Forward
to the Past
by Nigel Preece
Based on characters and machines
seen in the films and television of Gerry Anderson
© Carlton International Media
1.Glad Tidings and Sad Tidings
Jeff Tracy heaved a huge sigh of relief.
The suspicions had not materialised
into a scandal. The Impostors had been found by Penny, Parker and the Tuttles,
with a little help from "Ma's Beans".
All was well.
Thunderbird 3 was still in a high orbit over the pacific, taking care of an Astronaut who has lost his tether line and had drifted away from an orbital tracking station. Despite the fact that a global search was out for the International Rescue team and its hardware, Jeff had taken the huge gamble of sending the red rocket into space to search for the lost spaceman. During the flight, word has got to Jeff via John that two crooks posing as Thunderbird men had been captured.
All was indeed well.
The relief was palpable, and very
visible to the founder and commander of International Rescue. The whole lounge
seemed to collectively whoop with joy. Gordon jumped into the pool, fully
dressed, as he only could. Virgil, aware that Alan was not around, planted a
smacker on Tintin that lasted for several seconds, and made the young girl
smile, blush, and wonder why the hell Alan could not kiss like that, and to
Jeff's amusement, Kyrano and Grandma were both arm in arm in the adjoining
room, jigging like a couple who had just won the Kansas state lottery.
Jeff looked around and found the
whole outpouring entirely understandable. After all he had not spent the many
years putting the organisation together for it to fall apart in a matter of
days as a result of the actions of two "low lives".
No way.
He slumped down in his chair, rubbed
his eyes, and as he looked up from having done that, he saw, out of the balcony
the outline of a Helijet in the distance. His relief was suddenly cut short.
"Virgil, get on to Alan and
Scott", he barked urgently, pointing up into to space, "Tell them to
stay in orbit, or, if they have re-entered, and they might have by now, tell
them to circle the base at 160,000 until further notice".
Jeff ran out to the pool, where a
saturated Gordon, having clambered out of the pool, was looking in the
direction of the Helijet.
"Guess they've had a hunch that
the base is here dad", Gordon said.
"Yep", said Jeff, running
down the stairs onto the patio, almost resigning himself to the fate he felt
awaited him, "They've got their men, yet they can't resist having a look
for us anyway. They’ve been here once already. Our security is too tight
though. They will be wasting their time".
"I'll lay you even money John
gets a call while they're here", the aquanaut uttered as he wrung out his
wet shirt in the pool.
"Hold it", Jeff yelled,
putting his arm on Gordon's wet shoulder, "It's no navy helijet,
look".
The men looked. Sure enough it was
no navy craft, but the mail plane.
"Thank God” and Jeff uttered
his second sigh of relief in minutes. By now Kyrano was at poolside, and at a
loss to understand why his old friend was in such a panic over the visitor.
"Mista Tracy, you are paranoid
after this scrape with these impostors. You should know that the mail plane
come at this time of day".
The ex-astronaut could not help but
laugh at himself, and Virgil found it a little amusing too, trying very hard to
hide a smile as he arrived at the patio to see the helijet descend on to the runway,
and Kyrano slowly make his way down the side path that led over there, carrying
with him the handful of envelopes and parcels that were to be couriered by the
mail plane to various destinations.
"The minute I called the lads
in space I realised it was the mail plane", Virgil said, "Scott says
you could do with a weeks furlough in London with Penny".
Jeff’s eyes looked skyward, "He
just wants my desk. He takes after his Grandfather, always dropping
hints".
Virgil smiled, "Trust me dad,
he'd panic ten times worse than you did just now, he'd be on the horn to John
every five minutes just to see all was well with the world. Let him have it, I
guarantee you in a week he'll end up at that place they took Brains after the
Allington bridge job two months ago".
"You just want me to stay; you
take after your Mother, always reassuring me about this and that".
Virgil smiled, turned, and walked
down the path to catch up the Malaysian manservant, and thought to himself,
"Something else I do that reminds him of Mom. I bet he churns up inside
each time".
When Virgil got to the runway, he
saw that Kyrano had electronically signed to receive the day’s mail. Just one
item, a small envelope.
"Mista Virgil, you need not
have come, as you can see I can manage, this letter is not even for you".
"Yes Kyrano, but what would you
have done had there been a brace of parcels", Virgil asked.
"I would have managed", he
simply and modestly replied. He then gestured the Tracy son to turn back for
the Tracy house.
Upon arrival at the house, the
Major-domo made for the kitchen, where Jeff had sat down with Gordon and Tin
Tin for a bite to eat. Soon they would be joined by Scott and Alan, clearance
now having been given for them to commence their decent in Thunderbird Three.
Kyrano entered the kitchen,
"Mail call", he jokingly said, "A light load, just one letter,
for the attention of Daniel J Tracy the 2nd, Colonel, US Space corps,
retired".
Jeff smiled as he listened to the
show of difference, turned in his chair to face the manservant, and took the
letter. He looked at the postmark, and sounded a little puzzled.
"From the offices of the legal
firm of Anderson, Anderson, Read, and Hill. Dated May 12th 2028", he put
his mug of coffee down, picked up a knife, and slit the envelope open.
His face turned pale.
He read the letter, picked up his
mug, took a gulp, put the mug down, read the letter again, then stared ahead,
and whispered, loud enough for the whole kitchen to hear.
"Ye Gods", he muttered,
"Edgar Kalinski".
"Edgar Who?” Said Scott as he and Alan
got up from the settee having been deposited back in the lounge from the round
house.
"Edgar Kalinski", said
Virgil, "And before you ask, don't ask. I'm blow'd if I know who the hell
he is, no one has a clue, not even Grandma or Kyrano, but I know this much. As
soon as Dad said this fellow’s name, he got up slowly from the table, and
without so much as a word, walked straight out of the galley, letter in hand,
and he looked about as pale as one of Alan's pastries".
"I beg your pardon", Alan
blurted out with hands on hip's, and umbrage taken.
"Where is he now", Scott
asked, trying not to smile at his brothers little snipe at Alan's often
disastrous cooking.
"Bedroom", Virgil replied,
trying to smile.
Scott tapped Virgil on the arm,
motioning him to come with him, "C'mon", he said, "let's go see
if he's OK".
"D'ya thinks that's wise",
enquired Alan.
"Eldest son's
prerogative", said Scott as he marched out of the lounge, dragging Virgil
with him.
"Second eldest son's prerogative",
said Virgil as he was dragged out.
Alan stood alone, hands still on
hips, then suddenly something dawned on him, he raced out to the corridor and
yelled at his brother.
"Who was it who ate them all
then!” he enquired sarcastically, still peeved about Virgil's culinary sarcasm.
The pianist simply turned around and
smiled even more broadly than he had done a moment earlier, before bringing his
hand up to his lips and kissing his fingertips as if to say "Bon
appetite".
Alan now had a furrowed brow to add
to his hands on hips pose.
Scott was not one to worry, but
having heard Virgil's account of the events in the Kitchen; he felt the need
just to check that all was well. Over the years Scott had noticed that his
Father had always seemed to confide in his eldest two sons for some reason. On
more than one occasion at family conferences either before going out on, or
after coming back from rescues, or even on family gatherings to discuss matters
relating to the family's other business, the official business that is, namely
Tracy Aerospace, Jeff would dismiss the meeting, only to ask he and Virgil to
stay behind, and then certain matters relating either to the official or
un-official businesses, matters of a slightly more delectate nature, matters of
either security, or finance, would be talked over. The others never seemed to
take offence, not even Alan. Heck, Gordon used to sum up these things in a few
well chosen words, "What we don't know, we don't have to fret over".
Too true.
Yet all five of the lads were a
little worried, why had Jeff just got up and left like that.
The two sons reached the bedroom
door. Scott looked at Virgil, took a deep breath, and then knocked the door.
Seconds passed.
The door then slid open, Jeff stood
there, still pale. Scott peered inside and saw that his Dad was packing a
suitcase. Jeff himself had changed into a clean shirt and trousers and was in
the middle of tying a tie. A black tie at that Scott noticed.
"Good", said Jeff,
"You're back Scott, right. Come in, both of you".
They walked in, Virgil closed the
door, and sat on the bed, next to Scott.
Jeff had walked over to a mirror to
finish tying the tie, "I shall be leaving the island for a day or so.
Scott, I want you to mind the store until I get back. Alan is due to relieve
John at 14:00, Gordon can deal with that. Once John is earth side he can pilot
'1, Virgil, you will remain with '2, and as '1 and '3 are not ever needed on
the same job, John can pilot '3, Gordon can double crew on her as he does on
'2. Scott has my plane made ready for launch straight away please, and Virgil,
get on to Air Terrainean and book me a seat on the first Fireflash that leaves
San Francisco for London tomorrow morning. Any questions, no. Good. Snap to it
both of you, there isn't much time".
The two sons looked at each other, a
little startled at their father’s abruptness. It was Scott who spoke.
"Is everything OK Dad".
"I don't recall saying I wanted
to discuss this matter with you", Jeff said, now bent down putting the
remaining items into his case.
"But we've noticed . . ."
Before Virgil had chance to finish,
Jeff turned to face them both.
"END OF CONVERSATION!" he
shouted.
The two lads both looked at each
other, message now fully understood.
They got up, and left.
Straight away Scott went down to the
hangar to see to his father's plane. There was little to do in reality, the
fuel level was OK, so were the electrics. Scott had Brains bring the plane out
of the hangar and down to the point where the runway met the footpath that
meandered its way back up to the house.
From that direction emerged Virgil,
still a little startled by his father’s manner.
"Tickets taken care of?” Scott
asked.
"Yep", he replied, clearly
not enjoying seeing his Dad in such a state. It was as much as he could do to
talk.
The two men stood by the plane, not
saying a word, both deep in thought about the events of the past days, not just
their Dad's sudden mood swing, born of the letter, but also the attempt to
frame the organisation by two crooks, posing as them, even in their uniforms.
Maybe this business with the letter, coupled with the investigation by the
world's armies into IR's affairs had taken their toll on him. Or then again,
maybe not.
More questions than answers, yet
none would come at this juncture.
The quiet was broken by the noise of
footsteps on the path from the house. It was Jeff, looking straight ahead at
the jet, his manner still the same.
It was Virgil who spoke, "Dad, you're
booked on the 6.45am Fireflash to London via New York, stop-over in the Apple
will be an hour, you'll be in London at 6.30pm local time, collect your tickets
at check-in 3, in the southern concourse".
"Fine", the reply came.
With not another sound he got into the plane, looked out of the cockpit at the
two men, raised his hand in acknowledgement, his face still stern looking, and
fired the motors.
Scott and Virgil walked back towards
the cliff hanger to watch their dad leave; they both noticed that the rest of
the family had gathered on the balcony of the cliff-house.
A worried family. Yes, for all
Jeff's assurances, a very worried family.
The flight to the mainland lasted
just over an hour. Jeff flew into Oakland, and took a magnetrain across the
golden gate, or rather under it, as the track had been built and situated under
the famous bridge, before heading back along the coast to San Francisco
International.
He made for the southern concourse
where, upon arrival he went to Air Terrainean Check-in desk 3, as advised by
Virgil, he collected his tickets, and then went about seeking a room for the
night ahead of his early departure the next morning. He was lucky, the girl at
the check-in desk checked the main airport hotel for vacant rooms, and the news
was good. Thus the 58 year old father of five with suitcase in hand headed for
the recently built San Francisco International Airport Holiday Tower, an
un-inspiring sight, situated on the outer rim of the airport complex.
"Just a block of un-remarkable concrete", Jeff thought, but it would
suffice.
He checked in, and within minutes he
was in his room, he threw off his jacket, dropped the case by the side of his
wardrobe, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed on to the bed.
It must have been the strain of the
past forty-five hours, the worry about the future of the organisation, and the
lack of sleep to-boot, not to mention hearing about Edgar Kalinski, that all
contributed to him being as tired and worn out as it was humanly possible.
So much so that the moment his head
hit the pillow, he went out like a light, and the thoughts that has been going
through his mind since the moment he opened the letter, thoughts that were the
reason he was now on the American mainland, thoughts known only to him, and
no-one else, now became more than just thoughts.
To sleep.
Perchance to dream.
2.Dreams and Realities
"First
Luna Outpost personal log entry number XA22. February 19th, 2004. Re-assumed
command at 18:00 after returning from maternity leave. Wife Lucille gave birth
to our fourth child on the 14th of all days. Leroy Gordon weighed in at 8
pounds 5 ounces. Both are doing fine. Major Tim Casey, acting as base commander
in my absence has nothing of any real concern to report".
Lt
Col Daniel Jeffrey Tracy flicked the switch on his bedside com-board, adjusted
the small lamp over his head, and began to look over the job log for the
following day. His concentration was interrupted for a moment as he caught out
of the corner of his eye, the launch of the shuttle for Earth. The Saturn 9B
single stage vehicle with four boosters, lifted off with the minimum fuss.
Leaving the pad on the other side of the crater they were in.
A
launch of any sort, however mundane and everyday these days was still something
that Jeff would never tire of watching.
He counted himself lucky.
Lucky
to have been born at the time he had, 1970, just as man had gone to the moon
for the first time. Despite what some critics had tried to predict, man's
venture to another world was something that had united human kind in way no
politician could ever hope to do. Instead of the world saying, "We've gone
to the moon. So what!” the people of planet Earth had said in a loud and clear
voice, "There must be more, we cannot stop here!", and so began the
real space age.
The
22 Apollo missions had shown the world just what man could do, yet it had taken
until now for the United Nations to agree a framework for the moons
colonisation. No one nation would have sole rights to the moon. All nations would
have to work together, and so was born the Luna Homesteading act. Paving the
way for building what Jeff described to Lucille on the very day it was passed,
Millennium Day, as "A home from home".
It was
Jeff who led that return to the Moon on Athena One, and uttered the first words
said on the Moon, those same words he said to Lucille, "Here man will
build for himself a home from home, where the stars look down".
Jeff
often used to think, that had man’s enthusiasm for carrying on not been so evident,
then we would probably been just 17 Apollo flights, and only have gotten round
to building the International Space Station by now. He used to joke to Lucille
that this sort of half soaked attitude to exploration probably is
happening, in a parallel universe!
We were
not about to stop on the Moon, already the Solar System Exploration Council, an
organisation created by the United Nations to supervise the colonisation of
space had made plans for the inner planets of Mercury and Venus to be visited by
people from Earth by no later than 2012. A period of consolidation would then
take place as the colonies on those two worlds and the Moon would be
established, and whole communities would eventually exist on these faraway
places. Cities and villages would dot the landscapes of Venus Mercury and the
Moon, and each of these colonised worlds would have their own capital city,
complete with legislature, government, and an elected governor.
The
moon's future was what excited Jeff the most. Where he was at this time, the
first Luna outpost or FLO 1 was in a small crater on the edge of the massive
crater Tyco, measuring fully 50 miles in diameter, here would be built the
military garrison that was to be called Tycho City. Four hundred miles north,
in the sea of Tranquillity the Luna Capital, Armstrong City, and Legislature
building, Aldrin House, would be built.
Other
huge Luna settlements were planned even at this early stage by the S.S.E.C., to
be located in places familiar to people back home as the places first visited
by man in last century, as well as landmarks visible from Earth. Places such as
the crater Copernicus, the Hadley Rille, the Frau Mora Highlands.
All
very exciting indeed, but Jeff’s thoughts were interrupted suddenly.
The
door buzzed in his cabin.
"Come",
he called.
The
door slid open, it was Casey.
"It's
only me Jeff, Just calling to see you is settled back in. Haven't had chance to
talk since you got back, smooth flight?”
"Barely
a quiver", Jeff replied, putting the duty log down on the table next to
his com-board.
"Any
pics of the new arrival", Casey asked.
Jeff
pulled out of his top pocket a small picture of baby Leroy, or Gordon as he was
to be called. He handed it to Tim Casey. He looked at it in silence. Jeff was
guessing how Tim was feeling, he a career man in the S.S.E.C. with no wife, let
alone kids. Yet opposite him was Jeff Tracy, a man with already more space
hours behind him than any other astronaut in history. The first man to return
to the moon.
"How
do you find time for a family Jeff? I just could not do it. I'm not the family
type anyway, at least not yet, just how do you manage", he asked as he
handed the picture back to him.
"Tim,
as is said so often, if something is important, you make time for it", he
took the picture back, and put it on a small shelf, next to four other
pictures, namely those of the other members of his family. Tim leaned forward
and peered at the pictures together, rubbing his chin as though trying to
figure something out, "Now let me just figure this out. How many former
astronauts have you honoured now Jeff."
"Four
now Tim", Jeff responded, "From left to right we have Scott Malcolm,
then Lucille with John Edward on her lap, and on her left is Virgil Ivan".
"Doesn’t
he look like his mom, young Virgil", Casey commented.
"He
sure does, and he plays the piano like his mother too, even now, and he's only
8 years old. He and Scott are very close you know. I remember when we had
Virgil baptised back in Abilene, Scott was walking with the minister when he
was showing Virgil off to the congregation, and he kept saying, that's my
brother, I'm gonna take good care of him", he paused, and a small smile
came to his face. He continued, "Scott's the boss though, he has all the
Tracy traits in him. Leadership. Whenever the two of them go out exploring on
our new island home, he's the one in charge, but that's fine by Virgil, he
knows if they get into any trouble it will be Scott's head on the chopping
block, because he's the one who decides where they go".
"Future
astronauts?” Casey smilingly enquired.
"Who
knows?” Jeff answered, "Who knows what the next year, next week, or even
the next day will hold".
At
that point Jeff's attention was again drawn by another bright flash from
outside his window.
"That's
odd, I thought I just saw the shuttle leave", Jeff uttered, with furrowed
brow.
Casey
had also noticed the flash, "Yeah, what the hell was that".
Jeff
and Tim both peered out of the window, and what they saw startled them. High up
above, amid the mass of stars, a bright light shot across the sky, brighter
than the brightest of the stars behind it, but moving not too fast. It was
heading in a gentle curve, a curve that would take it below the Luna horizon.
As it moved in the sky, both men could make out what appeared to be a vapour
trail of some sort behind it.
A
vessel.
Jeff
hit the button on his com-board.
"Tracy
to operations. Beyda, do we have any satellites on a low orbit that takes them
over the sea of tranquillity".
Dylan
Beyda, duty officer for the night in the operations room at FLO 1, paused for
the moment, wondering why his C.O. was asking such a question, "Lunacom 2
has a polar orbit that takes it over that area, yes. Although it has not
started operations yet sir".
"I
know Beyda", Jeff cut in, "Are there any others".
"No
sir, the other two both go away from there".
"Thank
you Dylan", said Jeff as he sat down heavily on his bed, "Stand
by".
He
put the mike on mute and looked up at Casey.
"Its
Lunacom 2 isn't it, Tim", he said, with an air of resignation.
"It
looks that way", Casey replied, heaving a sigh and staring at the floor,
"What the hell are we gonna tell the Commissioner back on Earth".
Jeff
looked out of his window, "We tell the truth Tim", he took a deep
breath, "And then, we go out there and try to find it. I think it is safe
to say it has crashed now. You know that might not have come down too far from
here".
He
pressed the button on his com-board that took it off mute, "Lt Beyda, have
the tractor made ready for first thing in the morning".
"Yes
sir", came the enthusiastic reply.
Jeff
continued, "What time it is in San Francisco".
"Coming
up on 4pm sir", Beyda replied.
"OK,
open a radio link please, direct to SSEC Headquarters I want to talk to the Commissioner”.
Jeff
smiled, and continued.
“Edgar
Kalinski".
"No
Jeff, it's not Lunacom 2, your scanners should still be picking it up. Ours
here on Earth are sweeping the area, Lunacom 2 is answering her automatic
locator call. No it's something else you saw, but I want you to look for it
anyway. It could just be a meteorite, but we can't take any chances. Don't take
a tractor out there, as planned, use a Hopper, I'll tell you why in a moment.
See if you can find out what it is".
Edgar
Kalinski sat back in his chair, his face filling the screen, he and Jeff Tracy
were old friends, having both been born and raised on adjacent farms in
Abilene, Kansas, with Edgar being some 15 years older than Jeff, the young
Tracy treated Edgar as a sort of "elder brother". They got to know
each other quite well in those early days, before they went their separate
ways, Jeff into the Air force, and eventually the Space service, Edgar into the
world of politics, beginning in his home state of Kansas, working in the governors
office, before his career took him to New York, eventually serving as a
secretary in the United Nations.
Now
at 49 he was the head man at the SSEC, appointed there by the UN Secretary
General, much to the delight of Jeff, who saw Edgar’s move there as the final
reward for a great career of service to country and planet. He was blessed with
a wife of 25 years, Sabetha, a son Steven, already making a career for himself
in the diplomatic wing of the UN, and a daughter Bernadette, who was a best
selling author, and of science-fiction at that. She counted Jeff and Lucille
among her most loyal readers. He had it all, and Jeff had nothing but the
greatest respect for him.
"OK
Edgar, I'll get out there", Jeff responded to Edgar's order, "Do you
have a fix on where exactly it should have smashed".
He
obliged, "Yep, reference 198 by 531, bang smack in the middle of crater
Delambre, some 900 miles north east of your position. Hence my request for you
to use one of the hoppers. Go steady Jeff, as you know this is only a one man
vehicle, and we've only got two of them there for you to play with, so be
careful".
"Will
do Edgar. Just one question. Was it tracked as it approached the moon, if so
why were we not warned about it"?
"We
only picked it up when it was passing over your position, its speed was what
caught the eye, but we can't understand why it only registered on the scanners
at that point. Now enough talking, it's getting late for you up there, you get
a good nights sleep now, I get the impression it will be a long day for you
tomorrow".
"I
don't doubt that. As soon as I arrive, I'll have a radio link set up from
there".
"Good.
By the way, how are Lucille, and young Leroy", Edgar asked, lightening the
mood.
"Oh
they're fine", Jeff's face produced a small smile, "That's four
Mercury men honoured now", he said laughing.
"Give
them my love Jeff", Kalinski requested, "and take care tomorrow.
Kalinski, out".
"Love
to Sabetha and the family Edgar, FLO 1, out".
A good
night’s sleep was his one thing Jeff did not get that night. For hours he
thought long about what he might find. Clearly those on Earth were convinced it
was just a meteorite, but they wanted to make sure. Was it a meteorite though,
and if not, then what.
08:00hrs,
and Jeff, having eaten a hearty breakfast made for the operations wing of the
outpost. First Luna outpost one consisted of four hemi-cylindrical structures,
each 100 meters long and ten meters wide, transported to the moon on the back
of giant boosters, as though they were just empty rocket stages. Once on the
Luna surface, they would be split and then laid down in the shape of a giant
letter "X". In the middle was a small module that served as a
connection for them.
The
operations wing contained the storage bay for the Luna tractors, and a control
room where the day to day work on the first space colony was done, the other
three wings were for crew’s quarters, stores, washing and eating facilities, as
well as recreational equipment.
The principle
aim of FLO 1 was to survey the area in and around Tycho crater to establish
what part of it would be suitable for building the much larger garrison
settlement there in the years to come. Such a similar survey would in the next
months be made in the Sea of Tranquillity by FLO 2, and Copernicus crater by
FLO 3. Jeff called the crew together before he prepared to leave on his
assignment. Altogether there were five people on the base, Jeff Tracy: base
commander, Tim Casey: senior surveyor, Dylan Beyda: operations and monitoring,
and two mobile survey operatives, Susan Bevan, and Gill Best, who were charged
with checking out the land in the tractors and, if required, the hoppers.
Jeff
got to the point, "As someone once said, I'm going out for a walk, I may
be some time".
The
others laughed, well; the ice-breaker always works.
"Now
you all have your assigned duties for the day, Major Casey will be in charge
for the next day or so, as I have a little meteorite catching to do. Just carry
on as normal. Hopefully this will not be more than just a routine flyover.
Besides it will put the hopper though its paces and we do need to see just how
far we can push these things". He held out his hands, "OK end of
talk, let’s get to work".
Once
he had donned a space suit, Jeff made for the airlock at the end of the
operations wing. Once outside he slowly trundled toward the two hoppers that
stood on the far side of the small crater they were in, on the other side of
the rim of this crater was the edge of the massive Tycho crater itself. The
hoppers resembled the Luna modules used by the first Luna pioneers some
thirty-five years earlier. These however were a single unit, with cushioned
sprung feet, and had a low thrust plasma jet, much smaller than on its Apollo
counterparts, providing sufficient acceleration to take the vehicle into a low
sub-orbit. They were built purely for survey purposes, not for investigation.
Until
today.
Jeff
opened the airlock at the back of the upper section having climbed the small
set of steps built into the rear of the craft. He pressurised the cabin, took
off his helmet, sat at the controls, and called the base.
"Hopper
Two to operations. Hatch secure, power on, give me a go/no-go for launch".
"Ops
to H2, commence check", Beyda replied.
"Booster".
"Go"
"Guidance"
"Go"
"Comms"
"Comms
go"
"Life
Support"
"Go,
this is FLO 1. Hopper Two you are clear to go, countdown stands at T minus 60
seconds".
Casey
took over countdown, leaving Beyda to monitor systems during launch, "OK
Jeff firing of motors at launch minus 2".
"Understood
Tim", Jeff said, waiting for the countdown to reach two. He heard Casey
counting, every fifth number until 15 seconds, then continuous, "14, 13,
12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7", Jeff's finger hovered over the launch button on the
left joystick, which controlled thrust. The right joystick was gripped tightly,
this would control guidance, pitch, yaw, etc, "6, 5, 4, 3, 2, ignition,
zero".
Jeff
punched the button, and the Hopper slowly rose on a column of mild gentle
thrust. Gradually Jeff opened up the left joystick, gaining height for himself,
while with the right stick, he angled the craft for horizontal flight. As he
did this, the top half of the craft slowly rotated so as to be constantly
upright, even if the lower half was on its side as it flew, the upper control
sphere of the hopper would remain vertical, enabling Jeff to have a constant
view of the Luna horizon, as well as a fair view of the ground below. It was
held on to the main body of the hopper by two brackets, wich held it on either
side; these were hinged so as to allow the sphere to rotate through ninety
degrees, so that it would always face forward.
"Next
stop crater Delambre", Jeff said to himself.
Hours
passed. As did the many craters that peppered the route Jeff was taking.
Passing below the hopper, that was now flying at a height of some one hundred
miles so as to maintain contact with base with the very low powered
transmitter, at a speed of some 200 miles an hour. The one thing these hoppers
were not built for was speed. The spectacular landscape more than made up for
the long hours of monotony. Every now and then, familiar landmark craters would
pass beneath the craft giving Jeff an idea how far along the way he was.
First
crater Walter, just slightly smaller than Tycho. This was the 250 mile mark on
the journey; Jeff knew he was now just under a third of the way there.
Soon, to
the left, on the north western horizon, the crater Purbach was visible, just.
Another hour
passed when on the opposite south eastern horizon; Jeff was able to make out
the crater Catharina, followed closely by the twin craters Theophilus and
Crillus. He knew now he was only a matter of minutes from his destination.
Sure
enough, Delambre loomed on the horizon, with the sea of tranquillity stretching
out just beyond it.
Jeff
radioed Tycho.
"FLO
1 from hopper 2, commencing decent to crater Delambre. Estimating loss of
signal in 15 minutes. Will radio you when Lunacom 1 passes over your position
and I can relay a short message. Anticipate this will be in approximately 28
minutes".
"Negative
on that Jeff", this was Casey, "Lunacom 1 is losing altitude and will
soon be out of commission, we can't contact you once you are over the horizon.
Estimated time to repair not yet known, but we've got a signal to Earth, to
tell them of what has happened. Their despatching a ship within the next 24
hours to go direct to the satellite and fix it. I wouldn't bother trying to get
a signal to earth to have it relayed back to us here; your radio is just not
powerful enough. Do you still want to go ahead with the descent as you will be
without radio"?
"Yep",
came the confident reply, "I'm not going to abort this flight now I've
come this far. How come you've only told me about Lunacom 1 now", he
demanded.
"Altitude
loss is rapid, and has only just begun, sorry Jeff, we reckon it's a thruster’s
malfunction. One of them could have fired by accident and thrown the thing in a
downwards descent, I'm afraid we've been caught with our waste bags on the
floor".
Jeff
sighed, "OK Tim. In view of this, I'll still make a landing; do a brief
survey, record a few minutes on tape for the record then get out of
there".
Tim
agreed, "That's the idea Jeff, get in, get on with it, get it over with,
and get out".
"Eloquently
put Tim", Jeff complemented the man, "and with that, I'll sign off
and make a start. I don't know how long I'll actually be, but I won't be too
long, that's for sure. This is hopper 1, listening, out".
"Good
luck Jeff, Tycho out".
By
now Jeff had fired attitude control jets to turn the craft round through 180
degrees. The craft was now travelling engine first. The onboard computer had
calculated at what time the engine would fire. A three minute burn would follow
during which time hopper would lose height in a cradual arc. However Jeff would
all the while have his and the craft's back turned on the crater itself. The
rear camera was thus deployed, but this was pointed straight down and only gave
Jeff a view of the land directly beneath his vessel as it lost height. It would
do, it would have to.
The
engine fired.
Slowly
the hopper lost height in its arc, as it did so, Delambe crater passed across
the view screen. As it did, Jeff could make out the outline of an object that
had appeared to have come to rest at the rear of the crater. Mindful of this,
Jeff fired the main rocket again to slow the decent, and make the arc a little
more gradual. This would take him toward the end of the crater. With the help
of the onboard computer, Jeff calculated the correct points at which to start
and finish this extra burn.
This
done, he sat back and prepared for the final part of the decent. Again the
computer came into play, and Jeff saw it read out the height, he looked at this
and the screen, showing the camera's view, and nothing else. Slowly the craft
dropped towards the surface. Every now and then, Jeff would fire the main
rocket just to slow the descent down to a safe speed. After a while, he fixed
his gaze on the computer readout, satisfied the ground he would eventually land
on was going to be smooth and free of boulders. His eyes never left the monitor
panel, fifty feet, forty, thirty, twenty, fifteen, getting lower, another burst
from the engine, fuel OK, enough to get back, ten, five, two, one, point five,
contact light, all four contact lights, hopper one down, and without so much as
a jolt.
No
time to waste, Jeff went through the pre-launch checklist, and made sure the
craft was ready for take off. He
realised that in this time, the dust blown up by the
hoppers descent would clear sufficiently for him to go straight out and take a
look. This checklist procedure took a little over 15 minutes to complete. Once
done, he picked up his helmet, put it on, de-pressurised the cabin, and
unlocked the door.
What
he saw made Jeff almost stumble down the steps of the hopper with shock.
It
was a spacecraft.
In
all probability, a manned craft at that. It looked like nothing Jeff Tracy had
seen before. Certainly nothing built for space travel existed like this, at
least not anything that Jeff knew of.
It
had a fuselage, a tail, no wings at the top of the tail, but two massive wings
at the rear and on each wing tip were two giant fins, both attached to the
wings half way down each fin. The craft had come to rest just in front of the
craters edge. From where Jeff stood he could see a further set of fins at the
front, these were situated just behind what looked like a view port at the nose
cone.
Only
now, having got over the shock of what he had seen, did Jeff notice the craft
has a series of letters on its, side. These same letters, followed by a number
were printed on both the giant fins on the two wingtips, although Jeff could
only see one from his position, he surmised the fin opposite had the same
legend on it, and they were also on the massive tail at the rear of the ship.
Jeff
could just make out what they said.
"XL5".
3.Discoveries and Dilemmas
Jeff
stepped down, still incredulous at what he saw, his mind racing. A hundred
questions suddenly raced through his mind. What was it? where had it come
from?, was it manned?, and biggest question of all.
Was
it of this Earth?
Once
his feet were on the surface, he slowly made his way towards the vehicle, his
heart pounding. What would he find? only the next few minutes would tell.
He
passed the giant wing fin, and saw up ahead at the front of the craft that
there was a light at the view port. He took another deep breath, and walked
forward.
He
drew closer.
The
light seemed to get brighter.
Eventually,
after what felt like an eternity, he reached the window, and looked inside.
It
WAS manned.
Two
people were in there, a man, and a woman, both slumped at what looked like very
futuristic controls.
They
both looked very elderly, and they were not moving.
"I
have to get inside", Jeff said to himself, "I've simply got to".
He
turned and made for what seemed like an airlock on the side of the fuselage. He
expected it to be designed in some way that would render it impossible for him
to open it up, but to his astonishment, he found it to be a standard airlock.
Astonishment turned to confusion. It would appear this craft WAS built on
Earth, but who the hell by.
He
pressed the control that he hoped would open the hatch, it did. Once inside and
the hatch was closed, he hit a button marked "Pressurise". His suit
monitor registered the increase to normal atmosphere. Jeff then took off his
helmet, and turned to open the inner door of the airlock, and take his first
step inside this strange craft.
He
found the lighting to be rather bright, this took him a little by surprise, but
he ventured in, and saw what almost certainly was the dividing door between
this compartment, and the front of this ship.
As
he came to it, it opened, by itself.
Jeff
looked inside, and saw the two people. Still slumped, motionless. They both had
to be in their seventies, or even eighties, so old they were. He went to the
woman first, tried for a pulse. Then he moved over to the man and did the same
again.
Nothing.
They
were both dead.
He
sighed. Sadness overcame him as he stood there, and also disappointment to a
degree. He would never know who or what all this was about.
Or
would he.
As
he turned to walk back out of this cabin, he noticed a book, lying on the
floor, and a pen not far from it. As though the book has been written in.
Jeff
picked up the book, opened it up at the first page, and began to read.
"This is the final log entry
of Colonel Steve Zodiac, commander of the World Space Patrol vessel Fireball
XL5. We have been catapulted through what appeared to be a vortex cloud
following our departure from Earth. This cloud has sent us crashing on to the
moon. Yet when we sent out a distress call as we lost height over the Luna
surface, no one responded. What was even more disconcerting, I noticed as we
got closer and closer to the surface that the Luna cities and homesteads had
all gone. There was no Armstrong City, Tycho City, Copernicus Village, Lovell
Settlement, or the Scott complex at the Hadley Rille. Nothing. All that
registered on the scanner was a tiny structure on the edge of crater Tycho.
It’s
as though we have travelled back in time, back a hundred years. This is not how
I and my wife, Venus had planned to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary.
Everything had gone so wonderfully well. We have had the best possible present
anyone could wish for. The gift of our old craft. Long since de-commissioned.
Then after leaving Earth we detected this strange cloud formation ahead of us.
We signalled the nearest WSP ship, as we were not in a position to make any
kind of investigation. Yet we barely had time to open the radio channel, before
our ship was dragged into this cloud.
My
wife and, I are losing blood all the time, unless someone locates us soon,
well, that’s it.
If
anyone finds this journal, can they please pass this to my family. We have no
children of our own, I'm afraid the life that we have both led has stopped us
from doing that. The name I have taken is not my real family name. I took it
from my father, the late Air general Steven Zodiac, who changed it by deed poll
as a result of the occupation he had. An occupation that even on his death bed,
he would not disclose, even to me.
If
anyone finds this journal, can they please pass it on to the Kalinski family;
this is my family's real name. My grandfather was. . "
Jeff's
eyes could not quite grasp what he was seeing. He had to read it again, but it
still said the same name.
". . . . Edgar Kalinski".
Edgar
Kalinski!
How?
The
very man he had spoken to less that 24 hours earlier was now being spoken of as
in the past tense. All of a sudden this man who Jeff had the most deepest respect
for was now, in the mind of the person who had written in this journal, who had
channelled all his remaining hours of strength into writing this record so that
someone could learn of what had happened and somehow preserve a little of the
life’s that were now at an end, dead.
Was this
supposed to be a ship from the future, a vessel commanded by his own grandson?
It was simply too much to take in. Simply too wild a scenario. Simply out of
this world. This was simply not happening.
According
to what he had read, and seen, this giant vessel was from the future.
It was
impossible, some sort of trick. Yet how could Jeff disprove what he had seen.
Goodness knows it all made sense. This craft, the Fireball, XL5 looked like
nothing he had seen before. Maybe this was a craft from the future.
Having
read the journal, it all made perfect sense.
Yet
Jeff had his dilemma.
Edgar
Kalinski.
He
read on.
"Edgar
Kalinski was the former commissioners of the old Solar System Exploration
Council, he supervised the exploration of the inner part of the solar system,
and is a man I hold very dear. Even though I never met him.
I
would love to have told him about the day that changed mankind. The day that I
will never forget, nor anyone who was alive that day will forget either. To
anyone who reads this journal I will tell this story.
It
was my first mission as master of this vessel.
In the latter part of the earth year 2072, a disabled
spaceship from another world was found, adrift, off the orbit of Neptune. By
the end of the 2060's, mankind could be found throughout our solar system, but
that was as far as we thought we could go. Yet here we were. A ship from
another world and a ship that could travel faster than the speed of light. This
ship was a representative from an alliance of worlds. An alliance of over 50
solar systems.
They
knew of Earth, and they knew of our language, and they were actually thinking
of sending a ship to make first contact. This ship was now in trouble, it had
developed a fault that was causing its life support system to fail. The XL5 was
diverted from its journey from Pluto to Saturn’s moons and located the craft.
The result was a Stella alliance of worlds including the Earth. Our world was
invited into the alliance, and Earth was made its headquarters. This was done
because of the fact that in saving the crew of the ship we found, we had saved
the life of the president of that federation. Had he died, there could have been
a war within the stellar alliance. There was at that time, no federation
headquarters. So Earth, as a thank you, became the centre of a massive space
empire. Our craft had their engines converted to enable them to travel at
speeds many times that of light, and a day greater than any day in history
since the creation, had gone into the history books as the day mankind evolved
into something new, and bold.
He inherited the galaxy.
I grow
weak now, eight hours have passed since we crashed, I don't know how I've
managed to write all this in such a short time, I will rest, having grieved for
Venus, who will die with me in the next few hours if no help comes, having channelled out much of this grief in
writing this.
I
dedicate this to Edgar Kalinski.
Steve
Christopher Zodiac
Lillian
“Venus” Lumere
June
18th 2113
4.Mending Fences, and Making Promises
Jeff woke with a start, he glanced at his
wristwatch.
He had been asleep for just 30
minutes, yet he had dreamed, in detail, for the first time in so many years, a
whole day.
One day, a day that was the reason
for him being here, in this hotel, about to get ready to travel to London, to
tell an old friend a story, one so incredible it would be a job for any sane
person to accept. Especially this old friend.
A dying friend.
For a moment Jeff felt a little bad
about himself, he had been abrupt with his family, he had not told them one
detail of what he was doing. So angry he was that he was being told, at literally
the eleventh hour, that Edgar Kalinski, 73 years old, had been fatally injured
in a road accident and had merely hours left to live.
So angry because he had made a
promise to himself to tell Edgar one day, of what had happened. Now it might be
too late. Jeff alone had had to live with the events of that day in his head
for all the years past. Living with the knowledge that man will succeed in
colonising the solar system, that he will even reach out and embrace
civilisations from outside our little nine-planet home.
Yet should he tell Edgar anyway. It
raised a whole new type of ethics. A whole new ethical question.
Living with future knowledge.
Such a burden had had Jeff asking
himself a thousand questions.
Should he share this with anyone?
No.
Would talking about it possibly
alter history away from what he had seen evidence of in the control room of
that ship.
Yes.
Nothing is written in stone, but
equally, what is determined, should not be tampered with, in any way.
Even now, 24 years later, he still
could scarce take it all in.
He thought again about the family.
He decided to call the island, needless to say, not on the com-board installed
in the hotel room, but on his wristwatch.
“International Rescue Space Station,
this is Jeff Tracy”
“Hi Dad”, a happy John Tracy
answered, pleased to hear from his father, “How are things, are you settling in
OK”.
“Oh fine son. You sound pleased to
hear from me”.
“Well”, John chose his words very
carefully, “I’ll let Scott talk to you. Hold on, putting you through”.
A moment’s pause, then the voice of
a worried son.
“Hi Dad, a happy Scott Tracy
answered, pleased to hear from his father, “How are things, are you settling in
OK”.
Jeff felt a sudden feeling of
deja-vu, but understood Scott asking exactly the same question as John.
“I’m just fine Scott”, Jeff took a
deep breath, “Listen, I’m sorry I blocked everyone out earlier on. I guess it’s
just one thing after another. This time two days ago, we stood on the verge of
being branded criminals and having our liberty to go and rescue people taken
from us. It was getting too much. We built this organisation as a tribute to
your mother”.
He paused, tears beginning to well in his
eyes.
“It would have broken my heart to have had to
let it go”.
“I know dad, I know”, Scott replied,
“Look we understand you dad, we always will. Can you tell us though why you are
in San Francisco, heading for London”.
“Of course Scott”, Jeff was at least
going to tell what he could to his family, “I’ve received news that an old
friend of mine, Edgar Kalinski is dying. He and I were neighbours back in
Kansas. Although we were 15 years apart in age, we had a lot in common. Edgar
was commissioner of the SSEC at the time I led the return of man back to the
moon. He was a good man, and I am very sad to hear he has not long left to
live. His enthusiasm for space exploration is the reason man has now laid down
roots on Mercury, Venus, and the Moon, and soon Mars. It was Kalinski who
designed the Zero X, and he was a prime mover in convincing the SSEC to go for
a second try at getting a man to Mars. There is so much I want to talk to him
about, and very little time, that’s what has angered me. I’m angry with myself,
but it’s an anger I should never have vented on you and Virgil. Please pass may
apologies on to your brother”.
He paused again, his voice
quivering.
“You know Scott, don’t let on to him
I’ve said this, but there isn’t a week that passes when I don’t think to myself
how much he looks like his mother. Goodness knows she and him were close. I can
see him now on his mothers lap in front of the old piano back in the old farm,
playing “chopsticks”. If your mother were still here, she’d have given me the
chewing out of my life if I’d yelled at him in front of her”.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself dad,
you’ve been to hell and back in the past few days. Just forget about it, and go
to London, and spend what time you can with Commissioner Kalinski. We’ll be
OK”.
“I’ll do that Scott”, Jeff said,
reassuringly, “Take care”.
Jeff closed the link.
He got up from his bed, and walked
over to his suitcase. He zipped open a side pocket, and pulled out a book.
It was the journal he picked up from
the cabin on the ship from the future. All that was left in fact of his encounter.
He had taken the two bodies out of the craft, and given them a dignified
burial, using tools he had found on the Fireball ship. Then, having laid them
to rest at a safe distance, he had found a way to over-run the reactors of the
ship, and having got away in time, he saw the ship explode, and condemn the
evidence to oblivion. Thankfully, the folks back at Tycho believed Jeff’s story
that it was a meteorite, and a large one at that. Hence the huge crater, within
the very massive crater Delambre.
The secret was safe.
Jeff took the book, sat down on the
bed, and began to read again what was written by Colonel Zodiac.
Jeff looked out of the window, and
thought out loud.
“Edgar, if there are people in the
room, and we never get any time alone, I won’t say a thing. However if they let
me speak to you alone, I’ll tell you about this day, all those years ago”.
He glanced down at the manuscript,
written 24 years ago, and 85 in the future.
“Yes Edgar, if I can, I’ll tell you
about they day your grandson took a journey, Forward, to the past”.
Fin
FORWARD TO THE PAST
Read Captain Scarlet stories from Nigel Preece on the Spectrum Headquarters
site.
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