by Perry Rhodan
Graybound almost shot out of his chair, causing Torero to cling precariously on his shoulder. "What do you mean by that, you old swindler? You think maybe I'm not a straight, respectable spaceman, you has-been fleet commander?"
"Crook! Murderer! Rat-catcher! Sweetie pie!" shrieked Torero, and continued in such excitement that Graybound had to give him a whack. Only then was the bird silenced.
"I mean suitable—you know, for the whole grind of the retraining program," Rex hastened to explain to his boss. "You have an amazing talent, Sam, for misunderstanding everything..."
"So has that colonel!" laughed Graybound. "Man, I sure let him have it! Hmm... then maybe the positronic Brain was right—I'm a capable and ingenious commander, after all. You know those think-machines can't make any mistakes..."
"You just got through saying the opposite," Rex muttered cautiously.
"Well, after all, a person has a right to change his mind," retorted the old Skipper.
The nav-computer chucked out a card, which Rex picked up and examined. "Transition commit," he announced. "Variance from our declared course is considerable. If Big Brother spots that..."
"It would be by accident..." Graybound checked the card and compared the data with the manifest papers, where the course he had filed with the Port Authority in Terrania was indicated. "Hm-m... A nice little difference, alright. But we can always say that our old bucket of bolts came up with the wrong calculations. They might swallow that."
"Hardly," said Rex doubtfully. "Ten seconds to go..."
• • •
When they came out of hyperspace and rematerialized in the Einstein continuum of the normal universe, they had traversed a distance of 3000 light-years. The Tuglan System was almost in an exactly opposite direction.
"Next jump—30 minutes," Rex announced. The First Officer was acting also as the navigator since with only 18 men the Lizard was actually undermanned. "We still have a little time."
"What for?" asked Graybound, scratching his red beard in vague puzzlement.
Rex remained silent because a man in civvies entered the Control Central, carrying a scratchpad.
"What the devil, Smith!" shouted Graybound impatiently. "You should stay in the Com Room and not bother us unless you have to!"
"Wave-tamer!" squawked Torero appropriately.
Henry Smith was of delicate frame and apparently of a shy disposition, seemingly not at all suited to this environment. But it was a false impression. Like everyone else on board the Lizard, Smith had a few murky spots in his past and no one knew his real name. But he was an excellent Com man and electronics technician and that alone counted with Capt. Graybound.
"You keep your beak out of this!" exclaimed the latter, scolding his parrot. "Alright, Smith, what is it?"
"Radio signal," replied the Communications man succinctly. "Translight transmission but not hypercom. Source—about five light-hours from here."
Graybound jerked around. "So you wait till now to tell me? If that's a picket ship of the Fleet..."
"It's a cruiser, sir—heading straight at us."
The First Officer jumped to his transition indicators. Still 28 minutes to the next programmed hyperjump. Much too much time.
"Heading for us?" gasped Graybound in startled dismay. "What do they want?"
"They didn't say," confessed Smith not too hopefully. "But what could they want of us? Declaration of course? Cargo inspection..."
"Muck-head!" said Torero, but as to whom the barb was aimed no one could be sure.
An uncontrolled hyperjump involved a number of dangers. A ship could go astray and never return. Of course all transition data were memory-stored in the nav computer and there was a possibility of reconstructing one's course but it was a risk that even Sam Graybound could not become enthused about. Yet it was preferable by far to an inspection out here by the Military.
"Don't give them an answer, Smith! Just keep your receiver open and don't make a peep. Notify me when they start to come into range. That's when we'll have to pull out. For a calculated jump the countdown is still 25 minutes."
Smith exited the room while Rex busied himself at the flight console.
"We could make a jump any time, Sam..."
"Hang in there, Rex—not yet! If we do it now and we're lucky enough not to get lost, we'll have to start all our calculations from scratch. So keep the regular program running. If the cruiser doesn't crowd us too soon, we'll make a normal jump. If it gets here in a big hurry—we'll jump blind—anywhere... We'll come out of it somehow—I hope."
"Blockhead!" croaked Torero. Graybound uttered a sulphurous oath. He took the parrot from his shoulder and held it directly in front of his eyes. "Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut, you little buzzard? I'll lock you in the cellar, do you understand?"
Torero decided to shut his beak, which gained him the advantage of being placed back on Graybound's shoulder instead of being locked in the cellar. Of course it wasn't an actual cellar; what was meant was the Lizard's 'weapons cabinet' which was located behind an innocent-looking bulkhead between the walls of the double hull. No one would be able to find the place unless the ship were dismantled. That was how well it was concealed and this was important because ordnance was not permitted on board commercial ships of this class. This fact alone gave Graybound reason to fear an inspection but there were also other weapons on board as well. There were even regular energy cannons that could destroy a cruiser if necessary—that is if it stood still long enough.
10 minutes passed in galling uncertainty until Smith came rushing back into the control room.
"The cruiser's jumped! She popped up within less than a light-minute from us. The commander demands that we heave to and prepare for a prize crew to come on board. He also wants to know why we don't answer."
Rex spoke first: "Maybe we can hold them off 10 more minutes—that would be all we need."
Graybound nodded. "Very well, Smith. Put that connection through to the Control Central. I'll talk with that nosy skipper myself!"
20 seconds later the hard face of an officer of the Solar Fleet appeared on the viewscreen. His brow was furrowed by a frown of anger. "What are you thinking of—not to answer a cruiser call? Open your locks for inspection!"
First, Graybound tried to handle the situation the nice way. "It's our com system, sir... it must be defective. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Happened again this time!"
"Don't hand us that old fairy tale! We've heard it before. Identify yourself!"
"Freighter Lizard, of Startramp Ltd.—Commander, Capt. Samuel Graybound. Cargo consigned Tuglan..."
"Graybound?" groaned the officer, half incredulous. "The Startramp skipper with the parrot?" A pleased grin suddenly appeared on the man's face. "We've lucked in! I'll wager you wouldn't be too happy to have some visitors over there just now, would you?"
"We'd even welcome a visit," Graybound lied. In fact at the moment he cursed his own unsavoury reputation.
"Ah, so there's your parrot, I see!" The officer had noticed Torero sitting on Graybound's shoulder. "Is it actually as smart as they say it is?"
"Meathead!" exclaimed Torero with unmistakable clarity.
It startled the officer. "Graybound, are you a ventriloquist?"
Graybound glanced at the chronometer. Still five minutes to go.
"Well, sometimes," he admitted modestly. "But not now."
"Hm-m... OK, so let's knock off the levity. Open your hatches. The boarding detail's on its way. I'll come later."
Smith called from next door. "They're coming across, sir—6-man team!"
Rex looked worried. He had his hand on the override lever that would activate a 'wild' hypertransition. Graybound nodded his readiness but without giving the final signal. He didn't want to just disappear without an explanation.
"Listen, Lieutenant, I don't want to endanger your men, so I can't let them come any closer. Don't try to follow us. We're under top secret orders and you can make trouble for y
ourself—do you understand?"
"Meathead!" repeated Torero with special emphasis.
Graybound signaled to Rex. The override lever slammed home.
The enraged cruiser commander, who was a major instead of a lieutenant, saw the Lizard disappear before his eyes. The prize boarding crew came to a stop in mid-flight. after which the men returned to the cruiser without having accomplished anything. The delay made it too late for pursuit.
The infamous Capt. Graybound had taken his Lizard into a hyperdive and was lost in the starry sea...
10 ADVENTURES FROM NOW The Mystery of Who is behind the
False Front
2/ A WORLD OF LIVING HORROR
On board the research ship Fantasy, Perry Rhodan and his men had not fared much better. When leaving Akon, 40,000 light-years distant from Earth, they became lost in the interstellar void. Although nothing was wrong with their new linear spacedrive, they attributed their disorientation to their quick 'getaway' from Akon.
The Fantasy was a spacesphere in the Terra class of heavy cruisers with a 200meter hull; it had been partially redesigned to make room for the new space propulsion system. Instead of making hypertransitions it was capable of moving linearly through space at millions of times the speed of light. The principle had been acquired from the Druufs but it had been considerably revised and probably even improved upon.
During the flight of the Fantasy into the center of the galaxy the ship had accidentally streaked through the blazing core of a sun. Its forcefield had been altered so that it simulated the characteristics of the system-wide blockade screen surrounding Akon. Thus the Blue System of Akon had acted as the counter-pole of a huge transmitter, drawing the Fantasy toward it. So the discovery of the home planet of the Akons had not been purely an accident. After the stellar collision their new course had been the effect of natural laws.
And now the return flight—lost... Where was the Earth?
• • •
They were sitting in Rhodan's cabin and were connected on video with Jefe Claudrin. But at the moment Claudrin had switched them to a view of the outer immensities. The unusually heavy profusion of stars revealed only too clearly that they were close to the center of the galaxy. And they knew that the Earth, on the other hand, was located relatively toward the galactic periphery in one of the spiral arms that did not contain such a stellar density as this. But they had to find that area again if they were to have any chance at all of getting back. They had already sent out their first distress signal on a hypercom beam but it was problematical since they didn't know their position.
"We've located a suitable target star, sir," said Col. Jefe Claudrin over the intercom. "We're heading toward it at one million speols. From that vicinity I believe I could take some new position measurements."
Reginald Bell was sitting next to Rhodan and he sighed. "You know this linear drive doesn't particularly impress me. Sure, you can take a nice scenic tour of the galaxy and see a lot of stars. But is it really much faster than usual and is the
system any safer? Until we're positive, I'd rather stick to hyperjumps."
"What about the pains of rematerialization?" Rhodan reminded him.
"They were tolerable, Perry. A heck of a lot better than losing our bearings."
Rhodan stared pensively at the fiery spectacle of the concentrated stars. Here the constellations had become distorted beyond any possible recognition. But the fact that they distorted themselves proved the ship was really moving! According to Maj. Hunts Krefenbac, their position now was somewhere between Akon and the Earth but he could not be certain of just where. Krefenbac was an experienced cosmonaut. At the first favorable opportunity he would recognize one of the constantly changing constellations and thus get his coordinates.
"Everything that's new has to be tested, just like this," said Rhodan. "You see, we were the guinea pigs, but now we know what improvements have to be undertaken. For example, the Kalup compensators..."
"How is that, please?" The question came from a huge man who was lying half-asleep in a form chair. He appeared to be over six feet tall. He had a fairly shiny bald head and pudgy cheek pouches. From his outward appearance one would hardly take him for one of Earth's most capable hyper-physicists. "What fault do you find with my compensator, sir?"
"My dear Kalup, I have no complaints about it, but you'll have to admit that certain improvements would be appropriate. It seems to me its operation is a bit too complicated. I find no fault in the actual operation of the converter itself but if it were to break down we'd really be in a bind. The only way you can make repairs is after we've landed."
Dr. Arnold Kalup was pacified so he sank back again into the upholstered chair. "Oh that...! But you don't have any other complaints about it?"
"None for the moment," replied Rhodan as he looked again at the viewscreen.
Bell stretched his legs. He let Kalup get away with his little snub, which had been subtly camouflaged. Besides, the man was too valuable. But his cynical and arrogant ways were upsetting to Bell because whenever he got into a verbal duel with him he always came out on the short end. So he preferred to keep his mouth shut.
At the rear of the cabin the mathematician, Carl Riebsam, and the physician, Dr. Gorl Nkolate, were conversing, but inasmuch as their voices were low the subject of their discussion remained a mystery to the others. Nor did anyone have a chance to find out.
A sharp jolt ran through the ship. Alarms screamed as two more jolts of equal strength wracked the vessel. The voice of the Chief Engineer shouted excitedly above the tumult: "Attention! Explosion in Sector BN-8! Extent of damage unknown. All machine rooms sealed off by automatic hatches—there's a vacuum leak!"
Rhodan had jumped to his feet. He looked at Kalup. "Your sector, Professor! The converters...!"
Kalup nodded calmly before getting up. "You see? You shouldn't speak of the devil if you don't want him to show up!"
Another emergency announcement came over the speaker: "Vacuum break confirmed. All hands remain at your stations. Get into your spacesuits! Stand by for further instructions."
Rhodan hesitated for a second or so but then he realized that in the final analysis the whole load of responsibility rested on his shoulders, even though just now the emergency orders were being issued by Slide Nacro, the Chief Engineer.
Rhodan's place was in the Control Central with the commander, Col. Claudrin.
"You others stay here," he said as he hurried to the door.
"Your spacesuit, Perry! We have a vacuum leak!"
Bell had jumped up and run to the built-in wall cabinet where the lightweight emergency suits were hanging. They were capable of preserving a man for a considerable time from the effects of airless space.
"No time now!" Rhodan called back. He was already out and sprinting down the corridor.
It was not far to the Control Central but he ran into a large number of crewmen who were hurrying along in spite of the order to remain at stations. They were all heading for their quarters to get into their emergency suits. Rhodan didn't reprimand them; there wasn't any time. Besides, it was the smartest thing they could do at the moment.
Col. Jefe Claudrin's outward appearance was slightly reminiscent of the Mounders of Topthor's clan. He was five feet tall and just about as wide, with a leathery brown skin and reddish hair. As a so-called EA, or environmentally adapted alien, he was accustomed to a 2.1 G gravity, so in spite of his awkward appearance he moved with a swift and sure dexterity which Rhodan never failed to marvel at.
"What's the situation, Colonel?"
"Not good, sir. We can't raise anyone in the machine rooms—no sign of life. I'm afraid they've had it, sir."
The announcement was like an iron hand on Rhodan's heart. He had no fear of possible danger affecting his own fate but he was suddenly fearful for the crewmen involved. They were men he might not have recognized by name but
they had nevertheless freely volunteered to take part in this dangerous mission.
"Video intercom?"
"Blasted, sir. All connections out."
It looked bad, alright. "Velocity?"
"We've dropped below light-speed, sir. Just going on our momentum. The
explosion must have come from the Kalup converters."
Rhodan knew that Kalup himself was not to be blamed. "Can you still manoeuvre?"
"Unfortunately not. The ship doesn't respond to the controls anymore."
Rhodan nodded slowly. "So we're a wreck—no propulsion, without controls— finished!"
Col. Claudrin shook his head. "Shortly before it happened, sir, I was taking some tracking measurements. Three light-hours from here is a yellow-type sun like Sol. It probably has planets. Our flight line is practically straight toward it."
"So? Are you saying we should attempt a landing with this derelict?"
"In the space-jets, sir. Not all the lifeboats could have been destroyed."
Rhodan realized that Claudrin had held onto his nerves, in fact more so than himself. And it was exactly in moments like this that calm deliberation was more important than anything else.
"You're right, Colonel. Find out how many auxiliary craft we still have at our disposal. I'll look into the personnel situation."
Before the commander could answer, Rhodan had already dashed out of the Control Central. He rushed through the corridor and jumped into the antigravitor, which brought him closer to the center of the big spacesphere. He could hear Capt. Slide Nacro over some of the P.A. speakers that were still functioning in the area. The Chief Engineer was still giving instructions, making sure first of all that the survivors of the catastrophe stayed out of danger. His next orders pertained to the rescue parties which were to penetrate the disaster zone to render aid. From the gist of the instructions Rhodan was able to gather an idea of the extent of the damage. The whole propulsion area must have been destroyed. Only a few sections of the machinery had been spared. The power generators were still functioning as well as the life support systems. The only thing that remained a mystery was how a vacuum break had occurred, since the machine rooms encircled the damaged central zone.