Moon Base

by E.C. Tubb

Genres: Science Fiction; Sci-fi Action & Adventure; Space Opera

Synopsis

On the airless surface of the Moon the 'cold war' continues, with the bases of the major world powers watching each other and waiting . . . The dedicated personnel of Britain's Moon Base seemed well-adjusted to their peculiar existence despite a series of mysterious happenings. What bothers them most is the visit of a Royal Commission sent by an economically-worried British Government to investigate expenditure. Travelling with the Commission, but under separate and secret orders, is Felix Larsen, who's investigations are of quite a different nature. Larsen, alive to the possibilities of espionage, soon finds himself faced with the inexplicable. Why should one man fall a thousand feet and escape with minor bruises while another dies after falling a mere eighteen inches? Why does a desperate man, bent on suicide and with all the means at hand, find it absolutely impossible to kill himself? What are the strange messages emanating from the Base - and from whence do they come? And what is the fantastic thing that has been conceived in the research department?

Release date: September 29, 2011

Publisher: Gateway

Print pages: 171

Sample

IT was cold in the hangar and Felix wished they would get on with it. His head still drummed from the roar of the retro-rockets and he still ached from the punishing thrust of take-off but, it seemed, you just didn’t walk into Luna Station. There were formalities.

First identification. Then the formal request and equally formal permission to enter. The whole thing smacked of navy-type ritual, natural enough, he supposed, but tedious even though the station was a military establishment. But, finally, the inner doors swung open and they stumbled into the base.

Lord Severn, of course, took it all in his stride and Felix felt a sneaking admiration for the old man. No one could tell from his expression of the discomfort he must be in, but the diplomat was used to travel and had long since learned to wear the mask of graciousness in every situation.

“Sir Ian!” His tone was one of pleasure at having met an old friend. “It’s good to see you again. Seven years, isn’t it? A long time to be away from home. You know General Watts, of course.”

The general, presenting his usual enigmatic vagueness, clumsily shook hands but his eyes, shadowed beneath the brim of his uniform cap, darted like gimlets over the vestibule. They rested with particular intentness on the file of men who, with rifles at the present, stood in stiff salute. Their stance was impressive but their numbers were not. They would, thought Felix, just about make a reasonable guard of honour at a not too fashionable wedding.

Then it was his turn to be introduced.

“This is Professor Larsen, Sir Ian. He travelled with us.”

“Welcome to the Moon,” smiled Macdonald. His handclasp was firm, his eyes direct. “I won’t ask you how you enjoyed your trip—I know the answer. Those rockets are sheer murder. Odd, when you come to think of it. Our most modern form of transport is the most uncomfortable ever devised. Still, that’s the price of progress.”

Felix smiled, liking the man for trying to be polite and wondered how he was going to correct the Director’s obviously false impression of the reason for his presence. Lord Severn did it for him.

“This young man’s yours, Sir Ian, he isn’t with us. Whitehall sent him here and he rode up with the Commission.”

“Commission?”

“Why yes, dear chap, we’ve come to look you over.”

For a moment Macdonald looked blank and Felix felt a sharp sympathy for the man immediately followed by a quick admiration at his self-control. It was a hell of a way for anyone to learn that he and his establishment were the subject of a Royal Commission of inquiry.

“I’m afraid that I don’t understand, Lord Severn.” The Director was sharp. “Why was I not informed?”

“Political necessity, dear chap, you know how it is.” Severn was bland. “No need to create a lot of fuss and bother when it isn’t essential. It was impossible to inform you of what was planned without telling the world of our intentions.” He coughed. “You understand, I’m sure. The political situation is …” he made an awkward gesture, “… delicate. It is best to keep a thing like this to ourselves. But there is nothing personal in this, I assure you. Her Majesty’s Government holds you in the highest esteem, the very highest esteem, but. …” Another gesture and a smile completed the sentence.

“I see.” If Macdonald had intended to pursue the matter he’d changed his mind, but Felix could sense the rage he must be feeling. “Are these other gentlemen the rest of your party?”

“Yes, come and meet them, they’ve heard a lot about you.” Severn smiled blandly as he moved awkwardly towards the others. Connor, the accountant. Prentice the biologist. Meeson the junior minister. It was, he joked, a very small team and it would probably work faster than any Royal Commission in history.

Macdonald, from his expression, was not amused.

A little at a loss Felix waited, not knowing quite what to do. Around him, in the fifty-foot square vestibule, the reception committee disintegrated as they resumed normal activity. The file of soldiers dissolved beneath snapped commands, disappearing into one of the tunnels with which the room was pierced. A group of white-coveralled personnel stood talking and some space-suited men, helmets swung back on their shoulders, passed him on the way to the hangar. Finally he lumbered towards a blond, scandinavian-type man standing on his own.

“Steady!” A hand gripped his arm and he looked down into the vivacious features of a girl. Almost immediately he corrected the impression. She was almost his own age which meant that she was past thirty, but her cropped brown hair and smooth skin matched her slim figure. The name lettered over her left breast told him she was Avril Simpson.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m the dietician and I’ve been told that you’ve come to join us.”

“That’s right.” Felix held out his hand and almost fell as the gesture spun him round. She laughed at his awkwardness.

“Take it easy, you’re not on Earth now. The trick in this gravity is to move in miniature slow-motion. Walk as if you’re going to take a six-inch step. Move your arms as if you’re dying of fatigue. You’ll soon get used to it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll suffer from strained muscles, torn ligaments and even broken bones. Try walking now, but do it slowly.”

Cautiously he did as she advised. It was an odd feeling, almost as if he had the strength of a giant which, in a way, he had. But it was a dangerous strength.

“That’s better.” Slipping an arm through his she led him towards the group who stood, still gossiping. They fell silent as he approached.

“Meet some of the gang,” introduced Avril. “You can read their names so I won’t introduce you. This is Professor Larsen, folks, he hasn’t been branded yet.”

“That’s the first essential,” said Jeff Carter solemnly. He was a short, swarthy man with a pronounced widow’s peak. “We’ve enough to remember as it is and every little helps.” He held out his hand. “Pleased to have you join us, Professor.”

“Call me Felix.”

“The cat that kept on walking, eh?” Jeff grinned.

“Well, you’ve certainly walked a long way, about as far as you can get, in fact. What’s your line?”

“I’m just a mechanic.”

“So?”

“I’ve come up to install some electronic hardware,” he explained. “Nothing to do with the present set-up of the station. I’ve some laser-beam equipment coming up and I’m to fix and install it.”

“Laser-beams?” Bob Howard, the scandinavian-type he had seen before, pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. “Heat rays, no less. Why, for Pete’s sake? Are we expecting an invasion?”

“It’s those dirty Reds,” said another man. “We’ve got to be ready on land, on the sea, in the air and now, more than ever, in space. Hell, it makes you sick!”

“Wait until Crombie hears about this,” said Jeff. His eyes were sharp as they stared at Felix. “How about that? Does he know or is this another little surprise Whitehall is springing on us?”

“Don’t ask me.” Felix shook his head. “I only work here.”

“Imagine them springing a Commission on Sir Ian without a word of warning.” Avril was indignant. “And that old fool Severn lying his head off about Security. What’s the matter with all those penpushers? Have they forgotten how to write?”

“Those laser beams interest me,” broke in Bob. He pressed closer to Felix. “How do you manage to get the beam phase so that …”

“Hold it!” Felix smiled and shook his head. “I told you, I’m just the mechanic. As far as I know the details are buried deep in red tape.”

“But——”

“Give him a rest, Bob.” Felix breathed a sigh of relief as Avril came to the rescue. “The poor devil’s only just arrived. Why, he hasn’t even had a chance to get adjusted and you want him to join you in one of your gab-sessions. Well, I’m not having it.”

“Three cheers for the women,” said a man sourly. “Trust them to interfere.”

“You’d miss us,” said Avril caustically. “Anyway, there’ll be time for talk later. Now, I guess, he’d like to see something of his new home.”

It was as he’d expected. Gouged from the solid rock at the foot of a mountain, Luna Station was a complex of tunnels, rooms and inclines all lit with lamps which simulated natural sunlight. Many of the corridors were fitted with metal doors hinged on both edges so that they could be opened from either side; an obvious precaution against accident or attack.

“You want to be careful of these,” warned Avril the first time they reached one. “It could happen that some fool is opening it from one side while you’re on the other. Even in this gravity it isn’t nice to be smacked in the face with a sheet of metal.”

“Why not a pane of transparent plastic?”

She shrugged. “Some genius in the War Office never thought of that and it’s too late to alter the specifications.”

He nodded and clumsily, but gaining confidence with every step, followed his guide until he was hopelessly lost.

“You’ll soon get used to it,” said Avril cheerfully when he complained. “For the first few days you’ll need a guide, be nice and I’ll volunteer.”

“Surely you’re too busy to spend time on a stranger.”

“I’ll fit you in.” She smiled up at him and he smiled back, warming to her nearness. “Married?”

“Not now.”

“Dead?”

“Divorced.” He felt he had to add to the bald statement. “We didn’t get on,” he explained. “When that happens it’s best to part. We had no children so it wasn’t too hard.”

“Parting is always hard,” she said sombrely, then brightened. “I wouldn’t have said that you were hard to get on with. Tall, dark, intelligent eyes and a mouth that isn’t a trap. I’d say you’ve been around quite a bit.”

She was, he realised with inner amusement, trying to flirt with him.

“That’s why I left home,” he said seriously. “I just couldn’t beat them off any longer.” Devilishly he added: “And I’ve heard that the most beautiful women in the system are to be found on the Moon.”

“Are they?”

“Well …” He looked at her, letting his eyes rove over her coverall with deliberate lechery. “From the sample I’d be prepared to say they are.”

“You’re sweet!” Impulsively she planted a kiss on his mouth. “Let’s get on with the tour.”

They passed recreation rooms, stores, sleeping chambers and gymnasiums. They passed many sealed, enigmatic doors and he pointed to one before which stood an armed guard.

“Where does that lead?”

“To the bug factory.” She pulled at his arm. “You won’t be going down there.”

There were many places, he realised, where he wouldn’t be expected to go, but he would worry about that when the time came. In the meanwhile he listened to the chatter of his guide as she showed him around. They halted as a file of men walked past. They were hot and grimed and had obviously been doing heavy manual labour.

“We’re extending all the time,” explained Avril as he stared after them. “This place is much larger than when I came.”

“When was that?”

“Five years ago. I’ve served my time.”

“Going back home?”

“No. Surprised? Well, you shouldn’t be. I’ve no one to go home to so I might as well stay where I’m comfortable.”

Comfort, he mused, remembering the seemingly endless borings through the rock and the mine-like atmosphere of the establishment, was relative, but he didn’t say so. She must have guessed his thoughts.

“Maybe living like a mole isn’t the best way to grow old but it has its compensations. Good company, real companionship and interesting work. We get along. You’ll see.”

He nodded, feeling strangely light-headed, the nagging ache which had ridden in his temples since he landed increasing to a throb of real agony. The marching lights were haloed with tiny rainbows and the glare hurt his eyes. When he touched his face he discovered that he was sweating.

“Are you feeling ill?” She had noticed the gesture.

“Just a headache. I’m all right.”

“You don’t look it.” She was anxio. . .