by John Rankine
Bergman said, ‘It’s incredible.’
‘So was Calder’s story of the monster—’ Koenig called across to Carter, ‘Alan, I want a docking Eagle on Pad One. And an escort of three. Ready for action.’
‘Check, Commander.’
On the way out, Carter passed two new arrivals coming in. Jim Calder, zipped into uniform and holding himself tall was walking calmly beside Helena. He crossed the floor and stood facing the big screen, impassive, unemotional, just looking at the Probeship with its missing command module. Without a change of expression, he stated a fact.
‘So I get a second chance.’ To Paul Morrow, he said, ‘Any sign of life?’
‘Not a thing. We’ve scanned the whole area. Negative.’
‘There never was.’
Koenig said, ‘I’m taking an Eagle up, with an armed escort of three. We’ll scan it at closer and closer range. If Victor’s absolutely convinced there’s no danger in the area or on board, we’ll dock on the Probeship. Does that make sense to you?’
All eyes were on Calder. Would he balk at a plan which could confound his story? He understood well enough what was in every head; but he was icily calm, ‘Sounds fine.’
‘Would you be willing to come with me?’
There was something of his old charm in the smile, ‘More than willing, John, I’d insist’
Walking with Calder to the embarkation point, Victor Bergman was almost apologetic, ‘You have to forgive me, Jim. It was too much for my logical mind to accept. But John, you know, never doubted. He was with you all the way through.’
Two paces behind, Helena Russell touched Koenig’s arm to slow him. She was suddenly anxious, ‘I don’t trust him, John. He’s unnaturally calm.’
‘He has the chance to clear himself—after all this time.’
‘I don’t like it. Please be careful.’
In the Eagle, Alan Carter was already in. the command module. Helena and Bergman settled themselves in front of the scanning and monitoring equipment. Koenig touched Helena’s arm, ‘I’ll be up front with Alan, but the first indication of anything out of the way I want to know about it.’
‘Of course.’
Calder had roamed off to the hatch which connected with the command cabin and said ‘Excuse me folks. I owe Alan an apology.’
He went through and was out of sight. Koenig was behind Helena’s chair, hands on her shoulders, watching her neat, economical movements as she brought the console to life and prepared to search for life signs on the hulks. He said, ‘Concentrate on particular ships as we go in. See what computer has to say about them.’
Alan Carter was running through pre-lift off procedures when Calder joined him. He was not entirely easy with the relationship, though he had to concede that Calder had never stepped out of line as a subordinate. Not until the last phase.
Calder said, ‘Alan I have to apologise about the other night. I’m sorry I clobbered you.’
Not one to bear a grudge, Carter waved it away, ‘Not to worry. I’ll believe it wasn’t meant personally . . .’ He turned in his seat to reinforce the message with a friendly grin and Calder did it again, chopping with the edge of his hand into Carter’s neck.
Carter went out like a light and with fantastic strength Calder heaved him out of his bucket seat and dragged him to the communicating hatch. There was not far to go. It was all quick and neat with Koenig only looking up as the body thumped on the parquet behind him. As he whipped around, the command module hatch was sliding to close and sealed with a definitive click as he hurled himself across the gap.
In the pilot slot, Calder was working with speed and precision. He completed the check sequence and gunned the Eagle’s motors. Then he hit the button for module separation. He was away, lifting from the pad with an Eagle frame, leaving the passenger module grounded and still attached to the boarding tube.
Koenig was snapping orders into his commlock. ‘Eagles Three and Four, immediate lift off. Tail Calder in Eagle One. Eagle Two jettison module, move to Pad One and pick me up.’
Helena’s monitor buzzed and she had Calder calm and determined on the screen. Without waiting for the question, he said, ‘Sorry to do this, John. But it’s my enemy. I deserve first crack.’
He was not prepared to argue. The screen blanked. Then he was away on a straight course for the distant collection of spacers with Eagles Three and Four hard on his heels.
Chafing at the delay, Koenig watched Eagle Two manoeuvre for position and drop slowly to the pad. Using his comock, he spoke to Main Mission, ‘Paul?’
‘Commander?’
‘You saw the action? Calder’s trying to go it alone. Beam every scanner on him. If you have any information I want it right away.’
‘Check, Commander.’
Koenig snapped his commlock shut and returned it to his belt. Helena was looking up at him from the deck where she was kneeling beside Carter. Her eyes mirrored an unspoken thought which he interpreted, ‘You think he could be going ahead to destroy the evidence!’
Before she could reply, Carter was back in the world and had lifted his head. His hands went to his neck to rub the spot. A man with a justified grievance, he said, ‘Will somebody tell me what that guy has against me?’
Green tell-tales glowed in the deckhead. The pilot of Eagle Two announced himself on Helena’s console, ‘Docking complete, Commander.’
Koenig was opening the hatch before the harmonics had stopped vibrating. He slammed into the co-pilot seat ‘Take it away. Give it everything you’ve got.’
Eagle Two jacked herself off the pad in a savage surge of power, came round on a course and sped away at full thrust in the wake of Calder and his escort.
The man himself sat at the controls of Eagle One as though on a routine patrol flight. He was utterly composed, made small finicky adjustments to the trim, betrayed no flicker of fear or anxiety. As he approached the great junk yard, he slowed, sheered away from a mammoth, dead hulk of a supership and had direct sight of the Ultra Probeship lying beyond.
There was little for Paul Morrow to report. ‘He’s close to the Probeship now, Commander. He’s running about six minutes ahead of you.’
Koenig left the command module of Eagle Two to consult the onboard team. As he came through, Carter said, ‘He could dock his command module on the Probeship.’
Bergman confirmed it, ‘Part of the standardisation we aimed at, John. The control systems are compatible.’
Koenig turned to Helena. She said, ‘We’ve got a detailed scan on. From Alpha, from here and from right up close through Eagles Three and Four. So far there’s not a flicker. No life indications, no energy field, no radiation. Nothing.’
It seemed conclusive, certainly Koenig had no answer for it. Nor had Victor Bergman. He shook his head in response to Koenig’s unspoken query.
There was something that did not gell. On the screen Calder’s Eagle shadowed by Eagles Three and Four was closing on the hulk of the Probeship.
Koenig snapped on his commlock and called Main Mission, ‘Paul?’
‘Still nothing indicated, Commander.’
Balling a fist, Koenig thumped Helena’s desk. ‘Godammit, there has to be something. We’re using more powerful gear than Calder had when he approached this lot before. But he’s one hundred per cent right about those spaceships. Detail for detail spot on.’
There was one vital flaw in the implied argument and Helena put her finger on it. She said quietly, ‘That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s right about the monster.’
It triggered a little of his old impatience with her for not seeing it exactly his way. He said sharply, ‘You must concede that it makes him a whole lot more credible. Do you agree, Victor?’
There was something to be said on both sides. Victor Bergman shrugged without committing himself. They watched the unfolding scene on the scanner. Bergman relented, sensing that Koenig wanted him to say something. ‘Sorry John. Beyond the obvious explanation, I can’t add anything.’
> ‘What do you call obvious then?’
‘Well, looking at those ships you have to say that they look like flies trapped in a web. But what web? As you see we can’t isolate any force field or radiation belt.’
‘Which brings us right back to Calder’s monster. Ships get in there to investigate the mystery and they don’t get out. Or those that get out don’t report the hazard to Space Commission, Earth. How could they?’
Eagle Three came up on the net. ‘Eagle Three to Eagle Two. Calder is separating the module now, Commander.’
Helena zoomed for a close look. They saw Eagle One’s module easing out of the superstructure. Calder was putting on a faultless demonstration of technique.
Koenig called, ‘Stay close, Three and Four. Keep the scan going.’
‘Check, Commander, we’re right with him.’
Calder’s module edged delicately into line with the truncated shell of the Probeship. He was working with complete concentration like an extension of his machine. Centred to a millimetre, he backed home for a first time perfect docking.
Koenig briefed Carter, ‘Go through and take the con, Alan. We’ll dock on the Probeship’s main hatch. Make it as smooth as Calder’s; we don’t want to shake up the can.’
It got him a wry look from the two-time victim. Carter nipped smartly through the hatch.
Helena called, ‘Life signs from the Probeship now, John . . . Calder’s.’
His disappointment was clear on his face, but she went on underlining the implications, ‘It means that, if there was any other life form there, we’d be receiving indications.’
He knew it, but he was still fighting it, ‘That’s always supposing our instruments could read it.’
Time would reveal all. He could wait. Carter’s voice sounded on the intercom, ‘Docking in four minutes.’
Jim Calder thumped his harness release and heaved himself out of the pilot seat. The years between had dropped away. He was back where he had wanted to be. The long agony of the survival flight and the frustrations of long enquiries were so many dead leaves. He might never have left. Behind the hatch was Olga Vishenskya, who had been warm and beautiful and had been thrown contemptuously at his feet a lifeless husk. He was ice cold with the anger that had never died out of his mind.
Opening the crash locker, he spilled out the equipment. It was the axe he wanted and he found it clipped to the bulkhead at the back of the compartment. When he had it in his hand, he tested the weight and balance with a couple of practice swings. It would do. It would serve. This time . . . this time he would carve himself a path to wherever the monster kept its living nucleus.
He moved to the hatch, shoved down the opening stud and stood waiting, balanced on the balls of his feet with the axe ready to swing.
The hatch slid open. He was looking into the darkness of a cave with the light from the command module throwing his shadow forward. He padded through, making no noise with his foam soled boots. Olga’s body was there, across his path, her face turned towards the hatch. There was enough light to see her face through the transparent mask of her visor. It was set like a wax model in her final scream of agony and fear.
It was no more than he had lived with in the long interlude. He stepped cautiously over the body and went on to seek his destiny. Even when he saw it, he felt no surprise.. He had known for a sure truth that it would be there, coiled in an aconite’s slumber.
The creature grew from a mound of shadow in the centre of the Ward Room floor. Tentacles wrapped round its octopoid mass, it was conserving its life force in a long hibernation. As Calder edged warily towards it, there was a slight ripple over its dark, shapeless bulk. Data acquisition networks were alerting the central office.
Firefly points of light began to glow as though its eye function was diffused over the area of its head. The massive body was jacking itself out of torpor into consciousness.
Calder’s eyes, narrow and watchful, ranged over the formless lump. The ends of the tentacles were beginning to stir. He moved round. He saw the bodies of Juliet Mackie and Darwin King lying where they had fallen. He was close in, partly screened by one of the module’s fixed seats.
A tentacle writhed out slowly across the deck and was a metre off when he stepped out deliberately and hacked down with a two handed blow. Then he was back behind his cover.
It was the end of lethargy. The creature blazed into angry action. The wounded tentacle thrashed wildly and then wrapped itself round the back of the chair. With a surge of power it heaved away and tore the fitting from its holding bolts. The main body was gaping into a coldly burning hole, a screeching wind was trying to suck the intruder deep into the maw.
Calder’s face showed only exhilaration. All doubts and complications were long gone. He was the archetypal hunter facing the ultimate quarry. He seemed to want to infuriate it further. Feeling around the deck, he picked up items of loose gear and hurled them into the glowing ring of the notional mouth.
They were hurled out like projectiles. His eyes were adjusting to the half light and he could pick out the feeler he had wounded at the first encounter. It was deformed and slow moving. He shifted to that side, jabbing with his axe and the monster turned to bring itself to a stance where other tentacles could plug the gap in its defences. Calder moved with it and there was a slow circle.
Calder was weighing up the angles, he wanted to get close. Back to a bulkhead for extra purchase, he shoved off in a jump that took him along the wounded feeler.
It twisted to encircle him, but had lost tension and flexibility. Other tentacles were coming from awkward angles and lacked their usual force. He beat them away with wheeling axe blows and crowded in until he could grip the pocked and knobbly skin of the monster’s tossing head.
Koenig’s Eagle slid home on the Probeship’s main hatch. Carter left his pilot seat and came through. All hands were waiting for the moment of truth.
Koenig handed out stun guns from the rack. He said, ‘Great work, Alan.’
He tried the instrumentation one more time. ‘Life signs, Helena?’
‘Still only Calder’s and they’ve gone crazy.’
‘No other problems?’
‘Nothing. The Probeship module is pressurised and atmosphere controlled.’
They lined up at the hatch. Koenig, Carter, two security files, Helena and Bergman. As Koenig shoved the stud for the air lock, each looked to their laser settings and armed for destructor beams.
As they went through, light from the Eagle doubled the lumen count in the Probeship’s module. The action was plain to see and was as bizarre as it could well get.
Calder was high on the monster’s back. Holding on with one hand, he was beating down with his axe to breach the carapace and was sending the writhing turbulent mass into a paroxysm of frenzy.
Outlined by the light at their backs, the newcomers stopped in amazement to take in a scene that was straight from the pages of fable.
The monster went suddenly still to check them out. The flaming mouth turned to them with a demented shriek. Calder seized his chance. His platform was suddenly steady. Standing feet astride, he swung his axe for a tremendous blow into the obscene head. The blade bit deep. Black slime welled from the cut as he wrenched the axe free. There was a violent shudder that cost him his balance and he pitched forward past the gaping mouth to fall to the deck.
Tentacles flashed in to enwrap him. His axe dropped from his hands. Struggling to the last, he was lifted and thrust into the crematorium.
Koenig was moving in, firing and backed by fire from every laser. There was no impact. They might have been feeding it candy bars. Koenig dropped his laser and ran on. He had seen the axe. His hands were closing on it as Calder’s lifeless husk was tossed out to the deck.
The tentacles were moving beside and beyond him writhing towards the source of the laser beams. He yelled, ‘Keep firing!’
Helena’s agonised shout, ‘John. Come back!’ was lost in the frenetic screeching that was notc
hing to a crescendo.
But he was standing four square in front of the hole feeling the tug of suction and seeing the ooze of black slime dimming some of the firefly lights. The head lowered. He raised the axe and went for the breach Calder had made.
The shining blade buried itself to the haft. There was a gush of viscous, black ooze. The glow from the open mouth dimmed and the hole closed. There was a shuddering groan and the monster sank to a slack mound in a spreading pool of uliginous pitch.
Koenig moved slowly to the hatch, gestured for the others to go through and then stood holding the coaming. All that was left of Jim Calder had come to rest an arms-length from Olga Vishenskya. It was done. Calder had sought his destiny and found it.
He went through to the Eagle and shoved the stud to seal the hatch. Helena Russell came forward to meet him. He said, ‘Doubting Helena.’ But there was no malice in it, only infinite compassion for the human situation they were all in.
Her head went to his chest and he held her tightly. Over her blonde head, he said soberly, ‘That wraps it up. Take us home, Alan. Have Eagle Three co-pilot pick up Eagle One and the module. Then destroy the Probeship.’
They saw it on the scanner, with Moonbase Alpha coming close. The armed Eagles homed in for a strike and the Ultra Probeship made its last spectacular gesture, opening in a brilliant asterisk of white light as the searing laser beams probed into the target.
Helena Russell made a final paragraph on her report-saga. Koenig watched her, sitting on a low chair in her personal niche in Moonbase Alpha’s sprawling complex. The scanners in Main Mission probed endlessly in their search, but here at least was a temporary home—their island in the eye of the wind.
She wrote, ‘The monster was beyond anything we would have believed. According to our criteria it was never alive, so how could we ever be sure it was dead? We did what we could to prevent future spacefarers being trapped. The great graveyard of empty ships dwindled on the scanners as our Moon’s divergent course separated us forever from the Dragon’s Domain.’
She slipped the sheet from the machine and handed it to Koenig, flushed a little from the throes of literary composition and unsure of its reception.