Crimson Universe

by Perry Rhodan

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him why he had not gone to the doctor at the first signs of the malady but I gave it up. It would be senseless to discuss something that couldn't be changed now. He'd no doubt he cursing himself for his shortsightedness, anyway.

  Without a word, Rhodan began to break off some knife-sharp spikes of rock on the edges of the fissure. I watched him for a while, realizing that during my talk with Lloyd my own pains had almost been forgotten. They were not so serious that they hindered me much in my movements.

  "I'm going outside to see how good our camouflage is," he said. "Stay here and keep your eyes open, OK?"

  A few moments later, Perry forced himself through the narrow opening. The material of his armored spacesuit was so strong that it would have taken much worse treatment to make a tear in it. So I wasn't overly concerned as I watched him go out between the rocks.

  In my hands was a heavy-duty thermal raygun which the Terranians referred to as an impulse beamer. Although here any resistance would have been senseless I was nevertheless determined to give him good fire coverage.

  Outside the brilliant sunlight had finally reached our stronghold. The sparse shadows disappeared and a few minutes later I was half-blinded when I looked out at the broad desert landscape. The axial aberration of the planet must have swung us right to the edge of the twilight zone.

  As Rhodan advanced, however, he again gained the shadows. From that point onward the terrain had the effect of dropping into a pitch-dark abyss in which nothing could be seen.

  "It's alright now, sir," the mutant informed me. He pressed his helmet still closer to mine.

  I nodded to him silently. Maybe it would be good for him to be mentally active so as to distract him from his misery.

  After about three minutes my helmet receiver came to life. Rhodan was reporting by radio.

  "Have you lost your mind?!" I interrupted him at his first words. "We can be traced!"

  "Ridiculous—I'm sending with only two-tenths of a watt. Besides, there's nothing to see in all directions, so what could trace us? I'm a little over half a mile away in the shadow of the twilight zone. How does it look from there?"

  "You mean from our point of view?"

  "What else?"

  "Miserable, if you want to know the truth," I mumbled. "But relax—we can't see you or anything else out there. The sun blasts our vision terribly. From where I sit, that's a midnight blackout over there."

  "Excellent. From here your cliff wall is an unreal faded outline because I can't look directly into the blinding sunlight. No matter how hard I try I can't see a trace of the tunnel wall and I only know where the fissure is because of definite landmarks. I'll take all bets that they won't be able to find us."

  "Just keep transmitting for another half hour and they'll have us."

  "OK, I'll shut my mouth, you old pessimist. Uh-uh! Calm down now! I know we should have gotten out of here a day sooner and we would have spared ourselves all this. So? Lloyd, how are you doing? Would you like to come out here? Maybe it'll do you some good."

  "I'd rather not, sir," I heard Fellmer answer faintly. "I feel like a dog. Could you maybe spare me a little of your oxygen?"

  I sensed that I had turned pale. Oxygen...? Why was he asking for that? It was the strictest regulation to refill the ultra high-pressure regenerator equipment and recheck it daily. Had he even neglected this most basic and important of all rules? No, he couldn't have!

  Rhodan seemed to be equally perplexed. "Oxygen? Lloyd, that doesn't make any sense! The regenerator is built into the inside of your suit. We wouldn't be able to reach it. What's the matter? Are you having a hard time to breathe?"

  I turned to look at the sick man. When he became aware of my surveillance he seemed terribly embarrassed. It made me suspicious.

  "Wel-l, n-no sir," Lloyd stammered in response. "My equipment is still OK. But can I risk blowing out my present pressure through the control valve? I'd have to take a new air-charge from the tank then."

  "But for Heaven's sake, why?"

  I spoke gruffly into my helmet mike. "Don't ask childish questions! His breathing air is simply used up, don't you get it? With dysentery and a broken down sanitary pack, what do you get? It's alright, Lloyd, blow out your suit. Normally your oxygen supply is good for eight days, Terra time. Set yourself up for only 4 days more and you'll make it. So let it go—get rid of that poisoned air!"

  I helped him to open the control valve on the back of his helmet. The pressure sank rapidly. When the gauge reached the danger mark I released fresh oxygen from the high-pressure tank into his regenerator circuit. These containers made of light Arkonide steel had a 10,000-pound test strength.

  Rhodan scolded bitterly to himself. It wasn't Lloyd that got to him but the general situation.

  I cut in sarcastically: "Strange that you should be cussing now. Is it possible in all of your frolicsome space conquests you may not have run into a situation like this? You're going to run into some setbacks after all that beginner's luck of yours or my name isn't Atlan—since I do happen to know something about the galaxy, my friend!"

  "Hold your tongue, Arkonide!"

  "Not yet. You'd better see to it that you get back into this tunnel. I'm telling you that a Druuf ship could land out there any minute!"

  He said nothing more since there was nothing more to say. But then I saw him dashing with amazing speed out of the shadows. A brilliant glow of light had appeared in the dark sky.

  "He knows no fear but run he can," I murmured to myself.

  Lloyd laughed restrainedly. I found him very likeable. Rhodan staggered up to the fissure, panting hard, and I yanked him through without ceremony. His face was bathed in sweat. With a touch of my finger I shut off his transmitter.

  Minutes later bright sunlight flashed from a jet-black monster of a ship that sank toward the ground on flaming pillars of impulse energy. We could clearly hear the deep thundering of its engines and the impact of its retro-thrust caused the mountains to tremble. I looked with concern at the wall reinforcement of our excavation but none of it showed the slightest crack from the strain.

  As the Druuf ship entered the shadow of the Hope Mountains, it could only be seen in silhouette. They had landed in the twilight zone, just as we had expected them to. No rational beings would have set themselves down in the direct sunlight.

  "Just right!" said Rhodan softly but our helmets were so close that I heard him. "Now they'll have a look around."

  I had a look myself but at the multiple meter device on my wrist. The sun's rays had completely engulfed our location. Within a few minutes the temperature had risen to 150°F. Outside it must have soared much higher.

  Our protective spacesuits were designed to withstand more than 900° of heat, due to a high rate of reflection plus the efficiency of our air-conditioning units. However, if it became much hotter, our defense screens would have to be turned on and there was little doubt that the generator fields would lead to detection by means of energy tracers. I hoped we wouldn't have to use them. It was bad enough for the micro-reactors to just be generating the normal current demands.

  Fellmer Lloyd bent over under a new attack. In his condition he was of little practical use as a telepath. I followed Rhodan's gaze but the green signal lamp on the matter transmitter was still not activated. We exchanged significant glances. What had happened to the California? Had she gotten through? If so, why hadn't the Drusus put in an appearance yet?

  With slow deliberation Rhodan drew his impulse beamer from the holster at his belt. When the weapon's red charge lamp came on I knew that that he was not inclined to go into Druuf imprisonment without a fight. But then we were not at all certain as to whether or not these creatures even took prisoners.

  During the great Methane War of 10,000 years ago, very few prisoners were taken. Neither of the contenders had the means to provide the proper life-support conditions for a conquered enemy. If the methane breathers had breathed oxygen, or we methane, it might
have been easier. But that was another matter.

  We waited. The half-rounded bow was all that could clearly be seen of the vessel where its 1000-foot hull towered up out of the twilight zone into the dark sky. The Druuf marauder stood on wide-spread retractible tail-fins which had evidently been extended just prior to landing.

  "I'd give a lot to see their hyper-drive setup," said Rhodan calmly.

  The Barbarian bad nerves of steel! At the moment I couldn't have cared less about their engines. The issue here was survival, which was once described by a wise man as the 'art' of intelligence. And of survival I wasn't so sure, although I imagined myself to have a modicum of intelligence.

  There was still nothing moving out there on the broad plain. The more intensely we watched, the more the outlines of the alien ship seemed to emerge from the shadows of the twilight zone. Our eyes were gradually adjusting to the strange light conditions.

  Fellmer Lloyd was only half conscious. His last attack had just about broken him down. Where the enemy was concerned, Rhodan's telepathic faculty was too weak to obtain any definite impressions. He of course 'listened' for the Druufs in deep concentration but he could not get any identifiable reading out of the brainwaves he did detect.

  "In any case," he announced after awhile, "they are completely inhuman. I can't unscramble any of it. When are they ever going to come out?"

  They emerged a quarter of an hour later, probably after having carefully scanned their surroundings with tracing and sensing equipment. They were using their brains, alright, or they wouldn't have thought of sparing themselves the hazards of trekking across the sunlit area on foot. All we saw was a number of flat, elliptically shaped vehicles which apparently moved over the ground on some sort of magnetic repulsion cushions. There were no wheels or tractor belts to be seen.

  Which served to convince me again that these creatures were backed up by a tremendous technology. Naturally they knew what to expect from any environment in their own solar system, so they were capable of applying whatever equipment was suitable to the applicable circumstance.

  We held our breaths as three of these gliders moved slowly across toward our fissure. I noticed revolving antenna and the red glow of camera lenses which obviously were part of an optical viewing system.

  We covered them with our weapons until they passed our position. Three hours later the alien ship lifted off with a thunderous roar. After the last sound had faded away I heaved a mighty sigh of relief. Rhodan replaced the gun in his holster.

  "OK, so much for that," he said. "They won't come again. If I were in their shoes it probably wouldn't have occurred to me, either, that the stronghold of an alien race was more or less sitting right under my nose. Such an unheard of insolence would be a bit hard to imagine, don't you think?"

  Of course I could certainly agree with him on that point!

  The next thing we did was to check the mutant's condition. His air was getting foul again. This was going to use up his oxygen at a faster rate. We looked wistfully at the transmitter but the green lamp hadn't come on yet. It meant that nobody had activated a receiving chamber for us so far.

  I finally went across to the landing area where the Druuf ship had been, hoping that I might find some items of abandoned equipment.

  Other than a glassy patch of ground that was still glowing from heat, there was nothing to be seen.

  8/ MONSTER WORLD

  Three 24-hour periods went by while we waited, half drowsing in our sleeplessness, hoping for a signal from the transmitter. Nothing but the longed-for glow of the indicator lamp could satisfy our burning desire now.

  But on top of it we had Lloyd's illness to face. Although it was only an indirect threat to his life, it weighed constantly upon us. His air-pressure had to be renewed too often. We had found no way of recycling the poisonous gases. Even the air regenerator system had not been designed for such cases, which was unquestionably an oversight in the construction of this type of space-suit.

  Fellmer Lloyd had enough oxygen for just about 12 more hours. If by that time he was not able to get out of his suit, he'd have to be given up for lost.

  Then, at an unsuspected moment, the panel lamps on the transmitter started to flicker. In a matter of seconds they were glowing with such bold clarity that it seemed they had never been dark!

  We did not hesitate long. If the Drusus had finally broken through, then certainly not a moment was to be wasted. Rhodan and I jumped up quickly from our makeshift sleeping mats which we had put together from leftover packing materials. Lloyd lay apathetically at our feet. His face was pale and drawn. He seemed to have lost his last spark of energy.

  "Lloyd, on your feet!" Rhodan yelled at him. "Lloyd, the lights are on! The Drusus has opened a receiver channel—come on!"

  Then Lloyd demonstrated that from time to time a human being can call upon tremendous reserves within himself. It was as though an unused miracle engine had awakened in him, drawing upon some mysterious source of power. Suddenly his eyes became much clearer. Behind his faceplate I could see a hard-drawn face with deep lines between the eyes and the mouth.

  "Ok," he said simply. He was at a peak of concentration, pouring every last strength he had into this one moment.

  We didn't have to help him. He sprang lightly to his feet and moved to the rear of the tunnel, where the high-precision transmitter almost touched the ceiling. Rhodan had already set the power supply into operation. We had made all preparations. There were just a few more controls to manipulate in order to have the equipment fully activated.

  The transport coordinates were calculated to the last decimal point. During the past three days we had monitored and made corrections for the incoming data affected by energy and gravitic displacements between the two universes.

  Rhodan was the first to walk onto the metal platform between the circular grating bars. The latter towered high above our heads to give support to the coppery shining canopy. From this parabolic surface overhead the dematerializing force field would descend upon us. With trembling hands I shoved Lloyd's feet into the contact grips of the deck cleats. Then with the touch of my hand I closed the entrance.

  Now it dawned on me why the transmitter was specially equipped with its own built-in power source. In our case we wouldn't have had any other energy plant at our disposal.

  Rhodan connected the first-stage circuits. It only took a few moments before a gentle hum in the yard-thick base of the platform rose to a raging thunder. A pale-red wall of energy glided down the grating bars to join the glowing force field at the base pole.

  We could still think, talk and feel—but in the moment before the start of a transmitter jump one's rationality becomes clouded over by uncontrollable fears welling up from the depths of the unconscious. One's individual sensitivities tend to fight against dematerialization. The stronger the instinct of self-preservation, the easier it is overcome by the process.

  We held Lloyd between us. The glowing force field around us seemed to be like the gaping maw of Hell. Rhodan was exceptionally calm. I strove to maintain my own presence of mind. I had never before experienced a transmitter jump across two light-years-at least not in equipment that had been built on Earth.

  I was thinking of the instability of the Druuf universe. If we had suffered so much from a normal hypertransition, what would be the effect of this physical-mechanical method of transportation? Rhodan seemed to be thinking the same thing. Whenever his face was as expressionless as it was now, it meant that he was brooding over very grave considerations.

  The bell signal sounded three seconds later. To me the ringing notes seemed to last for an eternity. Lloyd was staring at me. The dark eyes in his hard-chiseled face glowed like a pair of burning coals. He seemed to pull himself together with all his remaining strength.

  I attempted to smile but failed. Since the transmission release button was on my side of the cage, I depressed it with my thumb.

  My last fleeting concern was for the transmitter's enormous energy out
put. It could not be detected with normal hypersensors. But if anyone had meanwhile developed a suitable instrument...

  The pains of dematerialization struck us so penetratingly that I even heard my own outcry. It was as though a surgeon had begun to operate before the anaesthetic had taken effect. I had one last impression of Rhodan's tense figure. At the moment of the beginning transmission, his body had become angular and widely distorted. Then all I could sense was the burning pain. It was due to the Druuf continuum, which apparently had not yet stabilized itself completely.

  Finally there was nothing more. Perhaps my sensitive nerve tissues had finally dissolved. It was a physical fact, actually, that when one's organism was resolved into its separate atoms one shouldn't be aware of the slightest sensation. So the resultant effects were all the more incredible. I seemed to fall away into a phosphorescent spiral of fire.

  • • •

  The burning and pulling in every nerve fiber seemed to have also been transported. When the rematerialization started in the receiver chamber, a remnant of the dissolution sensation lingered within the new experience of the return shock. Although I was now a physical entity again, I couldn't see. Nor could I hear the expected sounds of the receiver transmitter—not even the dying hum of the collapsing force fields. Either we'd already been standing on the platform for some time in a semi-unconscious state or there was something wrong with the equipment.

  At any rate I could move my hands and arms. I groped about me, at the same time becoming aware that somebody was trying to get hold of me. The hand that gripped me was that of Fellmer Lloyd. It was a firm grip, so I knew that he, too, was getting back into some kind of shape. A red haze undulated before my eyes. I was gradually coming to hate that color.

  Then I thought I heard shoutings and loud yelling. It was some time before I made out my name in the vague tumult. Right after that I also began to see. Lloyd's face loomed out of the nebulous haze. Then I recognized Rhodan, who was sitting on the platform deck, groping uncertainly for the fastener cleats on his feet.