Between The Galaxies

by Perry Rhodan

This time it took Eric a while longer because he was somewhat perplexed and confused. His hands seemed to grope aimlessly over the keyboard of the control panel. He preset a few buttons, then canceled with a correction switch, but finally he found what he wanted. The frequency pattern of the answer appeared on the oscilloscope screen, which was connected with the Com Room.

  Ron watched the fragmented space monster tensely, knowing that the aliens there would have to receive this answer. Since the message was structured in their own code they wouldn't take long in deciphering it. So what would they do now?

  Ron was often to recall later how startled and surprised he was to get the first reaction from an entirely unexpected source.

  While he was still staring at the viewscreen the hatch door opened behind him. Meech was the only one who noticed it and he shouted a warning. Ron whirled around, noting out of a corner of his eye that Eric Furchtbar threw himself to one side.

  Of course he didn't think that would help him much. Through the bulkhead opening surged a tidal wave of blood-red brilliance that filled the room almost at once with a suffocating heat.

  • • •

  It was strange how silently the ambush happened. After Meech's warning cry the first thing Ron heard was the breaking of glassite meter and indicator faceplates under the blistering heat. Synthetic glass splinters were falling to the floor like hail. Meech raised his heavy disintegrator and in an almost instantaneous movement he brought the destroying green energy beam into play. It sang out with an irresistible force against the red wall of fire.

  The effect was seen immediately. The scarlet flame drew back, forming an indentation before the impact

  of Meech's ray. To the right and left of that cleft, the outer arms of the flame came to a momentary halt but then they crept forward again. Ron also started firing. The considerably finer beam of his hand weapon struck the left wing of the flame front and at first it seemed that he wasn't stopping it in the least. But then the progress of the heat flood became slower, and after a while it came to a stop completely.

  Now Eric Furchtbar came into the battle, aiming the beam of his disintegrator at the righthand front of the flame. However small his weapon, it made the difference. The red fire receded, at first slowly; then it flowed back with increasing speed, finally disappearing through the hatchway. The door could no longer close because it had ceased to exist. The fire had consumed it.

  Ron got to his feet, now feeling the full impact of the terrible heat, to which he had been exposed for several minutes. His skin was burning and he could only move very slowly. Wherever his metal armor touched his clothing it burned a hole and brought blisters to his hide..

  Eric had more freedom of movement because he wasn't wearing a coat of mail. He was able to jump up without pain and get to the control panel. The most unscathed of course was Meech. Heat did not affect him unless it exceeded 1000? Centigrade. His first glance was at the viewscreen. Since he saw Ron was slow to turn about he reported.

  "The alien ship has not moved from its position, sir!"

  Ron's metallic armor was rapidly losing its heat. He finally managed to face the screen again, which was apparently the only equipment in the control room that was still functioning. Its covering glassite plate was thicker than the others. Also, it had been the farthest removed from the reddish heat glow.

  Meech was right. The strange ship was still in the same place. Ron suddenly comprehended. It wasn't the strangers out there who had attacked them but the invisible phantoms here on board the station. The red fire weapon was proof enough of that. It all came clear to him. The invisibles had the com Room under their control. They must have noted that the station had sent out two messages in short succession, which contained the same set of signals. Perhaps they knew the enemy code. Then they would know, of course, that their enemy regarded himself as a "true life form" and would only be a friend of those who were living entities like themselves.

  The situation was not without its humorous irony. Ron himself had approved a confirmation of the alien question. But while he had sought to satisfy one enemy he alienated the other. Because apparently the invisibles hated anything that was "true life" like their enemy, with whom they had been waging war out between the stellar islands.

  They had observed the arrival of the alien ship the same as the Terrans had, up in the control room. When the question was transmitted again and confirmed once more in the same format, they had sought to retaliate. When a mighty enemy ship was outside they couldn't afford also to have enemies right under their noses on board the station.

  What would they do now? Their at tack had been repulsed. It looked as if they knew of no weapon that could stand up against a Terran disintegrator. Would they try it again? Perhaps at a point in time when they figured the Terrans would have their attention focused elsewhere. Ron decided to keep his eyes open. But first of all that angular ship out there was the most important consideration. It appeared to be much deadlier than the red fire weapon of the phantoms.

  Ron observed that in the meantime his armor had cooled off enough for him to move about without being agonized.

  He sent Meech outside the room to stand guard because he didn't want to be surprised again. Meech obeyed willingly. Ron and Eric concentrated their attention on the viewscreen.

  After a few minutes the nightmarish ship began to move. It was a breathtaking experience to watch the vast, angular edges and corners of the monster as they ran off the limits of the big screen and finally left them facing a metal wall with its hundreds of outcroppings and corners and niches and turrets.

  "They're coming over" said Eric.

  The thought sent a chill through Ron but his voice was steady when he answered. "That's just what we're waiting for."

  There was nothing more he could say. There was no other purpose to their vigilance here. Yet he had hardly spoken before he realized there was a possibility he hadn't thought of until now. It was the possibility, in fact, that the phantoms might know how to operate the BOB 21's gun positions.

  • • •

  There was no doubt anymore that they knew how.

  A pale blue shimmer of battle rays swept across the viewscreen. The broad, canted surface of the ship wall out there flared suddenly with an unreal, flickering light.

  Defense screens, thought Ron. Naturally they would have powerful defense screens.

  Forgetting his own situation, Ron watched the battle in fascination. The crossing ray beams were coming from at least two of the station's gun turrets. The phantoms were handling the weapons with maximum expertise. With apparent ease they brought 5 pale green disintegrator beams together over the surface of the angular ship. The enemy defense screen glowed white hot. A jerking pattern of yellow and rose-colored lightwaves traveled over the steep wall. It seemed as if the screen hadn't been ready for such a tremendous load all at once.

  At the same time Ron could see that the brilliant beams of the thermo cannons were no match for the ungainly looking monster. The defense screen glowed faintly where the thermo rays struck it. There was no jerking wave pattern of lights as a consequence. Yet the average power of the thermo cannons was much greater than that of the disintegrators.

  Ron was so gripped by the unusual spectacle that he only thought of his own position when the misshapen vessel opened its counter-offensive. It was hard to tell exactly what was happening. Something seemed to come between the canted wall of the ship and the viewscreen—like a thin curtain of heated air, dancing and shimmering.

  In the next instant such a terrific jolt ran through the station that Ron and Eric were knocked off their feet. The deck of the control room slanted suddenly and the two men slid helplessly toward the open hatchway. The full realization of their danger came to Ron now. The BOB 21's screen weren't the strongest available by any means, even though the invisibles may have reinforced them. Who could know what reserves of power the odd-angled alien Behemoth possessed?

  The shock of the impact ebbed away in receding wav
es of force. When Ron got to his feet again he saw the deadpan "helmet" face of Meech looking in through the hatchway.

  "To the transmitters!" Ron shouted.

  "Check the route for any resistance!" Meech complied immediately and went ahead. Ron helped Eric to his feet and by the time they got out into the corridor their robot companion was nowhere to be seen.

  "Come on!" Ron urged. "We have to get out of here. Those idiots in the gun bays—they're not going to accomplish anything except get this station blown up by that flying fortress!"

  As they staggered through the passage a second great jolt struck the defense screen and caused the deck under them to sway. The walls and bulkheads groaned under the strain. The fragmented ship's giant salvos were too powerful for the screen to even absorb the mechanical impact.

  The dark opening of the antigrav shaft loomed closer and finally Ron simply shoved Eric in ahead of him. Before following him he took one last look around. No sign of the phantoms. There was no red fire now. The invisibles had their hands full to just stay alive.

  They sank downward on the grav field into the lower depths. Once Ron caught a glimpse of Meech peeking up from an exit below. Apparently he saw the two of them because when they came out on the transmitter deck he had already gone ahead to clear the way and give them coverage.

  Unchallenged, they reached the station where the transmitter cages were showing green lights already. So far everything was in order. But at that moment the BOB 21 received another hit, and this time the effects were much worse.

  Ron had a strange sensation which made it seem as if the room was spinning around him. His helmet, shoulders, arms and legs crashed against the walls. He was bounced back and forth but finally came to rest in a fairly benumbed state.

  Nearby, somebody groaned. Eric!

  Ron got up and saw Eric lying by a wall with his eyes closed. He had evidently been knocked out. He grasped him under the arms and dragged him to the nearest sender cage. With one hand he tried to open the wire-mesh door of the cubicle. He shoved down the lock handle and pulled on it but the door didn't budge.

  He stared in puzzlement at the control lamp and saw that it had gone out. The power had been interrupted. The transmitters weren't operating now. For a moment he was seized by a rising panic until he noticed that the other cage was apparently unimpaired. The green indicator lamp was still on. Laboriously, he dragged Eric across a space of 4 meters, and this time the cage door opened for him at once. Ron shoved Eric's long, limp body inside and arranged it so that he could close the door.

  Then he ran to the switchboard, pulled down the start lever and depressed the release button. A gentle mist appeared in the cage and then was gone. So was Eric—to safety.

  Ron remained by the switch panel. "Meech!" he called. "Come here!" Out in the corridor was a clattering, rumbling sound of metallic footsteps. Before Meech came into view, Ron heard him answering.

  "Get into the transmitter, sir! The next hit can—"

  Just then it came. The aliens in the giant ship seemed to be building a learning curve with their shooting.

  Each hit was more dangerous to the station than the previous one. All around Ron a pit of Hell seemed to open up with blinding flashes, biting odors and a raging hissing and deafening thunder. He was knocked back and forth helplessly, feeling numb and weary. He tried to resist the spasmodic jolting and jerking movement of his surroundings but not a muscle of his body seemed to respond.

  When the tumult subsided, he lay still. He was hardly aware of being lifted up. Vaguely he heard a few blurred clinking sounds and the buzzing and slamming of a door that seemed to be made of wire mesh. For the moment he didn't know what it was. For a few seconds more he was lying on a deck, unmoving. Then a sharp pain shot through him and momentarily there was nothing but darkness around him.

  Finally, it was bright again. Ron's curiosity brought back his ability to move and he raised up swiftly. A cage door opened before him. Beyond it was the transmitter room on board the cruiser Joann .

  Meech! Where was Meech?

  • • •

  Meech hadn't considered his chances to be too slim. Not so slim that he couldn't stay with the station a few more minutes to see what happened.

  He knew no emotion of fear. If he were to have been provided with a special program for showing fear in expression and movement, this would have been no great difficulty, but he still wouldn't have understood the meaning of it.

  He went out of the transmitter station but made sure that the hatch door stayed open. He didn't dare leave the remaining sender cage out of his sight. In fact the only reason he came this far away from it was to escape the interference caused by the radiations from the transmitter generator. He wanted to be able to follow the activity of the gun positions and perhaps pick up a few other signals as well. He didn't believe that the phantoms were exclusively engaged in shooting at the crooked giant outside. They had a powerful sending station at their disposal. At least it had been powerful before the angular monster ship had started firing.

  Meech could tell that three of the gun positions were highly active. The energy fields radiating from the various heavy weapons were so strong that they almost gave him a headache. The station received a fourth and a fifth hit. Meech held on to the bulkhead opening and thanks to his tremendous strength he didn't lose his footing - even though the BOB 21 did a double somersault.

  He looked concernedly at the one remaining transmitter inside the room. The control lamp was still on but it was flickering. He told himself it was time. If they didn't start signaling in the next few seconds....

  That's when they started.

  Meech could detect it plainly. Above the raging influx from the guns he sensed the even cadence of frequencies from the big hyper-telecom transmitter. He stood there quietly and took in the wave pattern of it, storing it in his memory. The carrier wave and the modulations combined. He kept listening until he was sure that it was only a repetition of the starting information.

  Then he left his listening post. With a mighty grip he opened the door of the remaining transmitter cage, threw himself on the uncomfortable bench inside—which complained under his ponderous weight—and closed the grid door behind him. It was at that moment when the indicator overhead went out. Meech got up calmly, realizing that he only had a few seconds left. If in that brief space of time he failed to get the

  transmitter going he would be just as lost as the invisible aliens on board.

  Inside of each transmitter cage was an auxiliary control panel so that the equipment wasn't solely dependent upon outside operation. Meech ripped off the panel plate, an effort which would have broken the arms or hands of a normal man. But Meech only had to give one firm tug and his task was accomplished. He then divested himself of his outer armor with a few deft movements. With powerful fingers he tore open his uniform and also his own synthetic skin. Underneath was revealed white–gleaming plastic metal. There was a small opening he could reach into, from which he pulled two insulated cables. These he fastened to the control panel's contacts.

  Emotionlessly, he looped up. Two seconds passed, then three... Then the green indicator lamp came on again not especially bright and mostly just flickering. But at any rate, the signal light was on. Meech broke the contact, not bothering to stick the two cables back inside his body. He pressed two knobs on the panel plate... and noted at the same moment that in the ultimate second something had gone wrong.

  This transmitter jump was never going to bring him to the Joann in all of eternity. He realized this automatically when the greyness of semispace welled up around him.

  At least he had escaped the doom in store for the BOB 21.

  • • •

  The incident far beyond the edge of the Milky Way by far outweighed all normal political questions on Terra. A few minutes after Maj. Landry had arrived back on board the Joann , the BOB 21 had exploded under the bombardment of the angular battleship. The Joann had gotten under way at once and flown to t
he site of the catastrophe. When it arrived there was no trace of the big assailant. And since its propulsion system seemed capable of making silent transitions there was no remaining clue as to where it might have gone.

  Nike Quinto virtually stood there with empty hands, which didn't do his so-called blood pressure any good. Besides, a valued member of his commando team had vanished with the BOB 21. Meech Hannigan the robot had not returned from his last mission.

  Quinto beamed a brief report to Earth. Minutes later he received instructions to return to Terra as quickly as possible and to make a personal report to the Administrator.

  Meanwhile, Earth issued a warning to the other intergalactic observation stations. The Fleet units that Quinto had mobilized along the edge of the galaxy, 5000 light years from the position of the BOB 21, were reinforced and sent on patrol. The entire Terran Fleet was on top alert.

  Perry Rhodan received Nike Quinto and his men at once. The debriefing session lasted almost 6 hours and immediately thereafter Rhodan requested the Terran TV networks to give him a half hour timeslot between 20:00 and 20:30, local Terra time.

  His half-hour address was more upsetting yet more objective than the lecture once given by the cosmobiologist 100 years ago. Perry Rhodan established a firm course for extra-terrestrial policy with regard to aliens from intergalactic space.

  He concluded with the words: "We have calculated that ours is not the only island universe that could have produced intelligent life. Anyone with common sense could have foreseen that sooner or later such an encounter would take place. Well, we have that first encounter behind us. And we are appalled by its frightening nature and the utterly alien mode of thinking it has revealed to us."

  "But we will not give rein to our fears in this regard. We've seen that the aliens, to say the least, have a warlike streak in them - if indeed their entire nature and method of thinking isn't committed to war and conquest. So we must arm ourselves, for however pleased we may be to make contact with alien intelligences we shall always protect our position within our own galaxy.