Red Eye of Betelguese Page 2

  and takeoff.

  Khrest cleared his throat. "And then what happens?" he asked quietly.

  Rhodan looked at him. "You mean after we've succeeded in faking the destruction of the Earth? Then we will prepare ourselves, Khrest. It may take years to attain our goal, perhaps centuries. In any case, we will not again make a thrust toward Arkon until we are able to announce the position of the Earth without the slightest apprehension—an Earth that will suddenly begin to exist again. And it will be an Earth that can dictate its conditions to the robot brain of Arkon. I think this is also in your own interests, Khrest, Thora..."

  The two Arkonides nodded in a rare gesture of mutual agreement.

  Suddenly Bell began to grin. He patted Pucky on the back, winked at Rhodan and shouted fervently, "Our resurrection is sure going to be a surprise for certain people...!"

  • • •

  Rhodan, Bell, the two Arkonides and Allan D. Mercant stood at the edge of the broad spaceport area as the two mighty spaceships prepared to take off.

  Searchlights blazed, bathing the area in a brilliant illumination. Up at the other end of the field the dark night of the desert began. The heavens arched like a cosmic bell above the two heavy cruisers, before which lay one of the most remarkable missions that an Earthly spaceship had ever been assigned to. In the course of human history, many a war stratagem had been demonstrated and historians were always pleased to record them. However, never before had a planet been represented as the Earth and destroyed in its stead.

  Mercant was inclined to look younger than he was but Rhodan was able to detect that the former Defense Chief of the Western world had aged somewhat in the past months. The heavy responsibility that now rested on his shoulders consumed a lot of his energy. The crown of blond hair encircling his bald head was showing its first silvery threads. "There they go!" he announced. "And hopefully, to return again soon." While speaking, he took care not to step on a crawling night beetle. In spite of his notorious harshness in the performance of his duties, Mercant was a friend of animals and lower creatures of nature's domain. Or indeed, this predilection may have been owing precisely to his outer severity. "Fortunately this time I'm not remaining behind all by myself."

  Rhodan didn't remove his gaze from the two glistening spacespheres. "The Titan remains on constant standby, Mercant," he reminded him. "At the moment I receive any report of emergency from Deringhouse, I'll be under way."

  Mercant made a wry face. "What could go wrong?"

  "You seem to forget that we are not familiar with the system of Betelgeuse. In that regard, we are relying on the Arkonide catalogues. It's all well and good that the third planet is uninhabited, a mere jungle world that probably wouldn't have developed life for millions of years, but what about the first and second planets? What about the fourth one?"

  "Betelgeuse is a red giant. Its diameter is 400 times greater than that of our own sun. I'm surprised that the third planet even has any vegetation—or that it is supposed to have any."

  "You are a politician, my dear Mercant, not a scientist. The dimensions of a sun are not important, or even the intensity of its heat radiation, if the planets are sufficiently removed from it. The life zone of a planetary system depends on the proper relationship between distances and the relative amount of warmth radiated and received. We will soon know what surprises the second Earth may have in store for us." He looked at his watch. "In 2 minutes take off."

  Bell was remarkably quiet. He stood there motionlessly in the night and gazed across at the Centurion and the Terra. Rhodan surmised what was bothering him. Bell would love to be part of the action when it came to playing tricks on the

  Galactic Traders but he had to remain behind on Earth.

  One minute to takeoff.

  Khrest broke the silence. "If the plan succeeds, then Terra will have won more

  than just a battle."

  "That's the purpose of the whole undertaking," said Rhodan.

  The seconds ticked away. Nothing could now interrupt the course of events, nor did anyone wish to.

  "Now!" murmured Khrest.

  The two giant metal spheres rose silently and soared slowly away into the dark sky. The searchlights followed them for awhile, until their glistening hulls passed beyond their range and disappeared into the vast emptiness.

  Rhodan sighed. "Well, that's it. Now there's nothing else we can do but wait it out. Let's hope that our calculations work out smoothly—because the tiniest displacement of a decimal could be disastrous."

  Khrest, Thora and Mercant nodded.

  Only Bell growled discontentedly. "Mathematics are my weak point—maybe I should have gone along with them after all."

  Rhodan smiled at him reproachfully. "And spoil everything? No, it's probably best for you to stay here and make your mistakes."

  Which didn't help to improve Bell's mood, especially since he wanted to take out his anger on Pucky and was not able to find him.

  2/ INVISIBLE SPIDER'S WEB

  As the Centurion rematerialized, Maj. Deringhouse saw something that made him forget his painful reactions to the hypertransition. He was stationed in the observation cupola which was located in the equatorial area of the spherical spaceship. The transparent dome made all videoscreens unnecessary. Anyone looking outward from this position received the impression that he hung suspended in space itself.

  On his port side, he could see the sister ship Terra rematerialize. But that was not what had made the major impact on Deringhouse, who was already familiar with a great part of the galaxy; it was the star that greeted the two ships as they sped toward it with the speed of light

  Betelgeuse!

  The great sun floated there in the midst of the infinite universe like the yellowish-red eye of a giant, larger and mightier than all the stars that Deringhouse had ever observed. The others paled before the massive dull gleam of the giant as though they were ashamed of their own modest brightness.

  So this was Betelgeuse, actually a red giantess. If one were to put her in the place of Earth's Sun, her fiery rim would reach beyond the orbit of Mars. She was cooler than Sol but this factor was compensated for by her incredible dimensions. Designated as an abnormally variable star, her surface temperature was in the neighborhood of 4,500° Fahrenheit. Fourteen planets were supposed to be circling Betelgeuse, of which the third world was to take over the role of the Earth. Because even if Topthor had forgotten many things, there is one thing that he certainly would not have forgotten: that the Earth was the third planet of a solar system. Naturally he would soon recognize his mistake, because how could a Galactic Trader mistake Betelgeuse for the sun? But—as Rhodan had smilingly assured everyone—then it would be too late for him to correct the mistake.

  A feeling of anxiety crept over Deringhouse as he stared into the red eye of the giant. Previously he had not given much weight to such things as presentiment or foreboding but this time things appeared to be different somehow. Perhaps it was due to the unique nature of the plan. Or perhaps due to many unknown factors in the equation. At any rate, Deringhouse had to employ all of his determination in order not to fall prey to his doubts.

  Anyhow, what good was fear or trepidation at this point?

  He shook himself and got up. Drawn to his full height, he went out of the observatory and permitted himself to be transported by the personnel carrier belt to the Control Central, where his first officer, Capt. Lamanche, was already waiting for him.

  "The last transition has been completed," announced the older officer, superfluously. "Our goal lies within two light-days of the Centurion."

  "Thank you," acknowledged Deringhouse as he observed the panoramic gallery of videoscreens. With a lifelike clarity they reproduced the ship's surrounding environment, unless one were using the special magnification feature. Such was not the case now.

  "Did everything go alright?"

  "Yes, sir. Also with the Terra. McClears is waiting for your instructions."

  Deringhouse nodded his s
atisfaction. The uncertainties of a few moments before disappeared. "Set up the intership communication," he ordered calmly.

  While he waited for the telecom videoscreen to warm up, he tried to remember everything he knew about the solar system that lay before him. It wasn't very much. One thing for certain: the 3rd planet was uninhabited. Only on the 4th planet was there supposed to be some sort of primitive life, according to the indications in the star catalogue. Other catalogue information included the fact that the surface was for the most part covered with water, which was a hindrance to the development of actually intelligent races. Well, those were statements which could be factual—but by the same token they could also be outdated by now. No one had any idea of when the Arkonides had once visited the system of Betelgeuse and catalogued it. That could have been many thousands of years ago.

  Maj. McClears appeared on the screen. "Well, here we are!" He confirmed the fact as though he had discovered a new universe. "That's a pretty tremendous sun out there, don't you think?"

  "It's a pretty big brute," replied Maj. Deringhouse curtly. Involuntarily his gaze wandered to the adjacent viewscreen, where the reddish eye seemed to be watching him with a glimmering intent. "Its gravitational field must be unimaginable."

  "Nothing to worry about if we observe the prescribed distance limitations, Deringhouse. The 3rd planet is a couple of billion miles distant from that flaming surface."

  "What do you think about our going over to take a look at the 4th planet first?"

  "Why?"

  "Because it has life on it; primitive, we'll have to admit, but life nevertheless."

  McClears glanced briefly at his data sheets. "The 3rd planet is directly ahead of us while the 4th is on the other side of the sun. It'd be quite a detour. And besides that, it's the 3rd planet that we..."

  "Alright, McClears, let's make a compromise. We'll take a quick look at the 3rd planet and then fly ahead to the 4th. I'd like to know who's living in our neighborhood if the 3rd planet is going to be attacked by the Springers."

  "I'll buy that, Deringhouse. Do we remain under light velocity?"

  "Yes. I don't want to use any hyper-transits here because I'd like to look this system over more leisurely. The Springers think they'll find the Earth here. Maybe they've already been here ahead of us and have sent their ships here. We have to be careful. Maybe we should separate."

  Deringhouse knew that the Springers were their greatest enemy on the rocky road to peace in the universe. Properly considered, the Springers could not be judged exactly as a warring race. They were traders, nothing more. But certainly they were traders with a very self-willed perspective of things, possessing a hard determination to tolerate no competition. They were prepared to deal and trade with all comers but only on their conditions. Whoever threatened their monopoly would be unceremoniously eliminated. For this reason, there were also the Mounders, who were their special police force.

  And now Rhodan was in the process of turning the tables. He looked upon peaceful and fair commercial practices as a guarantee of a successful coexistence of the various races. But because of this attitude, he automatically became the most dangerous opponent of the Springers, who did not possess any specific planet of their own and were actually at home everywhere in the galaxy. Such a struggle was capable of lasting for centuries. However, by means of Rhodan's present strategy, it could also end abruptly and then...

  "Separate?" asked McClears, interrupting Deringhouse's train of thought. "Why that? It isn't necessary."

  Deringhouse gave in. "Alright, skip it. So we'll stay together," he said. "We'll drift around in the vicinity of the 3rd planet in order to make a brief observation. Then we'll go nonstop to the 4th planet. Instead of going around Betelgeuse, I would suggest two short hypertransitions. I'll give you the exact coordinates. So carry on, McClears. We'll maintain communications."

  The telecom screen went blank but both communications control centers remained in contact.

  Deringhouse turned to Capt. Lamanche. "Maintain the present course. I'm going back to the observation chamber. Tell Marshall I'd like to talk to him."

  Lamanche nodded and depressed an intercom button.

  Deringhouse left the Control Central and 5 minutes later entered the transparent-walled cupola again. Although no light had been turned on, the room radiated a reddish illumination. The outer planets of the system had long since been put behind the Centurion in the depths of space. They were giant ice worlds plodding along their lonely orbits in an eternal twilight, naked of any form of life.

  The 5th planet stood far off on the starboard side, a red-gleaming giant twice the size of Jupiter. The spectro-analyses had shown that it was outside the life zone of Betelgeuse. Deringhouse seated himself, deeply impressed. He stared ahead into the vast emptiness of the giant system. Even at the speed of light, it would require weeks if one were to traverse its diameter.

  Betelgeuse had become larger but it was still light days away. If Deringhouse wanted to face it, he had to admit that this closer view had not altered original impressions. He had imagined the giant star to be like this whenever he had looked at it previously in the home skies of Earth, in the constellation of Orion. Even as seen from the Earth, that red eye had shown angrily and threateningly through the vast reaches of infinity. Across the light-centuries of space, it had worked its effect upon the beholder. And inasmuch as Betelgeuse varied considerably in its brightness, it always appeared to the careful observer as though the red eye were blinking at him across the abyss—although no one had ventured to say whether this was supposed to be a friendly wink, as was customary among friends, or a terrible threat, a warning: Watch out, Earthworm!

  Take it easy, Betelgeuse—he thought bitterly. We don't want anything from you, only one of your children...

  Was that not an answering blink from Betelgeuse...?

  Behind him, the door slid into the bulkhead wall and then closed again.

  "You wanted to speak to me, Major?" John Marshall had entered the cupola. Naturally his question was completely superfluous because Marshall was a telepath and already knew what the commander was thinking. But he took care, always, to underplay his unusual faculties.

  Deringhouse nodded without turning around. "Sit down, Marshall. Over here, please. What do you think of Betelgeuse?"

  Marshall sat down and looked into the empty space between the planets for long moments in silence. Finally his gaze remained fixed upon the red-gleaming giant sun. "Betelgeuse is going to become a turning point in human history," he murmured, lost in thought. "Rhodan could not have found a more appropriate star."

  Deringhouse did not answer. He stared silently into the sun whose rays were filtered through the multi-laminar glass-like material and were rendered harmless. The red sun radiated hotly but not with sufficient brightness to blind the eyes.

  "Don't you feel that way?" asked the telepath in an attempt to confirm his own feelings, although he already knew the answer. "Quite," agreed the Major. "I think as you do but Betelgeuse doesn't look very peaceful. Her aspect reminds me of Mars—and Mankind made Mars its god of war."

  "Well, that's true, Major, but you know yourself that later that was born out to be erroneous. Mars is a friendly world—nothing to be compared to the flaming Hell in front of us. Perhaps its appearance is also deceiving."

  "Let's hope so," grumbled Deringhouse but he didn't sound too confident about it. Then, making a visible effort to pull himself together, he said, "Why do we concern ourselves with Betelgeuse at all? We don't want anything from the big old red giantess—we're only interested in the third planet."

  Marshall smiled softly at the manner in which his direct supervisor attempted to put aside his own premonitions. "And the fourth," he reminded him.

  "Yes, of course, that one especially. The catalogue lists primitive life there. The surface is supposed to consist of 90% water. We'll take a look at the single continent and cross over the island chains, then come back to the third planet to wait for t
he Springers. I'll bet you Topthor is thinking the time is about ripe for attacking the Earth. But he's going to wonder..."

  "I'd rather hope that he won't have any time for wondering," remarked Marshall sceptically. "If he sees too quickly that he has the wrong solar system in front of him, Rhodan's plan is going to go up in smoke."

  Deringhouse shook his head grimly. "We'll just take care that he doesn't have time to think."

  • • •

  It was a world similar to Venus. Slowly and at low altitude, the two cruisers swept along over the surface of the third planet. Three great continents lay in a gigantic, primitive sea, covered by thick, primeval forests, which were only broken by broad, wide plateaus. The peaks of rugged mountains towered into the drifting clouds. Between lay broad valleys.

  It seemed improbable that there would be no form of sensible life here but no matter how hard they searched for it, they did not find the slightest trace. Naturally this could not be completely determined up here from this height but one thing was certain: intelligent life did not dwell upon the third planet of Betelgeuse.

  McClears' face appeared on the screen of the telecom. "So here you have Terra 2," he said, only partially satisfied. "Actually, it's too bad, don't you think? It could be put to good use."

  "I gather you're referring to colonization," replied Deringhouse. He nodded slowly. "You're probably right about that but what Rhodan has in mind is more important—even more important than the existence of this planet."