by Perry Rhodan
"You knew that all along, didn't you? You've known it for hours already!" Reg's hoarse whispering came over the loudspeaker. "That's why you wanted me to shave. What gave you the idea, Perry?"
"Don't get upset, old boy," Rhodan replied. It won't do you any good. This spaceship was never built in Asia. In fact, it is probably untouched by Earthly hands. I suspected something of the sort when the green glow came. Nothing human could produce such a field of energy. No one of our race could have interrupted our broadcast by such means. Control yourself, old boy. We must bear it. We have no other alternative."
Reg sat up erect. No longer was there a dull cast to his eyes. Now he too was looking eagerly ahead.
"They've made a crash landing," he said after a little while. "They've grazed half the crater wall, with a force such as one can hardly imagine. Who are they? What do they look like? Where do they come from? And…" Reg set his jaw, before completing his sentence with a somber undertone of sudden suspicion. "And what do they want here?"
This question roused Rhodan completely out of his momentary stupor. He regained his cool composure. His lips were drawn up in a faint smirk as he said, "That we will soon find out. Now an apparently senseless action begins to make sense. Of course they had to interrupt our communication. Obviously they're not at all anxious for Earth to learn of their presence here. They evidently assumed that we had already noticed them, that we had seen this gigantic thing here shortly before our landing. Now the affair makes sense."
Of course it made sense. Suddenly Rhodan looked at the structure through different eyes. Though his brain still signaled danger with the rapid fire of nerve impulses, he regarded the foreign ship this time with the sober eyes of a scientist.
No irregularity could be detected in the smooth surface of the spherical giant. There was not a single protuberance and no visible opening. At the height of the equator line, however, there seemed the impression of a ring-like bulge.
The ship stood motionless at the edge of the splintered crater wall. Although it was quite clear that it had broken through the ring, it seemed to bear no scars from the encounter.
The whole structure was resting on short supports rather like pillars. These were arranged in a circle and had obviously emerged from the lower quarter of the sphere. That was all the two could see. In the bright light of the sun, the material of the mighty hull was shimmering in a pale copper glow. In order to see the upper part of the spheroid structure, they had to tilt their heads all the way back. From behind the concealment of the crater wall, they had come very near the ship.
By now Reginald Bell had also got hold of himself again. His voice, rough and measured as ever, was proof enough of that. "A perfect sphere. The ideal structure for a giant spaceship, provided one has the correspondingly great propulsion system. Good heavens, that thing measures some 500 yards across. At least 500! It's almost higher than the crater wall. It's enough to drive you out of your mind. How could they launch such a mass into space? I'm only beginning to have some notion of what kind of engines they must have on board. I'd better not even think about it or I'll feel only two feet tall."
More softly, in a slightly choked voice, he added, "And there we were, so proud of our success! We've reached the moon with such a tiny thing. Ha! With such a pitiful little spaceship, and we could just barely make the absurd and insignificant leap to the moon. Beyond us lies the galaxy, and of course, first there is still our own solar system. Do you have any idea what we proud little men are in comparison to those beings over there?"
"If you're about to compare us to monkeys I'm going to explode!" said Rhodan icily.
Reg grinned sheepishly. "Something of the sort was just on the tip of my tongue. You're really a very proud human being, aren't you?"
"I'm proud of my humanity, proud of our race, proud of our rapid development, and proud of our future. We've conquered this little moon, and someday we shall also conquer the stars. This improbable spaceship has not at all proved yet that its occupants are more intelligent than we. It might be nothing but the heritage of 10,000 industrious generations, something that simply fell into their lap. Ignorance is by no means the same as stupidity. You should take into account whether the ignorant person has been given the opportunity for learning, and even if he has had that opportunity, it would still depend on the degree of wisdom possessed by the caretakers of knowledge. One cannot assimilate more knowledge than is supplied by one's teachers. We human beings are a young and hardy race. Our brains are like sponges. There is a lot that can still be absorbed by them, I give you my word! So don't ever let me hear you say that you suddenly seem to yourself like a kind of monkey."
Rhodan had really grown furious. He seemed to have forgotten that an alien spacecraft, with all its cargo of menace and mysteries, stood before them.
Reg laughed, then tentatively placed his hand on his bolstered automatic.
"Leave that alone," warned Rhodan. "We can't solve our problems with that. We must resign ourselves to knowing that we are not the only intelligent forms of life in the universe. For me that comes as no surprise. People of our breed should already have given thought to such a possibility. Any man who gets out into space must have considered it at least once, if only in reverie. So now, stop that. The situation is quite unlike our first estimate of it."
"I'd feel much more secure if this were a lousy rocket from the Asiatic Federation," whispered Reg. Then, more urgently, "And what happens now? Fortunately, you're in command. A burning curiosity is slowly rising within me."
"I've noticed that for quite a while already," Rhodan said with grim emphasis. "It is almost beyond comprehension—it looks as if these creatures are really not out to get us. And there's still more."
He gazed over at the splintered ridge again. "A reasonable commander would never have landed in such a manner, would he? I certainly wouldn't. If you raze nearly half the wall of a crater during your landing it is to be presumed that this was not a matter of choice. It almost looks to me as if these unknowns had crashed. That makes them almost human, doesn't it?"
Rhodan grinned. "Something isn't quite right over there. Since I'm supposed to be such a good loser, I'll see to it that we get a closer look at things." He rose to his full height. A sarcastic smile hung from his lips.
"Are you Crazy?" hissed Reg. "Get down! Don't be a fool!"
"Not at all a fool. Consider our situation. We can't get away from here any more. By the time General Pounder sends another rocket up here we will have been long since dead. And the fate of the next crew will be identical to our own. There is nothing further to consider. Perhaps the deeper meaning of my words will penetrate even your thick skull."
Besides, truth be told, Rhodan was consumed by curiosity. It was the original human instinct, invincible, eternally restless, urgently asking, "What lies beyond? "
Suddenly Rhodan's eyes widened. Someone had laughed. It was only a momentary, almost inaudible sound. But someone had laughed!
Reg drew himself up, his weapon in readiness. His face had again become contorted. "Did you hear that too?" he whispered breathlessly. "There's somebody on our wave-length, dammit!"
"What did you expect?" Rhodan's voice sounded very cool over the speaker. "And why do you think I was performing this play with all this extensive dialogue. Of course they're listening in! The fact that they chose not to destroy our miserable helmet transmitters is a sign of their intelligence. They know very well we can't get through to Earth with them. The logic is simply overwhelming. Let's go."
Reg remained standing, motionless. His weapon dangled loose in his hands. Drawling with a chill undertone, he said, "Well then go if you want to. I'm not at all interested in running into the clutches of sentient cuttlefish or similar monstrosities. I'm staying right here."
Rhodan's face hardened. "You've been reading too much space opera my friend. Living creatures a la octopi will never construct spaceships, even if, against all probability, they should become intelligent. Don't confuse your
fantasy with well founded fact. These are realities, neither more nor less. There are an adequate number of respected intellects on Earth who consider it quite probable that some form of intelligent extraterrestrial life does exist; but they do not imagine them to be monsters at all. So don't talk any more nonsense. Just come along. Shall I insist once again that we have no other way out?"
"Perhaps we still do," mumbled Reg, still greatly disturbed. "I simply don't like the idea of running into that ship like some helpless, bleating sheep. That is strictly contrary to my instinct. Get it?"
"Of course. I always understand reasonable argument, and the human fear of the unknown is probably the most reasonable reaction that the creator implanted in us. That is all very well. But under certain circumstances we must also be capable of overcoming the dictates of instinct. You can follow me if you like. I shall give you no further orders in this affair."
Rhodan turned. With broad, even steps, he emerged from behind cover. In his word and deed, reason had won the upper hand. He hew that he had the "choice" of a single alternative. Therefore, Major Perry Rhodan drew the consequences.
Rhodan's machine gun dangled on a strap over his right shoulder. His hands hung loosely at his sides. Rhodan was not about to turn this encounter—the first encounter of a human being with an alien intelligence—into a debate conducted with bullets. It would have been an unseemly and reprehensible welcome, unworthy of a man of his clear and tolerant outlook.
He felt a certain emptiness well up within him. The nearer he came to the gigantic structure, the more he felt the unendurable sadness of this confrontation. The strangers had obviously seized the initiative. Still, they had acted only indirectly. Rhodan was led inevitably to the conclusion that the radio interference had probably been more a precautionary measure than an omen of imminent destruction. This thought calmed him. He trusted to the benevolence of these no doubt lofty souls for whom he could very well make allowances.
He had been quite mistaken in his estimate of the distance. The gigantic vessel was much farther away than he had believed. The crater walls vaulted upward, mightier and mightier. They loomed ominous, oppressive. When he had gone still several hundred additional yards in the blinding sunlight, he could no longer see the spaceship in its entirety. It had a diameter certainly in excess of 1,500 feet.
It was supported on massive pillars ending in flat plate-like structures. Be smiled weakly when he noticed this resemblance to the Stardust's construction. The aliens must have thought processes similar to those of man, he decided, for there were evidently some common denominators in their technical and scientific vocabularies.
He suddenly became aware of Reg's rapid breathing over the speaker in his helmet. Immediately afterward, the shadow of his friend appeared.
Reginald Bell accompanied him without another word. He uttered not a single further sound. Silently Rhodan nodded to him, an awkward gesture because of the bulk of the pressurized helmet. Reg grinned back feebly. With all his self-control, he could not disguise the glow in his eyes.
Their steps became slower and slower as they approached. Above them rose the incomprehensible sphere. The sun lit up only that part of the ground which lay underneath the towering mass, and where a heavy darkness began, Rhodan stopped completely. He looked up until he had bent his upper torso all the way back.
His eyes seized upon the wide gaping opening at the lower edge of the equatorial bulge he had previously noted. Now it was a mighty ring more than seventy yards in diameter.
"If they were to blast off now, we would be atomized," he said blandly. His hand motioned upward. "These are probably the jet exhausts, if our propulsion systems are at all related. This glazed ground surface around the ship must have boiled once in white heat. Hmm. I estimate the initial payload of this craft, under Earthly gravity, to be about two million tons. How does one launch such a tremendous mass?"
"I would suggest a firecracker," offered Reg. Within his chest a dull fury demanded release. Obviously no one seemed to be paying any attention to them. He could hear again the inner voice that made mention of monkeys. Reg could not overcome that feeling, try as be might; he did not possess the remarkable self-confidence of his friend, so he took refuge in his rather offbeat sense of humor. This was, in effect, his last resort when his reason could carry him no further.
Rhodan maintained his composure. It was his guess that within the ship, discussion was in progress. Probably the unknown entities were also grappling with this perplexing situation. They would of course know that they could do away with both these human beings with little effort. One push of a button, very likely, would suffice for that.
Rhodan considered this very fact to be a point in their favor. If the strangers were not in possession of an entirely alien ethic—if they were familiar with the concept of tolerance—then they simply could not do a thing. Their only choice was between continued silence or the communication of some sign of life. Therefore, Major Rhodan armed himself only with patience.
Reg reacted quite differently. After a few moments, he said loudly and ironically, "Below your ship stand two horrible monsters with thirst in their throats and hunger in their bellies. Hello, there! My name is Reginald Bell. You were kind enough to force us into making a crash landing. Now we're coming to present you with the bill."
He stopped talking. Under different circumstances Rhodan would have laughed, but now his throat began to dry out. Reg's uncompromising behavior did not seem wholly appropriate to the time, the place and the nature of the event.
They spoke no more. Now, however, Rhodan too felt tempted to clutch his weapon. Quite a while ago Reg had got a firm hold on his RAK automatic, while Rhodan had continued his restraint. Rhodan's disapproving glance elicited only a grim shrug of the shoulders from Captain Bell.
The blinding light came just as suddenly as had the greenish glow a few hours before. Rhodan was startled. Quite against his will, drawn as if by a magnet, the automatic weapon slipped down into the crook of his arm. He muttered a blunt oath. Raging inside, he pushed the weapon back onto his shoulder.
A wide opening appeared in the hull of the sphere. The bright light was issuing forth from within. This had taken place, like any process on the moon, in complete silence. Rhodan had never before missed the sound conducting property of atmosphere as much as he did now.
Something was thrust out of the opening. When its base had touched the ground, it unraveled into a flat, broad band. That was all. Nothing else happened.
With measured tread, Rhodan stepped up to this weakly fluorescent band. Close in front of it he stopped.
"An invitation," he said softly. "A welcome mat. No steps. Hmm. The hatch is still a good ninety feet above us. The Stardust could fit comfortably into the space in between."
"Probably a little IQ test, likely as not" Reg snorted nervously, meanwhile looking upward. Not a living soul was to be seen.
Rhodan stepped onto the slanted surface. It rose up to the hatch at an angle of at least forty-five degrees. When he felt himself being borne aloft, he instinctively stretched out his arms, wishing to balance himself, before he realized that here there was no question of falling. Nevertheless, his shoes did not touch the band, but hovered a few millimeters above the fluorescent material. He was carried as gently along as if be bad been standing on a moving escalator.
Reg was cursing. He could not detach his hands from an imaginary support. On all fours, he followed Rhodan.
Once they had arrived at a large anteroom, the conveyor belt deposited them safely aside. This was the origin of the bright light. Again they heard nothing as the air locks dosed behind them.
They were inside the alien ship.
"No one would ever believe this," said Reg in a low voice. "Not a living soul, and I doubt if we'll ever be able to talk to a human being again. What do you plan to do?"
"Negotiate. Use my head. What else? The situation no longer appears fantastic, if one looks at it objectively. It's nothing but a matter of instinc
t. Try to silence your fears for the time being."
They became aware of the hissing sound of penetrating air. At this point it was impossible to tell whether human beings could breathe this mixture of gases. Rhodan realized that they were indeed undergoing a test. Had he opened his helmet now, trusting to good luck, his rash action would undoubtedly have been considered a demerit. He could not know what kind of gas they had blown into this room. He therefore kept silent until the interior air locks opened.
They found themselves in a high, wide arched passageway, ending at a fluorescent shaft. They went ahead. There was no longer anything else they could do. The ship seemed devoid of life. It was an unreal dream-like situation. Reg was certain that he could not stand this stress much longer than another five minutes. Then he would simply lose his nerve. He felt like ranting and raving or running amok. If only he could have done something!
The clear voice, in the flawless enunciation of an English teacher, came next.
"You may open your protective suits now," it said. "You will find the air suitable for breathing."
Rhodan let his breath out with a "Whew!" Without uttering another sound, he removed his helmet.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Khrest was his name. His race apparently knew no distinction between first name and surname. He was a humanoid. He had two upper and two lower limbs, a compact torso, and a large head, all combined in a fashion most human beings would recognize. Though frail in appearance, with a fragile bone structure, he was at least one head taller than Perry Rhodan. To judge from his color, he might have belonged to some velvet skinned Polynesian tribe. This illusion was shattered, however, by the contrast of his white hair and the reddish, almost albinoid pigmentation of his eyes.
From beneath a high vaulted forehead, those eyes emerged to impress one with their almost hypnotic effect. He wore the ethereal expression of a very old and very wise man whose skin had remained firm and youthful in spite of his years.
