming from right underneath him. At first it was annoyingly mysterious, but then he remembered that he had gone off from his team in such a hurry that he was still carrying the remote control detonation transmitter with him. It was in his back pocket and when he fell he had
set it off.

  It was as if his intestines were suddenly filled with ice, reacting to the gruesome fear that the bag he hugged so close to his chest was about to erupt and scatter him into a million moist pieces. Fortunately, Osgood was a courageous man. That didn’t mean that he didn’t feel fear as bad as the next man, but he didn’t let that feeling stop him from doing something about it.

  The distant thump of a concussion and the tense vibration through the ground confirmed the thought that had already raced through his mind. The blasts were set in series, from the deepest to the one closest to the mining crew. The one he held would be last to blow... but the difference was only seconds. The blasts were coming steadily closer, like a giant running.

  Osgood slid the satchel off and scrambled up, feeling stones shaking loose and pelting him as the floor danced crazily below. He ran, head down and arms pumping, making his legs drive with all their might. The roar of the blasts was growing to a horrific volume. He roared back at it, running, running with all his strength. Finally the tunnel filled with light, in its brilliance, became light and he was picked up and hurled through the air. He flew... sailed like a bird down the illuminated column into beautiful silence.

  The circle of light ahead of him blurred and began to change its character... becoming firstly a milky disc. Features began to emerge as areas darkened and shadows tightened into sharp definition. Osgood floated closer... coming down... down. He was descending gently towards the face of the Moon. The unmistakable Mares and craters spread out underneath him in a silvery glow.

  His feet touched the surface without a trace of a jolt, just slipping easily into the lunar sand, in front of him, about a hundred yards away, he could see a large, antique brass bed. There was a person lying on the floral print sheets that covered it, and even at that distance he knew it was his wife. Michelle.

  Osgood began to walk forward... anxiously happy to be by his wife’s side. He had taken only four strides when the sky above gasped. He looked up and saw a gigantic web of flames... like a great bramble bush on fire... falling towards the moon.

  He started running, shouting his wife’s name as his feet fought for purchase in the loose sand. Early fragments of the fire were already landing, hissing like vipers as they dropped to the ground. To one side he could see some outbuildings of the Moon Base and as a very large knot if fire hit them they exploded into an inferno.

  He looked back ahead of him to see that the bed was now encircled with bright fire. In its centre, Michelle still lay quietly, her eyes closed.

  ‘Michelle!’ he yelled.

  This time she heard him and sat up. Her long shiny hair fell loosely around her shoulders and her wide, doe-like eyes looked anxiously for him.

  ‘Patrick? Oh, Patrick, is it you?’ she cried.

  ‘Yes, Michelle! Rise up and come to me. I can save us!’

  Michelle struggled, but fell helplessly back to the bed... little fingers of fire climbing up the sheets and beginning to reach for the frilly edges of her white nightgown. ‘I haven’t enough faith!’ she cried in despair.

  ‘I have enough for us both!’ Osgood shouted, then plunged into the howling flames.

  The crew’s number one was the first to reach Osgood after they had dug through the rock fall. It was amazingly lucky, the way the long splinter of rock had fallen diagonally across his body, and had deflected all the other rubble.

  He rolled Osgood over and checked that he was still breathing. There was considerable bruising on his face and a trickle of blood from the side of his mouth. Another man handed over the first aid kit, but abruptly Osgood’s eyes flew open.

  ‘Hold still,’ the first assistant ordered, thinking of the textbook routine to check for broken bones, internal damage, shock.

  Osgood ignored him and levered up to a sitting position. ‘How long have I been out?’ he asked.

  ‘Only a few minutes.’

  Osgood stared hard into the dark, as if they could see something there apart from the cold, black emptiness of the newly created tunnel. ‘I saw it again...’ he said.

  ‘Saw what?’

  ‘Saw...’ Osgood shook his head to clear away the thought. ‘Never mind. Have you checked for Tiranium?’

  The first assistant reached into his belt pack and took out a miniaturized geigercounter. He turned it on and scanned the darkness as a flat humming noise indicated there was nothing there but useless rock.

  Osgood didn’t need to be told. ‘Then we’ll never find it!’ he bellowed and grappled to his feet. ‘Come on. We’re going back up.’

  Michelle Osgood lay quietly in bed, looking at the pale light that diffused through the walls of the hospital treatment room. It was supposed to be soothing, carefully tested for a psychologically relaxing effect. She found it depressing and dull... yearning for bright light and excitement. It was terribly boring to die slowly.

  Helena could almost read her pretty young patient’s thoughts as she packed up a set of instruments from the table at the foot of the bed. ‘We’ll be testing a new heart for you this afternoon,’ she said, encouragingly. ‘There’s always hope.’

  ‘Of course, Doctor,’ Michelle responded without enthusiasm.

  It was somewhat pleasing for Helena to see the new light of interest that came into the girl’s face as the deep, resonant voice of her husband sounded from the other side of the door. He was asking the duty nurse if he could see his wife. Helena felt that the happiness Michelle felt in seeing him was one of the few things that was keeping her going. But every time she saw Osgood, herself, she became more concerned about the stability of his mind.

  He came through the door into the room like a great, brooding presence. Helena stepped in front of him, intercepting his intense, smouldering stare. She felt that she should warn him to be careful, not to upset his wife in any way, but he spoke first.

  ‘Doctor, I want to be alone with my wife.’

  Then Helena noted with alarm that his face was purple along one side with bruising and that blood had matted into the beard on his chin. She reached up questioningly.

  ‘It’s nothing... a small cave-in. Leave us, please.’

  Helena decided the least trouble would be caused if she did as he asked, and she was also short of time to get the new heart ready for testing. Osgood waited till she had left before going over and bending down to his wife. He calmed her concern about his bruises, even forcing his sore lips apart in a loving smile.

  ‘Michelle,’ he said with sudden seriousness, ‘you must listen to me. I have seen...’ his eyes lifted up seeking something in the empty air. ‘I have seen a revelation. I have seen the future for us all.’

  ‘Patrick?’ Michelle was bewildered by his change of mood.

  ‘I’ve seen a storm of fire... and Alpha Base destroyed,’ the pressure of his hands on her arms stopped her from shaking her head. ‘Yes, I have. Only we can be saved. If you can have the faith... if you can believe in me...’ Patrick’s voice vibrated with power, ‘I can save you!’

  She didn’t know if she were answering the call to faith or just her own cry of love as she reached up to him and said desperately, ‘Yes, Patrick, Yes!’

  The scene in the Command Centre was unprecedented. The usual snappy and precise routine was gone. The neatness of uniform dress that was quite simple to maintain thanks to the functional simplicity of suit design, was a shambles. Personnel leaned tiredly over their equipment, eyes drooping and listless. A trip from one side of the room to another seemed like a hike across a desert. Most of the men had discarded their jackets and, however possible, garments that had to be kept on were unfastened, hanging loosely and sodden with perspiration.

  John Koenig, in spite of the heavy, unrelenting heat, felt a deep sense of urgency. The onset of the high temperature was a mystery, beginning and quickly escalating without any prior warning. The lower levels of the base were still relatively cool, but the Command Centre was suffering worst.

  Koenig looked around as Maya tiredly read out the l
atest statistical check to him. ‘... surface temperature forty degrees centrigrade and rising rapidly.’

  ‘Have we got any further pinpointing a source?’ he asked.

  Maya shook her head. ‘It’s out front somewhere, Commander. That’s as specific as we can get... the computer print outs...’

  Koenig lost track of her words. The whole situation aggravated him intensely. It was the worst possible time for something like this to happen, with the base increasingly vulnerable due to dropping Tiranium stocks. There was only a couple of weeks left until the critical point was reached.

  On top of that he was privately worried about Helena. She had been in a miserable state when he came back from the Blue Zone mission... failing to see how much she had done for the Archanon boy, Etrec... and thinking instead, only of the death of his father. She blamed herself for it, not seeing that the boy could have only been saved that way. Now she was overworking herself again... trying desperately to save the life of that young Osgood woman. He knew that if she didn’t slow down she was going to be needing treatment herself.

  ‘I don’t need computer print-outs to tell me it’s hot and getting hotter!’ Koenig suddenly exploded to his feet, silencing the room. ‘I need specifics! I need to know why and where this heat is coming from.’

  Calmly, Maya replied, ‘When the facts fail us, Commander, we must guess.’

  ‘Then get new facts!’ Koenig turned to face his second-in-command. ‘Tony, can you squeeze any more power out of the air-conditioning system?’

  Verdeschi shook his head curtly. ‘It’s already on overload... practically combustible.’

  ‘Then what do you recommend?’

  Tony smiled and gave an impish sidelong look at Maya. ‘Well, I’d say... let’s relax uniform regulations completely. We should all get as comfortable as we can.’

  Koenig couldn’t help but smile at the impertinence of the suggestion, but also noted that it had its practical side. He looked over his shoulder and saw Bill Frazer, the crack Eagle pilot listening with interest.