Enterprise Stardust

by Perry Rhodan

  Rhodan no longer gave commands or issued instructions. It would have been senseless. There was nothing anyone could do for the necessary calculations and manipulations could be executed only by the computers. In such circumstances, a human brain was condemned to failure.

  The men's eyes were fixed on the video screens. The exterior observation cameras disclosed the jagged walls of a crater. They were blinded by the most intense white heat below them, wherein was concentrated all the force and fury of the rocket's thrust.

  Bell shouted something in the nature of a helpless croak. With the pressure of 16 G's, it was remarkable that he could still squeeze anything out of his throat.

  Next they heard a roar and muffled explosions. Another jolt pressed them back into their couches. Several fittings broke loose with a loud clatter as the hull seemed to split in two. There followed, immediately afterward, a period of rattling and vibration. Yet before these ceased entirely, there suddenly came utter calm. A green lamp grew bright above Perry Rhodan. It no longer flickered but shone steadily.

  The absolute silence was torn by shrill, hysterical laughter.

  "Captain Fletcher!"

  Rhodan's voice, though not loud, was as sharp as a knife. The cackling broke off with a piercing and unpleasant whine.

  When Fletcher had again lapsed into silence, the hard lines in Rhodan's face relaxed. A mild expression appeared in the bright eyes of the ship's commander. "Easy, Fletch. It's all right."

  His gaze fell once again upon the green lamp, whose light was so infinitely reassuring. Thus did the central autopilot computer give its wordless report. The rocket now stood on the surface, apparently hardly damaged.

  Bell displayed a breathless grin. His reason seemed still unwilling to accept the facts for what they were. Dr. Manoli remained silent, as usual. In his pale face, only the coal black eyes seemed alive, and they held a question.

  In a moment, Perry Rhodan would deal the men a traumatic blow. They naturally expected some remark from him regarding the successful emergency landing, some sign that all was once again well. They waited for something, even if it was only a short sigh of relief after the agonizing ordeal of the last few minutes.

  But Perry Rhodan reacted differently.

  "Fletch, you'll have to determine the location and nature of this jamming station at once. You'll find the data on the magnetic tapes of the computer. Let's see how good a mathematician you are."

  He had nothing more to add.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The slight, lively man with an oddly youthful face beneath a mighty bald dome was known as Allan D. Mercant. One could recognize him at once by his wreath of hair whose golden hue was interrupted so abruptly by the light silver white near his temples.

  Allan D. Mercant was one of those gentle souls who, with a quiet feeling of joy, remove worms and other bugs from the garden path to avoid treading upon them. But that was the purely private aspect of Mercant's character.

  As far as his profession was concerned, Mercant was the power behind the throne and a power to be reckoned with. He was identical with the almost omnipotent Chief of International Defense, who worked in closest collaboration with national defense and secret service organizations throughout the west. NATO had supervised the creation of the Division of International Defense, otherwise given official designation as the Security Intelligence Agency. Mercant was thus answerable only to the high command of NATO.

  When he entered the conference room, accompanied by an older gentleman, the murmur of low conversation subsided.

  General Pounder, chief of Space Explorations Command, acquainted the people present with one another. This was a secret session on the sixteenth floor of the NASA building in Washington.

  Allan D. Mercant began abruptly. Underneath a high vaulted forehead, his tanned and boyish face seemed friendly and exceedingly sympathetic.

  He pointed to a pile of newspapers at a corner of the long conference table. "Gentlemen, we need no longer discuss the breaking of this news. I can understand, General, that you could not hold the reporters at Nevada Fields for all eternity. In any event, we have begun to receive quite a number of vocal protests, which Colonel Kaats has nevertheless been able to deal with satisfactorily."

  The older man at his side nodded slowly, bemused. Kaats belonged to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, functioning also as a member of the President's special cabinet for internal security.

  "Far more disquieting is the coverage in the newspapers and on television. According to their version, our Stardust is not only lost, but has crashed. They have, in part, given such accurate information that we can only wonder, with great concern, in how great a percentage of these reports the truth is really involved. More important still would seem to me to be the sources of these reports. We are proceeding with our investigation in the meantime. Well…" Thoughtfully, Mercant looked at his watch. "The Stardust has been lost for more than twenty-four hours. Let's say 'lost,' because that still contains an element of hope. I am interested in your opinion of the editorials of some of our leading newspapers, wherein it is contended that an SOS from your spaceship has indeed been intercepted. They refer to the short signal QQRXQ that signifies, in the code of the Space Command, as much as attack, intentional disruption of remote control guidance systems, and initiating a crash landing. If that is the case, please let me have further details."

  Mercant nodded amiably to the assembly and sat down. Wearily, General Pounder rose. His brows were knit, his face was hollow checked, and his voice sounded half broken. "That is correct, sir. QQRXQ can be equated with those conditions. It's a mystery to us how any reporter could get at the code. I've asked our security people to investigate—so far without any result, unfortunately. On the other hand, the reception of the SOS is less of a surprise. Several of our larger radar stations were awaiting signals from the lunar south pole area. We had also asked for the support of the great observatories. There something may have leaked through. Of course, this still does not explain how they could decipher the meaning of QQRXQ. That's all I can say."

  "Let's forget about that for the moment. What has really happened to your spaceship? Do you in fact accept the possibility of willful and premeditated disturbance of your guidance signals? It was explained to me by experts that this could be accomplished only by a powerful transmitting facility situated on the moon."

  Pounder lowered his head. In his eyes shone a helpless fury. "Yes, that is indeed the case. There is no other possibility, as crazy as it might sound. We've double checked all our instruments in the past twenty-four hours. Each is functioning at one hundred percent efficiency. There could be no possible failure in any phase of operation. But we've arrived at two other likely explanations."

  Pounder wiped his perspiring forehead with a huge handkerchief. Heavily breathing, he continued, "Either Major Rhodan has released the wrong code signal or the radio equipment on board the Stardust has, as you say, been put out of action by a strong transmitter. As far as Major Rhodan is concerned, we consider it out of the question that he should have committed such a serious error. Rhodan is our top man; everybody knows that. In addition, our calculations prove beyond any doubt that at the decisive moment, the ship was pulled out of remote control. The vehicle must have been forced to land. Considering the known angle of fall, lunar gravity and the mass of the rocket, it must have touched ground some forty to fifty miles behind the polar region. It's entirely possible that we're dealing here with a harmless crash landing. Still, a total loss of the rocket must also be considered. No one knows what happened—we can only speculate."

  Mercant's clear eyes were hooded with shadow. Colonel Kaats cleared his throat respectfully, announcing in this way that the data given agreed with the findings of internal security.

  "Supposing, General," Mercant offered slowly, "just supposing that the ship's instruments really were exposed to interference. What would you conclude from that?"

  "Of course, we had word from you, sir, that the Asiatic
Federation had launched a lunar rocket at the same time as the Stardust. If this vessel arrived there earlier and if it set down in the approximate area of our landing, then this could have led to a well prepared radio disturbance of our wavelength." Pounder was now snarling like a Great Dane, his pale face flushed.

  "That would be presuming that these people possessed very exact knowledge of our plans, wouldn't it?" asked Kaats skeptically.

  "Naturally!" Pounder declared heatedly. "To find that out should be the job of the security services. I'm only a rocket man, Colonel. Certainly, our plans had already been made six months ago. Once again, however, I wish to stress that this radio interference could only have been the product of an installation on the moon—always provided that we are dealing with an attack in this form. There should be motives aplenty for this, don't you agree? We were broadcasting our directional impulses from the most powerful relay stations in the world. Even if interference had been attempted from Earth, we would have gotten through anyway. The sender must be up there on the moon."

  Pounder sat down abruptly. He seemed exhausted.

  Allan D. Mercant studied him without uttering a word. His forehead had grown furrowed. "We'll take on this case within the framework of international defense," he decided. "We'll know shortly if a regrettable error has occurred with regard to the Stardust or if foreign interest groups have intervened. Besides, there may very well be still other possibilities we can imagine. I'm thinking, for instance, of failure on board the rocket."

  Professor Lehmann thrust his narrow skull upward. He had been at a loss for words, but at last he grumbled excitedly, "Sir, the Stardust has not had a failure. Not a single switch could have been responsible. It would carry us too far afield at this point to indicate the overwhelming evidence for that. We only hope now that the crew will make contact with us. If the men have landed safely, then Rhodan will find a way. The receivers of our space stations are operating around the clock. If Rhodan can succeed in establishing a direct line of sight with Earth, he will be able to broadcast a signal. Until then, we'll have to wait. There is no other alternative."

  "How long will it be before the sister ship of the Stardust is ready for launching?" inquired the chief of the security services.

  "At least another two months," Pounder said with emphasis. "If my people are alive now, they will certainly have suffocated by then. Their oxygen supply is good for five weeks at most. In extreme emergency, perhaps six weeks; but that is the maximum. Sir, will you please find out what kind of mix-up has occurred up there? If necessary, we may have to land an unmanned probe near the lunar south pole. It is highly uncertain whether this means of sending provisions and replacements would succeed, because the probe, after all, would first have to be found by my men. We are confronted with a desperate situation."

  Allan D. Mercant abruptly closed the session. For the moment there was nothing further to say. The Stardust was lost and remained so. In its place was a mountain of riddles.

  Before the Secretary of International Defense left the room, he said with a mask-like smile, "Gentlemen, I'm very sorry … but the Asiatic moon rocket of which you speak exploded in the air shortly after launching."

  Pounder reacted quickly. He sat up, pale, unable to utter a sound, and gaped across at Mercant.

  The little man wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "I am genuinely sorry. Well, then, whether you like it or not, you'll just have to search for another explanation. No ship has taken off along with your Stardust. Therefore, may I ask where this stationary lunar installation is supposed to have its origin? Several things seem quite unclear to me. You will, nevertheless, be hearing from me."

  Softly, he added, "Neither do we believe that the fault lay in any error on the part of the commanding officer of your ship. If you can prove the faultless functioning of the control mechanisms, then we're up against a hefty problem. I would like to request that you submit the facts to the scientific committee of international defense immediately. We must arrive at a convincing conclusion, and you will please try to understand."

  "Rhodan could not have failed," asserted Pounder. "You don't know our men, sir. We will prove to you that the automatic guidance systems on board the Stardust were in operation. That we could ascertain in the final moments before the sudden change in angle of descent. We can even tell you, through electronic computation, with what thrust values they were working. Should that not be sufficient…?"

  Allan D. Mercant made his exit. Much preoccupied, he climbed into the helicopter waiting for him on the heliport on the roof of the NASA Building.

  He looked up at the cloudless June sky over Washington. "We're facing very trying times, Kaats," he mumbled. "They tell me I have a certain nose for knowing that. Well, just a few moments ago my intuition spoke to me."

  Kaats squinted. It was true that Mercant had this strange instinct. He could smell danger and difficulty the way a good bloodhound could sniff a scent. There were even rumors that this man possessed a uniquely developed brain with extraordinary faculties and that this was why he had become Secretary of International Defense.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The rocket crew had had to wait for twenty-four hours before the radioactivity of the surface had decreased appreciably, dampened by the effect of absorbent chemicals sprinkled on the lunar soil.

  When the geiger counter registered only minimal radiation, with a mark of less than thirty-five milliroentgens, Perry Rhodan had been the first man to leave the ship. It had happened quietly and without jubilation.

  Searching one another's eyes, they had clasped hands wordlessly. They were extremely conscious of being the first human beings ever to set foot on the moon.

  The number four landing support had been damaged by the sudden impact of landing, they found. Otherwise, the Stardust had not sustained any serious damage. The ion reaction engines could not be checked out because of the still excessive radiation, but a short trial run proved them to be in the best of order. The other support structures did not seem to be broken.

  The power supply still functioned flawlessly. The reactor was working at peak efficiency, and the combined air conditioning and regeneration system seemed never to have been better.

  The damage to the armatures could easily be repaired. Much more serious, however, was the dislocation at the base of the telescoping tubing of landing support four. It would have to be restructured and strengthened with special equipment. Reginald Bell estimated that repairs would take at least six days. After all, molybdenum steel was an inordinately difficult metal to work with.

  "We'll make it all right," he said. "It will mean sweat and effort, but we'll make it all right."

  Thirty-six hours following their crash landing, they brought the pneumo-tent, an enormous sphere of synthetic fiber, out of the storage room.

  The contents of a small bottle of liquid oxygen were sufficient to inflate the pliable material into a huge structure that seemed as hard as steel. The absence of exterior pressure proved to have some advantages.

  Now the oblong tent stood well anchored to the rocky ground, its highly polished surface reflecting the brilliant light of the sun. All were engaged in installing the airlocks and the air conditioning system, but for the time being only the interior walls of the tent contained oxygen. This structure had been tested on Earth under the stress of simulated moon conditions. Only meteorites, and nothing else, would represent a danger.

  The simplest thing had been the exact calculation of their position. Inasmuch as numerous orbital surveys had placed excellent special maps at their disposal, they had been able to work out their location with precision. The Stardust had landed a scant sixty miles behind the lunar south pole. The sun was visible as a crescent, just peeping over the nearby lunar horizon.

  The craters in the vicinity of their landing site and a small plateau between two huge overhanging ridges, were known and recorded. It seemed quite improbable that the rocket should have landed just here in its blind fall. It might just as
easily have descended between the sharp spines of the high crater wall. Then it would probably have been curtains for them.

  Earth was no longer visible. It hung in orbit far below the horizon. Therefore, no radio communication was possible. Rhodan had acknowledged these difficulties with only a boyish pout of his lips. No one else aboard the ship showed any sign of morale loss, although Fletcher bad become quieter.

  Rhodan had taken note of this without comment. Fletcher thought too often of his home, of his wife and the expected baby. This was cause for concern, even if not great concern. Rhodan had decided to pay special attention to the chubby cheeked giant.

  Now Rhodan stood atop one of the numerous summits of the crater wall. Within the rim, the walls fell steeply and suddenly to the flat space, where the lunar soil was pockmarked with two smaller craters. These were typical signs of meteoric impacts to which this airless heavenly body had been exposed, without protection, for many millions of years.

  He turned around slowly and cautiously, since here he weighed considerably less than on Earth, in spite of his heavy equipment. Some 400 yards below him, the pointed nose cone of the Stardust jutted out toward space. The solar crescent, which could barely be seen above the horizon, was shining fiercely and mercilessly. On the forward side, most fully exposed to the sun's rays, the rocks had already begun to warm up. Here near the twilight zone it was still somehow bearable.

  Rhodan was not particularly disturbed by these things. He was fully aware of the dangers and difficulties, and thus he was psychologically well prepared to deal with them. Furthermore, he knew that the technical evolution of science had permitted more and more than would have seemed impossible only twenty or thirty years before.

  Rhodan's spacesuit, for example, was a micro-mechanical miracle of the first rank, he pondered as he checked it over. Perhaps a thousand agile intellects had combined to construct it. One wheel had to fit into the next wheel, and one area of knowledge into others. Without a doubt, it represented a mammoth accomplishment for all mankind.