Crimson Universe

by Perry Rhodan

  However, the massive cliffs were defenseless against Rhodan's personal onslaught when he turned a medium-caliber impulse cannon toward them and burned a tunnel-like opening in their flanks. The resulting gases from the melted rocks were then ionized so that they could be trapped in a magnetic field. Far beyond the libration zone these vapors condensed and were scattered over the surface in the form of 'rain'.

  The high entrance opening was spray-filled with armor plastic material and provided with a relatively small airlock. Prior to this, of course, we had moved the bulky transmitter into the tunnel cavity, which was 60 feet high and almost 150 feet deep.

  Now the men were busy with the task of camouflaging the synthetic outer entrance wall. Again they vaporized natural rock so that a force beam could compress it against the metal plastic wall. As a result of the excellent cohesion thus obtained, the 'plastering' job was so rugged and natural looking that I could only nod my appreciation of their work. These barbarians certainly knew how to take care of themselves without any outside direction. If only they were not so abysmally hair-brained in some of their actions and decisions! By my reckoning we should have taken off a day before this and attempted a transition. My careful checking had revealed Bell's calculations concerning the stabilization process to be actually quite valid. But no: first this damnable transmitter bad to be installed!

  The libration of the planet was more pronounced than we had assumed originally. Already within three days it could be observed that the giant red sun was thrusting more and more above the horizon. This caused an expansion of the daylight zone in our direction—which was totally unwelcome.

  In our immediate area it had gotten lighter. The detailed contours of the mountains could be seen clearly now and it was possible to read fine print outside. Along with the increased brightness came a hint of the giant's fiery heat, which would soon be overwhelming us. We didn't take the pains to carefully measure the exact duration cycle of the axial aberration because Hades didn't interest us that much. It sufficed to know that it was slightly under 4000 miles in diameter, having a surface gravity of 0.35. It was quite similar to Mars, other than its slow axial rotation.

  I stood in the pale shadow cast by the California. Hanging low over the ground were thin wisps of gas, a precipitation caused by a thawing out of the atmosphere. We had even picked up traces of oxygen here but its percentage was far too small for any practical use.

  We were wearing our heavy spacesuits equipped with automatic defense screens. Also, by means of antigrav equipment we were fairly flightworthy as well as being protected against our hostile environment. A special instrument on my wrist indicated that the temperature was fluctuating. It continued to become hotter as the glowing edge of the sun moved higher above the flat horizon.

  Out there only a few miles distant lurked a deadly heat. There all elements with a low melting point were already boiling and the desolate region was so hot that no one could walk there without special armored boots. I had previously made an attempt to inspect the desert somewhat nearer to the deadly eye of the sunball but I had quickly abandoned the excursion, particularly because it served no practical purpose.

  I drew back suddenly when a small impulse cannon from the California began to thunder. Apparently Bell was still not happy with the already three-foot thickness of the cliff plastering. A few minutes before he had spoken to me by radio, observing that there was still some slight danger of our camouflage being detected.

  I waited resignedly until the sun-bright beam of energy subsided. Only then did I move across to the now perfectly camouflaged cliff wall in order to enter the small airlock. The installation of the transmitter had been completed. A small emergency power plant was already providing illumination and was also capable of heating the place if required. All that was lacking was the air supply. On the following day the oxygen and air-conditioning units plus the recycling equipment were to be installed.

  This was why the two steel hatches of the airlock were standing open when I finally reached the cliff wall. The planet's gravitational pull was so light that I was hardly aware of my ponderous spacesuit.

  To my great surprise I met Rhodan and the mutant Fellmer Lloyd in the large tunnel. They were inspecting our main problem child—the transmitter's connections and power plant plus the related vernier adjustment elements. It was the plan to use this station for receiving other transmitter parts so that further assembly could be accomplished inside the stronghold. If everything worked out as desired, one day the Terranians would have a hidden fortress in the very heart of the Druuf system.

  "You must be completely out of your minds!" I called to them through my helmet transmitter. "In case you didn't notice it, 10 minutes ago Reginald Bell was bombarding this mountain with an energy beam, putting his own finishing touches to the camouflage."

  Rhodan turned completely around to have a look at me. Lloyd merely chuckled. His mutant faculty had only consisted of being able to detect the presence of alien brainwaves until in the course of his special training he had also learned to be a telepath. He was an unprepossessing type, apathetic-looking, dark-complected, with shrewd eyes and a heavy-set muscular figure. I rather liked the fellow because he had never tried to break through my mono-screen in an attempt to probe my consciousness.

  "That figures," replied Rhodan calmly. "But here inside we didn't feel it. Where are all those other sleeping beauties, anyway?"

  I took a deep breath. This barbarian probably thought that other people could go without sleep for 48 hours. "If it's alright with you, I've sent them all to their bunks. How much do you think they can take? They aren't robots, you know!"

  His tired, red-rimmed eyes blinked behind his faceplate. Then I detected a faint smile on his lips.

  "OK—granted," he answered softly. "Tomorrow we bring the air equipment into the cave. And then we'll see if your theory of energy balance in this continuum is valid. I don't want to go through that paralysis bit again, do you understand?"

  Yes, I understood only too well. The terrible appearance of his face during the last spell still lingered vividly in my memory.

  Faint sounds reached us from the outside. The traces of atmosphere in the place transmitted soundwaves well enough to make at least the heavier noises audible to our ears. Over our radios we received a warning not to leave the station. The cruiser's specialist team was adding still another layer to the outside cliff wall.

  After 15 minutes they had finished. Before the open lock doorway a wall of molten rock had been built up that almost blocked the entrance.

  "Pretty neat job," remarked Lloyd. "Anybody else would have gummed up the exit and buried us."

  On the other hand I thought it was most charming of the California crew to leave us at least a small crawl-hole. It was wildly reckless of Rhodan to remain in the tunnel during the process.

  Just as Rhodan placed his special test instrument on the cavern floor, an inferno struck outside. A shockwave shrieked so violently through the small entrance hole that all three of us were gripped by its force and hurled backwards. I could still hear Lloyd's shrill cry as a torrent of pain from my spine rendered me half unconscious. I could only grasp that the unexpected attack had nevertheless occurred—and quite differently than we could have imagined.

  I heard Rhodan's voice bellowing in my earphones. I registered neither his command nor the superfluous volume of his shouting—only the pain of it all.

  "Take off! Immediate takeoff, Bell—Sikerman—take the ship up for immediate transition. We'll wait here till the Drusus transmitter gives us the green light. Get moving—leave! That's an order! No time now to come on board. You will take off..."

  I was vaguely aware of his repeating the command several times, until the deep thundering of the powerful engines was heard. By that we could infer that the light cruiser had only suffered light damages. Sikerman departed under full power, which almost made the tunnel collapse. The resulting earthquake caused me to groan aloud in agony. At the moment it was i
mmaterial to me whether or not the California took off without us. I was only thinking of the possibly serious injury I may have suffered as a result of my hard fall. There was no way of opening my hermetically sealed spacesuit to examine a bone break.

  Lloyd's voice aroused me from my panicky thoughts. "They've gone! My God, they made it!"

  Rhodan got up laboriously. Close outside the lock opening a blinding heat-glow was visible. Evidently an impulse beam had been aimed at the cruiser.

  In spite of my pain I couldn't resist remarking: "Well, Barbarian, what do you say now? A neat little surprise, eh? Would you please take a look to see if I've broken my spine?"

  7/ UNDER INHUMAN EYES

  "When I see you like this, it seems amazing that the mother of my son is an Arkonide." Rhodan appeared to be speaking so loudly that I could hear him in spite of our helmets.

  Evidently the shockwave had filled the tunnel with a heavier gas mixture. Outside a light wind was blowing. Apparently the sun-hot thermal beam of the enemy had accelerated the beginning process of atmospheric thaw. At any rate, I could hear Rhodan directly, which indicated that a sound-conducting gas medium was present.

  I lay flat on my stomach with my back facing Rhodan. Fellmer Lloyd crouched close to the entrance and peered out at the undulating rocky plain where the California had stood only 15 minutes before.

  A few seconds after the emergency takeoff we had received a message over normal voice corn. Since the cruiser had already hurtled out into space because of its usually wild acceleration, the communication was barely comprehensible. Ultra-short waves were badly distorted by the particle radiations of the engines and we did not have hypercom equipment with us.

  Bell and Sikerman had informed us that they had succeeded in breaking through the enemy blockade. They were going to risk the hyperjump, go through the fissure

  Into the Einstein universe and come back with the Drusus by hook or crook.

  After we had received this tattered message, the radio connection was finally broken. No doubt the California had already made the transition, because they only needed five minutes to reach the relative speed of light.

  Whether or not Sikerman would make it out of the Druuf time-plane was another question. However, the gravitational upheavals within the discharge zone must have largely subsided by now. If we were very lucky, the Drusus could be here in the realm of the Druufs within a few hours. Since there were three excellent transmitters on board the super battleship, it would then be possible to make use of our own transmitter and get ourselves out of this cave.

  Rhodan pressed his fingers again into my back. I could barely keep from moaning aloud in my pain. Fellmer Lloyd turned toward us and I saw his sweating face in the light streaming in from outside. I attempted to smile, as a morale booster for the other two—who probably needed it more than I did.

  Rhodan had whispered to me that the mutant had been suffering for several hours from the preliminary symptoms of dysentery. He hadn't reported the sickness immediately because of Dr. Skjoldson's 'come crawling' policy. Of course it had been sheer foolishness not to have gone to the doctor right away with this unpleasant condition.

  After the departure of the California, Lloyd had been doubled up with painful stomach cramps. I was put somewhat to shame when I saw how manfully he had suppressed his agonies. For the moment he seemed to be better, because he at least attempted to return my smile.

  But we didn't know at the time that the sanitary equipment in Fellmer's spacesuit had ceased to function. Apparently it had been damaged by the heavy jolt he'd received during the attack by the aliens. So in addition, now here was the dysentery, which normally Dr. Skjoldson would have been able to take care of with a single injection. There was no way we could help the mutant. He had to rely solely on the meager store of medications contained in his helmet supply capsule but certainly that would contain no relief for intestinal cramps. He was going to have to stand some awful pain and discomfort.

  From then on I kept a straight face, with no grimaces, until Rhodan finished his examination: He had to feel my back through the thick material of my suit and uniform, which was a highly unsatisfactory method.

  "What's the verdict? Are you familiar with my bone structure?"

  "To some extent. Since you don't have a normal chest cage, I'd say you've cracked the bone disc where my lower right rib would be. What do you have in this area?"

  He probed into the focal point of my pain and I complained loudly. At least I found I could still move without going crazy from the agony. If I had only cracked a back disc, the damage was only half as bad as I had thought. The strong hut highly elastic tissue regenerated itself swiftly. I probably only needed a few hours of rest.

  "Some physician you are!" I groaned, finally getting to my feet. "Ok, let's take a look at our situation."

  I walked carefully to the small airlock which was hidden from the outside by a high wall of stone. Now we could only see beyond it through a narrow fissure. The former disadvantage of the closure was now an advantage.

  If the Druufs had had a spark of sense they would have asked themselves what the crew of such an unknown, super-fast cruiser had been doing on this world. If they had not captured or destroyed the California in outer space they would undoubtedly attempt to search out some clues. But they would only find them where the ship had been standing, which was 600 yards from our cave opening—and the latter had been about 75% closed up by molten rock.

  We did not deceive ourselves as to what might happen if they really made a painstaking investigation. As a result of the very excellent camouflaging the great wall of rock plastering before the tunnel could no longer be seen at all. I also believed that any instrumental detection of the false covering would be out of the question, unless they thought of bringing their equipment very close to our excavation—but that might be practically by coincidence. However, there was a very real danger from another direction, even though at some distance. These were the places where we had melted down the rock cliffs for the purpose of obtaining our covering material. Wide, glassy surfaces had been left there, from which they might draw inferences.

  Under certain circumstances it would have been possible for human intelligences to draw the right conclusions but just what the Druuf capacities were in this regard we were still undecided about. Perhaps they would not be able to imagine the purpose of all this rock melting. That was our only hope, because that there would he an investigation was as certain as the fact that the Druufs existed.

  We crawled into the lock and worked our way to the steep wall of the cliff. The rift in the frontal curtain of rock before us was only about sixteen inches wide. In an emergency a person might force himself through it but whether it might be taken for an opening from the outside was another question. It probably blended so inconspicuously with the rugged face of the outer wall that it would only attract the attention of someone at extremely close range. But under the circumstances it was not our intention to make contact with the Druufs.

  I pressed my helmet against Fellmer Lloyd's in order to speak better to him through the conducting material. He was moaning faintly. His stocky frame was trembling. Evidently he was suffering another painful attack.

  "Take it easy, boy," I called to him loudly. "In a few hours the Drusus will make a thrust into the Druuf dimension. Our transmitter has been hooked up perfectly It's going to work without a hitch."

  "Sir, I'm sorry I have to even mention this unpleasantness but I'm only human and my body..."

  "That's understandable; you don't have to be sorry about it," I interrupted, deeply moved—not by his illness but that he had thought it necessary to apologize for it. "You'll have to hold out, Lloyd, there's nothing we can do. The cave is practically empty of air. What's the reading on your sanitary pack? Maybe we could manage to clear it out for you. But you just take it easy, OK?"

  "Yes sir, I'll have to. Only—I don't think there's anything to clean out..."

  I hadn't at first noticed t
hat Rhodan had his helmet pressed to mine. He seemed to be able to guess the rest of the problem. Seconds later, Lloyd gasped out a confession that his sanitary pack had somehow been put out of order by the shockwave.

  Far from being a humorous situation, I well knew that it was more like a catastrophe. To the experienced spaceman, such conditions were no joking matter. With his type of illness his breathing air could very quickly he poisoned. Owing to the lack of outside air pressure it was necessary for his suit to maintain a minimum internal pressure of at least 1500 millibars, or about eight pounds per square inch. This, under a contaminated condition, could be dangerous.

  "Hang in there, Lloyd," Rhodan tried to reassure him. "The Drusus will soon be here."

  For the moment I could find no words that would not have emphasized the gravity of the situation.

  The mutant turned his head to laugh at us sheepishly though his face was distorted by his agony. I had once experienced amoebic dysentery so I could appreciate what he must be suffering while closed up inside of his pressure suit. The calamity overtook me while I was in the war camp of General Wallenstein. It had been a plague for which we had had no remedy at the time.

  "Where in the devil did you pick up such an infection?" asked Rhodan. "There has to be a cause for it."

  "Maybe it was the water on Grautier, sir," replied Lloyd weakly.

  It was an assumption that had to be accepted for the time being. If he had been tempted to drink the clear-looking spring water there, he could have picked up a contagion. I determined that I would advise the Fleet Medical Corps to provide all spacesuits with a more effective selection of universal-type antibiotics in the future. Lloyd's case of dysentery could only be the infectious variety, I was certain. This meant he had to have gotten it from the outside somewhere. The ships of the Solar Fleet were antiseptically clean. Their sanitary provisions were superior to anything I had ever seen even on board the Arkonide vessels.