Chapter Eight
Point Of Entry
It took them several minutes to don the sterile suits. They
looked like aliens, themselves, in the bright orange suits, black
gloves, and bubble helmets. Earpieces and microphones hung from
their heads.
"Everybody but the Captain out of here!" The General
ordered. When everyone was clear, "Captain," the
General began, "once those doors are sealed, they are not to
be opened unless I blow the charges and take the ship out. In the
event I should become incapacitated there is a verbal command to
release the bomb. You are to use it. It is 'To doomsday. Able,
able, baker. Release salvation.' Repeat that, order,
Captain."
The Captain repeated the code exactly. "Are you a married
man, Captain?" the General asked.
"Yes, sir!" the Captain answered, "Three
children."
"If you're hesitant, Captain, in giving that order, think of
your wife dying, herself, watching her children disintegrate in
front of her."
"Yes, sir!" the Captain answered. "God be with
you, sir!"
The General nodded, gave a salute; the Captain answered sharply
and withdrew. The General turned slowly and approached the sleek,
black ship, shaped a little like a human space shuttle, but quite
a bit larger. He climbed the ladder to the hatch and worked the
controls exposing the control panel. He punched in several series
of numbers, but nothing happened. Finally he pressed a button and
began to speak in a language Donald couldn't understand. A screen
on the control panel lit up and a voice began to answer. But the
General sat down after some time, with a disgusted expression.
"My Basic isn't good enough!" he complained. "The
computer's TRYING to understand, but my accent's too heavy."
He let out a sigh. "Damn, we've only got four hours in these
things," he continued. "It looks like I've got to get
some help!"
He took on the relaxed position that Donald had seen before, and
closed his eyes. When he opened them they had a different look.
His face took on a curious expression. He tried to move but
slumped back. "Bad contact," a voice said in broken
English. "Can't operate limbs. Am able to control voice,
however." The head turned towards Donald. "Press blue
button with backwards 'K'."
Donald climbed up over the General and obeyed. The voice began to
speak the strange language but with much more clarity and ease.
The computer came back, and after several minutes of conversation
the screen went blank.
"Machine is now cooperative," the voice came again,
"it is imperative the first repairs you make are to the
antenna array. Then we can program it with English. It will make
your task much easier. I must return now. This is a tremendous
strain, and weakens him. Remember, fix the antenna first."
Donald nodded. The General again closed his eyes, shivered, and
began to pull himself up. Donald reached down and helped him to
his feet. There was a popping sound and the hatch beside them
began to slowly swing open. "Get the equipment!" the
General ordered, "while I check the sterilizing generators
in the hatch. If they don't work, we're in for trouble!"
Donald nodded and began to bring up the parachutes the General
had ordered, and the other equipment. When it was all inside the
hatch the General gave a spoken command and the hatch sealed with
a loud THUD. A bright red light came on, and the General packed
the parachutes in two compartments.
"These will be sterilized," he said, "with more
radiation than we can stand." He picked up a flashlight,
went to the inner hatch, gave another spoken command. It popped,
swung slowly upward and back. The general shined his flashlight
in the corridor. The beam illuminated a human like figure in a
suit very similar to their own. The general bent down and
examined it. "Imperial," he announced, "the
tattoos on the side of his face indicate he's a Sab; about the
equivalent of our gypsies."
The General pulled the body out of the way. "Poor bastard
suffocated," he continued, "trying to force the hatch.
He must have been still suited when the contamination broke. I
wonder why?"
The General made his way down the corridor to the crew's
compartment.
"Four more dead in here," he announced, "two
different species. Left nothing but the non organic fibers
in their clothes! Well, here's the antenna problem! Somebody's
pulled the plug! No difficulty fixing this. There! That got
it!"
Donald waited by the door. The General pressed some buttons then
emerged and continued on to the control room. Another sterile
suit sat deflated, in a central chair. "The Commander,"
the General announced. "Must've been trying to get the ship
somewhere where they could safely exit.
There's a puncture wound in the suit; the bacteria didn't get him
until AFTER he was dead. That one back there killed him, probably
hoping to land here, use the sterile field, in the hatch, to get
out, then probably send the ship on to someplace else."
The General went over to the computer. Lights were flashing all
over it. "They're still programming," he announced.
"I'll check the flight controls while we're waiting."
Several minutes passed as the General went from station to
station. Suddenly the lights in the control room came on, and a
heavy masculine voice spoke.
"Your Imperial presence is welcome," it announced,
"but you have exposed yourself to grave danger."
"I am aware," the General answered. "Please ignore
all protocol. Simply call me Command. Give me a report on your
status."
"My status is fully functional," the voice answered.
"Systems are intact. Power links, however, to my flight
units have been disabled. I am incapable of vessel
controlling."
"Are there enough unnecessary systems," the General
asked, "still functioning, to reroute power supplies to
reestablish your control of flight systems?"
"What may I sacrifice?" the computer asked.
"All life support systems," the General answered.
"Everything that is not essential to your flying the
ship."
The computer was silent for a moment. "There are ample
systems," it finally acknowledged.
"Do you have enough propellant," the General asked,
"to reach escape velocity and take this ship into the
sun."
"Ample," the computer answered.
"Good!" the General acknowledged. "Direct us in
making repairs. But we must hurry. Our breathing time in these
suits is limited."
There was a humming sound and the computer answered, "My
scans indicate you have used nearly one forth of your capability
already. This is not good. I will direct repairs as you
request."
"We're going to have to work at opposite ends at the same
time," the General told Donald. "There'll be emergency
tools at each section. You take the back of the ship, I'll take
up here."
It wasn't complicated work, merely a matter of unscrewing
fittings from one place and screwing them in another, but it was
time consuming, especially for men not familiar with the craft
they were working in. But finally the computer proudly announced
it again had control of the flight systems. Donald returned to
the control room as the General was warming things up.
"Now let's see if everything works," the General said,
putting his hands together as if he was praying, "PLEASE let
everything work!"