London Wild (81 page)

Chip’s voice cut in, ‘I couldn’t say for sure how long the fight lasted
. It only seemed like a few minutes to me, but time seems to do funny things when your life is on the line.’

Then the first voice
returned. ‘After the first of the explosive devices had been used on his room, Chip decided he’d better keep on the move, and thus try to keep the cats busy, buying time for the police who he was sure must be on their way by now.’

‘All I cared about was staying alive and keeping the cats back,’ said the voice of Chip as the camera continued to survey the scene. ‘I had no idea of how well I was doing until I came across the first dead body. All I was trying to do was force the cats to keep their distance and leave me alone. I had no way of telling that I had actually killed three of them until after the gunfight was over. I had no idea how many there had been in the first place. Then I began checking the rooms in my house, one at a time. I was still scared that they might just be waiting for me, but by now the cops were appearing and I felt I was better able to relax after my ordeal and let the cops take over.’

The first voice cut in, ‘It appears that there was a fourth cat that managed to escape back the way they had first gotten in, through the kitchen window. It is believed he or she had a car waiting and fled just before the police arrived. It is also thought from blood stains found on the broken window that the fourth cat had been injured.’

Charles shook his head sadly and found a new seat where he couldn’t see the screen quite so well. He hadn’t even left the Earth yet, but already they had found a replacement for him. Chip, what sort of nickname was that for a hero? And what would the police have to say about the claim that they took over an hour to reach the scene, especially as the streets
were so empty of traffic these days? He had little doubt that if he were to examine the film he would find many errors with it, errors that most people would simply ignore because they knew no better. He decided he didn’t really care if they were dumping him for this new hero. In a week’s time they would have forgotten all about him and maybe he’d be able to walk down the street without being hassled. Okay, he did care a little. Twice the broadcast had denigrated his actions as if the whole thing with Sou’nd had been his idea, and okay, maybe it was supposed to have been. But in the end he had been little more than a scapegoat for the government’s foul-up. He had warned them, they had ignored him, and he got the blame. He wondered if the network supplying the news had been one of those to lose a reporter on that day. That might help explain their biased way of reporting.

He decided not to worry about it. In a few short hours he would be on the moon and the world would be a long way behind him. Besides
, if he were such a failure, why would the Prime Minister have asked for him specifically? He glanced at his watch; there was still a good hour to go before he was supposed to be here. He piled his suitcases one upon the other and rested his feet on them, so he would know if anyone tried to disturb them while he took a quick nap. It was more to pass the time than because he was tired; there wasn’t really a lot else to do in the waiting lounge.

It was a waste of time trying to sleep
, though. There were too many people wandering past the area in which he was sitting, and every so often someone would call out his name as if they somehow expected him to know who they were. Even when they didn’t seem to be addressing him directly, he could hear people talking about him as they walked by, and not always in a complimentary fashion.

Sniffer dogs were
so well trained and their sense of smell so good that a dog at one end of the room could almost definitely smell a cat that happened to be lurking at the other. However, several times he noticed dogs with their handlers walk by, and occasionally one of the handlers would get overzealous and insist on having their dog within a foot or two of those that were sitting in the waiting areas. This happened twice to Charles. The first time, within about a quarter of an hour of him taking a seat, the handler—a policeman in this case—didn’t seem to recognize who he had disturbed and, making a quick apology, was gone shortly afterwards.

The second
incident happened in the last five minutes of the first hour. From the attitude of the dog handler, this time a soldier, Charles was sure that he had been recognized before the man even approached and certain that the soldier was using his dog as an excuse to chat with him.

‘Sorry to disturb you, sir
,’ he said. He sounded a little more nervous than a soldier in his position should, the sort of nerves that people sometimes get when they are face to face with an icon. ‘Oh, hey, aren’t you that Slim Dorris, the famous cat killer? It is an honor to meet you!’

Charles didn’t reply to the soldier
; in fact, he aggressively ignored the man at first, but he did lean forward in his chair to stroke the dog. The dog nuzzled into his hands and sat down by his feet to make things easier for him.

‘Are you headed to Mars, sir?’ the soldier asked timidly.

‘No, the moon,’ Charles replied coldly. He didn’t look up at the soldier as he spoke, but instead concentrated on petting the animal at his feet.

‘Oh,’ the soldier commented doubtfully, and perhaps he thought he was being helpful when he added, ‘
There are no flights to the moon, sir. I’m afraid the area is out of bounds to civilians and any other unnecessary personnel until further notice.’

‘Don’t let it worry you,’ Charles replied as cold
ly as before, still not looking up. Instead he looked at his watch. He had been here about an hour, and it was now about the time he had been supposed to arrive. There was still an hour before his flight was due, an hour to kill, and it would only be a matter of time before the newspaper networks got to hear of his whereabouts. It wouldn’t be long after that before reporters started to appear to cover this historic event.

Fortunately Charles didn’t need to wait much longer. Just a few minutes after the dog handler had left
, someone else approached him. At first Charles watched him only out of the corner of his eye, cursing his luck because it seemed that yet someone else intended to pester him. At least no one had asked for his autograph yet or decided to take him to task over the Sou’nd fiasco.

‘Captain Dorris?’ said the newcomer.

Charles looked up at the man and then quickly around the area, checking that no one had overheard this man use his rank. ‘Just Charles, please, or Slim if you must.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’
said the man as he offered his hand. ‘I am Captain John Mulroy, and I believe I am your pilot for your moon trip today.’

Charles took the man’s hand happily and shook it vigorously
. ‘I am very pleased to meet you; I’m starting to feel like I’m in a goldfish bowl here. Can we go?’

‘Any time you’re ready
,’ Captain Mulroy replied, and he took a step back to give Charles room to get up.

After picking up his suitcases, Charles followed alongside the pilot, and they continued to chat as they walked, mainly small talk to pass the time and to get to know each other a little better.
The conversation consisted mostly of things like ‘How long do you think it will be before people start returning to London?’ and ‘What do you think the cats are up to?’ and ‘What do you think is happening on the moon?’ and other similar comments.

Eventually they reached the gate in question. There were large glass doors that led through to a walkway across to the awaiting shuttle, and on this side of those doors were a large number of chairs similar in design to the ones in the waiting lounge for the use of the people who had been called to the gate. 

Charles felt a little saddened when he saw the shuttle waiting for him. At the very least he had expected the shuttle to look like it was made for interplanetary work, a spaceliner or even a military shuttle of some description. As it was, the shuttle appeared to be a small fifteen-person, short hop vehicle that had been converted for interplanetary work.

‘That’s it?’ Charles commented
, unsure. ‘I guess I was expecting something a little bigger.’

‘You’re the only reason for this flight today, so I guess someone must think it’s pretty important for you to be there
,’ John explained to him. ‘There didn’t seem to be any reason in taking a bigger shuttle for just one person. Don’t worry; it’ll get us there and back if necessary.’

‘Just me and you
, then?’ Charles asked; he was more than a little surprised. He had thought that they might at least be taking some supplies with them.

‘Just you,’ John reiterated
. ‘Once we land, you will be the only one allowed to disembark. I won’t even be allowed out of the cockpit until long after I’ve taken off again. Such is their security. I even have to follow a strict flight plan to and from the colony. They have threatened to shoot me down if I do deviate, and I’m not sure that they were kidding. There must be something pretty important going on up there that they don’t want anyone to even risk seeing.’

‘Top security,’ Charles commented under his breath, and then to the pilot
he continued, ‘though I’d have thought one of their own shuttle pilots would be given a little bit of leeway.’

The pilot shook his head
. ‘None. They have even told me I could be shot on sight just if I set one foot on the moon’s surface.’

‘And no crew?’ Charles pondered aloud
, looking about at how empty the gate was.

‘Just me
. I am the crew,’ John replied. ‘For the same security reason that I’m not allowed on the surface of the moon, I have to do everything myself. I guess I’m considered a necessary evil, but a crew isn’t.’

‘I hope you’re getting well paid
,’ Charles commented dryly.

‘Anyway,’ the pilot replied
, ignoring the comment, ‘there’s plenty of room in the cockpit if you’d like to join me up front. We can keep each other company for the flight.’

‘I’ve never flown in a cockpit before,’ Charles replied. ‘I think it might be an interesting experience. How long before we leave?’

‘Any time you like,’ the pilot replied. ‘I have a window preset with the tower. It’s for just under an hour’s time, so that would be the best time for us to go, but if you’re in a hurry I can always contact the tower and get them to bring us forward. This flight will get top priority.’

‘
Your window will be fine,’ Charles replied calmly; ‘it’ll give you time to check the shuttle’s systems and for me to get comfortable.’

‘That it will,’ agreed the pilot
. ‘What sort of music do you like? I might have some I can put on while we’re waiting!’

Although it was pretty much as he expected it to be, the emptiness of the moon’s spaceport terminal was still quite a surprise. There were no other shuttles in sight as they came in to land, and other than two people in space suits who hooked up the airlock tunnel between the shuttle and the gate they had arrived at, there were no visible ground crew.

Captain John Mulroy offered his hand to his passenger
. ‘Well, I guess this is your stop. It was nice to have met you.’

Charles took the hand and shook it
, saying, ‘Nice to have met you.’ Then, releasing the hand, he opened the cockpit door and stepped through into the passenger cabin. The whole time the pilot just sat in his seat and watched him with a reassuring smile on his face, prompting Charles to comment, ‘Are you not coming to the shuttle’s exit at least? Show me how to open the hatch?’

‘No,’ Captain Mulroy replied calmly, ‘my instructions are quite explicit. I have to stay in the cockpit until I get the all
-clear to take off, and then I have to return to Earth. I’m sure you’ll manage to get the hatch open with little trouble.’

‘Have a good flight back
, then,’ was all Charles could think to say before he closed the door again. He was sure they wouldn’t really shoot him for just entering the passenger cabin of his own shuttle, but Charles wasn’t going to argue the point. Obviously the authorities on the moon had already taken many drastic steps by closing the moon down, and if whatever was happening on the moon was considered by some important enough to do that, who could guess at what else they might not be above doing?

Stepping into the terminal of the spaceport, Charles felt he was on a derelict spacecraft. The main lights had been turned out, leaving only a few low power lights to illuminate the area. As a result the terminal felt dark, gloomy
, and empty, and even a little spooky. The sounds of his footsteps as he walked along the corridor to the waiting lounge seemed to echo noisily in the emptiness. The place was unbelievably tidy. It was as if before they had deserted it, the Moon’s residents had put everything carefully away. It was as if the cleaners were the last ones to have been evacuated from the moon, and despite that evacuation being a week ago now, a new layer of dust had not yet formed.

Everything was silent
: no people chatting, no machines running small errands or printing out destination labels or tickets or anything. The newspaper screens in the waiting lounge were all dead. Everything was dead; there was no movement, no sound, and very little light.

For a moment Charles wondered if he had walked into some sort of trap. Having failed in Sou’nd, they would get rid of him by sending him to Moonbase, which was now a deserted ghost town. The thought didn’t stay with him long
. He knew that somewhere on the Moon were the Prime Minister and certain other world leaders, and for some reason this summit was being held on the Moon.