by Perry Rhodan
Then the hand appeared for the second time. With utter fascination and without doing anything to hinder it Kennof observed it groping for a hold a few centimeters before his face. He discerned the fingers of an alien being. The dark brown, almost black skin was laced with a net of fine lines.
A violent jolt hurled the detective back. He was abruptly diverted from the sight that had absorbed his interest. Losing his grip he had to relinquish the lid and the round disk was swept away. It rolled over the container and clanked to the ground.
Kennof hastily retreated from the open hole and clutched Dr. Le Boeuf’s pistol. He heard gurgling and splashing sounds and the cell-plasma sloshed over the top. His feet were spattered with yellow squirts of the bloody mess.
Then the second hand appeared! It was still wet and it left a moist trail of fingerprints as it moved along the edge of the opening.
Kennof stood with widened eyes and drawn gun about three meters from the aperture. The unknown creature still seemed to hesitate and Kennof was sorely tempted to beat a retreat. Even Clinkskate’s abhorrent voice would have been a relief for the agent, had he called him through the loudspeaker.
Kennof uttered an uncontrolled scream! The head of the alien being had emerged. Remnants of the bioplastic mask clung to its face. It was the most fearsome sight Kennof had seen in his life. The tattered remains of the parody of a human face. The moustache was almost completely intact; it was dripping wet and it stuck like a fat worm to the face of the creature.
The body of the monster began to rise from the hole on its stubborn quest for freedom.
The terrible truth struck Kennof like a bombshell. The sudden realization was so incredible and gruesome that it threatened to overpower him. Nevertheless he succeeded in rallying a new determination in himself. He emptied his gun and without waiting to observe the effect he scrambled down the ladder in such haste that he almost tumbled to the ground.
Now Clinkskate spoke up again but his voice sounded almost fearful: "Who were you shooting at, Kennof?"
Kennof ran toward the airshaft. "At a young, half-grown specimen of a race to whom you and the ISC have betrayed mankind," he yelled furiously.
"To a Druuf!"
10/ CIRCLE OF FIRE
"Now he’s got the goods on us," Clinkskate reflected with consternation.
He cursed the dalliance of his men and decided to stamp out the menace personified in Kennof at once.
His injured shoulder hurt badly and he leaned his good arm against the back of the couch.
Was it possible that the plan Cavanaugh and his friends from another world had hatched was shot through with unforeseen pitfalls? Clinkskate feverishly recapitulated the short history of the conspiracy in his mind.
In a certain sense the plane of the Druufs was practically next door to Earth during the period of an overlap. At the time when Terra had begun to use the new transmitters to supply its spacefleet base on the Moon with hardware and raw materials the Druufs happened to determine an overlap zone which was characteristic for the permanent flux of their space-continuum. The descendants of insects contemplated the possibilities of turning the work of the transmitters to their own advantage. They regarded it as a good chance to learn the position of Terra and to encroach on the third planet of the Solar System.
However they were frustrated in their efforts until their chances were boosted by a lucky accident. One of the Druufs came unexpectedly under the influence of a Terra-transmitter while he was in the process of transporting himself through a transmitter of their own and instead of the Druuf arriving at his desired destination a sack of beans were dumped into the receiver station. For an instant, an intersection of a five-dimensional plane had occurred which was triggered by the simultaneous operation of the transmitters. As the Druufs still puzzled over the beans, a lucky break worked once more in their favor.
The Druuf who had landed on the Moon in place of the beans was not discovered at the moment of his appearance. A delay in the transmitter controls saved his life. The transmitter technicians of the Druufs had the presence of mind to cast the sack of beans back before the five-dimensional track was erased. The beans were returned to their proper place and their mass compensated for the perplexed Druuf who was retrieved from the Moon before he could be discovered by human eyes.
The subsequent calculations of the Druuf scientists established that the probability for a second transition of this type was extremely small. Not only did the spread of the prevailing overlap zone play a role but it also depended on the place and time of the transmitter operations. In addition it was essential that the mass of the two bodies to be exchanged were approximately equal to guarantee such an ultra-dimensional reciprocation of energy.
Clinkskate could not have visualized the frantic efforts the Druufs pursued when they became enticed by the hope of invading Terra. However all their experiments failed to accomplish by design what fate had thrown into their laps.
It was hardly feasible to send a Druuf spaceship to the Moon in order to persuade the battle-hardened veterans of the Solar Imperium that their transmitters should be operated only at certain prescribed times and with a predetermined size of the cargo. The Terrans would have been greatly amused by the naive antagonists and turned their ship into a small sun in an atomic bombardment.
The leaders of the insect race realized that their plot could only be carried out with human connivance. They would have to gain the collaboration of an influential person who could be won over by substantial pecuniary rewards. Consequently a robot ship was dispatched into the Einstein universe with all due precautions. Its task was concise but difficult to bring back a human being!
Eventually they garnered a man named Lewis Shirreffs whose sport it was to roam between the asteroids in a space-dinghy. Shirreffs was a space buff so enamored of traveling to the stars that he spent his not inconsiderable fortune for a tiny spaceship although it was illegal to venture into outer space without the government’s permission. However before he could be apprehended by the Solar Spacefleet he was captured by the robot ship of the Druufs. A few officials on Mars were arrested because they had condoned the unlawful action of Shirreffs and a police ship was sent out to scour the expanse of space in order to nab the violator. Unfortunately the search was in vain. Shirreffs had vanished but nobody attached much significance to his disappearance since it had to be assumed that Shirreffs’ vessel had been sucked into the gravitation of Jupiter. Eventually the search was abandoned and the whole story was soon forgotten.
Shirreffs didn’t prove to be the right man to do the dirty work for the Druufs. However after the Druufs had brainwashed him he was ready to lead them to a willing tool: Owen Cavanaugh.
Nobody among the colonists on Mars would have bet a Solar on the return of Shirreffs when his tiny ship appeared in the sky of their planet again. The public opinion that celebrated the wayward Shirreffs like a hero prevented his imprisonment as punishment for unlicensed space travel and the judge treated him very mildly as the vagabond seemed to act rather irresponsibly and slightly confused.
Lewis Shirreffs was let off with a fine and two weeks later he looked up Cavanaugh. The unscrupulous businessman lost no time in hiring a bunch of people on whom he could rely to do anything to get rich and powerful quickly.
The rest was easy as pie compared to the initial endeavors of the Druufs. Cavanaugh acquired the caves near Yellowstone National Park and established the Intertime Sleeping Corporation under a charter of the Interior Department. The direct methods Cavanaugh used saved the Druufs a lot of time before the overlap zone drifted away again. Without practicing a great deal of secretiveness Cavanaugh converted the caves to his purposes with the aid of his accomplices.
It was rather paradoxical that the fact of Cavanaugh performing in the light of public scrutiny gave him more security than clandestine operations could have achieved for him. After the Druuf transmitter had been installed and the first sleepers arrived, everything else followed almost by routine.
The Druufs killed two birds with one stone. Firstly, they were in a position to prepare the invasion of Earth under the veil of secrecy and, secondly, they were able to keep the organic substance of their universe constant by receiving a human being for every Druuf they exported to the other plane. The latter fact was also an indispensable requisite because the Druufs could be transported via the transmitter only when simultaneously a living human being was exchanged in their place. This mutual exchange of energy and transport of mass guaranteed the smooth execution of their planned invasion.
There was only one problem for the Druufs and Cavanaugh’s gang—what to do with the infiltrators—and it was Clinkskate who hit upon the solution. A young individual of the alien race had approximately the same dimensions as an adult human being. Once he was covered with bioplastic material and submerged in the nutrient liquid he could not be differentiated from a Terran.
The ISC could use the time the Druufs spent in their containers to build secret accommodations deeper inside the rocks so that they could be transferred before they reached their full-grown size. His place in the container would be taken by a bioplastic figure that resembled the human sleeper so perfectly as to fool the inspectors of the Interior Department when viewed through the windows.
The hibernation candidates who had made the mistake of trusting the ISC were now in the hands of the Druufs who had reported to the ISC that the traded individuals had survived the transition. More than 2000 applicants had already fallen into the trap of the ISC and an equal number of Druufs was hidden in the containers.
No. Clinkskate thought grimly. Two less!
Kennof had not yet been seized and in the meantime he had shot one of the extraterrestrial creatures.
A sudden noise interrupted the train of his thoughts. St. Cloud and Tober rushed in. "Four copters are circling over the landing field," St. Cloud shouted. "It seems they want to land."
"Maybe they came to take pictures for a TV show," Tober added with a silly laugh.
Clinkskate jumped up and pushed them aside. He left his private office with St. Cloud and Tober following on his heels. When they came outside they saw that half the employees of the ISC had congregated to watch the four big helicopters circling in the air.
Clinkskate became terribly alarmed and forgot all about his aching shoulder. "Stefan!" he ordered one of the men standing around. "Take two men and clean up the sleeping cave at once. That crazy Kennof has shot one of our friends. The body must be removed immediately. Who knows who’s coming to visit us now!"
Stefan, a big man with blond unkempt hair and a crooked nose, grumbled: "You forget that Kennof has a bomb!"
Clinkskate’s seamed face became a pitiless mask. "If these copters came to make a surprise inspection you’ll soon find out who’s more dangerous, they or Kennof," he retorted in an icy tone.
Tober shielded his eyes with his hand so he could look against the low sun. "They’re getting ready to land," he called above the din.
"Get going, Stefan!" Clinkskate shouted angrily and waited till Stefan had picked two other men. "St. Cloud," he continued, "come with me to the landing field to meet the callers. I expect everything will be back in order again in the meantime so it’ll look normal around here."
The assembled group ran off in different directions.
"Let’s go, St. Cloud," Clinkskate said, setting his jaw.
"Who could it be?" St. Cloud asked dubiously.
"It won’t be anybody to bring us much joy," Clinkskate surmised.
They reached the forest and walked along the path to the landing field. Clinkskate was also assailed by doubts like his companion. The arrival of the four machines worried him. Yet it was possible that they would turn out to be harmless. Perhaps it was a surveyor team. They frequently passed through this neck of the woods in the mountains. Or some park rangers who were sent out to shoot a bear that caused trouble to the visitors of the park. One guess was as good as another.
After they had walked half the distance a group of people came into view and Clinkskate counted 11 men and one girl. They carried some unfamiliar equipment and were armed.
Clinkskate swallowed hard and forced himself to go on. St. Cloud made a growling noise like a cornered animal. Clinkskate raised his good arm and waved to the approaching group in a friendly manner although he wondered whether he had ever seen as sinister looking a group as he confronted. To his surprise he heard himself say very calmly: "This is private property." His voice sounded polite but firm.
"May I ask what business you have here?"
A tall, almost melancholy-looking man stepped forward, causing St. Cloud to flinch a little. "I’m Shane Hardiston," the man said.
He had a weapon strapped to his hip of a type Clinkskate had never seen before and he carried a canister on his back.
Clinkskate told him his name. "I’m a director of the Intertime Sleeping Corporation," he announced. "This area is reserved for our conservation caves and unauthorized persons cannot be admitted."
Hardiston pulled something out of his pocket and showed it to him. St. Cloud, looking over Clinkskate’s shoulder, gasped nervously.
Clinkskate moistened his lips and said hesitantly with a wan smile: "Solar Defense? Why do you give us the honor of your visit?"
The agent looked past him as if he expected someone else to show up on the path behind him at any moment. "We’re looking for a man," Hardiston finally informed him. "His name is Richard Kennof."
Clinkskate pretended to search his memory. "Are you referring to one of our clients?" he inquired. "I believe I remember a man by that name." He turned to St. Cloud. "Does the name sound familiar to you, David?"
"I don’t know," St. Cloud stammered. "I mean..."
"Your presence seems to baffle poor David a little bit," Clinkskate commented with faked indulgence as St. Cloud’s eyes reflected naked fear. I’d like to give that scarb (miserable wretch) a kick in the pants , Clinkskate burned up inside. Why doesn’t he pull himself together?
Inviting Hardiston with a gesture he said with great restraint, "Please come to my office where we can check our records and clear this up at once." Then he added in a confidential tone: "Is Richard Kennof wanted as a criminal who is trying to use the ISC to escape justice for breaking the law?"
"He’s a police officer," Hardiston explained curtly, motioning his entourage to follow him.
"What’s that strange equipment they’re carrying?" St. Cloud whispered anxiously.
"Shut up, you fool!" Clinkskate rebuffed him sternly.
The sunlight broke through the dense leaves and cast fleeting shadows on the faces of the men walking under the trees and stirring up wilted leaves which sailed for a short time through the air before they settled down again on the ground. Now and then the equipment dangling from the agents made clattering noises.
Clinkskate slyly studied the rugged faces of the men and decided that he could expect no mercy from his escort once they got to the bottom of their secrets in the caves.
And they were bound to find out! Clinkskate was forced to the conclusion that there was no way out except to fight and flee and he began to form a plan in his mind.
When they emerged from the forest Clinkskate saw Tober standing on the courtyard before the caves. Tober watched him with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. Clinkskate endeavored to remain in the lead of the group.
Only the entrance to the office suites was open and Clinkskate said in a friendly tone: "This way, please!"
"If this is a trap you won’t have much time to enjoy it," Hardiston stated coolly.
Clinkskate looked at him uncomprehendingly and inquired with an offended mien: "What do you mean to say by this?"
Before he finished talking he grabbed St. Cloud and pushed him hard against Hardington. The two men collided and Clinkskate saw the agent reach for his weapon. However before Hardiston was able to disentangle himself, Clinkskate managed to shut the heavy doors. He sprinted down the corridor and ran
into some employees of the ISC. "Get back!" he yelled. "The police are out there."
His arm slipped from the sling Piotrowski had made for him. His wound had apparently burst open again when he hurled St. Cloud toward Hardiston. "Everybody to the transmitter station!" he shouted. "Block the passageway and release the gas!"
He was instantly surrounded by fleeing and sweating men who besieged him with questions, "Distribute the weapons and make sure to set the booby traps. They are only 11 men out there."
The office of the administration was deserted in less than a minute. A powerful explosion deafened Clinkskate’s ears. The earth shook and rocks rained from the walls. Some of the men were stunned.
"Keep going!" Clinkskate drove them on. "They’re trying to blast the door open. We must be out of here before they can break it down."
He could smell some smoke. A fire must have broken out somewhere. He wondered about the fate of Stefan and the two men whom he had sent to subdue Kennof. Where were they?
Clinkskate’s eyes began to weep and coughing men were milling in the haze. Clinkskate ordered them vigorously: "We’ve got to get through. Bring a wet cloth for each of us!"
His next words were drowned out by another explosion. The shockwave rolled through the corridor and sucked the air out their lungs. He struggled hard to keep a clear mind. Presumably the agents had broken the door and prepared to penetrate the subterranean corridors with great caution, not knowing where they might encounter resistance.
Somebody pressed a moist cloth into Clinkskate’s hand. He held it against his face and rushed forward through the dense fumes.
• • •
Pandemonium had broken loose around Kennof. He crawled along the floor as flames engulfed the other side of the room. About an hour before three men had appeared with the intention of hunting him down.
He was able to plug one of them with the last bullet from Piotrowski’s gun. When the other two returned his fire they hit a machine behind Kennof, causing a shower of blue sparks to shoot through the air and start an instant fire. In the ensuing confusion the detective managed to get away again. His two pursuers were probably hiding behind the curtain of flames. He figured that, for the time being, they were too occupied with their own safety to bother with him but he realized that he had to act quickly if he wanted to save his life.
