There were a number of people all on the move on the blue and white planet circling a small yellow star near the Orion Arm of the Milky Way. Some of those were important, some of no consequence at all and one or two of them were people on whose future movements the fate of the world hung – somewhat like the sword of Damocles – on a single thin strand of hope.
One of the most influential of these random characters was the President of the United States, heading for an emergency meeting late at night with her Defence Chief. Another, a quiet and unobtrusive man named Keith Ford, was not technically on the move, having been caught up in the early morning rush hour on the main road to the Harlington-Straker Studios, and worrying about how he would tell his new boss that Alec Freeman had disappeared. Meanwhile, Ford's new boss – Commander Peter Fitzpatrick – was making his way along the corridors of SHADO HQ, talking in furtive tones to the cohort of new staff members who had joined the elite organisation just the previous day.
Some three hundred and eighty-five thousand kilometres away from where Keith Ford was sitting in his idling car, impatient fingers tapping against the steering wheel while he waited for the traffic to move, Lt Gay Ellis – by no means a minor character – was also on the move, doing her regular walk-through inspection of all the departments in Moonbase while waiting for the arrival of the next Lunar Module.
Her mind was not focussed on the routine task. She was more concerned about the recent events that had fractured the SHADO organisation, and even more worried about circulating rumours that not only had Alec Freeman deserted the organisation but that Ed Straker had been taken by aliens.
Meanwhile a Lunar Module pilot – unnamed and a minor player in this action – was travelling at over eighty thousand kilometres an hour across the void separating the blue and white planet from its smaller, less attractive companion; the black ball of cratered rock which currently orbited its larger, more attractive companion.
Inside the cargo hold of the Lunar Module heading for Moonbase huddled a space-suited stowaway, dirty and sweating and tired in, thinking dark thoughts as he wondered what had happened to his friend, Ed Straker.
And Ed Straker?
Well, he was on the move as well.
xxxx
On the far side of the moon, unseen by any of the other important people going about their business this morning, a lone Moonmobile was making its way across the cratered landscape, its powerful down-thrusters raising clouds of ancient dust as it passed over the fine regolith that – up till the arrival of the strange vehicle – had lain undisturbed for aeons.
The pilot was a man: early middle age, short blonde hair, tired eyes, exposed skin blistered and bruised. At first glance he might have seemed unprepossessing but there was a certain charm to his features though that might have been the look of intense concentration as he guided the awkward machine around the rough outcrops of rock protruding from the surface beneath.
In the seat beside him a woman was drowsing, older than her companion, her head lolling against the padded headrest, hair framing her face in a halo of white that shone like silver under the sharp lighting inside the Moonmobile's cockpit. The vehicle shuddered as it banked around yet another obstruction and she jerked awake, eyes blinking open as she realised she had been dozing despite her efforts to stay alert. She stretched to loosen muscles that had stiffened and cramped. "How far now?"
The man glanced at her. "Looks like we'll reach the limits of the mobile in an hour or so – it's difficult to be more precise. I'm surprised it's got us this far to be honest. You never know, we might just get within range before the fuel runs out; a lot depends on the satellite position and the links to SID. I'll start trying to make contact in another thirty minutes, but…" His voice trailed away as if he thought the whole thing was hopeless. And perhaps it was. But they had agreed. They would carry on until their air ran out, until they could go no further.
Then they would put their helmets back on and go outside and they would use every last gasp of oxygen in their tanks, even the last foul remnants of stale air in their suits, to keep walking, to keep heading for that one point on the moon's surface where their radios might just be picked up by the satellites linked to SID.
xxxx
The unnamed Lunar Module pilot positioned his craft with pinpoint accuracy for descent onto the holding cradle. Even though he was one of Moonbase's most experienced pilots and the vessel was landing under computer control, he watched the controls with an eagle eye, ready to take over and make a manual landing if something went wrong.
Not that anything was likely to go wrong, but there had been something a little bit untoward about this flight, something not quite right, although he could not put his finger on it – just that the Module seemed to be a touch 'unbalanced' at times. Only by a microscopic amount and nothing serious enough to abort the flight but he was a damned good pilot and he could sense something was wrong. A fractional delay in her response to his controls, a slight list to one side as if the cargo had not been loaded properly, or there was an unsecured item in the cargo hold. But the loading crew who'd put the cargo on board the Lunar Module were SHADO staff. And therefore they were the best. They would not make mistakes like that.
Still it was a relief to get her down safely and in one piece. He sent a comm to the maintenance guys asking them to do a complete overhaul before he flew her back and explaining his unease. Perhaps it was a minor fault in the thrusters, maybe a slight blockage or a fragment of dust in the air jets. That was one possibility. But it was not his problem now. He powered down all the computers, checked off all the systems, heaved a sigh of relief and unstrapped.
xxxx
Alec Freeman, secure in the cargo hold, also gave a sigh of relief and began unfastening the cargo straps holding him in one corner of the confined cargo space behind a stack of crates. It had been fortunate that the Module wasn't due to take up much in the way of necessities for Moonbase, mainly additional supplies of fresh apples which they seemed unable to grow with any great success in the hydroponic units. Oranges, peaches, plums, tomatoes; those grew in plentiful supply, but apples? No. So every couple of months several crates full of apples: sweet, crisp, tart, – every variety available – made the journey to Moonbase.
Buy the time Freeman arrived at Moonbase he was sick of the smell of apples but travelling with a cargo of perishable foodstuffs had at least ensured the cargo hold was pressurised and heated. Okay, he'd had to wear a space suit, but at least he'd been warm and safe and he'd been able to keep his helmet open once the journey was underway. He could have risked travelling in the cabin with the pilot and co-pilot, but Alec was no fool. Earth's safety relied on his ability to get to FarSight and until he knew how far Fitzpatrick's reach extended, he was not prepared to trust anyone, other than a select few who he'd known from the beginning. People like Straker, Keith Ford, Miss Ealand, Gay Ellis. It was safer that way. Better that way.
But Straker was gone, taken by the aliens and, with any luck, dead by now. At least Alec hoped he was dead. He'd seen what the aliens were capable of doing, knew that they would be trying to get the command protocols from Straker, and therefore Alec Freeman prayed that his friend, the man he had supported for the last ten years, was no longer alive.
Now he waited for the crew to disembark, waited for the Moonbase computers to unlock the cargo bay hold so he could sneak out, and hoped Gay Ellis would listen to him, help him and – if necessary – hide him. Because what he planned to do could be considered treason.
xxxx
Alec unfastened his helmet and dropped it on the nearest crate. "You've no idea how good it feels to get out of that." He stretched his arms wide. "Sorry Gay. I must stink to high heaven; I can't remember when I last had a shower, but first we need to talk. I have to tell you what's been happening back on Earth."
Lt Ellis had heard his private comm and come straight to the small side room used for storing empty crates waiting to be returned to Earth. The perfect place to conceal a stowaway. "I'd heard about Straker being taken, but no one seems to be able to come up with anything definite. SHADO HQ has gone abnormally quiet as if they're cutting Moonbase out of the loop. I was getting some reports from Keith Ford – unofficial stuff about Straker and Fitzpatrick – but I haven't received anything for the last six hours or so." She handed him a bottle of water."What I want to know is what you're doing here when the last I heard you were back on Earth."
He downed the water in one long drink, wiping his mouth with a hand smelling of sweat and apples and exhaustion. "It's a long story, you might as well sit down." He told her about the changes to FarSight, about Fitzpatrick's new crew, about the codes and his fears for Straker and SHADO and his conversations with the US President "…so I'm here as a fugitive." He looked at her, a steady gaze of trust. "You can report my presence here to Fitz if you want to Gay, I won't stop you, but I'm hoping that you'll help me to find out what the hell has been going on. Ed is missing, presumed taken and killed by the aliens and SHADO's in the hands of a man who seems hell-bent on shutting the whole organisation down. God help us if that actually happens."
"How can I help?"
He shrugged. "I need to get to FarSight. I need to find out what those construction workers were actually doing there, and what happened to the place after I left. Are you willing to risk everything and help me?" He stared at her, his eyes haunted by the fear that she might, just might, betray him.
"I've been following events as much as I can, but Fitzpatrick hasn't involved me in any of his decisions, even though I'm Moonbase Commander for this rotation. And Paul Foster's been in contact as well, with his own concerns. But there's nothing he can do from where he is. Not until they've finished their patrol, unless he wants to be court-martialled for failure to follow orders."
"So you'll help me? You know what might happen if Fitzpatrick catches us?"
She raised one elegant eyebrow. "If you're right, Colonel, and we don't do anything, then it's quite possible there will no longer be a SHADO to bring charges against us. We might not even be alive. So yes, I'll help you."
"Thank you. I need to get to FarSight as soon as possible Is there any way you can arrange that without alerting Fitzpatrick?"
"I think so. You need to replenish your oxygen supply before we can do anything but I'll keep everyone away from this area for the next twenty minutes which gives you more than enough time. Gives you chance to use the decon showers as well." She gave him a quick smile. "Even I can smell apples. Have a shower, grab something to eat from the emergency rations and I'll be back in twenty minutes when I've arranged to take the Orbital Transporter out to check the satellite systems. We can fly round to FarSight in about forty minutes, land nearby and you can have a quick look. No-one will question me; I've been holding random tests and practice drills since Fitzpatrick took over; just to be on the safe side." She gave a slight shrug. "The man gives me the creeps to be honest. I don't trust him as far as I can spit."
She placed her hand on Freeman's arm in a quick gesture of sympathy and understanding and then left, locking the outer door to the Flight Preparation room behind her as she headed back to Control, a lithe figure in a cat-suit and wearing a purple wig. But, feminine and silver clad and as delicate in appearance as a butterfly, tAlec Freeman knew that Gay Ellis had a core of tempered steel and would not falter in her determination to help him.
Weary from stress and lack of sleep he sat for a moment, rubbing his face with a hand grimy from too many hours encased in a space suit. Then he made his way to the decon showers provided for all arriving passengers, and stripped with a sigh of relief. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding and Fitzpatrick was working with the IAC to rescue Straker and get FarSight up and running, but he knew it was a forlorn hope. All he could do know was trust in Gay Ellis and hoped FarSight would provide the answers he needed.
xxxx
The Moonmobile crested the edge of the crater and floated down the other side in the shadow of the steep walls. Straker monitored the controls, flicking switches, turning dials with re-bandaged fingers, and steering the clumsy looking vehicle with a skill that made the task look so easy. In a bid to give him a chance to rest, Helen had attempted to pilot the craft, but without success. It was like trying to operate a hovercraft fitted with wings and a jet engine. Fine if you had the opportunity to practise, to take things one step at a time, but time was the one thing they didn't have to spare right now. Although to be more accurate they were running short of time, fuel and air.
Straker had explained that Moonmobiles were only intended for relatively short trips and as such had a limited fuel supply. It wasn't as if they could use the mobiles for trips to other bases as they did at Moonbase. FarSight was the only complex on the other side of the Moon, and as such was about as isolated as it was possible to be. Indeed they had been fortunate to find a mobile available for use. The vehicles were used mainly to travel to the nearby water and air installation plant and to Straker's relief this one had been refuelled.
He'd been driving for a long time now and was close to exhaustion. It was hard to keep awake, especially when she dozed off next to him and silence filled the cabin. His eyes kept closing, drawing him deeper into the tempting drowsiness creeping over him, trying to embrace him with its treacherous promise of sleep and rest, an easing of the pain, a chance to forget what they had done to him.
He turned to her. "I'm sorry; I need you to talk to me. I'm struggling to stay awake and if I fall asleep, even for a moment, chances are this machine will hit an outcrop, and then we're finished."
She was silent for a moment and he wondered if she was offended or embarrassed, then she looked at him. "About SHADO." Her voice was clear and bright and not in the least soporific. "I know quite a lot about it – about why it was set up, and why it is so secret, but how did you get to be in charge? What did you do to get stuck with the job?"
He concentrated on getting the Moonmobile away from an outcrop of rock while he marshalled his thoughts.
"Ed?"
"Sorry, I was just thinking about SHADO, about the early years. I never wanted to become Commander, it was just random circumstances." He thought back to Henderson, and the car accident, that first meeting with the IAC and the news that they had appointed him, Colonel Ed Straker as the first commander. Now they had appointed Peter Fitzpatrick as his replacement. He looked out at the lunar landscape, thinking about those early days. And then in a quiet, diffident voice he began talk. "I suppose it all started when I was assigned to work with General Henderson." He told her about the car crash and the formation of SHADO and how he had become its first, and up till recent events, only Commander-in-Chief. "It wasn't a job I ever intended doing though, but when it came down to it, I didn't really have much choice in the matter. Henderson wasn't in any fit state and I was the only person available. The only other person who had all the facts, all the knowledge. So I agreed to step in. The pressures were intense, and we spent the first ten years fighting an enemy that we knew nothing about. I married my wife, Mary, early in SHADO's inception and…" His voice died away as he remembered the arguments, her anger, her mistrust and the eventual end of the marriage.
"Ed?" Her voice pushed into his thoughts.
"Sorry, just thinking about Mary. My wife. My ex-wife. We divorced several years ago. She thought I was having an affair but I was involved in setting up SHADO and all my time, every hour of the day, was spent on that. Sometimes I didn't get home until after midnight and I would be up and out again by five in the morning. It was no way to keep a marriage alive. Sometimes I wonder how we managed to stay together as long as we did. Anyway, Mary was pregnant – "
"You have a child? I didn't know that."
There was silence. A tense uncomfortable silence as he concentrated on steering the Moonmobile across the unforgiving landscape, as if it needed his sole attention. "I don't, now. We had a son. John. He… he died a few years ago. A car accident. He would have been eleven this year."
Her voice was a whisper. "I'm so very sorry, Ed. I didn't know."
He focussed on driving, focussed on the point in the far distance he was aiming for, focussed on the pain in his shoulders and arms and body, anything rather than talk about John. But he felt his eyes start to close, felt his mind slowly slide into the forgetful embrace of sleep, of warmth, of relaxation and he shook his head fiercely before his body could betray him further. "John. Not many people know about him. It's not something I talk about. He's there, still, always. There in my mind, but with every day it gets harder to recall the sound of his voice, to remember the way he moved, and laughed and the way he used to look at me out of the corner of his eye to see if I was watching him to make sure he wasn't doing something he shouldn't be doing." He turned to her, gave a bleak smile. "They say it gets easier after the first year. I think it gets harder. Sometimes I wish I could talk about him, share my memories of him with other people, but there is no one to talk to, and there hasn't been for a long time."
"So you don't have a partner?"
He looked at her. "No. SHADO takes all my time and effort and energy. There's the security aspect of it to consider as well. Not many women would cope with a relationship where the man can't tell her where he is going, or when he will be back or even what job he does. And it's not just SHADO, it's the fact that I have to run the studio as well. Whoever thought it would be a good idea to base a highly secret military set-up beneath a publicity hungry film studio and have the same person run both organisations should have been fired long ago. Actually I think it was James Henderson who came up with the original suggestion. The IAC thought there would be some benefits to it at the time. You know; whenever we needed new equipment, or had to bring in some alien artefact, the neighbours would just nod and say 'Ah yes, those film makers, and their latest venture, their next expensive blockbuster.' And we can hide a lot of staff in the studios as well."
"So how successful is the studio?"
"It makes a very tidy profit each year. It would cause too many questions if we allowed it to run at a loss, even though it is awkward to explain to the military mind how a government organisation can end up at the end of the fiscal year in the black. I try to make sure that we produce reasonably competent films so we don't attract too much attention from the wrong sources. But SHADO and the studio take up all my time now. Even when John was alive I didn't get to see enough of him. I was always far too busy with my responsibilities." His voice faded away as he steered the mobile.
"Commander?" Her voice was soft and hesitant.
"Hmm?" He concentrated on driving, anything rather than let those last images fill his mind again. John, ashen and broken, blond hair on green grass, bright blood on pale skin. He stared at the dark craters, greying dust, black sky. The sharp and alien horizon. Anything.
"John. Tell me about him. I'd like to know more about what he was like. What did he enjoy doing, what was he good at, that sort of thing. You said there was no one to talk to about John, but I'm here. I'd like to hear about him. Really."
There was a long pause. She wondered if she had maybe pushed too hard, but they both knew the reality of this journey, that they might not survive, and it might give Ed Straker some measure of comfort, some inner peace to tell her about his son, the son he had loved and lost, to share his memories of the one good thing that had come out of his failed marriage, before death took them both.
So in a quiet and – at first – hesitant voice, he talked to her about John and the way he loved to play football, and baseball, and any sports, about the way he enjoyed making things, model aeroplanes and boats, about the times they spent together, brief times but so important, so memorable. She listened, encouraged him to talk when he faltered and seemed to close his eyes for too long.
It was almost surreal, the journey through the emptiness. The hypnotic hiss of the mobile's hover jets as it moved at speed above the surface, the alternating darkness of the shadows and the brightness of the sunlight as they dropped into the craters and rose out of them, the quiet conversation between the only two living beings here on this silent hemisphere.
At one stage he lowered the mobile to the surface and idling the engine, tried the radio. There was nothing, except the hiss of static. In silence he started the engines again and they floated up and continued on their way, despondent and hushed.