Inseminoid

Man had landed on the planet before: a fruitless, expensive fiasco of an expedition. Then, fifty years later a smaller but disastrous landing had left two men horribly and unexplainedly dead.

Now a third attempt had so far found nothing but a silent, lifeless world. Until they broke open the underground chamber and discovered in the most vile way imaginable that the planet was not quite dead. That a sleeping life form had been waiting for millennia, needing only a chance to breed before escaping to spread like a foul, devouring disease into the lifeblood of the universe.

And to breed it needed the bodies of those who had disturbed it.

SIR RUN RUN SHAW
presents

INSEMINOID

A Jupiter Film Production

starring
ROBIN CLARKE • JENNIFER ASHLEY
STEPHANIE BEACHAM • STEVEN GRIVES
BARRY HOUGHTON • ROSALIND LLOYD
VICTORIA TENNANT • TREVOR THOMAS
HEATHER WRIGHT • DAVID BAXT
and
JUDY GEESON
as
SANDY

Executive Producer
PETER M. SCHLESINGER
Screenplay by
NICK
and
GLORIA MALEY
Music by
JOHN SCOTT
Produced by
RICHARD GORDON
and
DAVID SPEECHLEY
Directed by
NORMAN J. WARREN

A New English Library Original Publication, 1981

Copyright © 1981 by Jupiter Film Productions Ltd.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission of the publishers.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

First NEL Paperback Edition April 1981

NEL Books are published by
New English Library Limited,
Barnard’s Inn, Holborn,
London, EC1N 2JR.

Made and printed in Great Britain by
Hunt Barnard Printing Ltd., Aylesbury, Bucks.

ISBN: 0-450-05224-9

PROLOGUE

T
he craft touched down on the rocky surface. The ten-member archaeological team looked nervously through the viewer at what would be their home for the next six months. It was a lonely-looking planet. Desolate, uninviting.

As soon as the craft had come to a complete stop, those that were going to leave began sitting up.

A century earlier, a two-hundred-strong contingent spent six months on the planet but came up with nothing. It had gone down as one of the biggest blow-outs in history. But their living complex was still standing and this team would be using it.

Two weeks before them, a preparation team of three had arrived to ready the facilities, stock them with provisions and bring them up to date technically. That team would be going back to Zeno on the return flight.

“I hope they’ve got the place in good order,” Foster said. He was commander of the expedition. “I’d hate to waste valuable time making the quarters habitable. We’ve got a job to do.”

The hatch opened and the archaeologists filed out of the craft.

“No welcoming party?” Anderson remarked. “Didn’t they have our ETA?”

“They’re probably waiting for us inside,” Commander Foster told him.

They shuffled through the atmosphere, taking their time to check out their new surroundings.

“Not a lot going on here,” mumbled Anderson.

They reached the outer door of the airlock and activated it. The barrier slid to one side and the crew entered. When that was shut, the inner door opened and they marched into the maze of corridors.

“We’ll need a map of this place to get around,” Goldberg complained.

Commander Foster shook his head. “Nope, the majority of the complex’s been closed off. We’ll be doing most of our living and working in a relatively confined area.”

Still there was no one there to meet them and this worried Anderson.

“They’re probably sleeping. Those guys have the cushiest jobs,” Goldberg decided.

He’d just finished saying those words when in the distance of the lighted corridor, they saw what looked to be a bundle of old clothes.

“The jerk-offs can’t even pick up after themselves.” Anderson shook his head in disgust.

They walked toward the bundle and stopped abruptly.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” whispered Goldberg. At their feet was indeed men’s clothing. And inside was a skeleton. It lay in a foul-smelling pool of burgundy-colored muck. The commander bent to one knee and lifted some of the substance on to his gloved finger. It was thick and sticky.

None of them knew what to think. But they moved farther into the complex. Foster raised his gun and the other team members followed his example.

There was a light glowing from under the control room door. They made their way towards it but the room was locked from the inside. The commander nodded his head and Anderson came forward. With a powerful kick, the door flew-off its hinges.

Anderson rushed in with his gun ready.

Sitting in the high-backed chair at the control console was one of the prep team. He didn’t move. He just stared at the flashing lights on the console.

“Commander, it’s okay. Fitzpatrick’s just having a little fun with us. Hey, Fitz, bright idea. Where did you get that skeleton? Some joker you are!”

Anderson swung the swivel chair around and froze. It was Fitzpatrick all right. But only his head remained identifiable. From the neck down there was only a skeleton within a suit. No flesh. The same muck glued Fitzpatrick to his chair. The horror painted on his face was something none of those people would ever forget.

The search for Jones went on for two hours, though he was never found. They now had no doubt he’d suffered the same terrible end as his colleagues.

Foster made the only decision he could. To return to Zeno. Perhaps in twenty-five, maybe fifty years, interest might be revived in exploring the planet. But he wasn’t going to be the one to do it.

When Foster made his report it was decided to seal his findings. What happened to the prep crew could not be explained. No one would ever learn the truth about that mission. There was never any explanation for the rule applied that made the planet off-limits for exploration until fifty years had expired.

CHAPTER
ONE

“Crew is settled in and down to work. Nothing more to report at this time. Will keep you informed of developments as they occur. This is Nova, Sub-satellite Archaeology Research Team Seven. Commander Holly McKay, signing off.”

“Message received and acknowledged. Please note that sun-shield goes up in six hours.”

“Duly noted.”

“Good luck, Commander McKay.”

H
olly Mckay switched off the communicator and smiled. Luck. What did luck have to do with it? After all, two previous expeditions had located absolutely nothing—no trace that anything at all had ever existed on this planet. The atmosphere being what it was, and the lack of a food supply, made it quite unlikely that except for bored scientists like themselves there had ever been an indigenous population.

Even so, it
was
her first command post. At the very least, it would be good experience without the pressure of life-and-death decisions hanging over her. She figured that was why she was given the assignment in the first place. To break her in. Sure, a discovery of some sort, no matter how trivial, would indicate there had been life on the planet and that would definitely be a feather in her cap. But just getting the crew back safe and sound would be enough accomplishment for her.

All was going smoothly and she intended to keep it that way. Each of the crew of twelve had an assigned job to perform and they were all professional enough not to need constant supervision. Holly was pleased. A team like this one made a commander’s job very easy.

Dean and Ricky comprised the advance team. It was their responsibility to survey potential dig sites. They’d scout out the planet’s nooks and crannies looking for underground caverns or hollowed-out mountain sides in search of places most likely to hold the secrets of a past civilisation.

Dean was the old pro. He’d been shuttling between intergalactic way-stations for nearly fifteen years. He’d been there for the big finds as well as the blow-outs. He wasn’t sure how long he’d continue kicking around on dead planets. Often during recent months he’d come close to hanging up his oxygen mask and thermo unit, taking his pension and whiling away the days on one of those retirement communities that’d sprung up in the last few years. When it came down to it, though, he knew he couldn’t live out his life in a glass bubble, swimming in an artificial lake, catching electronic fish and partying with people who’d never understand the thrill of excavating a site untouched for a million years. No, Dean was pretty certain he’d die with his boots on.

While Dean had learned to be deliberate and cautious through his many years of service, Ricky was the impetuous raw rookie, eager to make his mark as soon as he could.

Ricky was just twenty-two years old. He’d gone through the required course of study, though book-learning bored him to death. He was ready for the big time and so he was a bit disappointed when it turned out that
this
was to be his first mission. But then, a guy had to start at the bottom in this business.

And there were the perks—the job benefits that helped to make even a nothing expedition like this worthwhile. Ricky was thinking specifically of the system of sexual rotation. At least he’d be getting it regularly and if he was paired up with a dead one, all he had to do was wait till the rotation wheel turned a notch. Besides, he’d had it with those furtive trysts in the back of the shuttle with Nancy. He’d only done it with her because she was a pushover and always willing. And she kept her mouth shut. She would come by the gymnasium and watch him work out, getting steamed up by the sight of his bulging muscles.