The Target Star Read online

  As a commander and galactonaut, Claudrin was unquestionably an ace in the Solar Fleet and ever since the simulated grounds tests he had taken the Fantasy under his wing.

  Perry Rhodan listened to the thundering of the normal impulse engines whose highly-compressed thrust particles accelerated the heavy cruiser at a rate of 500 km sec². They worked as perfectly and reliably as on 10,000 other spaceships of the Fleet. Having been built on Arkonide designs but more compact and considerably improved in various details, they represented the ultimate of modern technological development. There was little more that could be done to improve them.

  It was almost senseless to listen directly to the sound of their operation. But in his accustomed way Rhodan made his checkout while watching the small inspection screen that gave him a closed-circuit look at the ring-bulge. There was nothing to be seen through a bluish shimmering, somewhat like masses of heated air. Owing to compact ship design, the Fantasy would operate with only six ring-bulge converters. Considerably more space was taken up by the new trans-light propulsion units which, strictly speaking, were not actually propulsion engines at all.

  The sole purpose of the Kalup compensator was to envelop the hull of the ship in a spherical field which shielded it from the energy influences of the 4th and 5th dimensions, in a kind of reflecting or absorbing action. Within the spherical field the unstable libration-zone condition was generated where neither the laws of hyperspace nor of Einsteinian space were effective.

  A necessary but not precisely calculable consequence of this altered conformity to natural laws was an abstract reaction of the normal engines. Under such synthetically modified conditions they could no longer operate as they did in the 4-dimensional continuum. The impulses which under normal operation could only reach the speed of light were much faster in this new semispace. Depending upon the intensity of the Kalup compensator field, velocities ranged between 10 to many millions of times the normal speed of light. It was the objective of the experimental program to determine what the upper limits were.

  So far it was certain that the operation was dependent upon just two factors. First, the impulse waves changed their nature under the influence of the libration zone. Also, secondly, by varying the intensity of the Kalup-field the pulse-jet emission velocity could be altered very considerably. This again pointed to the fact that a total nullification of the effects of laws operating in both hyper and Einsteinian space was dependent upon the energy content of the Kalup field. The better the screening the more completely the Fantasy adapted to semispace, becoming a virtual component essence of the synthetically built-up micro-cosmos between dimensions.

  During its latest stay in ship-dock, the vessel had been designed to achieve the optimum operational parameters. It had been equipped with a 5th power plant which added another 20,000 megawatts to the generating capacity. With that Rhodan hoped to reach the ideal flight state—namely, a total compensation which would screen out fourth and fifth dimensional effects entirely.

  The rumbling of the ring-bulge engines began to subside. Rhodan stirred himself from his musings. The doubtful process of deliberation alone was not going to solve the problems related to linear flight. Only the practical test itself could do that.

  The shimmering on the inspection screen disappeared. With a last guttering rumble the impulse

  converters shut down. At only half SPEOL the Fantasy shot across the Martian orbit in freefall. The Earth and the Moon had long since dropped away into the dark abyss behind them. Only the countless stars of the Milky Way were to be seen on the regular viewscreens.

  "Well?" quipped somebody nearby. "You back out of the fog?"

  Rhodan pressed the buckle release on his safety belt, which was a regulation requirement on board the research ship, and it fell away from his waist

  Reginald Bell was standing behind the expedition chief's chair, looking every bit as young and spry as he had been way back in the 1970s. He stared without expression at the glittering screens of the panoramic view gallery. Farther to the right was the giant custom-built pilot chair of the Commander. The latter paid no heed to the two men on his left. As Commander it was his job to keep the ship under his control every second.

  Rhodan cast a scrutinizing glance at Claudrin, whose massive shoulders were visible on either side of his backrest. "Everything OK, Jefe?"

  The Epsalian turned his head. His leathery brown-skinned face twisted into a smile. "As usual, sir," boomed his deep voice. "You ready to begin?" he added with equal volume.

  Rhodan nodded. With a last glimpse at the viewscreens he got up from his seat. Bell was still standing stock-still. Beneath his flame-red stubble of hair his freckled face was uncommunicative and unusually grave.

  The men on duty in the Control Central looked tensely at Rhodan and his Deputy Chief Administrator. Rhodan had to weave his way among the extra seats and auxiliary installations of equipment in the overcrowded room. "Are there any specific forebodings at the moment?" he asked without preamble.

  Bell closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, Rhodan stood directly before him. The crewmen exchanged glances.

  "Forebodings?" Bell repeated slowly. "No, none in particular. This peanut shell can't do more than explode."

  "Oh? So that's what you think of a 200-meter class cruiser?" he said. Although there was a slight smile on his lips, there was a melancholy note in his voice. "I think I know what's on your mind."

  "You don't say!"

  Rhodan nodded thoughtfully. He looked absentmindedly around in the Control Central as he spoke. "Almost 57 years ago to this day, Khrest the Arkonide passed away. He could no longer take part in the expanding successes of the human race. Were you thinking of him?"

  Bell nodded. "I still clearly remember the time when we discovered his own research ship where it had crash-landed on the Moon. A few weeks later we felt invincible because we had a tiny Arkonide lifeboat that belonged to the cruiser. Then came the unification of the nations of the Earth, followed by encounters with alien intelligences. Finally, Atlan showed up on the scene and the Druuf invasion happened a little while later. The robot Brain on Arkon 3 was reprogrammed and Atlan became the Imperator. Since then, 57 years have gone by. Now begins the third Epoch of human history. Hm-m-m ...!"

  Bell interrupted himself and waved his hand about in an all-inclusive gesture. "When I look around me I see a strange parallel. When Khrest and Thora arrived on Earth's satellite we were terrifically proud of our primitive rockets. Today our colonists are coming to grips with strange forms of life on many different kinds of worlds. Which means we've entered an era where our own exploratory journeys have begun. Terra has become a major power factor in the galaxy. Where will it end? Who will show us one day where our limits are? We've just about replaced the degenerated strain of Arkonides. Atlan watches Terran expansion with a smile on one side and a worried look on the other. Of course he fully realizes that we're infiltrating his sphere of influence more and more. Terrans are already sitting in Arkonide ministries. Would you like me to tell you something?"

  Bell squinted at the shadowy outlines of Rhodan's face. The Fantasy's large control room was illuminated only by light from the panob screens and from countless instrument panels. Rhodan's features were flooded by a reflection of varicolored lights. It was as though some invisible force were trying to mark out the tall man's countenance into separate blocks and planes.

  "What is it you wish to say, Reg?"

  "Not much. It's just that I've been thinking-nobody's been bothering us lately but a long spell of peace is like the calm before a storm. The Springers make a pass at us once in awhile but only from the sidelines. At the moment it looks as if there's nobody around to really make us sweat."

  "But you know there are plenty of such intelligences. What holds them off is our alliance with the Greater Imperium of the Arkonides."

  Bell made a gesture of rejection. "That's just a phantom empire. Atlan's always pressing the panic button and keeping us on edg
e while he puts out his fires of revolt here and there. But Arkon is not the galaxy. We only know a tiny fraction of this island universe of ours. We used to think the Arkon Empire was practically boundless but actually it's a star cluster out on the tip of the Milky Way. The dimensions have changed now.

  What might be waiting for us deep in the center—down in the core where no one has ever gone?"

  "So you do have misgivings?"

  "Maybe," he grumbled somewhat peevishly. "This present flight comes on as too strong a reminder of the journey undertaken by Khrest and Thora in their search for eternal life. Instead they found us and we took from them the technical might of the Arkonides. I'm just asking myself now—what are we going to discover?"

  A viewscreen flashed to life. The face of First Officer Maj. Hunts Krefenbac came into focus. "The men are waiting for you, sir," he announced.

  "I'm coming," Rhodan called into the microphone. Turning to Bell he added: "Don't make the men uneasy. You ought to know as well as I that there are intelligences we couldn't hold a candle to in a showdown. Even the power of the Galactic Traders is not to be underestimated. It's fortunate for us that those vagabonds of the void will probably never become united."

  Bell turned and marched to armored hatch #2. Rhodan signaled to the Commander who had just gotten up from his special seat. Broad and massive, like an unhewn monolith, he stood before Rhodan, who was a head taller than he.

  "Jefe, we'll hold our present course," Rhodan told him. "We'll let loose just before the orbit of Jupiter. Meanwhile you can try pinpointing that red sun in the swarm of stars out there and while you're doing it you should also try to forget everything you've learned about hypertransit navigation. All we have to do is fly by sight. I think this one advantage of linear space-drive makes up for all the effort we've put into its development. At any rate I don't think I'd trust myself to go through all the necessary transition computations without an error—not to reachthat.tar. Over such a distance who knows where we might come out, using the old system?"

  As Claudrin suddenly turned about, he almost ran into a tracking technician, who instantly came to attention. "What's all this spit and polish, boy?" asked the Epsalian at only medium volume. It sounded like a peal of thunder. The tracking operator hurried out of his way while Claudrin rubbed his angular chin with satisfaction.

  Rhodan cleared his throat slightly behind his hand, Then with a parting salute he went out. Bell was waiting for him.

  "I'm going to put a muzzle on that fellow yet!" said Bell half-angrily.

  • • •

  The crew had been ordered into the main mess hall. Brazo Alkher didn't feel at ease. He was continually being introduced to people and among them were important personages whom he had only known before by their names. There was Prof. Kalup and the recognized mathematical genius Riebsam, who sat beside Gorl Nkolate the specialist in adaptive surgery. These were some of the scientists who had been included in the crew of the Fantasy.

  In addition there were a few people who filled Brazo with a sense of awe—as was the case with 10,000 other lieutenants of the Fleet. These were members of the legendary Mutant Corps who were said to have contributed decisively to the growth of the Solar Empire. Brazo had never actually seen one of these mysterious beings before.

  Hunts Krefenbac's lean figure was seen slouched next to the automatic food selector. Brazo had already heard that Krefenbac was not at all as lethargic as he always seemed to be. Just now he looked as if he had just finished polishing the Fantasy from stem to stern. All 200 meters.

  The Fantasy's crew appeared to consist entirely of specially talented men. From the main body of Fleet soldiers and all available scientists, Rhodan had selected some highly variegated individuals.

  Lt. Mahaut Sikhra had just stepped into the mess hall in the company of an insignificant-looking little man wearing the rank insignia of Chief Engineer. Actually the one outstanding feature of the ship's C.E. was his exceptionally large chest, which suggested a large pair of lungs.

  "That's Slide Nacro," explained Stant Nolinow. "He was born on Mars. They say with those Martian lungs of his he can refill an oxygen tank with a single breath."

  "No kidding?" said Brazo seriously.

  Stant broke into a wide grin. A number of noncoms from the technical staff were standing nearby and Brazo saw them look at each other significantly. Apparently they were thinking that this new lieutenant was the only donk-dome on board.

  Brazo bit his lip ruefully at his own stupidity. Somewhat nettled, he turned to face them but before he could find the right words for a retort, something happened that again left him flabbergasted.

  Directly in front of him the air began to shimmer! There was the luminous outline of a small figure, perhaps three feet high. Then something wearing a miniature Fleet uniform emerged and took form. Brazo sprang back, horrified. In thunderstruck amazement he was staring into the sharp-nosed mousy face of a creature with large round ears. The only near-human thing about it was the uniform.

  Pucky had come merely to take a closer look at the newcomer but when he saw the young man spring to attention before him he was touched by a paternal friendliness. The mouse-beaver curiously "listened in" on the blanch-faced officer's thoughts.

  Fantastic! This must be the most famous member of the Mutant Corps...seems pleasant and nice...a little comical but sort of pretty, and very sharp eyes...!

  Pucky declined to take further advantage of his telepathic gift. Because of the young man's flattering thoughts, he beamed and waddled forward to extend his delicate little hand. Brazo's eyes widened as he stared at the mouse-beaver's giant incisor tooth.

  "Welcome aboard!" twittered the macro-mouse. "You are Brazo Alkher?"

  "Yes...that's right, sir," Brazo stammered.

  Pucky took a quick look around. Everybody had heard him being addressed as "sir". "Just call me Pucky," he said patronizingly. "I'll always be around if you want to talk to me. Don't let these rascals try to put anything over on you, do you hear?"

  "Uh...whom do you mean, sir?"

  Pucky giggled merrily. His big eyes gleamed in the light of the indirect ceiling lamps. "I mean those rascals right there!" He pointed to the surrounding men. "If they don't leave you alone, you come to me, OK?"

  Brazo shook hands with the extraterrestrial creature in a state of complete confusion. He was also embarrassed when he became aware of Pucky's trowel-shaped tail, which necessarily protruded from the rear of his uniform trousers.

  Brazo wiped sweat from his forehead as the little fellow strutted proudly away. Stant Nolinow hid a grin with his hand, his eyes bright with tears of merriment. Clearing his throat loudly, he ran a finger across his lips to clear them.

  "Out of my way, shorty!" cried Pucky to a tall crewman. He laughed shrilly as he went past the technician and his small form disappeared among the tables that had been set up at one end of the hall.

  "Man oh man!" gasped Brazo in near exhaustion. "Was that realsome or was I dreaming?"

  Nolinow laughed restrainedly. "You'll get to know him better before you're through. They say he can

  handle a thousand strong men without having to use any weapons."

  "Come on, now!"

  "I'm telling you—it's not a joke!" Stant asserted. "He's a teleporter—a telekinetic expert—and on top of that he's a telepath. How do you think he checked you out so quickly? I'll lay you odds—Oh, oh, here comes the Chief! Swallow it!"

  Even before Rhodan stepped into the mess hall he had received Pucky's telepathic call. When he entered, Pucky was already standing on the raised dais at the end of the room.

  I took a look at him,Pucky signaled.He stands in childish awe of me, if you can image that!

  Remarkable, Rhodan thought back with his meagerly developed telepathy.

  But Pucky understood him well enough.No snide remarks now, if you please, Big chief. I really made an impression on him!

  Ialready said it was remarkable.

  OK, lay off. I gave h
im a quick probe. I'd say he's OK. He's naturally a bit shaken by the new situation he's in but otherwise he's all in one piece.

  Good! Thanks very much.

  Rhodan broke off the telepathic conversation. John Marshall, the Chief of the Mutant Corps, had listened in. He looked over at the new gunner officer and scrutinized him briefly before he spoke in low tones to Rhodan.

  "He puts out a good set of vibes. Maybe a bit boyish, sir."

  "Don't be deceived, John. I've been through his service dossier. When he was on board theFormosa.e performed a few deeds that would have made Bell turn pale. That's saying a lot, you'll have to admit."

  Marshall laughed under his breath while nodding a greeting to the Fantasy's crew members.

  A combination of wonderment and awe threatened to overwhelm Brazo Alkher as Rhodan stepped onto the platform and swung the arm of the microphone toward him. This was the man who had carried his luggage for him. But now the Administrator wore his Fleet uniform. The insignia was not flamboyant but it was unmistakable.

  Rhodan's voice rang from the speakers. "Let's make this short," he said. "I've asked you in here to the main mess hall so that I could inform all of you at once concerning our flight. This time we're going on a long one. Our target is a giant red sun just off the center of the galaxy. It has no name. The distance given on the maps is 42,180 light-years but that's probably inaccurate. Using a normal transition ship we'd have to make it in at least 10 jumps and carry out all the coordinate calculations carefully if we hoped to come out anywhere near the target. That would take us just about a week. I intend to put our theoretical maximum velocity to a practical test. That means that the Fantasy will be hurtling through semispace at about 25 million times the speed of light. That figure is highly relative and is to be regarded merely as a means of reference. Don't be frightened by the sound of it. These relative concepts are not the critical factors in considering a long stretch like that. The only thing that counts is the actual time-span we require for covering an approximately known distance. Anything else is immaterial. Linear-drive spaceships open up new aspects of hyperspace travel. That's why it's important to become familiar with a new set of concepts."