Read Online Space 1999 #5 - Lunar Attack by John Rankine - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Rankine
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and Bergman went on, ‘How do you measure psychic energy? That’s what we’re picking up, a rare and magnified source of psychic energy. It’s present here on Alpha.’
It was difficult to see what it meant to Mateo, whether it was something he had expected or not. Certainly he was uneasy. He said shortly, ‘Do you want me any longer here, Commander?’
‘Not at this time.’
He stalked off without a look at Laura Adams who was waiting patiently for a piece of the dialogue.
Koenig had seen the plant but it contributed nothing. He decided to look again at the mortal remains. Maybe Helena had found some new data in the autopsy.
Bob Mathias and an orderly were drawing a sheet over the body. As Koenig came through the hatch of the medicentre, Helena herself was shrugging out of a surgical smock.
She was glad to see him. She said, ‘I’ve never seen anything like it before.’
‘What was the cause of death?’
‘You could call it fear. Fear generated to an unimaginable pitch . . . so intense that it shattered the spinal column.’
‘You’re positive no person could have done this? Could it have been a physical blow of some kind?’
‘Not to cause this. It was built up from inside. Nothing I know of could have caused this.’
Koenig looked at her. She had already been at risk. He had to find the answer. In their long journey they met hazards enough from hostile space. Their whole way of life was a struggle to survive. This time unless he could sort it out, morale would crumble. They could fight an enemy they knew, but how could they fight an enemy without tangible shape or form?
He crossed to the communications post and hit a button. Paul Morrow appeared on the screen.
‘Commander?’
‘Paul. Command Conference.’
Koenig made a slow, deliberate job of it, as though thinking aloud. He outlined the slender evidence they had and drew it together for a conclusion that seemed inescapable to him.
Each was taking it in his own way. Kano was serious, nodding with each stage of the argument; Sandra Benes was clearly very tense; Bergman was withdrawn, apparently following the theories in his own head; Helena was pale, intent, watching Koenig’s face. Alan Carter, who preferred to meet his problems in the command slot of a space craft, shifted about, uncomfortable, and was first to break the silence when Koenig stopped.
‘Commander. Are you asking us to believe that Alpha is being terrorised by some psychic being—an old-time spook?’
‘Call it what you like, Alan. Any name or none. What it adds up to is a destructive force which has killed once and may do so again.’
Paul Morrow put his finger on the problem that bugged them all, ‘Commander, most of us here are scientists, rational human beings, trained to look for physical cause and effect. What happened to Warren was a fact. Okay, an effect. Can we really accept that the cause was supernatural?’
It was a line of argument that would appeal to Bergman more than anybody, but even he put in a reservation, ‘Paul, as you know, the human animal makes effective use of less than eighteen per cent of its actual brain potential. In the unconscious, a man is a stranger in his own head. What happens in that other eighty-two per cent is anybody’s guess.’
Kano seized on that, ‘So you reject the idea that these events have a supernatural origin?’
‘Supernatural, yes. Paranormal, no.’
There was a pause as they considered the implications. Helena Russell said slowly, ‘We know that Dan Mateo was copying a wave pattern which originates in the most primitive, inaccessible areas of the human brain. That pattern is created by electrical activity inside the brain. We know that people who are said to have psychic powers are found to possess this pattern in greater strength. Now I believe that something happened in Mateo’s experiment which boosted that pattern to a previously unknown degree . . .’
A practical girl, Sandra Benes cut in impatiently,
It was difficult to see what it meant to Mateo, whether it was something he had expected or not. Certainly he was uneasy. He said shortly, ‘Do you want me any longer here, Commander?’
‘Not at this time.’
He stalked off without a look at Laura Adams who was waiting patiently for a piece of the dialogue.
Koenig had seen the plant but it contributed nothing. He decided to look again at the mortal remains. Maybe Helena had found some new data in the autopsy.
Bob Mathias and an orderly were drawing a sheet over the body. As Koenig came through the hatch of the medicentre, Helena herself was shrugging out of a surgical smock.
She was glad to see him. She said, ‘I’ve never seen anything like it before.’
‘What was the cause of death?’
‘You could call it fear. Fear generated to an unimaginable pitch . . . so intense that it shattered the spinal column.’
‘You’re positive no person could have done this? Could it have been a physical blow of some kind?’
‘Not to cause this. It was built up from inside. Nothing I know of could have caused this.’
Koenig looked at her. She had already been at risk. He had to find the answer. In their long journey they met hazards enough from hostile space. Their whole way of life was a struggle to survive. This time unless he could sort it out, morale would crumble. They could fight an enemy they knew, but how could they fight an enemy without tangible shape or form?
He crossed to the communications post and hit a button. Paul Morrow appeared on the screen.
‘Commander?’
‘Paul. Command Conference.’
Koenig made a slow, deliberate job of it, as though thinking aloud. He outlined the slender evidence they had and drew it together for a conclusion that seemed inescapable to him.
Each was taking it in his own way. Kano was serious, nodding with each stage of the argument; Sandra Benes was clearly very tense; Bergman was withdrawn, apparently following the theories in his own head; Helena was pale, intent, watching Koenig’s face. Alan Carter, who preferred to meet his problems in the command slot of a space craft, shifted about, uncomfortable, and was first to break the silence when Koenig stopped.
‘Commander. Are you asking us to believe that Alpha is being terrorised by some psychic being—an old-time spook?’
‘Call it what you like, Alan. Any name or none. What it adds up to is a destructive force which has killed once and may do so again.’
Paul Morrow put his finger on the problem that bugged them all, ‘Commander, most of us here are scientists, rational human beings, trained to look for physical cause and effect. What happened to Warren was a fact. Okay, an effect. Can we really accept that the cause was supernatural?’
It was a line of argument that would appeal to Bergman more than anybody, but even he put in a reservation, ‘Paul, as you know, the human animal makes effective use of less than eighteen per cent of its actual brain potential. In the unconscious, a man is a stranger in his own head. What happens in that other eighty-two per cent is anybody’s guess.’
Kano seized on that, ‘So you reject the idea that these events have a supernatural origin?’
‘Supernatural, yes. Paranormal, no.’
There was a pause as they considered the implications. Helena Russell said slowly, ‘We know that Dan Mateo was copying a wave pattern which originates in the most primitive, inaccessible areas of the human brain. That pattern is created by electrical activity inside the brain. We know that people who are said to have psychic powers are found to possess this pattern in greater strength. Now I believe that something happened in Mateo’s experiment which boosted that pattern to a previously unknown degree . . .’
A practical girl, Sandra Benes cut in impatiently,
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