Ultimate Witness

By Harlan Finchley

The Plato Colony is the first permanently manned moonbase, but it could be the last. Budgetary restrictions mean the base is to be abandoned in seven days, but while the colonists prepare to evacuate, chief administrator Malcolm Wade faces other, more troubling problems.

 

A mysterious anomaly has appeared outside the base and an unknown assailant is attacking the colonists. As only seven people live on the moon, Malcolm reckons he should be able to find the culprit, but with the anomaly getting closer every day and with the attacks growing in severity, he suffers premonitions of an impending disaster.

 

With time running out to save everyone can Malcolm work out who, or what, is to blame?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Culbin Press
• Release date: Mar 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9781393147725

Book preview

Chapter One

With his teeth gritted Malcolm Wade drummed two fingers on his desk. On the hour, the red light in the top left-hand corner of his notepad flashed. He adopted a smile and when he tapped the light Governor Schiller’s face appeared on the screen.

Give it to me straight, Malcolm said.

We’re shutting you down, Schiller said. You have one week.

But we can’t shut down in a week. It’ll take longer. . . .

Malcolm sighed. As chief administrator of the Plato moonbase, he had written the evacuation procedures. The time for shut down ranged from ten months to ten minutes depending on the level of emergency.

A week is all you have. A shuttle will leave in two days.

Malcolm narrowed his eyes. They both knew how long it took to organize a shuttle expedition.

So what have we been fighting about for the last month?

Schiller spread his hands wide apart. You know how things work back here. We fought a good fight, but the decision was out of my hands – our hands.

With a swipe Malcolm slammed the cut-off button and plunged the screen into darkness. Shivering, despite the constant twenty-one degree heat, he turned from his desk. The moon’s low gravity let him bound to the back wall of what back on earth he would call a cabinet but here he called his office.

At the wall, he flicked the environmental control panel, depolarizing the wall and displaying the harsh Montes Alpes, which poked out above the nearer low hills. He took long breaths, letting his heartbeat slow. Behind him, the door opened. Malcolm turned to find that Jefferson Cartwright, his second-in-command, had arrived.

When man left the moon in the nineteen-seventies, Malcolm said, using his rehearsed breaking-the-news-gently speech, everyone assumed we’d be back within a decade, but it took seventy years. When we returned, it was with the promise that this time we’d stay. So it’s sad that only thirty years on—

That’s a good speech, but save it for your memoirs, Jefferson said, leaning on Malcolm’s desk. We have a bigger problem. Tarrant found Phoebe lying in the storeroom. She’s been attacked.

Is she all right?

Jefferson nodded. It’s just a concussion, but this is serious. If we don’t find out who’s doing this, someone could get killed.

Malcolm nodded and they left his office. They walked the short distance around the base perimeter and when they arrived at the infirmary, Phoebe Baxter was lying on one of the three beds. Doctor Kipling had draped a blanket over her lower body, a bandage encircled her forehead while strapping covered her shoulder.

She’s not unconscious, but I’m keeping her sedated, Kipling said. He scribbled on the bottom of his notepad and then led them away from the bed. Someone hit her on the back of the head. Nothing’s broken, so assuming she avoids any complications, she’ll be out of here in a day or two.

Did she see her assailant? Malcolm asked, feeling like a policeman. When Kipling shook his head, he turned to Jefferson and forced a thin smile. I’ll take care of the investigation. Nobody else will have enough free time to deal with it.

Do you mean we’re really leaving? Jefferson said.

I’m afraid so. We’ve got lots to do and I don’t want to jeopardize the environment for the next colonists. Malcolm wheeled his arms vaguely. No matter how many years it is before somebody returns.

But this is the second attack. Schiller has to give us more time to work out what’s happening.

Malcolm bit his bottom lip and gestured at Phoebe.

What happened to her has nothing to do with Schiller.

Jefferson frowned. You didn’t tell him about the last attack, did you?

I hoped it’d turn out not to be an assault and besides, I don’t report every detail to him.

That’s your job.

Malcolm winced. He’d suspected that everyone thought he was here only to report to Schiller.

I was busy negotiating to keep us here. Malcolm rubbed a hand over his bristled hair. And as I failed, I need to make the official announcement. I’ll get everyone in the conference hall.

He didn’t meet Jefferson’s cold eyes, but he guessed he’d be doing that a lot over the next few days. Malcolm tapped a command on his notepad and then left the infirmary. With less urgency than he’d shown on his trip to the infirmary, he bounded down the short corridor to the conference hall.

At ten meters square, the hall was the base’s largest open space. With a window filling one wall, orientated to maximize views of their old home, this area was popular for both recreation and discussion, but the uniform gray of the other walls was as uninteresting as the rest of the base was.

Ten minutes later, everyone except for the injured Phoebe had gathered. Once, the base had accommodated twenty-four. Then the budget cuts had hit and one by one their numbers had reduced to the current compliment of seven.

Yesterday, Tarrant found Stafford lying unconscious, Malcolm said. Now Phoebe has suffered a similar calamity. So we must face the possibility that these incidents aren’t accidents and that one of us inflicted the injuries.

We thought you’d called us here to tell us we’re being shut down, Stafford Price, the astronomer, said. He fingered the plaster on his forehead that covered the injury he’d suffered yesterday.

I’m afraid I did. In the nineteen-seventies, only a few years after arriving on the moon, mankind abandoned what has now become our home—

They can’t do that, Stafford snapped.

Malcolm frowned. They already have.

Bernadette Collins, the geologist, patted Stafford’s back.

Forget it, Stafford, she said. Every year they’ve reduced our numbers. It was inevitable we’d go soon. What’s happened to Phoebe is more serious.

Malcolm nodded and stepped aside to let Doctor Kipling address his colleagues. While Kipling explained the circumstances of Phoebe’s injury and her condition, Malcolm faced the short row of people.

He knew them all well. Doctor Kipling, Jefferson Cartwright, Phoebe Baxter, Tarrant Daley, Stafford Price and Bernadette Collins were all dedicated scientists. Each person wanted to explore an extreme environment.

He couldn’t believe any of them had either the ability, or the desire, to inflict violence. When Kipling had finished his explanations, Malcolm stepped forward.

So, as Phoebe will be fine, I don’t want anybody to worry.

I certainly won’t, Tarrant said. I reckon you and Kipling have jumped to the conclusion that somebody attacked her. This could be a coincidence or another accident.

Malcolm warmed when his colleagues murmured in support.

You’re right, so while we deal with the evacuation, I want you to stay calm. You know what you have to do to shut down your experiments and I’ve allocated the duties for closing the rest of the base among you. If nobody has any questions, I suggest we begin.

I’m pleased you have everything under control, Stafford snarled.

Tarrant drew Stafford aside and whispered to him. Then, with his colleagues shaking their heads, the hall cleared, leaving only Stafford.

I’m sorry, Malcolm said.

Stafford rubbed his balding pate. I am, too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.

Malcolm laughed and when Stafford frowned, he laughed again.

I’d feared that somebody had attacked you and Phoebe. So I’d wondered if we had a psychopath in our midst. Then, after I’d announced that everyone’s career is over, yours was the most argumentative response. Then afterward, you apologized.

Stafford laughed, too. We’re not an emotional group.

Stafford patted Malcolm’s shoulder and left the hall, leaving Malcolm to head back to his office. In private, he used his notepad to request details on the rules for dealing with criminal activity.

Unfortunately, his database provided no rules specific to the moon. As the base was an outpost of the World Space Agency, the rules only told him how to hand over control of the situation to the authorities. The rules didn’t detail what to do when the authorities were four hundred thousand kilometers away.

Chapter Two

When Malcolm had traveled in the buggy for four kilometers, he turned to the building that he’d lived in for the last decade. It had already half-disappeared beneath the foreshortened horizon.

He didn’t need to accompany Stafford on the short journey to switch control of the telescope to WSA control. In addition, Stafford could have done this from the base, but he wanted to take advantage of what could be his last chance to travel across the moon’s surface.

"I still don’t think Phoebe’s injury and