The Target Star Page 2
"Just look at you!" he said in a voice that had no less volume than that of the native Epsalian he had just heard. The bald-headed man was emphatically sarcastic as he stopped before the grease-smeared technician with his fat but mighty arms akimbo. "You go too far with this incognito bit!"
"Hello, Professor," said the blond one. With slow deliberation he removed his cap and ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.
Brazo paled. After his baggage carrier had removed his headgear it only took him a few seconds to recognize Perry Rhodan, the First Administrator of the Solar Empire and Commander-in-Chief. Whirling pinwheels appeared before Brazo's wide-staring eyes. At the same time he felt his legs turn to rubber beneath him. With something like a death-rattle in his throat he gasped, "Excuse me, sir!"
And so it happened that he fell into the arms of the speechless hyper-physicist, Dr. Arno Kalup, the irascible scientist whose name was closely tied to the revolutionary discovery of the so-called hyper-linear space-drive.
Whenever the testpilots and specialists of the "Linear" Command discussed the new-fangled compensating converter, which created compensator fields consisting of 6th-dimensional flux lines. They never bothered with its exact description, which was a tongue-twister. The machine was simply a Kalup Converter—and that just about said it all.
Arno Kalup, the greatest living scientist of the human race, looked down in stupefaction into the deathly pale face of the lieutenant before shouting at him in vexation: "Come on, what's all this? Get hold of yourself, man!" He let him fall roughly to the floor, where the youngster felt even worse.
Two nearby officers caught Rhodan's signal. They came to attention before the Administrator, who gave them a penetrating look. Rhodan's unique sense of humor was known far and wide but this time he seemed to have outdone himself. The two lieutenants of the guard were of different temperaments and physical build but their lips quivered with the same suspicious hint of a smirk. In fact, the smaller of the two had not been able to suppress a tearful glitter of laughter in his eyes.
Brazo straightened up with a groan as Rhodan addressed them pontifically. "Gentlemen, take your colleague with you. Judging from his papers, this young man is that same mad fire-control officer, Brazo Alkher, who managed to cripple two Springer ships in the Orion sector while fighting with badly damaged weapons on the light cruiser Formosa. I'll never figure out how he did it; however, at the moment he happens to be the best heavy ordnance gunner that the Fleet Staff could find. Tell the First Officer to prepare for the swearing-in ceremony. We take off in two hours."
"Could I get a word in here? asked Prof. Kalup with almost ominous forbearance.
"Just a second," Rhodan answered, seeking to appease him, while he turned to a major of the Security Guard and listened to a brief message.
"We have Sgt Rodzyn in the Guard Room, sir," said the major. "Do you still wish to speak to him?"
"I'll be there right away. I was delayed by running into Hard Luck Charlie there." Rhodan indicated Brazo, who was staggering along between the two lieutenants toward the heavy cruiser's ground lock.
After the major went away Rhodan smirked at Kalup while running a hand over his face. "Do I really look that bad? Brazo told me I looked as if I'd been in a pig-pen."
Kalup let out a roar of laughter. His face almost turned blue as he kept on laughing until the sweat stood out on his great bald head. "That's the best joke I've heard all week!" he gasped. "That really takes the prize! I see you have to go, so I'll wait for you on board. What's this sergeant been up to?"
"He discovered a spy in this area."
Kalup's face hardened. "Do you think maybe he had our experimental ship in mind?"
We may never know. The man had a fatal accident. But I'd like to find out whether or not his presence so close to the Linear Station was a coincidence or if there was something more subtle behind his actions. I'm hoping to get more detailed information from this S-Man. Excuse me, Professor, I'll see you in half an hour."
"Just don't trip over another grease-pan," the big scientist called after him jokingly.
Perry Rhodan was laughing when he walked away and passed beneath the ship dock's mammoth timeclock which clicked over one more minute: 13:22 hours, Standard Time, 4 March 2102.
Kalup's massive figure disappeared into the shadows under the special ship. As he looked up be saw the discolored tubes of the impulse jets. For a moment the scientist stood still. He thought back on his developmental work with the linear space-drive, which had first been mentioned by Earth's specialists about 58 years ago. At that time Arno Kalup had just seen the light of day. He had been born when a fleet of mighty ships built by inhuman intelligences had just broken through into the Solar System. The giants from another plane of time had been known as the Druufs. They had possessed this linear drive and humans had appropriated it from them.
(Kalup's researchers had provided the breakthrough) but it had taken almost 57 years to unravel the secrets of the hyper-linear drive.
• • •
"Buddy," said Lt. Stant Nolinow, "you must have the nerves of a robot—which means none at all!"
He stared curiously at Brazo Alkher, who sat on the edge of his bunk looking completely exhausted and close to a nervous breakdown.
"Lay off. will you?" whined Brazo. "How was I supposed to know that Perry Rhodan of all people—"
"OK, OK!" Nolinow interrupted him. You saw a heavy-set man with a dark blond bristly crewcut. "For our next magic act I'm going to have Atlan bring in the chow!"
Mahaut Sikhra suppressed a chuckle. He was leaning his svelte frame against the cabin bulkhead. Suddenly he made a supple movement and walked across to Brazo. He introduced himself. "My friends call me Sik. I head up a Special Duty detail. Stant is Commander of the Robot Troops. If I'm not mistaken, you'll be taking over Fire Control Central."
Brazo shook the young man's hand disconcertedly. "Hiya!" he muttered. "Hey wait a minute! How come I get the Fire Control? Normally that takes the rank of a major or at least a captain."
Mahaut Sikhra shrugged. For Brazo his expression was enigmatical. "On board the Fantasy everything is unusual. Even the ship itself is no ordinary battle wagon. Its strictly experimental."
Brazo's attention came to a new focus. He made a deliberate appraisal of these young officers who all seemed to have special qualifications. "Experimental...?" he echoed thoughtfully. "Hm-m-m ... That explains the beefed-up ring-bulge I noticed over those engines. I was wondering about that."
"Smart boy!" scoffed Nolinow. "You only wondered about it? You may be gaping like the rest of us before long! The Fantasy as a crew and supercargo of special passengers to really go with the name. We're carrying all the elite of the Solar System—from the standpoint of politics, the military, and scientific technology. And all of the legendary Great Old Ones have made a rendezvous here. You know, those said to have achieved a relative immortality from biomedical treatments."
"Stop! I'm getting butterflies in my stomach again!"
Stant yawned and shoved his hands into his uniform pockets. He flopped onto the hydro-pneumatic bunk next to Brazo and stretched out his legs. "But that's not all, brother! Every crewman's been handpicked. An ace in his own specialty. Which makes you one also or you wouldn't have been transferred here. Now does that tell why you were put through the traces?"
Brazo nodded excitedly. There was a new feverish intensity in his eyes. Stant nodded patronizingly. The slender Nepalese, Mahaut Sikhra, spoke briefly via videophone with Control Central.
Then Sikhra turned to Brazo. "In about half an hour you get sworn in. Pretty solemn stuff, I'm telling you."
"Sworn in?"
"Certainly. We're harbingers of the New Humanity, you know, and this ship's crammed with all the Top Secret goodies of the new wave of science. From the outside the Fantasy doesn't look much different from a Terra-class heavy cruiser but wait until you get a load of that power and engine room section, well—just bring your smelling salts!"
Nolinow laughed. "That's understandable, colleague! You know we already have a few test flights behind us here, which Perry Rhodan modestly calls 'short runs'. Those so-called 'short runs' ranged between 3,000 and 10,000 light-years. Kind of a cute understatement, wouldn't you say? The new propulsion system proved out very well. In fact Kalup came back beaming each time. That's our worthy Commander whom you'll get to know.
He laughs so loud he shakes the armor plate on the hatches. And our top Chief, Rhodan, has developed such a strange smile that I think of a conquest of the entire Milky Way. When the Old Man looks at you like that, you know something's really in the air."
Stant nodded gravely and Brazo wiped his sweating palms on his trouser legs.
"That's alright," said Sikhra humorously. "We have a laundry room on board!"
When Brazo hastily apologized for it, Stant yawned again. "Don't give it a thought—just let yourself go. We're here to brief you on the high points."
"You don't say!"
"Just a customer service, friend. It really grabs me, you know, to have the privilege of briefing such a Vippo. You're the only lieutenant in the Solar Fleet who ever used Rhodan as a baggage porter."
Brazo grinned. "You guys are chrakoes!"
Nolinow winked at the Nepalese. "I think we'll be able to stand each other. Well now, to summarize: Humanity has struggled some 57 years to unravel the mystery of linear propulsion. It was about 58 years ago that the Druufs put in an appearance. Those were the monster creatures who took advantage of a freak event in Nature to break out of their own timeplane in an attempt to conquer the Einstein Universe. At that time none of us was born, but Rhodan was the First Administrator already. That might give you an idea of how old he is."
"Old?" Brazo laughed humorlessly. "He seemed to me like a well-trained athlete in his mid-30s."
"That figures but nevertheless he's the oldest living Terranian. If you look him up in the encyclopedias you'll find that Rhodan was on the Moon when he was about 35 years old. Now we're in the year 2102. That really says it all. While fighting off hostile alien intelligences he managed to unify the Solar System. At the present moment we're standing on the threshold of the 3d major epoch of human history. We're in the process of making a practical reality out of the design data on the Druufs' linear space-drive, which we took from them 58 years ago. The new engines are ready for application but only in this present ship. Of course, it's a prototype for the future production lines. So you're going to have the honor of joining us in an operation which will be a very decisive step forward in the expansion of power and influence for the Solar Empire. Either that or...?"
"Or what...?"
"Or you'll be joining the Fantasy as a victim of the void. Does that give you the picture?"
"A bit complex and blurry around the edges, I'd say...
Nolinow frowned concernedly, turning to Sikhra. "He may have a point there," he said. "Do you want to carry on with this?"
"I'll leave it to your own powers of elocution."
Stant shrugged his shoulders. He looked thoughtfully at Brazo Alkher, who sat tensely on the edge of his bunk. "Well, OK, there's not much more to say. We're taking off in about an hour and a half. Where we'll be going this time nobody can say. The overall situation in space politics is more or less satisfactory at the moment. The Galactic Traders have quieted down and on the planet Arkon it seems that Atlan is in control of things. The Druuf invasion has already been forgotten — our colonists are slowly but surely planting their roots on the habitable oxygen-worlds in the local sectors of space. Fifty-seven years ago the expansion of the Moon Base began. Today its like a giant hollowed out anthill with countless wharfs and shipyards, accessory support industries and massive production lines which now carry ever larger ships on the final conveyors. What we've done is to finally arrive at the stage the old Arkonides were in a few millenniums ago. We've taken a respectably sized celestial orb and turned it into a fleet base so that we can show our teeth to any uninvited guests or conquest-hungry alien invaders. The Solar Empire is bristling with armaments and has become an independent political entity along Arkonide patterns. It's been bandied about that the lunar shipyards now have a building capacity equal to that of Arkon 3. More than 100 million superlatively-trained Terrans stand ready in an emergency. Do you still follow me?"
Brazo frowned and commented drily, "This historical review is about as enlightening as the contents of your socks. I'm fairly familiar with the fact that you have your feet in them."
Sikhra burst out laughing and Nolinow straightened up with a sigh of resignation.
"Alright. But orders are orders. You will experience the beginning of the Third Epoch. As to this secret linear propulsion business, you'll have to ask the experts. I can only tell you that the days of hypertransitions are over with—at least for the Fantasy. Up until now we've conquered hyperspace with a rabbit-hopping technique using a complex series of super-powered transitions. Oh, it was OK as far as it went, but all those long drawn-out coordinate calculations, the dematerialization of physical objects and all the possible sources of error—that wasn't the ideal solution. On board the Fantasy you'll get acquainted with a completely new kind of trans-light space travel. We'll be flying toward our target star on a direct line of sight-purely optical. There'll be no more 'jumps' in the old sense of the word—you know, where you couldn't see or hear or even feel anything. In this direct flight method you can see anything you want to. In fact that's where the name comes from: 'linear space-drive'. We enter a so-called semispace zone. The Kalup compensator-field screens off the effects of 5th-dimensional constants, which prevents any actual penetration into true hyperspace. And it also prevents total dematerialization as with the old transition ships. Since the energy of the compensator field is related to that of semispace or what's called the libration zone, we fly through a spatial stratum that can only be described mathematically. It lies between the 4th and 5th dimensions where energy effects from both sides are ineffectual. That way anybody entering there becomes a part of the interstitial zone where the Einstein laws don't work. Apparently you can go many millions of times the speed of light with the linear system but not even Perry Rhodan has put it to the test so far. In the direct flight method we don't develop a space-wave front that's at all measurable and there's no structural warp-shock like there is with the transition ships when they force themselves through a virtual time-barrier. It's easy to grasp the military significance of this thing. Whoever has linear space-drive has an advantage over all intelligences of the galaxy. I say, you've gotten pale again!"
Brazo had closed his eyes. He was breathing heavily. Even though Nolinow had tried to explain these revolutionary things in an off-hand manner and though he had done his best to play it down as much as possible, nevertheless Brazo had caught the profound significance of his words. When he looked up again the two young officers were standing close to him. Nolinow's broad face had changed. He wasn't smiling anymore.
"That's a pretty hard row to hoe, isn't it?" he inquired gently. "With time you will understand. Maybe now you can guess why the Commander ordered us to fill you in a little and get you prepared. Chief Claudrin is a good psychologist though at first glance he reminds you of an armored tank gone out of control and ready to flatten anything in its way. He's a native of Epsal—one of the first aliens to come through the adaptation program of 2045. Just don't lose your marbles when he comes up to you. Well, that's just about the gist of it. Any questions?"
Brazo shook his head in silence. Sik stepped to the visiphone and gave an order. Moments later a service robot entered the cabin wearing its typical stereotyped smile.
"This is Omega-185," explained Stant "He'll take care of your physical needs. I'll pick you up in half an hour."
Before Sikhra left the room he turned to add: "By the way, you know you can still decide against going on this flight. Nobody will force you t
o join the research mission. It's a dangerous operation. Think it over because once you're sworn in...!" The Nepalese shrugged without saying more.
Brazo Alkher already knew that he wouldn't decline the invitation for anything in the world. No matter how doom-shrouded the mission was made to appear.
He absentmindedly answered the service robot's questions. Yes, he wished to take a shower. No, he would clean and check his service-weapon himself!
Thirty minutes later Brazo was wearing the pale green uniform that the ship's supply officer had sent him.
3/ PHANTOM EMPIRE
He was as broad as he was tall—more or less the size and shape of a 1-ton safe. Col. Jefe Claudrin's chest measurements were four times the size of a powerful man and his musculature was correspondingly developed.
Born and raised on a planet with 2.1 gravs, Claudrin had found it difficult after joining the Solar Fleet to move about in the normal environment of only one grav. When the native Epsalian noticed that his muscles threatened to atrophy under such a "negligible" gravity load he decided to carry a special micro-gravitator with him day and night it served to double the pull of gravity for him. In this way Col. Claudrin had maintained his "physical fitness" as he chose to express it
Jefe made a joke out of "inadvertently" shattering several sturdy-looking chairs with his great bulk. His arms were like oversized pistons and his hands were anvils to fear. The crewmen on the Fantasy took care not to shake hands with him in the traditional manner. Before Claudrin came to control his deadly tong-like grippers a number of disasters had occurred.
All in all the Commander of the experimental shipFantasy had the appearance of a sawed-off giant. His wide head with its fiery red hair was perched on a neck that was so bulging with muscles that it could not fit into any factory-made uniform collar.