The ardly effect, p.5
The Ardly Effect, page 5
“Expect nothing less. Expect nothing less.” Sergeant Arthur abandoned the joystick and seat. “Let us reconnoitre the immediate area perchance to find a chink in our enemies’ defences of the weakness persuasion.”
“Right-ho, brother.”
“You look over there. And I’ll look ... over here.”
The sergeants examined the walls of the ten by tencell minutely.
“Find anything?” enquired Sergeant Arthur.
“Nothing, brother.”
“Door or anything?”
“Nothing, brother.”
“Any seams?”
“Nothing, brother.”
“Lumps?Bumps?General anomalies of a colour persuasion?”
“Nothing, brother.”
“Me neither.” Sergeant Arthur scratched his head. “Check the floor,” he said at last. The two dropped to their knees examining every square inch of the floor intently. They rose after a few minutes, puzzled expressions, playing like a light breeze tickling a donkey’s mane, over their faces.
“Find anything?” enquired Sergeant Arthur.
“Nothing, brother.”
“Trap door or anything?”
“Nothing, brother.”
“Any seams?”
“Nothing, brother.”
“Lumps?Bumps?General anomalies of a colour persuasion?”
“Nothing, brother.”
“Me neither.” Sergeant Arthur scratched his head again. “The fiendish persuasion of the enemy defies all imagination.”
“It does indeed, brother. And they’ve buggered up the kettle, brother!” said Sergeant George toeing, the remnants of his stricken kettle. He leaned to examine the kettle’s smouldering plugless cord. “Very fiendish, very unsporting,” he said.
“Quite!” said Sergeant Arthur indignantly. “No ‘more tea vicar?’ for us! Not until we’re out of this biscuit tin of a room, anyway. I will be having very strong words with whoever is in charge. You can be sure of that!”
“You do right, brother.”
“Right!Let’s find out exactly who is in charge.” Sergeant Arthur took a deep breath, adopted the arms-akimbo-head-tilted-back stance reserved of one who is about to indulge in some heavy vociferation, and fell back startled against the wall.
“You could have warned us you were standing up there!” gasped Sergeant Arthur clasping his chest in alarm. Sergeant George assumed the same position in sympathy.
“Welcome aboard, gentlemen,” Phoenix said wryly looking down from the walkway running round the top of the cell. “I am Captain Phoenix and this is Commander Apricot my second in command.” Apricot tilted his smile in what he hoped was a superior and intimidating way. “And you are ...?”
“Say nothing, brother,” Sergeant George hissed. The prisoners stood in determined silence. Phoenix sighed. “Intimidate the prisoners please, Marshia.”
UNDERSTOOD, CAPTAIN.
The sergeants found themselves suddenly suspended upside down above the centre of the cell. Their heads level with Phoenix and Apricot. Loose change and tea bags hit the cell floor.
“Sergeant George Puree here, governor!”
“Sergeant Arthur Puree here, sir!”The pair shrieked in unison coming to an inverted attention.
“Thank you Marshia. You may put them down now.”
UNDERSTOOD, CAPTAIN.
The sergeants were returned gently to an upright position on the cell floor.
“Thank you, governor,” said Sergeant George bending to retrieve his change and tea bags.
“Ditto,” said Sergeant Arthur tipping a cap he was not wearing.
“Now gentlemen.”Phoenix leaned forward on the rails. Apricot did likewise. “Do tell. Just where were you headed?”
“Well sir,” Sergeant Arthur looked embarrassed. “You know, we’re not supposed to divulge information of that particular persuasion if captured and questioned by the enemy. No offence intended to your present selves, sir.”
Sergeant George nodded in agreement.
“I’m sure you could make an exception in this case. Marshia can be very persuasive.”
UNDERSTOOD, CAPTAIN.
The two sergeants rose slowly into the air, feeling an extra firm tug as a small gravitonic projection threatened to remove their heads from their stretched necks.
“Well. As you’ve asked,” said Sergeant Arthur through clenched teeth and throat, “we were given instructions, of the orders persuasion, to the effect that we should determine what events had terminated the existence of some of your lot’s little space ship things over in sector five.”
“ And,” continued Sergeant George, “findout what happened, governor.”
Sergeant Arthur tried to turn and frown at his brother but couldn’t.
“I see,” said Phoenix.
THEY ARE TELLING THE TRUTH, CAPTAIN.
“Thank you, Marshia,” said Phoenix.“Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all for now. Marshia will take you to a more comfortable cell.”
UNDERSTOOD.
The two sergeants were whisked up and away. “Any chance of a cup of tea or just some water of the hot persuasion and a mug would do ...” could be heard fading into the distance.
“It would seem that the destruction of Naize’s drones had nothing to do with the enemy, Apricot.”
“Indeed, sir. Unless those two were expendable decoys who knew nothing of the real truth, sir.”
“Possible, possible.”
WE WILL BE REACHING THE TARGET AREA WITHIN THE NEXT TWO HOURS,
CAPTAIN.
“Thank you, Marshia,” said Phoenix. “Better keep the scanners on full alert, Apricot.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The enemy will obviously notice the destruction of their scout ship and be sending reinforcements.”
“Undoubtedly, sir.”
“Go to yellow alert and tell the crew to stay ... alert.”
“Consider it done, sir.”
*
Kwait and Streemly strolled arm in arm. They had left the Captain’s dining quarters and were heading in the general direction of their own quarters.
“So, what do you think of Captain Phoenix?” asked Streemly.
“I can’t make up my mind,” said Kwait looking thoughtful. “He seems a bit of a bumbler on the surface but I suspect that in the event of an emergency, when everyone else was panicking, he would be a little island of calm.”
“Don’t potential Captains of these quantatronic battle cruisers have to be specially vetted?” asked Streemly.
“I believe so,” said Kwait.“Something about their relationship with the brain.” Kwait flinched at his own words. “I mean Marshia.” He looked apologetically around him.
Kwait thought a change of subject was in order. “That young commander ... what was his name?”
“Banana,” said Streemly dryly.
“Apricot,” said Kwait.“Seemed a very nice young fellow.Friendly.Attentive.”
“If you’re into labradors .”Streemly didn’t pause for breath. “I wouldn’t buy a used space shuttle from that West fellow but you and the Captain’s wife, Spacey Tracy, seemed to hit it off in a big way!”
Kwait laughed. “She’s quite a gal, isn’t she?”
“I nearly gagged when she started sucking her fingers and I’m sure there was a slight echo coming from that cleavage.” Streemly leaned against her father giggling.
“ Sssh!” said Kwait theatrically. “Marshia might turn us in.”
ALL CONVERSATIONS ARE TREATED WITH ABSOLUTE CONFIDENCE.
“Thank you, Marshia,” said Kwait. Father and daughter looked at each other like two guilty children. They walked in silence for a few minutes.
“What do you think the prisoners look like?” asked Streemly as they turned into the corridor leading to their quarters.
Kwait paused for thought.
“Marshia?” he said at last.
YES, DOCTOR?
“Show us the way to the prisoners, would you?”
CERTAINLY DOCTOR.
A pale blue arrow appeared on the corridor wall pointing back the way they had come.
“Follow that arrow,” said Streemly pulling her father round.
Kwait and Streemly entered a quadrangle whose overwhelming feature was that of being the dullest grey they have ever seen. The floor, walls and very high ceiling were all grey. Diffused lighting made judging distances very difficult.
Along each of the four grey walls, nine or ten feet apart, were grey doors. The two doors nearest Kwait and Streemly had a small, red light on the wall above them.
“These must be the prison cells,” whispered Streemly. Kwait nodded. Streemly approached the first door. A small, grey button with ‘Show’ written on it proved irresistible to her. She pressed the button. The label on the button changed to ‘Hide’. Movement to her left caught Streemly’s attention.
A large portion of the grey wall had become transparent to reveal a small, grey cell. The cell was furnished with two bunks, a table, two chairs, a number of cupboards and a small, muscular, tanned man in a black leotard doing press-ups.
Kwait and Streemly watched as the man, oblivious to their presence, went through an exhaustive exercise routine.
The man was well into another round of press-ups before Kwait leaned towards Streemly and whispered, “They’re very fit, aren’t they?”
“I don’t think much of their dress sense,” Streemly whispered back. THAT IS CELL-MAN SECOND CLASS RUPERT JOHNSON.
Marshia obviously made the man aware of their presence as he stopped mid-press, stood, focused briefly on the wall between them and jogged lightly on his toes to the door. Leaving the cell, Johnson jogged lightly up to Kwait and Streemly and came smartly to attention.
“Cell-man second class Johnson,” he said, saluting so hard his hand vibrated. Kwait and Streemly made sad, self-conscious attempts at saluting back. Johnson looked as though something rather smelly had been sellotaped to his upper lip.
“We were just wondering ...” Kwait tapered off. He felt foolish suddenly. Streemly looked down squinting very hard at something fascinating at her feet. Johnson rolled his eyes. “Would sir and madam like to havea butchers at the prisoners?”
Kwait nodded. “Yes please,” he said.
Johnson jogged lightly in place for a second before turning and jogging lightly over to the other grey door with the red light above it. He came to attention and did a smart about turn. Johnson’s flamboyant pre-button-press-wave of the finger halted while he said, “The aforementioned prisoners will be revealed when I activate the wall clearing button.” Johnson’s head motioned in the direction of the grey wall to the right of the door. “Do not be alarmed. The prisoners will not be aware of your scrutinising, as the wall, which permits the passage of light from them to us, does not permit it to pass in the opposite direction or visa versa.Which means, they can’t see us. ”
“A one way wall,” said Streemly.
“Precisely, madam,” said Johnson, pressing the button.
The wall cleared to reveal Sergeant Arthur and Sergeant George sitting disconsolately at opposite ends of a small grey table. Their grey uniforms blended quite nicely with the decor. Johnson held his finger to his lips, indicating Kwait and Streemly should stay quiet and listen. Sergeant Arthur was speaking, “... was definitely , without a shadow of a doubt, The Meta-language of Pheromones by Anne O’Door .”
“But what,” asked SergeantGeorge, “would possess you to want to read such a volume, brother?”
“I didn’t,” said Sergeant Arthur. “I just made it up.A quip of the joke persuasion.”
Sergeant George looked puzzled for a moment. “Ah!” he said at last. He sat back.The puzzled expression on his face refusing to leave its comfortable new home.
Sergeant Arthur sighed. “Like, Pale Rider by Annie Mick,” he said.
“I get that ,” said Sergeant George. “Butwhat’s ferret-moles got to do with doors?”
“ Pheromones!”Sergeant Arthur said with considerable irritation.“ Pheromones!”
The puzzled expression that had moved onto Sergeant George’s face had taken down the “For Rent”
sign and got itself on the electoral register.
“Pheromones,” said Sergeant Arthur, waving a hand vaguely in the air. “They’re sort of chemicals that go up your hooter and make you ... I don’t know ... frisky or of the aggressive persuasion.”
Sergeant George folded his arms across his chest. “I’d probably have been a lot quicker on the old up-take, brother, if you’d have said, The Perfumed Garden by Anne O’Door ,” he said.“Or, Clearing the Lift by Anne O’Door .”
Sergeant Arthur looked unimpressed but thoughtful. “I wonder if there is such a thing as a ferret-mole,”
he said.
“In an infinite universe anything is possible, brother.”
“Would a ferret-mole be a long thin rodent that liked to leave piles of soil on your lawn? Perhaps a mole-ferret would be a short-sighted stocky rodent that liked to chase long-eared rodents down tunnels and small underground enclaves.”
“Very likely, brother,” said Sergeant George, nodding sagely.“Very likely.”
Johnson pressed the ‘Hide’ button making the prisoners disappear behind a grey wall. He raised and lowered himself on his toes.
“Code,” said Johnson confidently. “The prisoners are talking in code, the devious fiends.”
“Bollocks,” said Streemly. Johnson’s eyebrows threatened to jump off the top of his head.
“I think,” continued Streemly, “you’ll find they are just two bored men talking bollocks.” Streemly punctuated the sentence with a mock salute and turned to leave.
Kwait, accompanied by a loud smirk, followed Streemly from the quad.
: Contact
Chapter 12
Phoenix and Apricot watched the scanner displays intently. The control room around them was quiet apart from the odd cough and an occasional mysterious beeping noise. No one seemed to know what the beeping noise was but the ship’s builders assured them it was probably just the quanta-electronic phase shift thermo-multiplier kicking in when someone used the tea machine; or maybe the speedo cable was rubbing against something.
Everyone jumped when Apricot said, “Contact! Looks like Doctor Naizewas right after all.”
BOTH GRAVITONIC AND BETA SCANNERS REGISTER AN UNIDENTIFIED OBJECT FIVE
THOUSAND YARDS AHEAD. SHOULD I DESTROY IT CAPTAIN PHOENIX?
“Not yet Marshia.Doa full Beta scan and give me the results.”
UNDERSTOOD.THE OBJECT IS SPHERICAL WITHIN TWO PER CENT. IT IS ONE
HUNDRED YARDS IN DIAMETER. IT APPEARS TO BE SOLID ICE. ITS TRAJECTORY IS
ILLOGICAL.ONE MOMENT PLEASE.
This sounded interesting. “Message for Kwait Naize and Streemly Naize,” said Phoenix. “Please join me immediately in the control room. End message.”
UNDERSTOOD.THE OBJECT IS TRAVELLING IN AN ORBIT AROUND ANOTHER MUCH
LARGER OBJECT. THIS LARGER OBJECT IS NOT REGISTERING ON THE BETA SCAN. SHOULD I DESTROY IT CAPTAIN PHOENIX?
“No Marshia. Do a full Gravitonic scan and give me the results.”
UNDERSTOOD.THE OBJECT IS SPHERICAL WITHIN TWO PER CENT. IT IS ONE
HUNDRED YARDS IN DIAMETER. IT IS MAINLY ICE. THE CENTRE IS HOLLOWED OUT
TO A DIAMETER OF FIVE YARDS. THERE IS A CIRCULAR HOLE OF THREE YARDS IN
DIAMETER RUNNING THROUGH THE OBJECT. ITS TRAJECTORY IS AN ORBIT AROUND
ANOTHER MUCH LARGER OBJECT WHICH APPEARS TO BE ATTEMPTING TO BLOCK
OUT THE GRAVITONIC SCANNING BY GENERATING RANDOM INTERFERENCE.
“Close to one thousand yards from the smaller object and hold, please Marshia,” said Phoenix. UNDERSTOOD.THE ORBIT OF THE SMALLER OBJECT IS CIRCULAR TO WITHIN ZERO
POINT ZERO ZERO ZERO ONE PER CENT. THE ORBITAL DIAMETER IS TWENTY-SIX
MILLION YARDS. THE LARGER OBJECT IS THIRTEEN MILLION AND SIX YARDS IN
DIAMETER AND APPEARS TO CONTAIN ANOTHER OBJECT WHICH HAS AN AVERAGE
DIAMETER OF THIRTEEN MILLION YARDS. COMPOSITION OF BOTH OBJECTS IS
INDETERMINATE.
Kwait and Streemly entered the control room.
“What’s going on?” Streemly asked.
“I’m not one hundred per cent sure,” said Phoenix, pointing to a display showing his and Marshia’s conversation. “Read that,” he said.
“Status?”Phoenix barked.
UNDERSTOOD.WE WILL BE STATIONARY WITH RESPECT TO THE SMALLER OBJECT
IN FIVE SECONDS.
Phoenix turned to Apricot. “Take a shuttle and team and reconnoitre that lump of ice, would you Commander.”
“Sir,” said Apricot, starting to leave.
“Have all team members equipped with video and audio relays,” said Phoenix.
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Apricot, leaving the control room.
“Visual, please Marshia,” said Phoenix.
UNDERSTOOD.
*
Apricot hated this bit.
He felt safe inside Marshia.Just like being underground with lots of pretty holograms of space hung on the wall.
Being in the shuttle was bad enough. You couldn’t kid yourself anymore in a shuttle. You really were in space! And now, in a spacesuit for Christ’s sake! With only a tenth of an inch between you and ... Apricot shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate on the tricky business of manoeuvring using the suit thrusters.
Apricot and the other six members of the reconnaissance team clustered around the shaft which disappeared into the great ice ball hanging over them.
“You on the end there, stay here.” Apricot pointed to the man floating furthest from him on his right. His voice rattled through each spacesuit’s speakers. “The rest of you, standard file formation.” Apricot manoeuvred closer to the entrance. “Lights on, videos on, keepalert, and good luck gents.” Apricot hoped the fear in his voice would be lost over the comms link. It was. His men drew strength from his steady tones.
Apricot turned towards the shaft.
His suit lights bounced off the walls made mirror smooth by some unknown machine. A gentle hiss and a nudge from his thrusters and Apricot slowly drifted into the shaft. Looking at the translucent walls, Apricot fancied he could see strange alien shapes deep under the surface. “ Just irregularities in the ice,” Apricot told himself.
