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  • • •

  The alarm was responded to with the customary swiftness of a fighting ship's crew. The sirens had hardly been silenced again before Reginald Bell burst into the control room. Close behind him appeared Capt. Gorlat; Lt. Tompetch came last.

  "Has any one of you noticed anything unusual in the past hour?" asked Rhodan in an official tone of voice.

  Reginald Bell sullenly shook his head.

  "Captain...?"

  "No sir—nothing. I was asleep."

  "Lieutenant...?"

  "No sir. I was asleep too."

  In a few words Rhodan depicted what he and Atlan had observed. "We don't know," he concluded, "whether or not we've been the victims of a hallucination. Here on Solitude a lot could happen that would seem strange to us. But naturally we have to be convinced. Capt. Gorlat, you take a look through the cabin where the little midget was last seen. Be careful. You know what's involved. Bell, you take over the ship's command while Atlan and I take a look at the place where I saw the alien. And Lt. Tompetch, you keep in touch with us by radio."

  • • •

  Toward evening the sky became overcast by a peculiar brownish hue that tended toward a dirty olive tint but gradually the greenish coloration faded and it made a transition into reddish tones.

  Rhodan reflected that the principles of color mixing held good here, where the greenish hues of daylight mixed with the purplish red of space to make brown. After sundown they would then only see the red component.

  As it turned out, the distance factor had been grossly misjudged during the observation of the strange dark figure among the trees. The originally estimated 400 yards became twice that amount by the time Rhodan and the Arkonide reached the two tree trunks where the little alien had been standing.

  Rhodan spoke into his micro-transmitter. "We've reached the place, Lieutenant. Can you see us?"

  "Yes sir," answered Tompetch. "Just now I see you OK but it'll soon be dark."

  "Good. How big do we appear to you?"

  "About the size of my thumb, I'd say, sir." "Thank you, that's all I need. Keep your receiver open."

  Rhodan looked at Atlan. "Too bad, Admiral. I thought maybe your dwarf might have turned into a giant. But he also looked like a Tom Thumb to me." They looked for footprints. Since it had become too dark to discern any tracks or other signs with the naked eye, Rhodan produced a small but powerful flashlight and turned its beam toward the ground.

  "The grass is hard," muttered the Arkonide. "It wouldn't be able to show tracks of the kind we're looking for. The blades can't be pressed down." Rhodan flashed his light behind them, searching for their own footprints. The way was marked by broken and splintered grass blades, as though a narrow lawn-mower had worked its way this far.

  "Maybe it doesn't press down," he said, "but it breaks off. It's hard and brittle. If anybody was standing here who weighed at least eight to 10 ounces, there's got to be some sign of it."

  Atlan straightened up and sighed. "But there's nothing to be seen, Administrator. What conclusion should we draw from that?" Rhodan smiled.

  "Draw your own conclusions, friend. I don't like to open my mouth so hastily."

  Atlan shrugged and spread but his hands. "What can you say? Hallucination—nothing more."

  Rhodan was about to answer him that he didn't think it was an hallucination, that there must still be some other explanation, but at that moment he felt that there was something behind him—he could sense almost physically that he was being observed from the brownish darkness. His reaction was purely mechanical. Since it was instinctive it happened faster than any shock of fright could reach the brain to incapacitate the processes of reason. The wide light shaft from his pocket lamp captured a figure a few yards away which hovered above the ground and seemed to sway softly in the wind—in a wind that absolutely did not exist on Solitude.

  Rhodan noted with amazement that the shaft of light passed through the figure, at least to the extent that it projected a bright ring on the tree trunk behind the apparition.

  What was it? Atlan's hand reached down to his belt and had already pulled out his weapon before Rhodan waved him off.

  He cried out to the Arkonide: "Don't over-react! We don't know what he wants!" At the same time he tried to figure out who 'he' might be, this creature who was still swaying in an imaginary wind and was no more concerned about the bright light of the lamp than if he hadn't perceived it at all.

  He was wearing the grey type of overalls that were used on board terrestrial spaceships for maintenance work; but such overalls were made out of thick, solid material and this outfit was transparent. He wore the same kind of high boots with magnetic fasteners that Rhodan himself was wearing; but these did not damage the grass whereas the blades snapped and crackled under Rhodan's feet. He appeared to have a thick growth of hair but the face could not be discerned.

  "Alright now, my friend," said Atlan caustically. "We have to do something. Staring isn't going to get us, anywhere—Hey there, who are you?"

  The challenging shout awakened loud echoes among the smooth, diamond-hard boles of the trees. However the figure showed no reaction to it.

  Rhodan took a step toward it and it moved back from him an equal distance. It did not walk but rather glided over the grass. Rhodan took a second step and achieved the same result.

  "Perhaps if I ran around to one side," said Atlan, "we might catch him."

  "Catch him? What with? He'd slip through our hands like a damp fog."

  "Well, to the devil with this, we certainly can't just—"

  His voice sounded nervous and irritated but before he could finish his sentence the figure moved again, for the third time—but now it moved without anyone having to approach it.

  Rhodan covered it with his flashlight. It glided past a tree trunk and receded into the open grassland beyond. The strangely incomplete face kept looking back as though to see if they were following.

  "After him!" exclaimed Rhodan with sudden decision. "It would be interesting to find out where it's going."

  He informed Tompetch of the situation and instructed him to start using the infra-red tracker. "Try not to lose sight of us," he concluded. "It could be that we might need some help."

  Then he joined Atlan in following the figure. It didn't seem to bother the alien that someone was following behind him; he did not change his pace but glided onward over the grass without leaving any tracks.

  It was by no means a simple task to follow him. Although the grass was fragile, nevertheless it gave the impression that a vast army of Lilliputians was thrusting countless spearpoints against the intruders, and if a single leaf should penetrate a weak spot in a boot seam there was no doubt that it could cause a nasty wound.

  By Rhodan's reckoning, meanwhile, they had gone about two miles away from the K-238 when the beam of his flash-light picked up a ridge ahead that was even in contour and lay directly across their field of vision. The alien floated up the rise and disappeared over the crest. Atlan and Rhodan followed him and when they reached the top they saw that the small stranger had come to a stop at the foot of the other slope. At his feet was a spot of darkness, as though the grass there had been burned away.

  The creature only seemed to be waiting until Rhodan's light came over the ridge and picked him up again in its beam. Then, as though deliberately wishing to reveal the direction it was taking, it sank down slowly into the dark spot. After a few seconds it disappeared.

  "Now grab your weapon, Admiral!" said Rhodan without looking at the Arkonide.

  They moved down the slope and were only halfway to the bottom when the bright cone of light from the pocket lamp revealed that the dark spot they were heading for was nothing more than a hole that apparently sank vertically into the ground. It was approximately circular in shape with a diameter of about five feet. They stopped at the edge of it and Rhodan flashed his light down into it. They could see that the shaft went down vertically for about five feet and then curved off to one si
de. Where it led could not be determined.

  "So let's climb down into it," suggested Atlan.

  Rhodan shook his head. "Too dangerous. We need at least one man to stand guard here at the entrance." He hailed Tompetch over the radio. "Come and join us," he ordered. "Bring along a disintegrator and a portable radio. You'll be able to see our tracks in the grass; and beside I'll shine the light upward as a beacon for you."

  Tompetch confirmed the order and said that at the most it would take him a ½ hour to get there.

  3/ COFFINS OF MYSTERY

  "What are we supposed to make of all this?" asked Atlan after a long silence. "How do you explain an intangible image with a human figure and the work uniform of the Terranian spacefleet?"

  "Frankly," answered Rhodan, "I can't make heads or tails of it. But I hope that down there—" he pointed into the dark shaft "—we will find an explanation." And after awhile he added: "And we should also keep in mind that we may not be dealing with a mere image. I don't think it's just some picture projection with special refinements. That thing has intelligence; it seems to be a veritable mentality."

  "Like a ghost, I suppose?" said Atlan derisively.

  "Perhaps. That is, of course, if anybody knows what a ghost actually is."

  For lack of information the conversation was threatening to take on a metaphysical aspect when there was a commotion up on the ridge. Lt. Tompetch came stomping over the crest with resounding, powerful marching steps. He came down the slope, stopped before the pocket lamp and gave a regulation salute.

  "Tompetch, we're going to climb down there now. Keep your weapon ready and your ear to the receiver. I don't know what may be awaiting us down below."

  Tompetch crouched at the edge of the hole while Rhodan climbed down inside. He supported himself on his arms until he felt a foothold beneath him. However, the shaft farther down was too sheer a drop to offer any further holds. With a sudden velocity he dropped on a dusty but surprisingly smooth chute down into the interior of the world.

  He didn't come to rest until the shaft became horizontal. Rhodan moved swiftly out of the way, just in time for the Arkonide to come scolding down the weird slide and make a rolling stop practically at his feet.

  Atlan straightened up in a swift movement, raising his head as far as the height of the tunnel would allow, and looked back the way he had come. "I'd like to know how we're going to go back up there again," he muttered.

  Rhodan crawled farther along. "Just now I'm glad we made it this far. I'll bother my head about what comes next when it gets here."

  The pocket light had come through the tumble unscathed. Its powerful rays illuminated the smooth walls of the tunnel and farther ahead they penetrated a dark, circular opening that led into a subterranean room. Apparently the room was too large for the flashlight to illuminate it from that distance.

  The tunnel itself was low, yet large enough to allow movement without much difficulty. While they both crept forward in order to inspect the dark room ahead, Atlan ran a hand over the tunnel wall and discovered that the smooth coating was textureless and seamless, evidently the result of a well-developed technique in the spraying of plastics.

  When they reached the opening at the end of the tunnel, the beam of the hand lamp took in a large room that was fairly bursting with strange apparatuses and pieces of equipment, all of them apparently connected by tubes and conductor conduits. In the center of the room was a number of coffin-like containers in a veritable network of connecting tubes and cables.

  It was these latter which began to awaken Rhodan's curiosity the most. It was necessary to jump down a yard or so to the lower level of the floor in the room. Rhodan did so and pushed forward between rows of equipment until he stood before the first of the coffins. It appeared to be made of metal.

  Rhodan touched the cover of the box and felt a slow pulsation in it. One of the conduits leading to it appeared to transmit a vibration which had a frequency rate of about one every two seconds. When this was converted in terms of the alien time-ratio it amounted to 32000 cps, which brought it into the ultrasonic range.

  He attempted to lift the cover but did not succeed.

  He swung the flashlight beam once around the room and observed that there was no other opening or door. The tunnel aperture where Atlan now squatted with his weapon to cover him was the only means of ingress.

  Therefore their diminutive guide, the entity or ghost or whatever it was, had to he here somewhere close—unless it had just departed through the walls. But where was it, actually, and above all: what did all this mean?

  While thinking of these two questions, Rhodan began to feel a pain in his head. It was a dull and unpleasant sensation that might be expected after a night of dissipation. It mystified him because the air down here was just as cool and fresh as it was outside in the open. So the air couldn't be the cause of it.

  Rhodan withdrew to the rear wall of the somewhat rectangular room and waited to see if the pain lessened any. After awhile it seemed to become weaker and it was reduced to an even greater degree when he retreated into the farthest corner.

  He noted that this spot was the farthest possible that he could withdraw from the coffin-like boxes in the middle of the room. But he did not attach any importance to this discovery until he wandered along the wall where he was directly facing the six containers. Here he noticed that the pain was at its peak of intensity.

  Evidently the mysterious force that was causing the pain came from the coffins. That he had not sensed this when he first stood next to them was probably due to the alien time-ratio. It even took longer for a pain to register than it did in the normal universe.

  "Something is in side those coffins," he said thoughtfully to Atlan, "and I'd sure like to know what it is." Then he spoke into his transmitter. "Tompetch, are you there?"

  "Yes sir."

  "Call the ship and tell Gorlat to get over here. Have him use an airco (Combination auto and airplane) to save time and—I want him to bring along a psychograph. Is that clear?"

  "Understood, sir," answered Tompetch.

  While the minutes passed, Rhodan considered whether or not he should attempt to open one of the coffins forceably in order to see what was inside. But he rejected the idea quickly. If a force emanated from the coffins that caused him a headache, then it followed that they might contain something that was alive. At least the idea didn't seem to be too far-fetched. So the forced opening of any one of them could perhaps cause irreparable harm to the living contents.

  Rhodan resolved to refer to the coffins as 'boxes' from that point on.

  After a quarter of an hour Capt. Gorlat announced his arrival at the upper shaft entrance. Rhodan ordered him to bring down the psychograph and also told Tompetch to break out the ropes with which the light vehicle was normally equipped and to so arrange them in the shaft that Gorlat could climb down on them, thus protecting the sensitive equipment from the risk of a crash-landing at the bottom of the chute.

  Soon after that, Capt. Gorlat made an appearance in the tunnel.

  Rhodan took the instrument from him, set it on the ground and switched it on. If any articulate thought streams were being generated anywhere in the vicinity, the machine would register them. Of course the alien time-rate had to be taken into consideration. For constructing a brief thought or simple thought-form the normal human brain required a time-span of about one/100th of a second. If the alien life in the boxes thought with the same speed, in the real-time of their own plane it would represent a lapse of about 720 seconds, or 12 minutes.

  And this only considered the shortest possible thought. In order to accomplish a full telepathic intercourse of any kind—if indeed there were any impulses here—one would require days, weeks or even months.

  But then Rhodan suddenly remembered how swiftly the 'phantom' had moved. He did not seem subject to the alien time-rate. Was it reasonable to assume that their thought formations might be generated at a normal rate?

  There was a serious
argument against such a supposition: the pain Rhodan had experienced had not assailed him immediately when he came into the room and stood before the six boxes. It had only manifested some time afterward—perhaps 15 minutes after he had dropped to the floor of the room from the, tunnel exit. This meant there could be no question but that the aliens required a time-span for reaction and thought-formulation which corresponded to the alien plane's ratio. The 'phantom' and his own rate of mobility was apparently another kind of phenomenon.

  Rhodan looked at his watch. 10 minutes had passed since he had put the psychograph into operation. Atlan the Arkonide was still crouching in the tunnel opening and Capt. Gorlat stood behind him, bent over slightly because of the low ceiling. Both were looking into the room.

  Five more minutes went by during which the silence was interrupted only by the occasional scrape of a foot, a deep sigh or the clearing of a throat.

  Until the Arkonide suddenly straightened up and narrowed his eyes, staring into the background of the room. In a troubled tone he muttered aloud to himself: "There's something wrong there...!"

  Rhodan was cognizant of the extra-sense of the Arkonide which gave his perceptive faculty an additional range. Atlan sensed or saw things that were often too small or too far away for an ordinary human to perceive; and this applied even more so in the figurative sense of the word.

  Rhodan felt a surge of hot air emerge from the six boxes, followed almost immediately by a crackling and popping sound. Then he saw the covers of the boxes begin to ripple and buckle as though someone had fanned a hot fire under them. The rapidity with which everything was happening in spite of the alien time-ratio left no doubt that danger was imminent.

  "Merk it!" (Beat it—scram—make tracks) he yelled to Gorlat and the Arkonide.

  Both men reacted instantly. By the time Rhodan had turned off the psychograph, picked it up and climbed into the tunnel, the two were already back at the place where the passage started to slope upward. By the time he reached the spot he found the lower end of the ropes, which waved back and forth, revealing that either Gorlat or Atlan was busy climbing up to the top of the shaft.