The blast-off from Tycho had been successful. That, at
least, was one good step towards the goal of this last,
desperate bid for survival.
With characteristic slump, the Leader relaxed into the
padded seat if his private insulated coach, and strove to
prepare his tired mind for the greater ordeal ahead.
Swinging high above the dark lunar landscape, along the
monorail link between Tycho and Imbrium City, he allowed his
thoughts to drift over the events of the past six months.
The dire problem of the Colony was overcrowding. Only he and
his Senate of four representatives knew the extent of the
catastrophe that threatened the Colony. He thought of their
long nights of endless discussion, and the one inevitable,
but quite reluctant, conclusion, to resettle Earth.
After 200 years of successful build-up of a near-perfect
supply system, a complacent easing of the essential
regulation of control had recoiled. To doom the Colony.
He glanced through the observation port as the coach lurched
down the shadow of Pitatus to roll into the Mare Nubium. He
saw the blobs of light, scattered about the wide plain, that
were the Plant culture Areas and the Oxygen Pipeline
Centres. He thought of the sweating, desperate men in the
Carbon Cycle Factories of Procellarum. Of the collapse, one
by one, of those domed cities and towns at the extreme ends
of the pipelines on the far side of the Colony. He saw
again, the tangled, debris and the crushed buildings; the
burst bodies of the hapless inhabitants caught in the horror
of the sudden vacuum. He thought of the long struggles and
the skills to preserve life against the extreme conditions
of temperature and radiation. Of the lonely squads of
tireless men who patrolled the pipelines, each in his small,
isolated world of the vacuum suit. Of the unending, hopeless
battle to maintain the pressures in the huge domed cities
and towns of the moon. That was the burden and
responsibility of the Leader. Now, Project Earth. It was the
only solution, he had no doubt. Even during the tense,
prayerful moment of launching, with the ineffable relief as
the ancient spacecraft moved from the ramp to spin out to
the black to the black, starbright void. He knew it was the
one resort.
The monorail dipped into the airlock of Imbruim City, and
the coaches eased down to the small platform. Alighting, the
Leader went forward to be met by the four Senators who, with
him comprised the government of the Moon Colony. The five
were very quickly surrounded by the horde of reporters and
cameramen who had converged on the narrow platform. With
microphones thrust into his face, in the clamorous surge and
welter of the crowded airlock, in the insistent questioning,
the glare of camera lights, the Leader looked pathetically
bewildered and it seemed as if he would be swept down
beneath the panic tide of interrogation. However, he
asserted himself, and addressed the crowd with the imperious
quality of tone for which he was famous. He announced, “A
statement will be issued to the Colony in one hour from now.
The message will be relayed to all points from our
headquarters.”
With his four advisors, the Leader moved determinedly to the
waiting car. They passed out of airlock into the domed city.
Perfectly composed, the Leader looked at the cameras and,
slowly deliberately, spoke into the microphones. His
carefully modulated words and steadfast gaze went out to the
stark, airless moonscape, over the high Apennines, the
Carpathians, and the Juro Mountains; across the grey maria,
to every home in every town and city. To the Synthetic food
Production Centres of Sinus Aestuum; to the mining areas of
Tranquillitatis and Frigoris; to the hydrophonic farms of
Nectaris, the Water Extraction Unit at Serenitatis. Out over
the wide network, placed four-square to the Colony, at last,
the truth.
“Colonist, I greet you. But not with a message of
congratulation, not with the assurance of high achievement,
but with one word. Defeat! For more than two hundred years,
this colony has thrived, since our intrepid forebears
forsook the dying Earth and the mass-suicide of the the
Nuclear War. But, the facts about the establishment of this
colony have never been promulgated and have been known to
only a few in each succeeding generation. in fact eh very
title ‘colony’, has lost its meaning for us. We have never
disclosed our origins, and history, as taught, had been a
chronicle of achievement within the colony. Thousands have
lived and died with no idea of the existence of Earth and,
certainly, no knowledge of our connection with the planet.
To all of you, except the scientists at Tycho, the swirling
cloud, that hovers in your sky a quarter of a million miles
away, is just a natural thing that has always been there
and, probably, always will. But, beneath that cloud is the
Earth. A richly verdant world with an atmosphere that can be
breathed. Atomic warfare once made the Earth untenable, but
now, with the lapse of time, we believe it is clean again.
And there lies our only hope.” The Leader paused and wiped
his face with a handkerchief. He appeared to be collecting
his strength for a last terrible announcement.
“When the first one hundred and twelve men, women and
children settled on this airless globe for survival, all
links with Earth, our parent, were severed. Against almost
insuperable odds, the community survived and prospered
and-”, the Leader hesitated an instant, “-EXPANDED!” The
word was snapped out in bitterness. “It is this trend of
overpopulation that has has been our undoing. We are a
doomed people. Demand exceeds suppy. Oxygen and food output
is at its absolute maximum and is deteriorating rapidly. We
cannot expand our resources. There WERE hopes that science
would discover a solution. We know, now, that there is no
remedy. We are simply not able to increase pur production of
the two vital elements. So, in agreement with your
representatives of the Senate, it was decided to attempt to
reach Earth, to contact any survivors, to establish, if
possible, a trade-link with the one ultimate aim of
re-settlement. Necessity has engendered Project Earth.”
The leader, on this dramatic announcement, allowed a few
minutes to elapse, then continued, but more quietly.
“You will be wondering HOW this contact can be made. The
facts are that the first settlers did not completely sever
their links with Earth. It was decided to break up the fleet
for the materials, one spacecraft was retained intact. A
museum piece, they said; a monument, they argued, to our
achievement. But the ship was kept in secret at Tycho; and
in a constant condition of readiness on the launching ramp.
Fuelled. And maintained over the years by succeeding
generations of specifically trained and dedicated families.
Ten hours ago this craft was launched. And with it, our hope
of survival. We have six months i which to pray for the
miracle. Goodnight.”
The face of the Leader faded from a hundred thousand
screens. A cold fear pervaded every man and woman; even the
children seemed to sense an impending disaster. Out of their
windows the people gazed, to the high domes; and beyond the
high domes to the black airless and the vast nebula that
ever rolled across the sky. The Earth that, in all their
lifetimes, had been shrouded by deep, impenetrable cloud
layers. A world they had never known and could not see.
TWO
Although they had been trained, in theory, what to expect,
nevertheless, the escape velocity, as the Mooncraft hurtled
away from the Tycho, startled them. couched at full length
on the contour fitting mattresses, the rapid gravitational
increases distorted their facial muscles and tore,
painfully, at their entrails. The brutal force verged them
on complete blackout. Then the motors cut and the
rocket-ship fell free into orbit.
Jan was the first to recover. With fumbling fingers he
released the restraining harness and found himself floating
in a sickening weightlessness. Only his eyes seemed,
consciously, to live as the rest of his dissociated limbs
threshed wildly for support. The panic reaction was
shortlived and the grasped the guide-rail. With a supreme
effort of co-ordination, he forced his body into a
comparatively, upright position, and watched as his three
companions slowly recovered awareness.
Theo, then Hahn, and soon Stev, drifted free. Their
expressions of alarm, and the frantic efforts to orientate,
were extremely comical, but they did not succumb to the
nausea and with a few collisions, found stability with Jan
at the guide-rail.
There, ranged together at the observation ports, the four
young emissaries to Earth watched their worlds diminish far
below them. Looking forward, they saw the dense mass of
clouds beneath which, they had learned, was the parent
planet, Earth.
The four were the sons of the Tycho families, descendants of
those pioneer astronauts, and had been trained, almost from
birth, to man the emergency link with Earth. Born to the
secrets of Tycho and a heritage of space travel, their
lives, like those of their fathers and grandfathers, had
been spent in a technological world of astronautics.
Artificially induced conditions had inured them, as fully as
possible, to the anticipated hazards of space. Long, arduous
and painful periods in the centrifuge had trained their
bodies for take-off strain and eventual landing in the much
higher gravity fields. Generation by generation, the Tycho
communities had dreamed and worked for the one ultimate
achievement, to take the ship back to Earth. The jagged
rampart surrounding Tycho had been the limits of their
horizon, but the geography of gleaned from old maps and
films, was an open book to them. The manoeuvres and
calculations necessary for entry into atmosphere had become
as natural to them as breathing. The circumstances that had
prompted the present mission were tragic, but this in no way
detracted from the pride and elation that each one felt, and
they were completely confident it would be accomplished.
Jan, sat strapped, at the control panel forward. He studied
the array of instruments and the dials with their wavering
needles. There was little to do. During the free fall, the
ship was purely automatic and would not deviate, by even the
fraction of a degree, from the set course.
Jan was the leader of the expedition. Hahn, the engineer,
sat next to him. Stev was in charge of communication and
Theo was navigator. However, these were only titles of
convenience. Their duties were interchangeable and, if
necessary any one of the four wad capable of flying the ship
on his own.
Turning to Stev, who sat to starboard, Jan said,
“Better send a report to Tycho. State that everything’s
going to plan. At our present speed we shall fall into Earth
orbit in three days. We will make a further report after
entering the atmosphere. And, Stev,” Jan smiled, “You can
send your love to Tessa.”
“And mine to Greta,” said Hahn. Theo merely grinned. He was
a confirmed bachelor.
Stev started transmitting.
Within minutes Tycho beamed a reply. Stev’s face registered
dismay and he almost yelled,
“The dome at Crissium’s collapsed! My God! Here, Jan,
Leader’s on. Wants to talk to you.”
Jan quickly plugged in his mike.
“Colonist Jan here, Sir. What are your orders?”
Against the faint hum and crackle of static, the Leader’s
grave voice came through.
“Deterioration is becoming more rapid than was anticipated.
As soon as you make planet-fall establish, one, whether
Earth is still inhabited. If it is, contact the highest
authority at once. Or, two, if there is no sign of life,
take samples of soil, air and water. Test for
radio-activity. Report your findings and return to Tycho
immediately. Preparations are being made to build a fleet
for evacuation of the entire Colony. Imperative you come
back without delay because Mooncraft is needed as prototype
of fleet. Good luck and godspeed. Out.”
Jan’s face was serious as he turned to the others.
“It’s worse than we thought,” he said, and went on to
explain the Leader’s message. They could hardly accept the
truth of the tragedy that threatened their world.
“Of course,” said Hahn, “The unknown factor, in this damn’
equation of survival, is Earth.”
The Mooncraft continued to fall, effortlessly, towards the
swirling nebula.
THREE
It was like plunging into a storm-racked ocean. The
billowing cloud-mass swept about the ship as it fought the
brutal drag of Earth’s gravity.
They had reversed the ship and, with full power, it was
braking gently towards the atmosphere. Touching the surface,
curving off into space again to cool, in a series of
elliptical skimmings, the ship was gradually slowed down
sufficiently to be swung into orbit.
Soon the Mooncraft, now easily manageable in the atmosphere,
dropped to within fifty miles of the planet’s surface. The
clouds at this altitude were thinner, and the four eager
explorers had their first glimpse of the Earth.
Bred to the harsh, vacuum outlines of almost colourless
moonscape, the dominant blue, the patches of green, yellow
and brown, the white expanses of the Polar Regions,
bewildered their eyes. Knowing only the stark brightness and
intense black of the moon, the diffused light patterns of
Earth were uncanny. As they dropped lower and observed the
panorama through the telescopic scanners, details became
more plainly visible. The gentle contours of the land
masses, the undulant motion of the vast stretches of water,
in spite of their study of films and photographs, was of a
beauty unbelievable.
They circumvented the planet and quartered it from every
angle, traversing each continent in turn. They scanned the
land areas minutely, concentrating particularly on the sites
of the main cities. Back and forth, they flew, but could
detect no sign of life, animal or human. They hovered over
the place marked on the map, London. There was complete
desolation. Dark stubs of masonry, overgrown with a tangled
vegetation, and huge craters filled with water, were the
principal features of the distorted landscape. All over the
world the grim pattern was repeated. Craters, ruins and
unchecked wild growth. Rome, Paris, Moscow, Canberra, Cape
Town. As if the planet were sealing the scars of
annihilation.
New York was completely non-existent except as a wide
Atlantic bay, unmarked on their maps. So they continued
westward to complete their survey.
They had travelled perhaps fifteen hundred miles, when Hahn
suddenly shouted, “Look, in that clump of trees!”
A wisp of clear blue smoke, hardly discernible, even through
the giant telescopes, curled outward from the small wood.
Jan reduced speed and hovered. Slowly, slowly they lowered
the great ship to within ten thousand feet of surface.
The wood was a salient feature in the wide, barren plain. A
few miles south were the unmistakable mounds they have come
to recognize as devastated towns. To the west was a slowly
darker patch that could mean a herd of animals. Scattered
across the plain, at half-mile intervals, were the ruins of
squat buildings, evidently part of an obsolete defence
system.
Jan called to Theo.
“Prepare the tender, we’re going down.”
To Stev he said,
“Send a message to Tycho. Signs of life on American
continent. We are about to investigate by tender. Will
report further after reconnaissance. That’s all. You and
Hahn remain with the ship. Go up to ten miles and circle out
of sight. If you don’t hear from us in six hours,
investigate. Theo, is the tender ready?”
“All fixed,” said Theo.
“Good, get aboard, we’ll launch.”
Jan climbed into the small winged craft and squeezed in
beside Theo. They clamped the hatch into position and Jan
signalled to Hahn. Hahn promptly pushed the machine to the
port bulkhead as Stev pulled the lever to release the
sliding door and extend the take-off ramp. Their movements
were slow and laboured under the terrific pull of gravity
as, together, they heaved the gleaming machine into the air.
It dropped free for about fifty feet, then a jet flared from
the rear vents. Stev and Hahn watched it bank, soar, and
make a spiralling descent. It touched down, lurched into the
air, and, finally, rolled to the stop. A cloud of dust
enveloped the machine but, before it had subsided, the
Mooncraft was out of sight, over the horizon.
FOUR
With a feeling of intense relief, Jan slid back the hatch
cover and clambered out. Theo followed him. Together, the
clung to the side of the machine, perspiring freely. Jan
shook his head. He was dizzy, and his legs felt as if they
were trying to force him onto the ground. It was going to be
a struggle to adapt themselves to nearly six times their
normal gravity.
Stumbling and lurching , with dragging feet, they slowly
advanced towards the wood and blue haze drifting through the
trees. There seemed to be movements of flitting whiteness,
but distance and the shadows made recognition difficult.
Theo, breathless with exertion, said.
“Something alive over there.”
“Yes,” answered Jan, equally breathless, “But what? Human?
Or animal? A mutant species of either? Could be hostile!”
The struggled on.
When they eventually reached the wood, they, literally
plunged into it. The tangled vegetable growth that had
appeared to be trees from a distance were, in fact, giant
weeds with thick and spongy stalks of a species Jan had
never encountered during his years of botanical study. The
‘branches’ were long, waving tendrils that had coiled about
each other in a thickly interwoven growth. The leaves were
broad and incurring.
The acrid tang of smoke was very strong, and, soon, a more
revolting smell assailed them. a pungent sourness, as of
unwashed bodies and stale excreta. Used, as they were, to
hygiene, to deodorants and air-purification, the mingled
odours sickened them. Theo retched visibly but, although
dismayed, they forced themselves to go on.
Their stubborn efforts were halted abruptly by a natural
barrier of matted vegetation. They could find no way to get
round it. Theo unsheathed his long knife to hack through
when Jan, who had moved further down the barrier and was
peering through a small gap, signalled him to be silent.
Theo joined Jan and, together, they stared, horrified, at
the grotesque climax to their journeyings. The small gap in
the barriers revealed a clearing about thirty feet in
diameter. In the centre was a large fire, obviously fed from
a large pile of dried animal droppings. There were creatures
around and about the fire, some resting, others engaged in
simply communal tasks.
“Evidently, a mutant species,” whispered Jan.
There were about forty of them, al naked. Humanoid, but in
no way human. They were hunched, completely hairless and of
the odd, frightening white of albinism. Two long arms,
extending from shoulders, jointed at the elbows, tapered,
like tentacles, into thin, prehensile extremities. The legs
were thick, muscular, bending at the knee; the feet were
broad, flat and without toes. Small eyes glowed darkly red
in the firelight. Judging by the pointed teeth, Jan decided
they were carnivores.
Theo made a rapid calculation and estimated that there were
fifteen adult females and ten males. The rest were your of
various ages. The breasts of women hung, bulbous and flabby,
and the men were singularly lean. All were underdeveloped by
moon-human standards, and from the babble of sounds, Jan
deduced that their speech was, basically, an English form,
but it was a curiously stilted dictation, as if it lacked
the broadening quality of vowels.
Theo muttered,
“It’s useless to try for any help here. They’re just
primitive animals.”
“You’re right,” said Jan, “Let’s get back to the tender and
call up Stev. What a shock this is going to be for the
Leader. It’s like taking God out of religion. We’ve always
believed at Tycho in the survival of intelligence on Earth.
The project pretty well depended on it. We’ll have to
operate Plan Two, instead, now. Still, there’s plenty of
room on this planet. Let’s go.”
They turned from the barrier to retrace their steps. Then
stopped. The passage they had forced through the thick mass
was overgrown again. The violently waving tendrils seemed to
possess a vicious instinct as they threshed and coiled about
each other.
Theo observed,
“Makes no difference which way we go, the wood’s not very
big. We’ll soon reach the plain.”
Jan agreed and they started to hack their way forward. As
they went, the chopped vines lashed and writhed behind them.
After forty yards or so, the vegetation suddenly thinned out
into a clearing. Jan and Theo gasped in amazement.
A metal building, topped by a solid, dome-shaped structure
occupied the centre of the open space. In the dome was an
aperture through which protruded a cone. The building was
surrounded by coils of rusted barbed wires. Eroded and
crumbling, a low wall of concrete was on the inside of the
wire. Set into this were big double doors of rust encrusted
metal. There was a sign over the top, but they were unable
to decipher the letters.
“Obviously, a defensive relic from the Nuclear War, part of
the lot we saw on the plain. Let’s see if we can read that
sign,”
As they crossed the clearing, their sensitive nostrils
became aware to the familiar sour smell of the mutants. A
small band of naked males appeared from behind the building.
Each was armed with a crude type of axe that had been
fashioned from an animal bone. The weapons were held in the
coiled tentacles, high above their heads. They adopted a
menacing attitude as they closed in.
Noting the hostility and the apparent lack of fear, Jan, in
an attempt at conciliation, spread his hands before him and
said,
“Friends. We are friends. We seek your leader.”
One of the mutants advanced. In harsh tones, he answered,
“Nt gt – frnds. No frnds. No ppl, ony Mercn in wld. Al ppl
enmi. Grt gd dstry enmi,” and he turned to the building with
a smirk of confidence.
“But we are not enem - ”, Jan started, but the mutant thrust
out an arms and the extremity wound about Jan’s throat like
a steel spring. He struggled to free himself and tore at the
coiled tentacle with frantic fingers. Theo drew his knife
and slashed at the slowly tightening noose. He severed it at
the elbow as the mutant, in a wild fury, struck out with his
axe. They caught the blow at the side of the neck. He was
almost decapitated and died instantly. Jan, shocked, flung
the lifeless tentacle from him and swirled on the wounded
mutant who was, vigorously licking the bubling blood from
the ghastly stump.
He was brought up short as three of the creatures encircled
him and bound him with their wiry arms.
Forcibly, they dragged him across the clearing and flung him
down on the barbed wire. The rusted spikes pierced his
clothing and tore his flesh as he struggled to extricate
himself. The mutants, with dexterity that was astonishing,
pulled at the growing tendrils and made them into a rope,
and, seemingly quite oblivious of the sharp barbs, bound him
securely to the coils of wire.
There they left him.
Jan’s struggles were of no avail, and at last, because every
move demanded six times a normal effort, because the horror
of Theo’s death, he became unconscious from sheer
exhaustion.
He was roused by the sound of voices. He squirmed about to
face the clearing and every move was agony. It seemed that
the entire community of mutants assembled there. They were
chanting a sort of hymn and appeared to be conducting some
kind of religious rite. The words were almost
unintelligible, but Jan plainly heard, ‘Great god’ and
‘Great defender’.
The males kept to the background, waving their axes. The
females were about three feet away from him, swaying,
clapping their hands and moving their feet in a frenzied
dance. He heard the slap of the naked breast against flesh,
and the stench of filthy bodies nauseated him.
The chanting and cavorting went on interminably. Jan hung on
the wire and the noise, jangling through his brain,
precluded any coherant thought.
Then he saw it. High above the clearing, those
silver-gleaming and beautiful lines, dropping lower and
lower towards the wood. The Mooncraft.
Hope surged through him. His mind revived. Stev and Hahn.
They would rescue him. The very sight of the ship would
intimidate these barbarians.
Even with the thought, he noticed that the chanting had
ceased. The mutants were staring, incredulous, as the
floating bulk of the Mooncraft hovered above them.
Jan, intent on watching the progress of his ship, failed at
first, to detect the sounds. But, soon, he became aware of a
grinding hissing the seemed to emanate from inside the
building. The mutants, he saw, had prostrated themselves.
There was a tremendous surge of force from the dome and
something flashed upwards in blurred trajectory. The
Mooncraft dissolved in a violent explosion and, as the
fierce incandescence seared down upon the clearing to blast
everything into oblivion, Jan read, with dying eyes, the
inscription over the gates.
‘U.SA.F. Automatic Interceptor Missile Site. No 414. Neb.
THE END
