by Perry Rhodan
One of the filter units crashed before him from the ceiling and splintered into pieces. He shoved the fragments aside with his foot.
Evidently the temperature here was deadly without the protection of a spacesuit.
His helmet phone rattled. It was Teluf. "Bottischer! Where are you?"
"I'm in the fire area, sir!" he answered. "It doesn't look as if we can handle it. It's best for you to close off the lower level."
"We won't be able to get out of this," called Teluf. "If that fragment ship hits us again we're goners!"
"If they had that in mind, sir," said Bottischer laconically, "we'd be deadmen already." He called to his men. "Alright, everybody back!"
Teluf spoke caustically. "Our opponent seems to be more interested in the robot ship." A shaft section came tumbling down toward him like a flaming torch and he had to jump quickly to save himself. It was time to get out of this inferno. The men threw away their useless hand extinguishers and made a dash for the lift.
Bottischer waited until they had all vanished above him. He calmly took in the hellish spectacle around him and then followed the others.
Once he had reached the upper section he called again to the commander. "Sir, you can close off all connecting passages to the lower sections now! The leak in the machine rooms is big enough. The fire should die down shortly when the oxygen blows off into space."
"Alright, lieutenant. Get back into the Control Central—and keep your eyes open for wounded men." A few moments later, the lieutenant entered the Control Central of the Frisco where the battery lights were supplying a weak illumination. In the semi-darkness Teluf's face looked like a carved wooden mask. A large portion of the crew had already assembled here and nobody appeared to be seriously wounded.
The ship surgeon, Dr. Gerwain, who was also an outstanding cybernetic expert, was tending to the men's burns.
Tonrim had crept under the map table where all that could be seen of him was his single red eye. Bottischer experienced a twinge of sympathy for the poor Trox. No doubt the threadlike creature was wishing that he had never met a Terran in his life.
"The com equipment isn't damaged," said Teluf with a note of relief. "We're going to try to make contact with the Theodorich." The Theodorich was the new flagship of the Solar Fleet, having replaced the Ironduke. The new ship was equipped with linear space drive which had been designed according to the latest data obtained from the Akons. Like almost all other Terran spacers the super battleship was spherical in shape but with a diameter of 1,500 meters.
Reja Teluf had been informed that the Administrator had established a picket zone at the edge of star cluster M-13 in order to be in close contact with Arkon 3. So in view of that favorable position the Theodorich was best situated to come to the Frisco's aid. Moreover, the flagship was equipped with all the most modern weapons and was the best suited of all other warships to offer resistance to the powerful enemy. In addition, a highly trained and experienced crew was involved which had been personally selected by Perry Rhodan himself.
This was the first situation that Maj. Teluf had not been able to handle on his own. It irked him, even though it was understandable considering the size of his opponent. He was burning with a desire to see the fragment ship learn a bitter lesson for its ruthless attack. Teluf had just finished running off the Springers and he considered it an unfair twist of fate that his ship should end up being mauled so badly.
"I hope we contact them in time," said Galahad. "If we have another explosion, some of the sealed bulkheads could give away."
"Ikaze, send out a coded distress signal," Teluf ordered. "Our enemy mustn't know we've called for help."
Dr. Gerwain expressed his doubts. "I'd like to know why they are even giving us this much of a chance. We're hanging here helplessly in space and yet they seem to be only concerned with the Hat-Lete."
Teluf answered him. "We can figure that out later, Doc." He turned again to Ikaze. "Make sure you mention the fragment ship in your signal." The Japanese operator nodded and got busy. The Trox ventured to come out from under the table. Singing softly he floated toward Bottischer who was the only one in whom he seemed to have a certain degree of confidence.
"Is it pretty bad?" he whispered to him in Intercosmo.
The lieutenant winced in slight pain as he removed his helmet and brushed back his blond hair. He stripped off his spacesuit and placed it in the rack.
Then he grasped Tonrim and placed him on his shoulder. "Naw, this is just everyday routine," he said.
Tonrim sighed and resignedly closed his eye. His quintuple stomach had shrunk together and it pained him. In any case he should have followed the advice of the ancient kings and avoided all Terran vessels. Now it was too late because here he was in a trap with these men, hoping only for a miracle.
Three minutes later the Frisco an unmanageable derelict sent out its distress call across the endless gulfs of space and time. For the men of the third planet of Sol, a new and mighty foe had appeared and had demonstrated his open hostility.
3/ WHEN TITANS CLASH
As ever before, the political and military situation in the Arkon Terran sectors of the galaxy was tense. Perry Rhodan, Administrator of the Solar Imperium, had all he could handle to more or less control the Arkonide Empire with the help of his friends. The destruction of the robot Regent had created a totally new situation, and new difficulties were always blocking attempts to master it. With its tremendous capacity the mammoth positronicon had been able to watch every corner of the Greater Imperium and to defend it if need be. This seemingly insurmountable task had for the most part been taken over by the men of the Solar Imperium.
Nevertheless, Atlan had become more or less a shadow Imperator, even though Rhodan himself only directly administered earthly affairs in order to keep his friend's position intact. The Arkonide often told his Terran associate, nonetheless, that he felt like a mere figurehead in the entire picture.
Of course Rhodan couldn't divert all of his energies to the support of Atlan because he had enough troubles in his own camp. For example, the invisible phantoms had shown up again, and there was that strange fragment ship that had destroyed the BOB 21. This had been sufficient provocation for stationing a great number of ships along the borders of the galaxy, who had standing orders to keep the outer regions under constant surveillance. So far, however, there hadn't been the slightest indication that another fragment ship was in the area.
Almost 90% of the fleet units were needed inside the Greater Imperium. This meant that the Administrator had no other choice but to keep building armaments in order to bolster his military potentials in other areas. Along with Luna, Terra itself had become a first-line war machine. The greater part of tax revenues from the continually expanding Solar Imperium were flowing into the defense buildup. Rhodan had no other alternative if he was to guarantee the safety of humanity.
So it was that in the year 2112 the Earth found itself in a situation that it had often faced before. New enemies had made an appearance in the outer reaches of the void. Their strength was an unknown factor but they would very possibly be able to strike a vital blow against their civilization.
On the 29th of May of this year, Perry Rhodan himself was on the Theodorich, which was patrolling the borders of star cluster M-13. Earth affairs were being directed by capable men who would advise Rhodan in case of the slightest emergency.
Within the Fleet the Theodorich had been the subject of the wildest rumors.
There was no latest improvement that the ship was not supposed to have. And it was true, as a matter of fact, that at present there was no ship to equal it in the Fleet.
• • •
Now a captain and also a third officer of the watch on board the Theodorich, Brazo Alkher finished his rounds and greeted Stana Nolinov with a weary grin.
The latter had also been promoted to captain.
"I know," said Nolinov. "Either you've lost your shirt in a card game or the deck duty is getting you do
wn again a terrible drag, right?" Alkher's brown eyes gazed at his friend with an expression of sadness. "I only wanted to express my condolences," he said solemnly."As an officer of this most wearying of all duty assignments, it's your turn to take over." He frowned sternly. "You look a sorry mess. At least shove your hair out of your face." Capt. Nolinov ran a hand over his short-cropped head. "You trying to impress me with your curly locks?" he retorted.
"Don't knock it, buddy. If I could pull a little ground duty—" He interrupted himself hastily as he noted Chief Engineer Major Slide Nacro sauntering toward them with an interested look on his face.
Alkher and Nolinov saluted him and waited for the major to pass them.
However, Nacro stopped before Alkher who was considerably taller and drew his small figure to its full height. Apparently he had overheard their conversation .
"Come to think of it, Captain," he said with mock solemnity, "just who are you intending to charm with that hairdo?" Nolinov grinned craftily, enjoying Alkher's embarrassment. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at him expectantly.
"Well, you see, sir—"
"Top alert!" thundered the speakers suddenly. "All officers report to stations immediately!" Nacro and Alkher both started to run and bumped into each other.
They disentangled and continued in separate directions. Since he was now off regular duty, Alkher followed the major to the Control Central while Nolinov took over command of the local sector of the ship.
The Theodorich came to life. There was a bedlam of shouted commands and mighty machines roared into operation. Everywhere the red lights were flashing the TQP alarm status. The command from Control Central was continuously repeated over the speakers.
While running after the major, Alkher was racking his brains trying to figure what had caused Commodore Claudrin to sound the alarm. This couldn't be just a drill or a test run because the Theodorich's crew was beyond all that. Even if something like a test drill were in effect, the pattern of duty assignments would have been different, at least for the officers. Nor was an, attack on the flagship in progress because in that case the alarm status would be a Condition 2.
When he entered the Control Central and could look around Nacro's broad shoulders, he saw the medium-built figure of first Officer Reg Thomas, then noticed that the scar on Thomas' left cheek had become livid. Perry Rhodan stood behind Thomas and listened with his usual self-composure to a signal replay that had been picked up on the hypercom channel. Alkher recognized it as the typical format of a distress call from a Terran spaceship.
"It's coded, sir," announced Les O'Brien who was the Com Man on duty. "I'm running it through decipher now." In a few moments the clear text came through on a readout strip, which Rhodan read carefully. He looked up at Nacro and Alkher.
"We already knew that it was from the light cruiser, Frisco," he said. "It's an urgent call for help and now we know why. They have been attacked by a fragment ship."
"Here come the coordinates, sir!" shouted O'Brien excitedly.
The news came as a bombshell for all present in the Control Central. All their endless patrol flights had failed to discover one of these mysterious alien ships but now, unexpectedly, the enemy had struck again this time inside the galaxy.
"Check out those coordinates, Commodore," he said to the Epsalian. "We won't lose any time in coming to the Frisco's aid. It's advisable to place a part of the Fleet on standby alert." Claudrin moved ponderously to get the coordinates data from O'Brien.
"There's more," announced the Com Man. "A fire has broken out in a part of the ship. Cmdr. Teluf doesn't think the Frisco can get out of the danger zone on its own power."
O'Brien's tone of voice expressed heavy concern. "The incident happened when they were putting a prize crew on board the Hat-Lete. That's a heavy-cruiser class robot ship that was drifting in free fall."
"The fragment ship is probably interested in the Hat-Lete," said Rhodan pensively. "They undoubtedly considered the Frisco to be a competitor for the prize."
Jefe Claudrin was aflame with anger. "It looks as if these fragment ships just open fire on anything that gets in their way."
"You're forgetting the Hat-Lete," Rhodan reminded him. "Why don't they take a pot-shot at that vessel also?" For the Administrator this affair was much more significant than the usual kind of incidents experienced with Springers and other races in the galaxy. To most of the known races all they were aware of was that just one such encroachment of this had occurred but even this second incident couldn't be looked at as an isolated phenomenon. The fragment ships were guided by unknown beings and there was always the danger that a whole fleet of these weird-looking warships might make an appearance.
The hard school that had made Rhodan an incomparably experienced leader never let him forget that the only ones who could survive for long in the game of galactic power were those who took the least possible risks. In the great political play for rank and status in the universe there was no place for rash decisions. The only ones who remained the victors were those who made long-term plans. Now and again it could happen that somebody's sudden attack canceled out the possibility of long deliberations but in such cases the reaction capability of the Solar Fleet had met the test often enough.
So in connection with the fragment ship Perry Rhodan wasn't thinking of just the one vessel by itself. In a more strategic sense he could see that sooner or later he would be encountering a powerful alien fleet, and since their intentions would be unknown they would have to be classified at once as enemies.
First of all, however, the men on the Frisco had to have help. In a few minutes now, under the sure hand of Jefe Claudrin, the Theodorich would be entering the libration zone, after which it would race toward its distant goal at many times the speed of light.
"We are at half lightspeed, sir," announced the big Epsalian.
Maj. Slide Nacro watched the engine indicators and nodded with satisfaction.
The construction of the flagship had consumed tremendous sums of money but the expenditure had paid off in terms of top precision performance. "All engines clear, sir," he announced.
The Theodorich picked up speed while the mighty converters which had first been tested in the never-to-be-forgotten Fantasy provided an almost immeasurable burst of energy. The vast space sphere was virtually catapulted into its course and on the screens the very stars appeared to reel and move from their positions.
"Light speed obtained," boomed Claudrin's organ-pipe voice.
The Theodorich became a shooting shadow, darting through the vacuum of space within an unanalyzable medium. Despite its incomprehensible velocity it did not diminish the immensity of the surrounding void. For everyone on board the cold glory of the universe remained what it had always been an unconquerable Infinity.
And the Theodorich was hurtling into it.
• • •
Vicheline was startled by the sudden flood of lights in the room. However, he quickly calmed himself. Apparently the Terrans had arrived on board and had reconnected some broken power circuits.
The Trox reminded himself that Terrans were top experts in technical areas.
They could manage to put half-destroyed generators back into full operation.
Vicheline tried to imagine how he would greet them in a few minutes when they came into this room. Humming contentedly to himself, he began to move about. The light was so bright that he could distinguish every detail of his surroundings now. As far as he could tell he was in some kind of control room because he saw countless indicators and meters, many viewscreens and switchboard panels. He had heard that the Arkonide robot ships were constructed so that they could be quickly converted for navigation by a live crew.
Vicheline's thread-thin arms carefully touched the smooth metal of a console cabinet and he passed his little hands across it with a sense of awe. Soft sounds emerged from an opening above his multiple stomach. The Trox moved across the deck with wraith-like steps.
He heard ne
w sounds coming from somewhere and he straightened up, drifting to the center of the room where he could observe both entrances. If everything he had heard concerning the mentality of the Terrans were true, they would politely conceal their surprise at his presence here and after a few innocuous words they would simply take him into their company. They were just another race of the usual big old bipeds, yet the thrill of newness to the adventure captured Vicheline's fancy more than he would have cared to admit to any of his own kind.
Vicheline bobbed slowly up and down, a small bundle of transparent life that was filled with warmth and friendship. However strange his attitude might have appeared, nevertheless he managed a certain degree of dignity. After all, the Trox was an aristocrat among his kind, having already scored visits to 48 planets.
The sounds came nearer and the Trox began to be puzzled by the crude and noisy procedure of the Terrans. Suddenly there was a shrill shrieking sound as though a metal saw were slicing quickly through steel, and Vicheline sank to the floor in fright. His delicate nerve centers contracted and swiftly expanded again, causing him physical pain.
With a great effort he overcame his feeling of panic. What was happening out there? Were the Terrans taking the ship apart without bothering about this particular room? He tensed at the thought that they might overlook him and leave him here alone.
A clanking and rolling sound came through the walls and Vicheline began to tremble. Was this what had caused the olden kings to have their negative opinion about the Terrans? Shaking in his frail limbs, the Trox approached one of the doors. When he was about three meters away from it, the hatch flew open and gave him a view of the corridor.
Two brilliant blue gunners stood before the opening. Their angular bodies fairly vibrated with a tense readiness for action.