Pegasus in Space (35 page)

Fire in the sky. They all see a huge fire in the sky
, said Budworth.

So did I
, and there was a profound sorrow in Mallie’s mental tone.

Fire in the sky? Peter? Oh my God! Peter! Fire in the sky!

C
onfounded by
Limo-34
’s telemetry, Commander Sakai leaned back in his chair, stretched, and indulged in a good yawn. He forced his mouth shut halfway through and arched out of the chair, punching up
Limo-34
’s frequency.

“
Limo-34, Limo-34
, declare an emergency,” he yelled into his headset.

“O
xygen levels are going back up again.” Johnny swore as he did a final scan of the control panels just before the computers commenced the TLI-3 burn. “That can’t be right.”

“Well, the computers all agree,” the copilot replied, “the levels are too low.”

“They don’t feel low,” Johnny said, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

Peter yawned again, his cheeks tingling.

“
Limo-34, Limo-34
, declare an emergency,” the voice of Commander Sakai blared over their headsets.

Oh my God! Peter!
Rhyssa’s voice shrieked in Peter’s head.
Fire in the sky!

“The computers have initiated TLI-3,” Lieutenant Liu reported.

The computers!
Peter shouted to Johnny. Johnny responded with a moment of sheer terror that he rapidly brought under control but it was too much for Peter.

L
ater, no one could quite remember what happened. Rhyssa felt a sudden wrench in her contact with Peter and collapsed against Dave. In Geneva, at the site of the newly commissioned CERN gestalt generators,
Professor Gadriel swore as his latest set of circuits burned out, while in the background the generators keened in agony.

Commander Sakai dropped back to his seat in horror as the TDRs relayed the growing fireball in the sky when
Limo-34
’s fuel tanks exploded.

With the image still burning in his mind, Commander Sakai punched up the admiral’s office.

“Sir, this is Commander Sakai,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “There’s been a terrible accident.”

L
ance was updating the flight manifests when Colonel Watari found him. The colonel looked more solemn than usual.

“What’s up?” Lance asked with no preamble.

The colonel’s eyes sparked with anger for a moment and then faded. “Word just in from Padrugoi.
Limo-34
’s fuel tanks exploded when they started TLI-3. No survivors. They didn’t even have time to make it to escape pods.”

Lance opened his mouth, tried to speak, and shook his head wordlessly, denying what he had just been told.

“Not that it helps,” Colonel Watari offered, “but it was probably instantaneous. They never felt a thing.”

From behind him a voice drawled, “Oh, I wouldn’t quite say that. I’ve one helluva hangover.”

“Johnny?” Lance shouted, instantly on his feet, his face lit with a huge grin at the welcome sight of a rumpled general, looking very much alive if slightly gray in the face. He started to rush toward the general but stopped himself, adding phlegmatically, “I shoulda known they couldn’t kill you.”

“They nearly did,” Johnny replied with a sour grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “And the way this headache feels …”

It had been Rhyssa’s terrified shout that had warned them. And Peter’s frantic reaction that had saved them. In the instant Peter and Johnny had realized that the computers had been sabotaged, Peter recognized that his fatigue and tingling cheeks were signs of oxygen starvation. He had slapped the emergency shutdown on the ship’s computers, jettisoned the engines and fuel tanks, and—Johnny still didn’t quite know how—’ported
Limo-34
to the safest place he could visualize in that horrible moment: 200 meters away from
Apollo 12
. And 400 million meters from the fireball.

Then Peter had collapsed, leaving Johnny to power up MPU Two—the one computer that hadn’t been sabotaged and so had been consistently overridden by the faulty ones—and to teleport himself into First Base.

Johnny shook off the pain of his oxygen-starved headache and pointed to Watari. “You’ve got to get rescue vehicles over to the
Apollo 12
site, like ten minutes ago.”

“What?” Colonel Watari recovered from his shock but his dislike for anyone ordering him about in his own office showed in the frown on his face. “What’s there? How’d you get here? What’s going on?”

“In the order of your questions, Colonel, the
Limo-34
or what’s left of it. Minus the aft end. I ’ported me here. We were sabotaged.”

“How? Who? What?” Lance babbled with delayed relief.

Johnny waved him off. “Later. There’s not much oxygen left and what’s there is mostly stale. If you please, Colonel Watari?” He flicked his hand at the control panels.

Even at the breakneck speed with which the First Base commandant organized the rescue party, it was still over twenty minutes before the cumbersome airlock bus was on its way and those in the cab on the lower deck of the facility could see the wreck. On the ground below it, a figure in an EMU waved urgently for more speed.

Is that Peter?
Lance asked Johnny, who was clenching and unclenching his hands on the oh-my-god bar in the bus. This part of Oceanus Procellarum was relatively smooth as
mares
went, so Johnny’s grasp was more nerves than need. They were all in EMUs, for Johnny wanted to investigate the Limo almost as much as Watari did.

Should be
, Johnny replied.
Peter had his EMU with him, checked and sealed by Silversmith. I didn’t say he could go for a moonwalk but I won’t fault him. The ambience in the crew compartment would be pretty dense for his innate sensitivity. Thank God for it. The EMU has its own oxygen and God knows one less inside leaves more for the others to breathe. Can’t this thing go faster?

My GOD! And you landed that!

They were close enough to see details now as the disturbed moon dust was finally settling to the surface around the crash site. Watari and the driver in the cab of the airlock bus echoed Lance’s exclamation of disbelief.
The nose of the broken shuttle perched drunkenly on its forward landing skid, the rear cargo section resting on the lunar soil. The gold Mylar skin had peeled back for several meters, lifted from the metal hull by the heat of the exploding fuel tanks.

“A good landing is one you walk away from, believe me,” Johnny said sardonically. “Peter’s being outside suggests that there weren’t any more booby traps. You see, someone had epoxied the escape pod clamps so even if there’d been time to get to them, we wouldn’t’ve escaped.” His expression turned grimmer.

“My God! Who’d perpetrate such a crime?” Watari asked. To him, space travel and everything associated with it were sacrosanct. “Admiral Coetzer will be overjoyed to learn that you’re safe. I should have reported immediately.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Johnny said with such vigor that Watari stared at him. “Because we’re not going to tell him just yet.”

“Not even how you miraculously got here?”

That really puzzled Watari but Johnny wasn’t about to enlighten him. He shook his head again.

Watari spluttered in outrage. “For God’s sake, why not?”

“Because, as I said, Colonel, someone tried to sabotage us,” Johnny replied. “And the sooner they find out they’ve failed, the sooner they’ll try again.”

“Sabotage?”

“Yes, Colonel, sabotage.” Johnny’s tone was almost kindly as he repeated his verdict.

The bus was almost to the airlock, Peter moving out of its way cautiously in the Moon’s gravity.

He could be the one
, Peter said, alarmed by Johnny’s candor.

Naw. Lives by the book, this one
, Johnny replied.

Too right
, Lance said supportively.

Watching anxiously as the bus airlock closed very gently on the Limo’s single undamaged hatch, Peter could hear the amusement in the Australian’s tone. He had previously mentioned to Peter that Watari’s persnickety notions were irritating but he ran a tight Base.

Watari’s narrowed eyes were examining the crumpled Limo, noticing the heat-peeled Mylar skin at the end of the cargo compartment and the buckled condition of the other portside airlock.

“Sabotage. No doubt about it. Very well. Irregularities,” and now he winced at the proximity of the Limo to the hallowed ground of the
Apollo 12
site on one side, and the Surveyor landing monument on the other. “Irregularities to save lives are another matter entirely. I will expect a full report when we return to First Base.” He tapped his headset. “First Base, I want a security squad out here on the double.”

“On the double, Colonel,” was the instant reply. Peter recognized Major Cyberal’s baritone voice.

Watari was completing the checks on his EMU suit so that he could exit the cab and examine the wreck firsthand. He gave crisp commands to Cyberal.

“Limo’s passengers and crew are to be accorded all privileges but to be housed separately until this investigation is concluded. No contact with any Base personnel.”

“Quarters are available in DiMaggio Block, sir. Security as ordered, sir”.

“Oversee the transfer from the bus at that entry yourself, Major.”

“Yes, sir, over and out.”

“What about the personnel driving the airlock bus, Colonel?” Johnny asked.

The colonel turned himself so his helmeted face was visible to the general. Lance could see Watari’s profile, his lips parted to show his teeth, demonstrating dislike of the general’s implied criticism.

“The airlock is, of necessity, separated from the transport vehicle, General,” Watari said, his body stiff with resentment.

“Just making sure there is no contact,” Johnny replied blandly.

“Lieutenant Marr is in charge of the operation and has been party to all orders. Have you not, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir, I have, sir,” was the crisp reply in a female voice. “The airlock is now positioned and cycling through to the Limo, sir. We will have secure transport in forty seconds!”

“Lieutenant Liu,” Johnny said, leaning over the bus’s comunit. He paused until Xiang came on-line. “Inform the passengers that they can now debark into the airlock. They are to bring all personal effects with them. You will secure the ship and await the arrival of a security team.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you require an EMU, Lieutenant?” Colonel Watari asked.

“No, sir. I’m currently wearing mine.”

“Peter, did you hear all that?” Johnny asked, turning his attention to the EMU-suited figure standing to the port of the bus.

“Loud and clear,” Peter said, watching with interest as he saw the slight movement of the bus airlock connection, indicating that people were disembarking the wreck. From where he stood on the ground, he could see heads on the upper level of the bus and guessed the relief of those breathing fresher air.

Xiang Liu had more or less ordered him to get into his EMU, saying that it would save air for someone else. With Sergeant Bat Singh and Corporal Ahn, they had examined the one remaining airlock with great attention to the possibility of additional sabotage. But they’d found none, so Peter, almost overwhelmed by the thick emotions of those so recently delivered from death, had gratefully disembarked.

His first steps on the Moon were therefore not as ecstatic as he had anticipated. Sheer relief dominated his mind. And fatigue. He had kept linked to Johnny and had been amused by Watari’s reactions. The colonel’s efficient organization of rescue had given Peter a boost but it seemed to him as if the lumbering airlock bus had taken forever to bring fresh air and rescue to the Limo. Briefly, he wondered if he shouldn’t really have stayed behind with the others. He’d caught no resentment in anyone’s mind but then no one had wasted any effort not involved in breathing. A wisp of relief did reach him, that there’d be one less in the cabin using what oxygen was left. In fact, they were relieved that he’d been able to get out of the airlock. Then, too, no one else could fit into his EMU so it was silly of him not to use it.

Watching the airbus loading up, Peter now roused himself to wonder where he should ’port his baggage, still onboard the Limo. Maybe to that table in the colonel’s office so his things could be inspected, too, he thought wryly. He felt very queer all over. Probably the bad air or just plain funk with relief in arriving safely—or at all.

“R
eady to disengage, Lieutenant.” Peter heard a crisp female voice on his helmet comm. “Colonel, all passengers aboard or accounted for.”

“Very well. Proceed to the Base and disembark the passengers at
DiMaggio Block. No communications with anyone at this point in time,” Watari ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

D’you want to go in the bus, Pete?
Johnny asked.

And be incommunicado in DiMaggio?
Peter was amused that baseball idols were being immortalized on First Base. But then, the Moon facility had been built by joint American and Japanese engineers, both countries being baseball enthusiasts.