Space 1999 #3 - The Space Guardians Read Free Page A

when he saw her. It was the woman who had appeared momentarily and with such a stunning beauty at Main Mission Control. Her willowy body rippled under the red-gold gown, and her sheaf of pale hair swept her shoulders.
    ‘Your daughter!’ said Koenig. They could have been brother and sister. Both were at the age when the ease and strength of maturity replaces youth.
    ‘Tell Commander John Koenig something of life on Zenno, my dear. It will come easier from you. Yes, this is Vana, my daughter.’
    The woman smiled.
    ‘Come, John Koenig. Let me show you to your quarters. There is food ready. Everything as you would wish. And trust me—I, too, am real.’
    Koenig watched the man called Raan fade into a shimmering purple void. He hung, insubstantially, as the honey-bronze woman had done at Main Mission Control, then he was gone.
    ‘John?’ said Vana.
    Koenig followed. A floor swimming with mosaics led to a hazy glowing shape; as Koenig walked, the shape took on solidity. And then it was a replica of his own quarters on Alpha, the furnishings an exact match for his comfortable private room. The table was laid for one. Koenig disliked eating alone, but the smell of prime steak cooking brought a wash of saliva to his mouth.
    Koenig realized that Vana was looking at him as he might have regarded a novel species: with curiosity and amusement.
    Koenig felt anger. He controlled it. One should not be afraid of one’s own illusions. Yet he had to respond to Vana’s half-smile.
    ‘How do you do it?’ he asked. He pointed to the table, the console of the food supply unit, the banks of music selectors, and the rows of well-handled books that had accompanied him from Earth. ‘You’ve got it right, down to my toothbrush.’
    ‘You still think you’re hallucinating, don’t you, John Koenig? I know. Raan told you that we could see into your mind. We have advanced far beyond your civilization, John. We gave up machines a million years ago. We abandoned intergalactic travel once we had explored where we wished. Our thoughts control the physical things around us—we create and change our lives to suit our moods. Zenno is insubstantial. It is the combined product of our wishes, John. And what you see around you—your living quarters—they are a projection, but they are real too. You see, there is a reality which you cannot yet conjecture, John.’ She paused and moved closer. ‘Did you imagine me?’
    Koenig looked down into yellow-gold eyes.
    ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘The rest, but not you.’
    ‘And you trust me?’
    She was very close now. Koenig thought, bewildered, the senses could betray one: her movement, the sheen of honey-gold skin, the bright shimmering material, the wide tawny eyes, and the soft voice. All made their separate and stunning impact. He reached towards her in a timeless moment and saw the response.
    ‘Good!’ said an authoritative voice. ‘Excellent, Vana—I knew you would be able to convince our friend that we are as real as he is. Well, John Koenig, what is your opinion of Zenno now? Do we exist?’
    Koenig made up his mind.
    ‘Tell me what has happened to my command and I’ll be able to let you know.’
    Raan smiled. ‘As I hoped, John Koenig. Loyalty to the group is obviously one of your civilization’s motivating forces. Vana, will you reassure the Commander?’
    Koenig saw the gladness go from her eyes. ‘Of course, Raan. John, please look at your communication screen.’
    Koenig turned as the screen filled with life. It showed the interior of the crashed Eagle. Helena Russell was speaking:
    ‘There’s a fracture, Paul, but we can hold the loss of blood. I’ve stabilized that. How about the life-reading?’
    ‘Negative,’ said Paul Morrow.
    Koenig saw his own inert body encased in a casualty pack. Helena Russell was the calm professional again. The momentary tenderness was quite gone.
    ‘Who is she?’ asked Vana.
    ‘A colleague,’ said Koenig. ‘A friend.’
    ‘A