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!"