Space 1999 #5 - Lunar Attack (15 page)

There was a second’s clarity with Wayland’s voice in a terrified shout, ‘Commander, the ships . . .’ then it was drowned out.

Koenig snapped, ‘Boost to interstellar strength. Wayland. Pull out of there, Wayland.’

There was no joy. ‘Boost scanners.’

The pattern on the scanner monitor changed, but revealed nothing of Eagle One.

Kano said, ‘All transmissions from on-board computer have ceased.’

Koenig turned to Helena Russell, ‘Life signs?’

‘Disappeared completely.’

Carter was waiting for what he knew had to come and Koenig only needed to nod. The Eagle Fleet Commander was on his feet. ‘Kelly. Rescue Eagle to Pad Three. Meet you on board.’ He was out at a run and the tell-tale for Eagle Four glowed on the command panel. Kelly must have been ready for the call.

Koenig said, ‘Keep up a sweep with long range scanners.’

‘John, it could be just a fault on Wayland’s ship,’—Bergman was fighting a growing conviction that Eagle One was a write-off.

‘They’ve stopped trying to talk to us and there’s no trace. I don’t like it one little bit.’

Eagle Four saw nothing good either. A glowing, globular mass hurled itself past on the way to Moon surface. Carter’s, ‘What the hell was that?’ chimed with the auto alarm system in Main Mission.

Morrow called ‘Meteorite,’ and shoved down the stud to activate protective screens.

Kano said urgently, ‘No good. It’s through!’

There was a thump of impact and the floor of Main Mission juddered. Personnel on their feet lost balance. Lights dimmed and then brightened again.

Koenig grabbed up a handset for an all sections call. ‘Attention. Meteorite strike. Section Six. Red Alert.’

Section Six was jetting a plume of smoke and débris to join the eternal flotsam in the interstellar space lanes.

Carter’s hurrying Eagle probed on away from Moonbase Alpha. In Main Mission, Koenig listened to a damage report and spoke to Bergman, ‘Fortunately no life loss. Just impact collapse.’

‘What puzzles me is where did it come from?’

‘And how did it beat the screen?’

‘They’re setting it up for analysis. I’ll go check it out.’

‘Do that, Victor.’

Koenig joined Morrow at the operations console. ‘Anything?’

‘Nothing so far, Commander. They’ve just disappeared off the star map.’

Kano had a print out from his computer, ‘Computer estimates the meteorite originated between orbital references 350 to 400.’

‘The last reported reference point for Eagle One was 397. It’s just possible she was in its path and got a hit. Tell Alan. I’ll be in the technical section.’

Eagle Four was already nudging in to outlying areas of white foam and Kelly, suited up in space gear was at the pressure lock.

Morrow’s voice spoke from the control spread. ‘Alpha to Eagle Four. Come in Eagle Four.’

Carter pressed a key, ‘Hello, Paul.’

Morrow’s face appeared on the small screen, ‘I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but activate on board screens. That meteorite may have originated in your area. Commander has a theory Eagle One could have been hit by it.’

‘Check. No sign of them. But we’ll hold off the screens for a spell, Paul. Something new here. Floating white stuff.’ He paused and signalled for Kelly to go. ‘Kelly’s going out to pick up a sample.’

‘Well, make it quick and keep in touch.’

Carter checked pressure in the sealed module and spoke to Kelly, ‘Decompression all set, Kel. Good fishing.’

Kelly made an adjustment to the set of his jet pack, checked gauges on his support system, and shoved down the hatch release. ‘Okay, Alan. Going out now.’

In the Technical Section on Moonbase Alpha, the rogue meteorite had been mounted on a heavily reinforced inspection slab. Koenig and Bergman completed a circuit. It was all of a piece. Covered by a sinewy, fibrous crust, it was a, mute, solid lump.

Bergman realigned a seaming beam to probe a different area and said, ‘Doesn’t look like much, John, but it
is
unusual. Very dense and very heavy. They had to turn gravity generators right down to shift it here.’

‘How dense? How heavy?’

‘Computer’s working on that right now.’

‘Are there any surface marks—’ Koenig ran his lingers over the surface. ‘Anything to suggest impact with Eagle One?’

It was a new angle for Bergman and he looked surprised. Koenig went on, ‘How else could she disappear?’

Before Bergman could answer, Helena Russell appeared through the hatch, coming to report in person on a new and fantastic twist, ‘Victor, that fibre coating. First findings show that it’s
organic
—alive.’

A buzz from the local computer outlet interrupted and Bergman went thoughtfully to pick up a print out.

Koenig said, ‘Alive?’

‘Well, it’s no kind of life we’d recognise as such, but . . .’

They both looked at Bergman. Computer’s analysis was clearly bad news. He read it out, ‘Weight three hundred and twenty-eight tons.’ Koenig and Helena looked at each other with dawning realisation. ‘Constituent elements: titanium, stainless steel, duralumin, glass, carbon fibre, plastics, nuclear fuel cells . . . and a small amount of human tissue.’

There was no area of doubt left. Koenig said, ‘We’ve found Eagle One. In two strides he was at the communications post calling Main Mission. ‘Paul. Get Carter back. Immediate.’

‘But Commander, Kelly’s outside the ship collecting samples.’

‘Samples of what for godsake? Recall him! Get them back!’

It was not going to be easy. Kelly was having problems with his foam. Seen close, it was shapeless and glutinous. Any he touched stuck fast to his gauntlets. Other blobs homing in on him clung to his shoulders and half covered his visor. He called the ship. ‘This stuff’s giving me trouble, Alan. I can’t control it.’

‘Forget it. They’ve just signalled to abort. Get back inside.’

Kelly was thrashing wildly to get clear and his voice had a sudden edge of panic, ‘Alan, I can’t get away from it . . . It’s choked the jet pack . . . I can’t see a bloody thing . . . I’ll need help.’

Some of the white blobs had elongated into fibrous strands and were twining round his legs. Kelly’s voice was desperate, ‘Help, Alan, get me out! I’m choking. Help!’

Carter punched the release button of his harness and grabbed for a space suit. Working at it like a maniac, he shrugged into the gear and managed a two way call. ‘Stick it out, Kel! I’m on my way.’

‘Eagle Four calling Alpha.’

Morrow answered, ‘Come in Eagle Four.’

‘Paul, Kelly’s in trouble. I’m going out for him.’

Koenig racing into Main Mission caught the tail end of the transmission. He shouted, ‘Stop him!’—and reached the console in time to do it himself. ‘Alan, get away from that area. Get away now!’

‘But, Commander . . . !’

‘Don’t argue the toss. Just leave. Now!’

Carter hesitated. It was all of his professional training against simple humanity. When he spoke it was almost apologetic, but the decision had been made right where he lived. ‘He’s my mate, Commander.’

He left the command module and the hatch closed behind him. He was out of vision, but he could still be reached on his suit communicator. He waited impatiently for pressure to drop.

Koenig had gone quiet. He could understand how it was, but he still tried. He said, ‘I’m sorry, Alan. Kelly’s dying. Your loss won’t help.’

Bob Mathias, watching Kelly’s monitor, said, ‘We’ve lost life signs for Kelly altogether, Commander.’ Helena Russell confirmed it.

Carter had the hatch open and was ready to go. Koenig’s quiet voice spoke inside his helmet

‘Alan. Kelly’s dead.’

Bitterly, Alan Carter scanned round the space sky. For a second he debated whether or not to go out anyway and bring in his dead as a human gesture against the implacable stars. Kelly’s body was drifting off, half covered by foam with a curious nimbus of glowing light. Then he stepped back and shoved the stud to seal the hatch.

By the time he reached the pilot squab, there was a new feature on the set. Small electronic explosions were pocking the starmap. Brilliant stabs of fights seared through the direct visions ports. Streamers of colour, vermilion, cadmium yellow and incandescent orange laced over the black backdrop.

Carter gunned the motors and Eagle Four wheeled in a tight turn as he ran for base. Behind him the display died away. Kelly’s body was clear of foam. The eyes were suddenly wide open, bright and staring.

Bob Mathias could not believe the evidence of his monitors. He called Koenig. ‘Commander, Kelly was dead. But now there’s brain activity. It’s gone wild!’

Checking it out, Helena Russell found the screen showing hyper-activity on the brain trace and a phenomenally high speed, high-pitched heartbeat was thumping out from the repeater. She said, ‘I don’t understand what’s happened to him, but he’s certainly not dead.’

Koenig accepted it as a fact and called Eagle Four.

‘Alan?’

‘Commander?’

‘Kelly’s not dead after all.’

Carter thumped the panel with a balled fist, ‘Great—Commander, that’s great.’

‘Do you see him?’

‘I’ll find him.’

‘We’ll switch his life signs through to your on-board computer. You can home on his heart beats. And, Alan . . . be careful.’

For one abandoned in space, Kelly was looking very cheerful. Light flickered inside his helmet and he was smiling as though absorbed by some mental treat. He seemed unaware of Eagle Four as she loomed close and Carter called, ‘Do you read me, Kel? Don’t go away, I’m coming to bring you in.’

Carter made a cautious approach. There was some eerie quality about the sprawling figure that communicated right to his gut, even in a setting which was bizarre in its own right. He manoeuvred himself to look in through Kelly’s visor, but there was no flicker of recognition from the staring eyes. Plugging in for a one to one link, he said, ‘All right, Kel. You’re home and dry. I’ve got you hooked up. Let’s go. Melita’ll give you a hero’s welcome.’

Monitors in Main Mission had the medicos baffled. Kelly’s racing heart beats made a drum roll. Bob Mathias, a worried man, said, ‘Doctor Russell, Kelly’s oxygen intake is way off scale.’

Helena was examining a toposcope that was showing a kind of Mercator’s projection of twenty-two areas of the brain. Every last sector was throwing off a sparkling field of rhythmic flashing points with urgent interacting connectors. She said, ‘His brain’s working so fast, his heart’s having to work overtime.’

The practical issue concerned Koenig, ‘At this rate his oxygen supplies won’t last.’

Then, relief in his voice, Paul Morrow said, ‘They’re back in the Eagle, Commander.’

Carter dumped Kelly in the passenger module, hooked off his jet pack and broke the seals of his visor. Kelly’s expression was still set in a pebble-like stare and his mouth was fixed in a permanent grin.

Stepping back to take a better look, Carter said, ‘There you are, sport. How’re you feeling?’

There was no sign that Kelly had heard. ‘All right, Kel. You hold on there while I get you back home.’

He reached the hatch for the Command Module when Kelly jerked himself to his feet. The last phrase seemed to have hit the jackpot, ‘Back Home? No! We must go on!’

Carter turned back to settle his co-pilot on the squab, ‘Easy, Kel, easy now.’

But Kelly was coming forward clearly aiming to get into the pilot seat, ‘I have to know! We must go forward!’

Carter’s restraining arm was flung aside. Kelly thrust him out of his path with a demonic strength that knocked him winded to the bulkhead.

Kelly was through to the Command Module flipping control gear on the pilot console, bringing Eagle Four to an about face spin on her axis.

Alan Carter tried again, leaning over the back of the squab and pinning Kelly’s arms to his sides. But the grip was like a child’s hug to the supercharged zombie. Breaking the grip, he reached back, hauled Carter over his head and threw him into the co-pilot slot.

Dead ahead, the drifting white particles were parting Ike a curtain to reveal the incredible vortex of colour and form that lay behind them. Fascinated, Kelly threw Eagle Four forward in a bid for the centre.

Moving slowly, Carter picked himself up again. There was no reasoning with Kelly. He would have to go another way to work. He said peaceably, ‘All right, Kel, play it your way. I’ll go and stretch out for a spell in the rumble.’

He edged out through the hatch. Kelly’s fixed, demented smile was unchanged. In the passenger module, he took a stun gun from a roof clip and made his way back to the hatch.

Carter fired once. A spasm of intense pain contorted Kelly’s face and he slumped forward, head thumping on the console.

Carter said, ‘Sorry about that, Kel,’ switched control through to the co-pilot spread and took Eagle Four in a tight turn for Moonbase Alpha.

Metered for every physical and mental function and surrounded by a team of nurses and doctors, Kelly was all set for neurosurgery. Helena Russell reckoned she had no choice. If she let it rip on, the brain was hell bent on wrecking the body.

Behind a glass panel in an observation area, Koenig and Bergman watched the preparations. Victor Bergman watched the wildly peaking brain patterns on the monitors and spoke to the nearest doctor through a communicator. ‘Those brain patterns are fantastic for a man in total anaesthesia.’

Mathias looked up, ‘Brain activity is still phenomenal, but his breathing’s down to normal.’

Helena pushed a swathe of blonde hair off her forehead, ‘It’s as though his body is adjusting to what’s going on in his brain.’

‘Do we know what
is
going on in there?’—Koenig had a layman’s distrust for what they were doing. He got a wide-eyed direct look, ‘The problem is that the flow of ideas is overrunning because the will can’t cope. My hope is to stimulate the will and restore control. Unless we can achieve that, he’ll simply burn himself out.’

Melita Janni came into the observation area and Koenig flipped the key to close the communicator. Anxiously she demanded, ‘Where is he? What has happened?’

Koenig put an arm round her shoulders and tried to block out the theatre and the still figure clamped to the table, but he was fractionally late and she saw what was intended. Voice in a panic, she said, ‘They’re going to operate! What’s wrong, Commander?’