Fade Out (29 page)

Just when the research group thought they had seen enough, a line of foot-long black fibres sprouted from the three outer sections of each leg. They were probably
tactile sensors that worked like kerb feelers, but they looked like hairs, and increased Friday's unwholesome resemblance to a spider.

‘Oh, shit,' groaned Milsom. ‘Look at that.'

His voice came over the speaker in the command hut. Spencer had left the mike on. Connors exchanged an amused glance with Allbright.

Wedderkind cleared his throat and spoke into the mike. ‘Gentlemen, we're giving this secondary vehicle the code name Friday. Do you have any comments, Vic?'

‘Well, I have one piece of good news,' said Tomkin. ‘All those of you who don't like spiders can relax. Friday isn't going to eat us, because he's hasn't got a mouth.'

‘Or an abdomen,' added Davis.

‘Maybe he just likes killing people,' said Milsom.

‘Chris, I'm sure we'll all be glad of your sense of humour before this thing is through, but just for the moment, let's keep things serious – okay?'

‘Sorry, Arnold.' Milsom looked contritely at the loudspeaker.

‘Hold on,' said Spencer. ‘We've got some more action here.'

All eyes fastened on the screen as Friday flexed each pair of legs experimentally, wiggled the tool kit under his body, then crawled slowly down Crusoe's gently curving hull and towards the camera. Although he was nearly half a mile away and moving in the opposite direction, it seemed as if he was heading straight for them.

As Friday reached the edge of the hull, he extended his two front legs and touched the earth tentatively. He moved forward a little more and gave it another going over with his long pair of feelers. Apparently reassured, he crawled off the hull, two legs at a time, testing the ground ahead of him at each step. When he was finally
clear of the hull, he began to wander around Crusoe in hesitant, ever-widening circles.

As he moved among the red and white striped stakes, he stopped several times to inspect the blue light on top, the wires, and the battery at the bottom.

Whether he was actually ‘looking' in any one direction was open to conjecture. They agreed to call the four circular elements in the pod ‘eyes' because that was what they looked like. They called the panel with the eye pod the front, because that seemed the most logical place to put them – except that Friday's front, back, and sides were difficult to define. As he wandered around in view of the ground cameras, they saw that Friday could move with equal facility in any direction. In the report, they wrote ‘Omnidirectional locomotory capability – which meant the same thing, but would be easier for the people back in Washington to understand.

They also saw that both the top and bottom sections of his body could rotate independently of the centre section to which the legs were attached, so that the eye pod did not always face the direction of movement. The result of this was that Friday appeared at times to be walking sideways or backward, and made it difficult to predict which way he would move from a position of rest.

‘That,' said Spencer, ‘is one hell of a piece of engineering. See how smoothly he alters course? His limb co-ordination is fantastic. Boy, I'm glad I didn't have to work out that program.'

‘There may not be one,' said Page. ‘It may not be a machine at all.' As a biochemist, Page had a vested interest in keeping Friday ‘alive' for as long as possible.

‘Whatever it is, it's beautiful,' said Tomkin. He could already envisage a period of fruitful study ending with a thesis on Friday's locomotion.

Beautiful or not, there was no doubt that compared to
Friday's smooth black mechanical perfection, NASA's own Lunar Excursion Module used in the Apollo moon flights looked like a piece of junior school junkyard sculpture made out of Bacofoil and crushed Coca-Cola cans.

Connors swung his chair away from the screens, got up and walked to the window. He glanced outside briefly, then turned around to face Allbright and Wedderkind.

‘What do you think?'

‘It seems harmless enough,' said Allbright.

‘There is no reason why it shouldn't be,' said Wedderkind.

‘Well, there's only one way to find out. Somebody is going to have to go out there and show we're friendly.'

‘Are you calling for volunteers?' asked Allbright.

‘There's no need,' said Connors. ‘I want to go myself.' He looked Allbright straight in the eye.

Allbright stared right back. ‘I really don't think that is advisable.'

Connors pointed towards the window. ‘General, out there is the first animate object, the first sign of life, from beyond Earth. I'm not concerned whether my name gets in the history books or not. I want to be one of the first people to meet it.'

‘Mr Connors, my orders regarding your safety – '

‘Listen, if Tomkin is right, at least I know I'm not going to get eaten. If this is some kind of vehicle, the worst thing that can happen is that I get run over.'

‘Even so, I still think you ought to reconsider your decision. As head of the project – '

‘Exactly,' said Connors. ‘As head of the project, I make the rules. Rule One says I'm allowed to go out there and meet this thing.'

Allbright stood up. The breadth of his shoulders and
his extra height gave him a dominating physical presence. ‘In that case, the rules need revising. This is a totally unnecessary risk that I don't think I can allow you to take.'

‘General, I don't think this is a situation where you or I need to start throwing our weight around. I've told you what I intend to do. My decision does not endanger the lives of anyone else on this project, and that's all there is to it.' Connors smiled. ‘To be honest, if I thought there was any real risk I wouldn't be going.'

Allbright gazed at him for a moment, then said, ‘There must be a more sensible way to prove you're in charge.' He looked at Wedderkind for support.

‘Don't look at me,' said Wedderkind. ‘I want to go out there with him.'

‘Very well,' said Allbright, ‘You leave me no choice.' He looked at each of them in turn. ‘I'll have to come with you.'

Connors couldn't hold back a smile. ‘Glad to have you along, General.' He shooks hands with Allbright, and looked at Wedderkind. ‘There's just one thing, Arnold. We're going to take this nice and slow. If you pull another one of your
banzai
charges, I'm going to cut your feet off.' Connors put his hand on Wedderkind's shoulder. ‘I think it would be best if
you
explained to the research group what we've decided to do. Especially since they're all friends of yours. The General and I will wait for you in his trailer.'

‘Thank you very much,' said Wedderkind.

‘Take a seat,' said Allbright. ‘I plan to have a drink. Would you care to join me?'

‘That's why I came,' said Connors. ‘Rye with ginger ale if you have it.'

‘No ginger. Ice?'

‘Okay, that'll be fine.' Connors glanced around the living room of Allbright's trailer. It was as clean as a new pin and in impeccable trim. They must have shipped him the model they used for the catalogue photos.

The sound of voices raised in argument floated over from the research hut. They were obviously taking Wedderkind's news badly.

Allbright handed Connors a cut-glass bucket loaded with three fat fingers of rye.

‘Thanks…' Connors nodded towards the source of the noise. ‘I can't think why they're making so much fuss.'

‘Probably for the same reason you did.' Allbright raised his glass. ‘To your safe return.'

‘And yours.' Connors took a heartwarming swallow and nodded towards the three photographs in the fold-out leather wallet that stood on the window sill. ‘Fine-looking family.'

‘Yes, I've been very lucky,' said Allbright. You could tell he really meant it, too. ‘Do you have any family?'

‘I had. A son – Joe… he was killed in a car crash when he was eight. My wife was killed too.'

‘Must take time to get over a thing like that,' said Allbright.

‘Too long,' said Connors. He swirled the ice around in his glass and took another swallow of rye.

The cadet outside the trailer opened the door and let Wedderkind in.

‘Drink?' asked Allbright.

‘No, thanks. Let's get out there and get it over with.' Wedderkind flashed a sharp look at Connors.

‘Be with you in a minute,' said Connors. ‘I'm just overcoming my fear of spiders.'

When Connors stepped down from Allbright's trailer, he found four jeeps lined up in diamond formation. The first was for him to sit in with Allbright and Wedderkind. The next two had the windshields folded down. A bazooka man sat beside the driver-loader. Behind them were two more cadets with M-16s and enough ammunition to start World War Three. The last jeep carried four folded stretchers, a first-aid kit, and two of the NASA medics. The only thing missing were Red Cross armbands.

Connors nodded towards the armed jeeps. ‘Aren't we overreacting a little? All we need to show we're friendly is a white flag.'

‘Do you think Friday will be able to tell the difference between that and a bazooka?' asked Allbright.

‘You have a point there.'

‘Perhaps,' said Wedderkind. ‘But I must still register a protest. This is a totally inappropriate response.'

‘It's a simple precautionary measure in case any of us get injured. The firepower is there in case it's needed to cover our evacuation.'

Wedderkind shook his head. ‘Why do all of you have this paranoia? I had the same trouble back in Washington. This is not an invasion, General. This is a landing by a craft from another
civilization,
almost certainly centuries in advance of our own. That means that they are more intelligent than we are, and certainly beyond the need for a display of brute force.'

Allbright didn't turn a hair. ‘I don't quite understand how you define brute force, Mr Wedderkind, but this pair is already responsible for the deaths of over
four thousand
people!'

‘General, Crusoe didn't make those planes collide with one another. They were piloted by people like you and me.'

‘Millions of dollars' worth of damage. The destruction of our weather and communications satellites – '

‘Deactivation, General. Continuing deactivation. They're still in orbit. Who knows? They may start working again when Crusoe leaves.'

‘You're arguing like a Jesuit, Mr Wedderkind. This craft has severely damaged our defensive capability. The Russians only have to – '

‘General, you can't expect Crusoe to understand power politics. That's our problem. All he's done is to take precautionary measures to prevent a concerted, hostile, global response. Simple logical precautions that anyone would take if they were landing on a planet inhabited by destructive maniacs like us… I don't mean that personally, I'm referring to our general attitude. The fixed belief that power comes out of the barrel of a gun. Force is not going to solve anything in this encounter, General. We have to abandon every prejudice, every misconception, every thought we may have had about an event like this and start completely afresh. The world is poised on the threshold of a new era.'

‘That may very well be so,' said Allbright. ‘But neither of you are going to set foot across it without this escort. So what's it going to be, gentlemen?' He looked at them both. ‘Are you going to ride point with me – or would you rather be locked in and watch the whole thing on TV?'

‘Do you really think I could let you get away with that?' asked Connors.

‘I'm here to protect you,' said Allbright. ‘And that order, as they say, comes right out of the Oval Office.' He smiled. ‘So there's no point in making trouble, Mr Connors, especially since you both know neither of you should be going out there in the first place.'

Allbright's habit of being right was beginning to get a
little infuriating. Connors turned to Wedderkind. ‘It's up to you, Arnold. What do you want to do – go out there, or file a complaint?'

‘Both,' said Wedderkind darkly. He climbed into the back of the jeep. Connors followed. Allbright got in beside the driver. As they were about to move forward, Wedderkind reached out and tapped Allbright's shoulder. Allbright looked around.

‘General, can I have your assurance that there is going to be no trigger-happy shooting?'

‘The Air Force doesn't train people to be trigger-happy, Mr Wedderkind. No military establishment in the world has higher standards than our academy at Colorado Springs. Take it from me, you'll crack before any of these cadets. Just relax, you're in good hands.' Allbright signalled the driver to move off.

They drove up the path on to the plateau past the sullen research group.

‘The natives look hostile,' said Connors. ‘I hope you haven't lost too many friends.'