The Rings of Tantalus (3 page)

Lieutenant Smith was puzzled. “What’s it all about?”

“Tantalus has only one moon, Lieutenant,” said Kwan-go. Then he added reproachfully. “You should know that.”

“This other thing,” said Conrad, “is either a damned small asteroid or a damned big space ship. Come on, move!”

Phase Three

THE MOON THAT WASN’T

By the time they reached the navigation deck, Luke and the
Santa Maria’s
sophisticated system of telemetry had provided more interesting data about the “moon” that theoretically should not exist. It was metallic, it was completely symmetrical, it was ovoid, it was two point two-five kilometres long, and was point nine-five kilometres wide at its widest point.

Conrad gazed at it through the manual telescope in awe. Because it was still bathed in the bright sunlight of Regulus, he could not pick out any detail, even at seventy-five magnifications. But experience and intuition told him what the object was beyond any shadow of doubt. Kwango and Lieutenant Smith peered through the observation panel. All they could see was a bright, tiny egg.

Conrad stepped back from the telescope. When he spoke, his voice was shaking. “We are privileged—if that is the right word—to be present at the high point of human history.” He gestured to the telescope. “Take a look, Kurt, and tell me what you see.”

Kwango adjusted the telescope and gazed intently. “I see a bloody big cosmic egg, Commander.”

“Now you, Indira.”

Lieutenant Smith made a further adjustment to the eyepiece. “The same,” she reported. “I see the same as Kurt, James. What is it?”

Irrelevantly, Conrad remembered another time she had called him James. It had been in a small cottage in the North West Highlands of Scotland. They were in bed together, naked, and at the point of mutual ecstasy. He thrust the memory away. That was in another country on the other side of the sky. And, besides, the wench was now Lieutenant Smith, Expendable.

“It is the proof that man is not the only clever animal to raise his covetous eyes to the stars, Lieutenant. That object is an alien space vessel. It is to the
Santa Maria
as the
Queen Elizabeth
was to the
Golden Hind
.” He let out a great sigh. “I very much fear we are about to meet our masters.”

“If we are about to meet our masters, Commander,” said Kwango, “why the devil haven’t those big boys sent out any signals? If they are all that hot, they have got to have steam radio, for starters. They must be aware of our presence. Why no noise on the old squawk box?”

Conrad shrugged. “I don’t know, Kurt.” He turned to the robot Luke. “Sweep all radio frequencies for signals. Execute.”

“Decision noted, Commander. Execution proceeds:”

“Matthew, signal on all frequencies—use variable pitch signals. We must assume that their audible range may be vastly different from ours. Make the signals simple. Transmit the numerals one to ten. Let a one-second pulse equal one, two one-second pulses equal two, and so on. Repeat the transmissions for one hour S.E.T. or until contact is established. If contact is established, let me know immediately. Execute.”

“Decision noted, Commander. Execution proceeds.” Matthew, imperturbable as always, joined Luke at the communications console.

“What are you going to do, James?” Indira shivered. “As if we didn’t already have enough problems.”

“Lieutenant Smith,” said Conrad coldly, “as of now we are at action stations. It may be—and I devoutly hope so —that the alien vessel has no aggressive intentions. But we cannot know, and must make no assumptions. I need hardly remind you that the
Santa Maria
has no defensive armament. So, unless we can establish contact and somehow define our own peaceful intentions, we risk being blasted out of orbit at the best, or being totally destroyed at the worst. Such weapons as we have were designed for planetary use.” He gave a grim smile. “The bright boys at ExPEND never thought we might have to take on another space-borne species. But we can adapt our weapons. We have lasers and explosives… Kwango, see what can be done to manufacture explosive war-heads. The robots will assist you, as required. Lieutenant Smith, see to the supercharging of three laser rifles. Also, check three space-suits and life-support systems, together with the necessary jet-packs.”

Kwango said: “O.K. Commander, I hear and obey. But I think you are wasting our time.”

“Why? Tell it fast, black man. I’m in no mood for the funnies.”

“I think that vessel is dead. If it wasn’t, they would have made noises. As you say, it’s a hell of a lot bigger than we are, and it probably contains a hell of a lot of sophisticated equipment. Just begins to look like nobody’s using it, that’s all.”

“Maybe you are right. But there is a creature on Earth that plays dead until it is sure of its prey. We can’t take chances… Lieutenant Smith, why are you not checking out the suits as ordered?”

Indira said coldly: “Sir, I request permission to apply emergency resuscitation to our four comrades. We may need them.”

“Permission denied. At a time like this, we don’t want to have to worry about who is going to stab us in the back. Get moving.”

“Yes, sir.” She saluted insolently and left the navigation deck with Kwango.

Conrad sighed. So much for the idyll in the North West Highlands of Scotland. He turned to Matthew. “Any sign of life?”

“Query, sir. What criteria are to be applied for recognition of—”

“Cancel question,” interrupted Conrad wearily. “Is there any response to transmission of signals?”

“None, Commander.”

“Continue transmissions. Also programme master computer with relevant data concerning alien object’s mass, velocity and orbit. Request astrogation sequence for fastest possible rendezvous of
Santa Maria
with alien object. Also request computer to develop F.T.L. Earth destination programme in case we need to get out of here fast.”

“Decisions noted, Commander. Execution proceeds.”

Six hours later, Conrad decided to go for broke. There had been no response of any kind from the huge alien vessel. So he decided to pay it a visit. The computer had revealed that its orbit was a vast eccentric one—which was probably why the robot probe had not registered its existence. Though of course, it was entirely possible that the vessel had entered the Regulus system after the probe’s departure. Whatever the explanation, Conrad knew he could not proceed with the proving of Tantalus without attempting to resolve the mystery.

He called Kwango and Lieutenant Smith to the navigation deck.

“What’s the weapons situation, Kurt?’*

“Not good, but not too bad. I have had two of the robots, Mark and John, constructing a battery of six laser rifles mounted in the air-lock. All the rifles can be triggered simultaneously and the beams can be brought to focus on a given point if we know the exact range. It should be effective on carbon steel at, say, five thousand metres. Also Peter and Paul have attached spheres of cold nitro—which you may recall, was Fidel’s
specialite de la maison
—on to the heads of three distress rockets. Extreme range estimated at fifteen thousand metres.” Kwango shrugged. “Trouble is, Boss, we haven’t had an opportunity to prove these gadgets.”

“Let us hope we don’t need them.”

“Amen to that. I’m praying on it and I’m betting on it.”

“Lieutenant, the space-suits are all tanked up?”

“Yes, sir.” Indira’s voice still had an icy edge to it. “The life-support systems are good for ten hours at maximum demand, the emergency systems will give two more hours, the jet-packs will allow ninety minutes of continuous manoeuvre.”

“Well, then,” said Conrad tranquilly, “the
Santa Maria
, as an aggressive mouse, is as ready as it ever will be to go and kick that sleeping elephant in the balls. It is my decision—which I have entered in the log—that the
Santa Maria
will match orbit and velocity with our enigmatic elephant. We will come up slowly and close, trying hard not to look aggressive in our intentions. While this is being done, we will continue trying to establish radio contact: If that does not succeed, at a range of twenty thousand metres we will try to make contact by visual signals. I have already instructed Matthew on the signalling procedure. And if that does not bring a response, we will nose in until we are close enough for me to jet across. I’ll take a look around and maybe give the hull a few good kicks. And if that doesn’t bring any reaction, I’ll believe your theory, Kurt, that we have found a derelict.”

“You think that is the wisest course, Commander?” Indira’s voice indicated quite definitely that she thought his decision was stupid.

“You can suggest a better plan of action?” he countered.

“Why don’t we ignore the bloody thing, touch down on Tantalus and carry out our proving programme?”

“Because, Lieutenant,” he explained patiently, “we cannot afford to touch down without attempting to resolve this mystery. The moment we hit dirtside, the
Santa Maria
becomes a sitting duck. If that thing is occupied—and, for all I know, it may contain a thousand very aggressive little green men in S.A. all waiting for the alarm clock to say: Wake up, we’re there—then we could have a nasty situation. Particularly if they think they have more right to colonise Tantalus than we have. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have a question, Boss,” said Kwango.

“Go ahead. Spit it out.”

“What happens if one of those little green men wakes up in time to notice your big hello. Suppose he is very irritable and goes: Bang, bang, you are dead.”

“In that case you do not retaliate—I repeat, you do not retaliate. You get the hell out of it as fast as you can, if you can. If you can evade their detection equipment, you take the
Santa Maria
Clean out of the Regulus system, put yourselves back in S.A. and report to Terra. Matthew is fully programmed for F.T.L. procedure. You would need something like six hours to get under way. If, on the other hand, the
Santa Maria
is attacked, you throw everything we have—such as it is—and still get out. O.K.?”

Kwango nodded. “It isn’t going to come to that.”

Conrad smiled. “Let us hope so. But if it does, you, Lieutenant Smith, will assume full command. It will be your responsibility to carry out these instructions as efficiently as possible. Understood?”

“Understood, Commander,” Her voice had softened a little. “Don’t make yourself a dead hero, that’s all.”

“I’ll try not to… Now, let us all have a decent meal before we blast out of orbit.”

Conrad waited until the alien vessel had passed over the night side of Tantalus and was approaching sunside before he made the rendezvous manoeuvres. The star-ship’s computer would have carried out the operations perfectly; but Conrad preferred to control the
Santa Maria
himself. He prided himself on his skill as a space captain, and hated to think that a programmed machine could match his years of experience. One thing he knew intuitively—and derived some satisfaction from the knowledge—was that in an unanticipated crisis the man would make a sounder and faster decision than the machine.

The first power manoeuvre was carried out at one G acceleration, the second at two thirds G and the third at one third G. The
Santa Maria
edged cautiously towards the huge object.

Meanwhile, Luke contin
ued to search the radio fre
quencies and Matthew worked patiently through his sequence of variable pitch signals.

At a range of twenty thousand metres, the egg-shaped object, brilliantly white in sunlight, looked awesome.

“Change now to visual signals, Matthew,” said Conrad. “Use the same sequence and try variable light intensities and colours. Start at the red end of the spectrum, but alternate with white light signals.”

“Decision noted, Commander, Execution proceeds.”

Kwango was looking through the manual telescope. “It’s got rows and rows of windows, Boss,” he said excitedly. “If those little green men are going to notice our existence, now is the time.”

“Not windows, port-holes,” corrected Conrad absently. “Any response, Matthew?” Now that was a bloody silly question! The robot would have reported a response immediately.

“No response, Commander.”

Kwango handed the telescope over to Indira. “I think I can see things that might be radio antenna.” she said excitedly. “There are several rather thick spines sticking out at regular intervals.”

“Or they could be weapons,” observed Conrad
sombrely
. “I wish to hell we could get some kind of response. The enigmatic silence doesn’t give me a great feeling of tranquillity.”

Kwango laughed. “Would you feel any better if some angry little character came on the vid, uttering gobbledy-gook and making sinister gestures?”

“No. But at least I would know we had got through to somebody… I am going down to the air-lock and getting into a suit. If there is still no response by the time

I have hooked up all my gear, I’ll take the
Santa Maria
in to one thousand metres range—very slowly. Then
I
will jet across and have a look-see… Matthew have one of your boys set up cameras to tape the whole approach operation.”

“Decision noted, Commander. Execution proceeds.”

Kwango said: “Why not send me across to that thing, Boss? Putting modesty aside, we both know I have a better computer between my ears than you have. But, apart from that, I am probably a shade more expendable. If there is something nasty in the woodshed, you are the guy who stands the best chance of getting this outfit back to Terra.”