The Daleth Effect

“I saw you looking at this, General. You’re right, I was in Palestine, in the British Army, fighting the Hun. But when they started on your refugee ships afterwards, keeping them out, I went lost. Deserted. Back to Denmark. That wasn’t my kind of thing.”

“I believe you, Sergeant. Thank you for telling me.”

The doors were unlocked in sequence so he could go through.

“He should be there by now,” Nils said. “Call the engine room.”

The technician was excited. “Captain—it sounded like shots! We could hear them through the wall, an awful lot of them. And the cutting has stopped.”

“Good,” Gev said when he was told what had happened. “They may not have been stopped but they have been slowed down.”

“The sergeant has not come back,” Nils said. “He did not expect to.” There was no expression at all on General Gev’s face: emotion in battle was a luxury he could not afford. “Now a second counterattack must be launched. More men, volunteers if possible. A

“The phone, Captain,” the radio operator said. “It is one of the American delegation.”

“I can’t be bothered now.”

“He says he knows about the attack and he wants to help.”

Nils picked up the phone, and the image of a man with thick-rimmed glasses, his face set in lines of gloom, look^l out at him.

“I understand the Reds are attacking you, Captain Hansen. I can offer you some help. We are on the way to the bridge now.”

“Who are you? How do you know this?”

“My name is Baxter. I’m a security officer. I was sent on this voyage just in case something like this happened. I have some armed men with me, we’re on our way now.”

Nils did not need to see General Gev shake his head no to make up his mind.

“Did you say armed men? No arms were permitted aboard this ship.”

“Armed for your defense, Captain. And you will need us now.”

“I do not. Stay where you are. Someone will come to collect your weapons.”

“We’re leaving for the bridge now. Our country has stepped in before in a war; don’t forget that. And NATO—”

“Damn NATO and damn you! If you make one move towards this bridge you are no different from those others.”

“There have been quislings before, Captain Hansen,” Baxter said, sternly. “Your government will appreciate what we are doing even if you don’t.” He broke the co

Gev was already ru

The others led by Nils, were close behind him. They were just in time to stare, aghast, at the television monitor. A group of men, five, ten, came into sight around the bend in the corridor outside, racing toward the door. Baxter was in front and behind him ran one of the Formosa delegates, some South Americans, a Vietnamese. One of them raised a broken-off chair leg and swung at the camera. It went blank.

“This is going to be difficult,” Gev said calmly, looking at the door. “We are going to have to fight on two fronts—and we are not even equipped for combat on one.”

“Captain,” the radio operator called from the bridge. “Engine room reports that the cutting has started again.”

There was a deep boom of an explosion, ear-hurting loud in the confined corridor, and the door bulged toward them, twisted and a great cloud of smoke boiled in. They were stu

Gev sprang, hands out. Grabbing the man’s wrist, twisting it so the gun pointed to the ceiling. It fired once, an almost soundless splat to their numbed ears. Then Gev chopped down with the edge of his free hand, breaking the man’s neck. He fumbled an instant with the unusual mechanism of the gun, then poked it through the opening over the dead man’s back and fired until it was empty.

This only delayed the attackers a moment. Then the door was pushed wider and two men climbed in, treading on the corpse. Nils hit one in the face with his fist, knocking him back through the opening with its force.

But they were outnumbered—and outgu

“Shut up.” Baxter shouted at him, raising his gun. “Who are you talking to?”

The operator, white-faced, clutched the microphone. “It is our Moon base. They have relayed the call to Copenhagen. I told them what was happening here. The others have broken into the engine room, taken it.”

Baxter thought for a long moment, then lowered the gun and smiled. “You’ve done all right. Continue your report. Tell them that you have received assistance. The Commies are not getting away with this. Now—how do I get in touch with the engine room?”

The radio operator pointed silendy at the telephone screen, where an impassive face looked out. Baxter was just as unemotional as he strode over to the phone.

“You’re a traitor, Schmidt,” he said. “I knew that as soon as I saw you were a member of the East German delegation. That was not very wise of you.” Baxter turned to Nils who had been placed in a chair. He was struggling back to consciousness. “I know this man, Captain. A paid informer. It’s a good thing for you that I am here.”

General Gev slumped on the floor against the wall, listening silently, apparently unaware of his blood-soaked, dripping leg. His right arm had been hit by a bullet as well, and he had his hand pushed into the open front of his shirt. Arnie’s glasses were broken, gone, and he blinked myopically, trying to understand what was happening.

Baxter looked distastefully at Schmidt’s image. “I don’t enjoy dealing with traitors…”

“We all have to make small sacrifices.” Schmidt’s words were heavy with irony. Baxter flushed with anger but went on, ignoring them.

“There seems to be a stalemate here. We hold the bridge and the controls.”

“While I and my men are in charge of the engines and the drive unit. My forces are not as strong as they should be—but we are well armed. I think that you will find it impossible to defeat us. You will not get us out of here. So what do you intend to do, Mr. Baxter?”

“Is Dr. Nikitin with you?”

“Of course! Why else do you think we are here?” Baxter broke the co

“WTiat are you talking about?” The fog was clearing somewhat from Nils’s battered head. “Who is this Nikitin?”

“One of their better physicists,” Arnie said. “With the diagrams and circuitry he should know the basic principles of the Daleth drive by now.”

“Exactly,” Baxter said and put his gun away. “They hold the engine room, but ca

“Where~did you get the guns?” Nils asked. “That explosive?”

“Of what importance is that? Gun barrels looking like fountain pens, swallowed ammunition, plastic explosive in toothpaste tubes. The usual thing. It’s not important.”

“It is to me,” Nils said, sitting up straighter. “And what do you propose to do now, Mr. Baxter?”

“Hard to say. Bandage you people up first. Try to arrange a deal with that double-agent Kraut. We’ll work something out. Have to turn back, I guess. Prevent any more killing. They know about the drive now, so the cat is out of the bag. No secrets left between allies, hey? Your people in Copenhagen will understand. I imagine America will handle it through NATO, but that’s not my area of responsibility. I’m just the man in the field. But you can be sure of one thing.” He drew himself up. “There is going to be no Daleth gap. The Russians are not going to get ahead of us with this one.”