Not really. The Jodrell Bank people say the sound seems to be coming from a fixed point, almost as if they were marshalling their forces.'
Not a very good sign. Has anyone talked to Betelgeuse?' I asked.
`Yes, and he's going mad because nobody's taking it seriously. According to him, they are working on hydrogen pushing.'
`Well, what's going to happen?' I asked.
Sir John shrugged his shoulders. 'How serious do you think things really are, Dick?'
`Very serious -- but what infuriates me is that our visitors would rather we fled with them than stand and make a fight of it.'
`Is that what the girl told you?'
`Yes. She wanted me to go back to the ship and leave with them.'
`Oh,' Sir John said, chuckling as the waiter put our food on the table. 'Why didn't you accept the offer?'
`I don't really know. Perhaps the thought of giving up doesn't really appeal to me,' I said thoughtfully.
`But think of all that new technology you would be able to learn,' Sir John went on.
`I know, that had crossed my mind, but at the moment I feel there must be something we can do to stop the Yela, if we're really in earnest.'
`You feel you can fight a people who can burn a planet up?' smiled Sir John.
`Well, I know the Yela are further advanced in technology, but surely we can try to outwit them.'
`True, but even if you stop them once, they might come back a second time. Can we be sure to stop them again?'
`I don't know, but with a breathing space we might gain the confidence of Betelgeuse and make him believe that it is possible to fight calculated battles rather than just play guerilla warfare,' I said, taking a mouthful of steak.
`Do you think that Betelgeuse is really afraid of these Yela?' Sir John said.
`No, I don't think his people are afraid while they are in space. Their ships are as good or better than most of the federation fleet. Their main fear is of this burning phenomenon that the Yela can perform. So while they're on a planet a sense of despair sets in, which makes them believe that nothing can be done.'
`Maybe, maybe,' said Sir John, finishing his meal. 'What do you consider would be the best thing to do?'
I took a sip of wine and a deep breath. 'Try to deliver one blow, which would destroy enough of the enemy to make them retreat to lick their wounds.'
`How would you do that? It is obvious that our conventional weapons would be of very little use,' Sir John said thoughtfully.
`Yes, and extremely expensive. Colonel Rhodes tried an idea for making a batch of torpedoes hunt together. But this is such a waste, when you consider that with eight torpedoes you can only hit two ships.'
`So you want one or two torpedoes or some similar weapon that can tackle a fleet spread over a wide area. How about Quark torpedoes, or a giant Quark bomb?' said Sir John, fiddling with his spoon.
`A Quark bomb would be extremely interesting, but it wouldn't have enough heat value over a wide area,' I said, beginning to scribble some calculations down on my napkin.
Quarks had been a great joke until the end of 1969, when it was proven that the smallest known atom particles at the time could be split even further. The man who discovered this called these particles Quarks. This was quite a breakthrough, as the practical use showed that a Quark bomb was thousands of times more powerful than the conventional hydrogen one.
I looked up. 'No. It's as I thought, the heat intensity would be too low.'
`Even if you used Quark heads on torpedoes?' asked Sir John, finishing his wine.
`Could be, but I'm not satisfied with the idea.'
Pierre came up and placed a small TV set on the table. A picture of the Prime Minister came into focus.
`Good evening,' he said. 'As you will have heard from our experts, no serious importance need be attached to the -- hem, rather singular interruptions that have been taking place recently in our broadcasts.'
I looked at Sir John, who shrugged his shoulders.
`Our enemy has been soundly, roundly defeated. Smarting no doubt under his defeat, he is now indulging in the childish pastime of vain threats. Nevertheless, World Space H.Q., with the full approval of all governments, proposes to take precautionary measures. During the next few days full-scale manoeuvres are to be held.
These will include a defense exercise in which the population as a whole will be expected to take part. Over the period of the operation, starting from midnight tomorrow, I would appreciate your full co-operation in observing all the regulations that will be given out as the exercise develops.'
`Idiots,' said Sir John getting up. 'Won't be a moment.' He vanished towards the phone booth. I emptied the remains of the wine carafe into my glass and drained it.
Sir John came back to the table.
`Nobody's talking, and the War Department had the cheek to tell me to mind my own business.'
`Do you think they're going to put Betelgeuse's replica up and try to fight?' I said, almost laughing at my own question.
`Pierre,' Sir John bellowed.
`Yes, Sir John?'
`What else has been happening?' he said, pointing to the TV.
`I'm afraid I don't know. My wife saw there was going to be a broadcast so ..
`Fine, Pierre. Thank you, put the meal on my account.' Pierre smiled nervously as Sir John swept out of the restaurant, with me following in his wake.
`Dick, I'm going home to see if I can learn anything more of what's going on.'
`Good idea,' I said. 'If there's anything I can do ...'
`Yes, yes, thank you, Dick. I'll be in touch,' Sir John said absently and walked off in the direction of his home.
I turned and started to walk towards the city centre. Had World H.Q. suddenly decided to put more ships up, knowing that they'd be annihilated once they were within range of the enemy? They couldn't have more than one or two ships of the Betelgeuse type. I had to find out. I called up Colonel Rhodes.
It took ages to track him down, but eventually the central phone computer found him.
`Hello, Dick. How are the sea legs?' said Colonel when he came up on my small monitor.
`Not too bad. A little rubbery from time to time. Look, Colonel, I've just seen the Prime Minister on the box, and I was wondering what the devil he was talking about.'
`Perhaps I shouldn't be telling you over the open phone, but we've been put on security alert. According to Ganges' information, everyone's voted to have a go at the enemy using Quark torpedoes,' Rhodes said, looking rather tired, I thought.
`Won't do much good,' I said.
`I have the same feeling,' Rhodes said, guardedly. `What's the chance of my coming over and talking to you and Betelgeuse?'
`Nil, the base is all closed up except for authorized personnel.'
`Couldn't you get me a pass?'
`Not at the moment. We've got a lot of top brass here; they've even put Betelgeuse and the crew under a sort of house arrest.'
`What happens if I turn up?' I asked.
`Nothing, you're quite respected round here; but as I said, there's pandemonium going on so nothing can be guaranteed.'
`O.K., Colonel, don't get yourself into trouble this time, I shan't be around,' I said, pulling the switch before Rhodes could get an answer in.
The situation annoyed me. I wanted to discuss with Betelgeuse an idea that was forming in my mind. The more I walked the stronger the feeling of anger grew.
Eventually I'd made up my mind. I'd go and see him.
The problem was how. A helicopter or taxi was out of the question. I'd have to give the destination, which would give me away immediately. So how does one travel about twenty miles without walking?
The college library was still open when I got back. My head began to go like a fast metronome as I searched for a detailed six-inch to the mile map of the Mildenhall area. Marvelous, nobody had borrowed it. I looked round to see if anyone was watching. No, so I put the map in my pocket and went back to my rooms.
The problem was no easy one to solve. All means of transport gave the authorities and the police an account of my movements into the area. Another problem was, once in the vicinity of Mildenhall, I'd have the radar to deal with. This second question annoyed me, as I'd done a lot of work on it in my early days at the University.
From what I knew, the equipment was becoming obsolete now, but it could still detect a moving object from almost ground level upwards.
I poured a gin and tonic and sat looking intently at the map. It was possible to reach the perimeter of the space drome, but then I would have to make a run for it, with the chance of being picked up within minutes by the security patrols.
It is strange that when you're thinking hard about a problem the solution can be so simple it is overlooked. I went to my desk and hunted through my files until I found a very tattered one marked 'RADAR'. I'd been painstakingly meticulous in the data. Here it was, a rough sketch of the ground radar plan. True, it would have been altered, but from what I could remember there were a number of aerial points. These were collapsible, and could be withdrawn into the ground. The electronics were fed through small tunnels from the control room.
There were several possibilities. Outside the perimeter there were eight aerial points. Two on the south side had tunnels running alongside the main launching pad area. I thought carefully and then put a cross at the approximate position of Betelgeuse's ship. There were no ventilation points for the tunnel marked near the ship but there must be one. There seemed to be no choice; if I wanted to go, I would have to do it this way.
It was starting to rain as I packed up a small tool kit and crept stealthily from my rooms. I wended my way through various courtyards until I reached the old kitchen bridge that crossed the river Cam. The senior tutor kept a small canoe moored here, mainly to get to and from his home, which was upstream. He would blow up when he found it gone, but it wouldn't harm him to walk. Being no boatman, my antics getting into the canoe must have been amusing. Once in it, it rocked so much I had to sit very still for fear of falling into the water. I slipped the mooring and the canoe slowly moved out into the river and started to drift downstream. I lay quietly in the bottom as it was still early enough for students to be out with their girlfriends, even though the rain was falling.
Suddenly the canoe picked up speed. This must be the lock. It was, and I was traveling at an ever-increasing speed towards it. It took me a few seconds to get everything under control, but luckily I made it, as there was a weir with a good fifteen- to twenty-foot drop to the lower part of the river.
I carried the canoe round the obstacle and soon found myself at the boat yard I was looking for. Here, as I suspected, were several hover water ski boats tied up along the jetty. Each one was connected up to a recharging unit. I tested every boat and then slipped the rope on the one with the most stored electricity. My plan was now simple. The river Cam led into a large river called the Ouse. There was, according to my map, a river called the Lark coming into the Ouse from the south-east. This would lead me to the south of the space drome.
The journey was uneventful, except for the fact that I kept running into odd things, as I didn't want to use the lights on the boat. The launching pads were lit up to look like daylight, and over towards the far end I could see the DSP 15 and, just beyond it, Betelgeuse's ship. There seemed to be a terrific amount of activity and the main carrying railways were crowded with ships ready to be put on the pads.
I moored the boat to the east end of the village of Mildenhall, which positioned me just to the south of the space drome. Lying on the river bank it took me several minutes to decide roughly where I was.
In my tool kit I'd put a small radio receiver which was capable of picking up ultra high frequency waves. It did the trick. I was almost sitting on one of the aerials.
Crawling on my stomach, I eventually reached it, and just below was a manhole cover. I counted the time that the aerial was pointing away from me. Not much time; next time round I crawled quickly up to the manhole cover and pried it open. Below, all I could feel was cold water. I climbed in just as the aerial came round again.
The water smelt foul as I sank into it. The tunnel holding the communication cables was flooded halfway up the wall.
My map of the tunnels was beginning to get rather damp and flabby. I found my compass and placed it on the disintegrating paper and shone my pocket light. If I was right about the position of the aerial, all I had to do was to take the first tunnel east and then the second going north.
With one leg and arm astride the communications cable I started to crawl along the tunnel. The water was cold, muddy and strangely wet. I crawled and crawled, and I began to feel as though I'd crawled all the way back to Cambridge before I came to my turn to the east. Suddenly the ground shook and a deafening roar shook me to the core. The whole tunnel seemed to flex. I must be under a launching pad. I wiggled my head around when it was over and started moving again, as the cold of the water was beginning to creep into my bones. One tunnel was past and then shortly I arrived at my turning north. At this point I consulted my chart. I tried to picture what was above me, but it was difficult. I moved on a little until I found a gridded manhole cover. No amount of physical strength would move the grate, but I could see and hear terrific activity. They were launching craft as fast as they could.
As I crawled on, another ship went up and the tunnel flexed alarmingly. Eventually I arrived at the next cover. This one must have been nearly twenty feet below ground level, as I had to climb up a small ladder. Heaving away at the cover didn't seem to have much effect. I looked at the edges; there didn't seem to be any locking device, but peering through the slits I saw a pair of boots standing on the cover. I held my breath. My heart began to thump unnecessarily loudly, and I expected the man to look down at any moment.