Part 17 (1/2)

'What?'

'Nothing. It's just that your sense of humour is . . .' A shrug? 'Oh I don't know. Somehow familiar that's all.' 'Compliment accepted.' I stood up. The cave was lit by worklights. Cables snaked everywhere. Plastic boxes with snap fastenings lined the walls. The boxes were quite large. Some of them were open. I had a sudden insight as to how I had been rescued from the airless chamber where the transport system had deposited us. Research equipment was stacked in neat piles. Equipment and boxes were marked with NASA logos. Some had another sign as well. UNIT. I nodded at the nearest box. 'Lethbridge-Stewart's lot come out of the woodwork at last have they?'

Liz's eyes narrowed. 'What do you know about UNIT?' Something about Liz's tone made me hesitate. 'Oh ... not much.'

Liz went quiet for a moment. Then she said, 'Listen to me. This place is top secret?' She held up her hands. 'Yes, sure, I know, cliche number one, but it's true. Right now you're a serious breach of security. If I was you I'd be a bit more circ.u.mspect about the names I dropped.'

'Hint taken. Going to take me to your leader?' Liz grinned suddenly. 'I am the leader.'

'Good. A sensible face running things for once.'

Liz stopped smiling. 'But I'm not the political officer.' 'The political officer?'

Liz shook her head. 'Never mind.'

I shrugged, abandoned the communist joke on the tip of my tongue, instead tried taking a few steps. I managed not to fall flat on my face, so I tried a few more. They were fine too. 'Seems I'm on a roll today. All I need now are my friends back and some painkillers for my ears.'

Liz frowned. 'Only two of you made it through the decompression. I'm sorry.'

'Oh d.a.m.n. How did they -?'

'Well one was killed by an explosion of some kind. Another was concussed and suffocated while unconscious.' There was a woman - it looks like she died of a heart attack. I don't know what else I can tell you.'

'You can tell me who else survived.'

The distant ring of gunshots gave me the answer to my question before Liz could speak.

I followed Liz out of the storeroom I had recovered in and together we ran along a narrow pa.s.sage. We ran in long strides because of the low gravity.

Liz was much better at it than I was.

'Where are we going?'

'The shots came from the Museum?' 'You have a museum here?'

A funny sideways look from Liz. 'We don't. They did.' 'They?'

'Yes, they.'

The rocky pa.s.sage ended abruptly, opening out into a chamber some five hundred metres high. The walls were smooth and glistened as if hollowed out by acid - although there was none of the random dissolution which you might a.s.sociate with acid etching. Obviously the chamber had not been produced with any current Earth technology. The chamber was a' sphere.

Suspended in the centre, by no visible means, was ... something. A machine? It, too, was clearly not of Earth origin. Though the chamber was brightly fit by more than a hundred worklights the machine seemed to be wreathed in shadows. Like smoke, the shadows drifted slowly around the machine, areas of deeper black in a bubble of jet, concealing its form.

Liz was off again, moving quickly down a curved ramp to the base of the chamber. Here the curvature of the concave floor was shallow enough to walk on. My first steps were tentative; the surface looked slippery, like black ice with billions of points of light buried in it. Then I realized there was more than enough traction here. And I also noticed that, although the surface looked highly reflective, I could make out no mirror image of myself - or indeed of anything else I could see. No worklights, no part of the machine hovering unsupported twenty or so metres above my head, nothing. No material I had ever seen absorbed light as efficiently as the surface on which I ran. I found the thought both interesting and scary. I followed Liz to an area isolated by movable screens, the kind you might find in a hospital ward or a laboratory, only very much bigger. They were green translucent plastic, obviously terrestrial, and stuck out like a mouse in a bowl of soup in the glistening alien darkness? Ranged along the base of the other side of the screens nearest us were a number of p.r.o.ne bodies.

One, a man, was moaning softly. The others were still. Beyond them the picture was less clear. There were lights and dark shapes. Some of the forms were person-shaped. One of them was moving. It strutted up and down, shaking its head. It was talking. I couldn't understand the words because the screens m.u.f.fled them and the only ones to reach me were too badly distorted by echoes to make out, but I recognized the voice: Tammuz. As I watched a shot rang out and another silhouette fell over. Tammuz kicked the body aside. It rolled loosely in the low gravity, stopping only when it b.u.mped against the screens.

Liz ran for the screens. I bounded after her, grabbed her shoulder, managed to hold her back.

'Wait,' I whispered. 'Go in there and he'll shoot you just like all the rest.'

Liz looked at me. Her face was a mixture of fear and rage. 'Who the h.e.l.l are you? What are you doing here? How did you work the matter transmitter, something we've been trying for months to get operational?'

Her voice was close to panic - no, not just panic: rage. A dangerous combination at any time, let alone now. 'You're terrorists, aren't you? Here to mess up the project. You don't get it do you? If we're right about this machinery any sort of interference, that isn't strictly controlled could bring about a catastrophe of - 'Shut up a minute, will you?' I interrupted. 'I know what you're thinking. I came here with a Bunch of people - some were injured, you've seen evidence of explosives, now there's a man shooting your friends. I know what this looks like. But it isn't that. We're not trying to take over. The man in there is an Iranian soldier. He thinks he's found uranium or a stockpile of nuclear missiles near Ararat in Turkey but he doesn't understand that - look, it's just really complicated and we have to stop him. Now.'

I could tell Liz was still angry and shocked - but somehow she managed to stay calm. 'Well, you're right about that. There's machinery here that would make G.o.d's flood look like a kid splas.h.i.+ng through a muddy puddle.'

Something in Liz's voice made me s.h.i.+ver. Machinery? Flood? Matter transmitters? Suddenly it all clicked into place. 'That's it. Oh G.o.d, that's it.

He wants the power. He thinks he can control it. He's wrong. He doesn't even understand it.' I hesitated. 'He's going to -'

'What?' Liz's question was urgent but I ignored it, instead crept towards the screens. I stepped over a body to reach the plastic sheeting of one screen and parted it a finger's width so I could peer through. And so I could listen.

Tammuz was standing beside a small group of technicians, all of whom were kneeling down, hands on their heads. I was terrified I was going to be right about what Tammuz was planning. I was.

'It is very clear to me that Americans have once again taken sides in a conflict which has nothing to do with them. Iranian satellites detect uranium beneath Ararat. When I investigate, what do I find? A military base with advanced technology run by Americans.'

Someone said in a quiet voice, 'Look, we're Americans, sure, but we're not running this place. We're investigating it. And we're nowhere near G.o.dd.a.m.n Turkey and we couldn't give a monkey's about your d.a.m.n war - A shot cracked out. The sound of a falling body. I winced. Beside me Liz tensed. I grabbed her and forced her to sit down. So far Tammuz didn't know we were here. He couldn't. That meant we had an advantage. Well, about as much of an advantage as you could expect under the circ.u.mstances. .

Tammuz said, 'Don't treat me like a fool. I am not a fool. This base is obviously military in nature. The technology alone makes this clear.' I parted the plastic curtains a little further. Now I could make out banks of machinery of alien design. Located centrally was a shape that was somehow familiar: a hexagonal master control system. A cylinder placed on top of the console was filled with a grey gas. I recognized a holographic presentation system. Tammuz slapped his hand against the console. Laser light blinked within the cylindrical tank. I saw maps. Maps of continents on Earth. Something was odd about them. I was still trying to puzzle out why the console looked so familiar when Tammuz said, 'This is obviously a targeting system. You will tell me how to operate it.' He pointed his gun at one of the few remaining technicians. Liz gasped softly. It was clear Tammuz was selecting someone else to kill.

The technician began to babble. 'Look, I've got a wife. Kids. Please listen to me. We're telling you the truth.' Tammuz pressed the gun against the man's forehead. I kept my hand on Liz's shoulder to stop her moving. I felt her body tense. Something was going on here. The technician said, 'All right, man, OK, don't shoot me! I'll tell you. I'll tell you it all - just don't shoot me, OK? OK?'

Liz swore softly. I got it. She wasn't scared for the man's life. She was scared he would say something he shouldn't. She was terrified he would say something he shouldn't.

The technician said, 'Look. You don't understand. You haven't been here.

We think these systems are in some kind of accidental lock. If we free the lock and activate the systems we might not be able to shut them down again. The program is designed to run until complete. Do you understand?

If we start them up they won't stop. They can't stop.'

Tammuz thought it over and pulled his gun back from the technician's head. I could see a circular bruise forming there. His voice was steady, perfectly calm. 'I'm waiting.'

The technician clambered to his feet. 'Look. You can't do this. You're opening Pandora's Box, for Chrissakes. Even we don't know what's inside!'

Tammuz placed the gun back against the technician's head and held it there until the man broke down and agreed to help him?

Liz tensed once again beneath my restraining hand. I heard her exhale an angry breath. And suddenly one part of it made sense: if I was right this place was six billion years old - yet the holographic systems were displaying modern maps with current geological configurations. The systems were six billion years old but the maps could have been made this morning.

I pulled Liz to her feet and dragged her away. She protested. I shook her hard? 'You know how to use this machinery. You know what it's for. Tell me! It's important.'

Something poked me hard in the ribs. I looked down. 'Ah. Cliche number two: the good guys have guns.'

Liz said, deadpan, 'You're right. It is important.'

I quipped, 'Cliche number three: the good guys are really the bad guys.'