by Perry Rhodan
"O.K. Let's blast off! Are you done with your operations, Tifflor?"
Tiff, who had just reentered the command center after hastily changing uniforms, tensely gave his confirmation. If none of the others had the faintest notion that they were on the brink of a deadly serious contest—he was sensing it.
• • •
Exactly 30 minutes earlier the little K7 was shot into free space through the field of the funnel in the energy dome. The monitoring station on Mars reported that Deringhouse accelerated at 300 miles per second according to plan bringing him in 10 minutes time close to the velocity of light.
When the first report of the automatic sensor station on Jupiter's moon Callisto came in, he had already reached that speed.
Rhodan had taken the seat of the First Astronaut. Far below him vibrated the titanic machines of the superbattleship Stardust II of the Arkonide Imperium class, the sphere of which measured half a mile. There were never bigger or more powerful battleships built in the stellar empire of the planet Arkon. It was a story in itself how Rhodan had succeeded in capturing the spaceship. "Start in 20 seconds," he announced on the telecom.
On the large screen of the circular observation system gleamed the hulls of the two heavy cruisers Terra and Solar System .
On the dot the three mightiest spaceships of the New Power lifted off the ground. Despite the fact that Rhodan ordered minimal acceleration until they reached the ionosphere, the city of Terrania not far from the spaceport was shaken in its foundations as if its last hour had come. It had never happened before that the three giants had blasted off together into the sky.
Beyond the Earth's atmosphere the formation went full speed ahead. It followed exactly the course taken by Deringhouse.
"Battle alert for all units!" This command was issued after they crossed the orbit of Mars. The highly specialized men of the crew looked at each other. The "old man" had spoken in such an impassive tone.
"If the fireworks don't begin to pop in 15 hours latest, I'll walk home on foot," one of the engineers in the machine control center of the cruiser Solar System swore.
One thousand feet above him Perry Rhodan turned to the mutant John Marshall. "Did you make contact,
John?" he inquired tersely.
Marshall twisted his face into a smile. "Terrible!" he groaned. "The kid is radiating like an atomic superbomb. I can hardly block out his vibrations."
"Nevertheless you've got to keep tuned in on him. It's essential that we can locate Tifflor any time without any other technical means. I hope you'll soon get used to these para-impulses. It's an absolute must."
Reginald Bell occupied the seat of the Second Astronaut as usual. He made a wry mouth. Before him on the immense observation screen Jupiter came into view as a narrow crescent. They were to pass the planet at a close distance.
"I feel like a heel," he reproached himself. "It would've been our duty to inform him about the implant."
Rhodan's face looked earnest. Sombre thoughts furrowed his brow. Intercosmic space began beyond the orbit of the transplutonian planet. If anything happened it must take place soon.
"A knowledge of these matters would cost him his life. Perhaps I should say,could cost his life."
"Are you expecting an attack from strangers?"
Rhodan nodded silently. When Pluto was clearly discernible, the Chief of the New Power concluded:
"I've got a premonition that they'll seize the K7 because they suspect Tifflor to be there. Our hints were very slight but keen observers and clever brains will be able to follow through. Everson hasn't been molested. He's already in the Vega system."
"A bold guess," Bell laughed cheerlessly. "What if our unknown enemies don't have the logic you're crediting them with? Then your little scheme will fall through and our cosmic decoy will lure them in vain."
"Wait and see! We'll face it after we pass Pluto. It'll be our responsibility to show up at the right time. Pass the word that we must be ready for our manoeuvres after we reach the path of Uranus. If necessary we'll perform a short transition. I want to know who's after us. Tifflor will give a good account of himself. I'm convinced that I haven't chosen a weakling. That'll be all."
Bell closed his mouth, which he'd already opened. He knew the expression on Rhodan's face only too well.
Perry glanced at the lean tall figure of the man who was born fax from Terra. Khrest, the incomparable scientist from the Arkonide empire, had brought mankind not only superior technology but also true knowledge. His nearly white hair shone in the light of the numerous picture screens. He nodded quietly and solemnly. If anyone was in a position to find out who it was they were searching for in deep space, it was Khrest, the descendant of an age-old ruling dynasty.
The Arkonides had already established their stellar empire at a time when the Earthlings still dwelled in eaves. Now man had grown up. With his innate energy and daring confidence he ventured into faraway domains that would have remained forbidden to him for many hundreds of years without the superlative knowledge of the Arkonides.
Rhodan waved quickly to the man who so much resembled a Terranian. In the meantime the three ship
units underwent preparations for a short but vehement manoeuvre. "I'm going to nail them down, you can depend on that," Rhodan whispered. "I'll never allow them to ruin what we've build up with so much hard work. I won't be afraid to take the greatest risks, for the sake of mankind."
5/ The Ship From—Outside
The sun had become a pale spot. Pluto, the next to outermost planet of the solar system, didn't receive very much light from the lifegiving source.
The frozen world of the planet could not be seen on the observation screens of the K7 racing by with nearly the speed of light. At this time Pluto's position was on the other side of the sun. Therefore, Conrad Deringhouse had to forego making contact with the automatic station located there.
Fifteen minutes before the stereo compensators had run through the comparative measurements required for the transition.
The 12 cadets on board in addition to the regular crew had performed all the operations that were normally executed by experienced astronauts and technicians. The candidates were, of course, under close supervision and the strictest control was exercised. The final test required everything a graduate astronaut had to know and the instructors of the New Power never tolerated reckless behavior.
This was especially true in the case of an FTL jump where the slightest miscalculation could lead to a catastrophe.
None of the men on board except two had an inkling that this particular transition was not exactly critical. Naturally the commander desired to jump with precision, if he had to jump at all. In this case it was only necessary that they actually reach the Vega system.
Deringhouse and Rous were the two people whose tension was growing by the minute. They went through the entire range of emotions, which found expression in their faces despite their self-control.
Julian Tifflor was perhaps the only other man—beside the two who were in on the secret—who suspected the anxious thoughts behind the raised brow of Deringhouse.
Cadets like Eberhardt and Hifield took it for granted that the growing disquietude of the commander was caused by the transition to be executed by the students. Indeed it was nervewracking for experienced space pilots to let such young men take the fate of valuable ships in their hands.
Although they had taken part in many supralightspeed leaps, they never had the responsibility of transacting it by themselves. This made a little difference; even Hifield admitted that much. It was comparable to the first solo flight of bygone times. Such tests could fray their nerves no matter how perfectly they mastered the subject.
Considering the relatively small distance to the Vegan sun a direct jump on the basis of optical observations was feasible. The velocity of the star itself was negligible in relation to the short time of the transition.
Tifflor, undisputedly the best mathematician of the Space Academy, was assigned to
operate during the last hour the astronautical computer which had to determine the final corrections for the departure data. The necessary input data were obtained from the upper pole cupola where comparative measurements were continually recorded automatically.
The large central computer brain on vessels like the Good Hope had the function of transmitting the semi-automatic programming of corrections to the drive engines that finally had to actuate the course corrections.
The K7 reverberated from the deep roar of the impulse-converter. The power generators were running at a much lower sound level.
"Ready for maximum thrust! Ready for injection of booster fuel mass!" Deringhouse advised the technical control center.
There skilled men were supervising the controls. Only after all figures had been checked with utmost precision were the engineering candidates permitted to activate the crucial impulse.
"All clear in the Technical Center!" the voice came back from the depths of the hull. "Booster mass five seconds before transition manoeuvre."
Tifflor listened to the various reports. He didn't know exactly why Deringhouse and Rous became more apprehensive all the time but he had noticed with surprise that the highly efficient rangefinder section of the K7 had received orders two hours ago to double its guard.
There the telecom sensors and structural change instruments were attended by some of the most outstanding radio technicians of the fleet. The aggregates functioned with speeds surpassing light which was indispensable due to the extremely rapid flight acceleration of the K7.
Any traditional method of locating objects was totally inadequate.
Tiff listened to the muffled thunder of the drive engines installed in the bulge around the equatorial circumference. This was a typical method of construction on Arkon that had considerable advantages over other arrangements. Primarily the volume of the main module was more efficiently utilized. Furthermore, the reversal of the jets in braking manoeuvres proved to be much less complicated than in vehicles with engines at the rear.
These and many other thoughts flitted through Tiff's mind. He performed his calculations in a virtually somnambulant state.
When the red lamp began to light up he reported via telecom.
"Thirteen minutes to go to manoeuvre. Counter is running."
Deringhouse turned his head and studied the illuminated diagram screen of the cosmorobot. The data were right on.
It was odd that Rous glanced at his plain wristwatch, which was pitifully inaccurate for the purpose. Tiff was seized by a vague creeping feeling.
Spellbound, he stared at the two pilots. Deringhouse had not yet unlocked the red contact switch in the right armrest of his chair. As long as it was protected by the transparent cover, there could be no thought of giving the decisive impulse for the transition.
Of course it was unnecessary and it would've been careless to remove the safety cover 13 minutes before the actual manoeuvre. Nevertheless Tiff couldn't help an inexplicable feeling that it would have been better in the interest of the K7 to release the safety lock.
Mulling over his thoughts pro and con, the counter showed that the 13th minute had elapsed. There were 12 minutes left to the transition. The millisecond countdown was to begin at 60 seconds when every fraction of a second mattered. A minuscule shift of the push impulse could have disastrous and uncontrollable consequences. More than one Arkonide vessel had vanished without a trace in hyperspace.
At exactly 6.53 seconds after the count of 12 minutes a report came through that jarred Major Deringhouse's body into tension. Rous' head whirled around.
"Rangefinder Section!" it burst from the loudspeaker. "Unidentified object in green sector 45.3 degrees, vertical displacement green 18.6 degrees. Distance zero point eight by body sensors. Velocity of foreign body close to light barrier. Structure analysis inconclusive, probably metal alloy."
Deringhouse didn't say a word. This was quite unusual. His attitude was extremely objective despite the wide grin on his lips. At such times the young major showed a certain resemblance to Perry Rhodan. They were in that envied class of men who were without nerves at the moment they faced danger.
Tiff held his breath. He thought that the metal capsule hidden in his breast pocket would crush his ribs.
Eberhardt's mouth was agape as he wondered about the strange reaction of the commander. Hifield had turned pale. His eyes wandered back and forth between the two men in authority.
After the second report of the sensors was related with improved accuracy and further details despite the great distance, Deringhouse slowly rose from his pilot seat as if he were only getting a cup of coffee from the dispenser. Everybody watched him as he switched on the radio transceiver in his bulging helmet.
"Sergeant Rous, take over the ship!" he said crisply through the mike of the radio helmet. "All men on board activate own transceivers! Technical Control! Abandon manoeuvre stations. Cancel injection of booster mass. Make ship ready for battle action!"
Rous knifed down the main switch of the automatic transition control. The central computer brain whirred to standstill. The laborious calculations for the impending manoeuvre had become superfluous with one stroke. The counter in Tiffs cosmoautomatic was arrested. It switched instantaneously over to the positronic fire control. As soon as the battle alarm was sounded the ship became a beehive of activity. The crew hurried to put on their spacesuits which were mandatory in such a case.
Tiff's fingers worked with dreamlike perfection. He didn't remember how often they had practiced getting quickly into the protective suits that were always kept within reach.
The magnetic locks snapped shut. Control lights signaled the activation of the life-supporting systems. Suddenly Tifflor thought he knew why the commander had ordered the replacement of their harmless training weapons with the real thing back when they traversed the orbit of Mars. Something was in the wind and—to all appearances—it had been expected all along.
Tiff dashed to his station. Automatically controlled gun-turrets rose through the heretofore smooth and spotless outer hull of the K7. Separate energy sources started up in the unmanned armored mounts. The energyfield projectors began to work with a muffled din. They consumed almost all the energy of the ship's power stations.
The spaceship that had just now been on the verge of a peaceful hypertransition had turned into a fighting machine with sharp teeth and studded with guns.
The K7 could not be compared with the heavy cruiser of the fleet, let alone the superbattleship Stardust II Nevertheless, Perry Rhodan had attacked an entire space armada with a 200 foot ship of this class and created appalling havoc among his opponents. Deringhouse fleetingly remembered breaking through the battle lines of the reptilian Topides. There the old Good Hope had proved its mettle, belying its relatively moderate size.
Deringhouse gave instructions to refrain from closing the spherical helmets at this time. In case of pressure loss they would automatically shut tight anyway.
His helmet dangled on his backpack with the oxygen and power supply. The robot fighter commando marched into the control center. From the airlocks came the all clear for the special Arkonide taskforce machines.
Deringhouse had firmly planted his feet behind the empty seat of the first pilot. Sergeant Rous had taken over the controls.
Tifflor noticed the questioning look of Cadet Klaus Eberhardt whose pale face protruded from the collaring of his protective suit.
Tiff shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly. A blunt curse coming from Hifield was audible in radio helmets.
"Attention! This is not an exercise, I repeat—this is not an exercise!" the commander announced. "The transition has been postponed. New calculations will be required later for your test. I want to make clear that the sudden appearance of a spaceship in the vicinity of the solar system is—because it doesn't belong to the New Power—sufficient reason to delay a hyperjump that can be repeated any time. The K7 has twice its regular complement on board. The cadets will have an opp
ortunity to demonstrate their aptitude during the imminent action. I'm interested in finding out what the foreign object is."
"A meteor or a comet?" a high voice piped up.
"Such bodies usually don't move with a speed approaching light," Deringhouse lectured without asking who had spoken.
Tiff was one of the few on board who failed to be amused. Something was going on here that Deringhouse couldn't or wouldn't mention.
The major threw up his left hand and gave a signal with his fingers for which the man at the hyper-radio seemed to have waited. The coordinated bars of light on the adjustment scale indicated clearly that the powerful directional antenna on top of the upper pole cupola was pointing to Terra.
Tiff observed that the radio technician quickly transmitted an evidently prearranged signal. He noted
that any verbal communication—though it would have been feasible—was avoided. The short message was probably also strictly coded.
There seemed to be no reply coming back but Tifflor assumed that the trained specialists had impatiently waited for the signal. His throat began to feel dry again, a sure sign of the high degree of his excitement.
Deringhouse caught the desperate look of the young cadet. He stared at him till one of his eyelids twitched. Tiff was finally able to swallow again. He had a premonition of what was in the offing although he had not been informed of the emergence of unknown intelligent beings. However he was acutely aware that a serious game was about to enter a decisive phase.
Why didn't Deringhouse call the Chief? Rhodan could have arrived in no time with heavy battleships. The whole matter seemed baffling.
Deringhouse shooed away one of the other cadets of the final class from the massive swivel chair of the fire control officer. The entire firepower of the K7 was here concentrated in a few buttons and levers.
Now even the men of the regular crew were astounded. What could impel the commander to assume personally the duty of the gunner?
