by Perry Rhodan
Owing to the interference effects of the lens, we ourselves were forced to operate at least 300 yards beyond it.
The next 30 minutes were devoted to our indispensable preparations. I took charge of the power supply for the Physiotron while Rhodan kept a strict eye on our perfect robot. Both platforms were so close to each other that their edges touched.
I looked worriedly at the two cannon-like power projectors by means of which our transport platform was to be enclosed in a shielding field that was to separate two continuums. The calculations were set; it was now only a matter of watching to see that the semispace to be simulated did not come too close to the real thing.
Bell was already standing in the cage of the cell shower. He acted calm and collected but those who knew him better knew that he was under tension.
After about 40 minutes I had finished my system checkout. I still didn't like to think about that main power line. It was possible that chemical processes in the chlorine atmosphere could make my high-tension insulation break down. The do-or-die safety factor allowed for an extra 500 amperes. If the breaker switches were to break down under a peak load, Bell would be utterly lost. During his full dematerialization, such an abrupt power loss could not be risked.
"Ready," I said over the helmet intercom, trying to sound as calm as possible. "How far along are you with your semispace generator?"
"Providing that it works—we're also ready!" Rhodan answered, somewhat hoarsely. "Bell, can we begin?"
Bell's voice sounded mild but carried a tone of unwonted gravity. "I'm ready for anything. And thanks a lot for all your efforts. Pucky, come on, little guy—let's mop up those tears."
Homunk gave me a signal. Both reactors showed a green light. I turned them full on. The surge was rugged. As though mesmerized I looked over at the blue-white beams of energy which had built up inside the contracting vortex compression field. This was also a form of power transmission but not as effective as that which had been under the control of our missing collective entity.
My insulation shields held up, although the two thermal converters were handling an initial potential of 3,000,000 volts. Whatever might be happening in the base of the Physiotron was beyond me to imagine. I had only seen some small leads connecting to the base terminals, so in all consciousness I hadn't dared to load them with more than 1,000 volts at 80 amps. What they were receiving now and apparently conducting without any trouble must be virtually a ravening, primeval force, considering the size of the equipment.
Bell, whom we had just seen intact, suddenly became a phantomesque shadow. A millisecond later all we could make out was a pulsing, reddish glow that took on a spiral form, seemingly suspended in the lines of force that had been built up by the Physiotron.
I was the last man to jump down from the platform and in a few fast strides I was at Rhodan's side.
When I got there, the robot threw a switch.
A powerful roaring sound startled me. When I looked back at the cell shower it was hardly discernible. A pale spherical vortex had completely enclosed the antigrav platform.
It took us five minutes to find the right adjustment. When we reached maximum power for the 4-D isolation screen, we were sure that an almost natural condition of semispace must have been created inside the reflector fields.
Rhodan looked at his watch. He seemed to be quite calm. "If everything works, we should be witnessing a phase shift. Probably everything will work out in the long run. He won't feel any of it."
From then on we remained silent. The special commandos were on the alert for any sudden threat and we found it quite a task to suppress our prevailing state of nervousness. Bell had to remain in the cell shower approximately 90 minutes. It was his only chance.
As the spherical vortex writhed slowly in its weird contortions, I could hear Rhodan's breathing become louder in my headphones. Homunk had charge of the Physiotron controls.
Thirty minutes later we had the visual impression that the formerly solid cell shower was as thin as a post; but from the side it seemed that the apparatus had widened considerably. This was unquestionably the effect of the semispace condition, of which we had been only too well aware, ourselves, but a few days before.
Khrest approached us in a state of agitation. His aquiline face was visibly tense. His voice sounded in our pressure helmets while the outside vapors kept condensing and crystallizing on our faceplates. I worriedly felt the various sections of my metallic spacesuit. It was not a pleasant experience to be working in a chlorine atmosphere.
Khrest communicated to us the readout results of the portable computer. According to his findings, the relative time-lapse ratio was one to 4.26374, which filled me with more alarm than before. It meant that our rate of movement here was only four times faster than that of a potential enemy.
The full impact of this figure enabled us to realize the true magnitude of the storm around us. The measured wind velocity of about 44 miles per hour must have been in excess of 175 miles per hour in the other timeframe! From experience we knew that our physical organisms tended to equalize the effects of these differentials. Why this was so could not be explained with certainty. Much more disconcerting, however, was the unavoidable fact that such a low differential as 1:4 could be found on any planet within the Druuf time-plane. This brought new and weighty mathematical problems into the picture which we could not get involved in at the moment.
When Rhodan had also finished studying Khrest's data, there was a sudden alarm. This came precisely 56 minutes after Bell had entered the Physiotron. Rhodan stiffened visibly as we stared at each other momentarily.
"What do you make of that, Admiral?" he asked me. "Were you ever in a situation similar to this?"
My auxiliary brain, which was practically identical to the photographic memory portion, signaled to me with a painful intensity. Again my abnormal urge to recount the past welled up within me. I suppressed the impulse and restricted myself to a hasty description of what I had done in a similar situation 10,000 years before.
Rodes Aurin called us. His face appeared on the tiny vidscreens of our wrist receivers, whose speaker outputs had been fed into our helmet phones.
"We have a hypersensor bearing, sir," he announced. "5 shockwaves all at once but no amplitude variations like you'd expect from a normal hyper-exit manoeuvre in Einsteinium space. We get fairly constant residual quanta. Looks like somebody were sliding out of hyperspace instead of just a straight jump—sort of calm and easy-going. And that, sir, is no ordinary space warp!"
Rhodan looked at me helplessly. However I remembered only too vividly an incident that at the time had meant the beginning of the end.
"Attack!" I shouted quickly. "Attack at once! Just don't wait for anything. The sensor indications are valid, however strange they may seem. Those creatures whom you call Druufs control a method of surpassing the speed of light which is different than ours. They don't make a transit jump through the 5th dimension like we do—they fly through it! Do you know what I mean?"
"Not entirely. To what extent do they fly?"
"They just don't make a hyperjump in the true sense of the word," I said excitedly. "It was a puzzle to me at the time, too, until it suddenly burst on me. They conquer hyperspace in one long flight but a million times faster than light. Because of the different physical laws in that sort of para-void and considering the alien plane of reference there, it seems completely commonplace to them. By use of this system their destination star always remains visible. Also, they are not dematerialized as we are in our violent form of hypertransit jumps. For example, the Druufs pick out a specific distance they want to travel. Accordingly they figure out what multiple of trans-light velocity is required in the 5th dimension and their travel segments are chosen accordingly. It's pure flying but a million times faster than possible in Einsteinium space. In the 5th dimension the ultimate speed attainable is a billion times higher than possible in our universe. No, don't ask me how the Druufs come out of hyperspace. I presume
it happens with a very short explosive shock but it's not comparable to our transitions. They simply go in, orient themselves and come storming out. The sharp spikes on our sensor readouts indicate this kind of shock wave. The more stable wavelines represent their approach speed. We'll still register a hardly noticeable jolt but by that time they'll be here."
"Aurin, does that check out?" asked Rhodan over the radio voice com. "Do you have any sharp starting spikes like that?"
"Yes sir, exactly that," answered the captain excitedly. "I think I'm getting an idea of what's going on. Orders, sir?"
Rhodan looked at me again. I was deeply disturbed. Memories assailed me more and more. My Arkon-activated extra-brain was merciless. Khrest placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. Since he also stemmed from a noble family, he naturally had received the dubious advantage of a government-sanctioned brain activation. Normal Arkonides had never come in contact with this experience. Only especially deserving and highly stationed people had been permitted to have the unused portions of the brain awakened.
Rhodan didn't wait any longer. Once Terranians have made up their minds, a variety of things are liable to happen.
Before I could properly collect my wits about me a series of flashing blue furies shot out of the lens into our view. I had been figuring on the four guppies on standby alert but here suddenly were all 40-fighter units—the full auxiliary complement of the super battleship Drusus.
I saw Rhodan grinning. Apparently he also was unaware that his efficient second officer, Lt.-Col. Sikerman, had taken the precaution to launch the entire guppy fleet. Behind the powerful 200-foot ships hurtled a pack of three-man fighters through the light-ring—which made things all the merrier!
All crews on board the new contingents still had the advantage of a full-scale time-rate so for about an hour at least they would be four times faster than the most modern Druuf ship.
I went for cover as the pilots seemed to go mad, hurling their ships onto the target course at a horrendous acceleration. Searing hot shockwaves beat down upon us and the poisonous gases of the planet were gripped this time by a real hurricane.
There was a roaring and thundering as though the end had come to this particular world. The fighter pursuit ships continued flashing through the lenticular forcefield. It was our bad luck to be right in the unavoidable approach lane. The daring rascals pulled their noses up precisely above our position. The attack force consisted of at least two squadrons.
When the wild pursuit groups had passed us, Aurin asked anxiously: "Do you think that will hold them, sir?"
Rhodan's laughter made me catch my breath. There was something in his tone that dug at my nerves. He didn't seem to think the Druufs were at all invincible.
A few moments later he turned to me. "OK, Arkonide, we took you up on your advice. Bell still needs 29 minutes. That's how long our attack front has to hold out. What do you say our chances are?"
I looked for a place to sit down. When these Terranian barbarians became kooky and light on their toes like this it was usually a nerve-shocker for people like myself.
While I sat there silently, some crewmen set up next to us the hypercom equipment which had been 'brought over' from the other side. The viewscreen was subdivided into four sections and immediately we saw the faces of the attack mission's commanding officers appear. Naturally Lts. Stepan Potkin, David Stern and Marcel Rous were among them. Apparently they were leading the pursuit ship formations.
"We have them, sir," reported Potkin with complete composure. "The hypersensors are operating. If they want to get at us they have to come out of hyperspace, so when they show their noses we'd better do something about it."
"That might be advisable," said Rhodan gruffly. "Based on our last encounter with them, a state of war exists between us and the Druufs. They've spotted us dead on. Apparently they've developed a method of detecting our lens-field whenever it appears. Such a force-ring probably causes a healthy shockwave in the 5th dimension. Get out into space and fan out into deployed positions. The approaching enemy units have to be held back at all costs. I still need exactly 25 minutes."
By now I had regained my composure. I was very familiar with the situation they were discussing. "Listen to me, Barbarian!" I interjected confidently. "Tell your men to close formation so that they can use their combined jets as a weapon beam. If the Druuf defense screens have not been changed they will become very unstable under hard radiation bombardment."
Rhodan didn't object too strenuously to this because I was giving him some of my 10,000 years of experience. Three minutes later the Terranian ships were in the thick of battle. Over the hypercom we heard a crackling and thundering as two powerful fleets encountered each other. The pickup mikes in the guppies and pursuit ships transmitted the battle sounds clearly, which must have been unbearable within the echoing confines of the crew compartments. I recognized the familiar clang and clamor of weaponry in action as prolonged energy beam shots and closed formation broadsides were delivered. The noise was strongest coming from the guppies because the circular compartments of the spherical vessels were more resonant.
We looked above but with the naked eye there was nothing to be seen. The combat was running its course in the depths of space. Now and then reports came through from individual commanders. According to them only six opposing vessels had been detected so far. Four of the long, slender ship types had been shot down already. There had been no sign of survivors but it was presumed that the crews consisted of robots. The two telepaths on board guppies K-18 and K-6 had not picked up any mental impulses.
"So much the better," said Rhodan, checking his watch. "Just four minutes to go and we'll have it made."
We waited impatiently but meanwhile I was wondering what Bell must have been feeling at this moment in the Physiotron. Probably nothing at all.
When the time was up and Homunk turned off the cell shower, we turned breathlessly to look at the nearby antigrav platform. The vortex screen disappeared. The outlines of the structure became more discernible.
Pucky had been standing close to me clutching my left hand. He suddenly, squeaked excitedly and threw his little arms up. "He's alive!" I heard the supermouse yell out. "I'm getting his thoughts. He thinks he's only been in there for a second or so."
I ducked away involuntarily as the air suddenly shimmered. Pucky disappeared in a flash but instantly he appeared in the middle of the silenced Physiotron, where he jumped up and threw his arms around the broad-shouldered human figure there.
Rhodan and I merely exchanged glances. We understood each other without need for words. At least we had achieved one goal in any case because Reginald Bell appeared to be intact. To what degree the cell shower had reverted the strange rejuvenation process, however, was still an unknown factor.
Rhodan's eyes began to stare blankly. He was listening inwardly. Since I knew that he had developed a slight telepathic ability I did not disturb him. In a few moments he turned to me, slightly nonplussed.
"The mouse-beaver reports that Bell seems to be completely himself again. The boyish features have gone back the way they were before. Do you understand?"
I didn't have time to answer him because at that moment a monstrous shape emerged far above through the dense chlorine atmosphere. Simultaneously we were contacted by the flight commander.
I saw the smooth, well-groomed features of Van Aafen appear on the viewscreen. As usual, the Major was cool, slightly reserved and pedantic. He was an outstanding cosmonaut who seemed not to have a nerve in his body.
"We have an alert condition, sir," he informed us. "A heavy enemy vessel has broken through the line and
I am closing in with eight guppies. I would suggest that you take cover."
His manner was such that he might as well have been describing crumbled cookies at a picnic. We dove for cover!
About 1000 yards away something bright and glistening flashed through the greenish chlorine air. A terrible clap of thunder reached us along with a pow
erful shockwave, which hurled me several yards over the smooth deck surface of the platform. An infernal roaring sound became audible. Close on its heels a new cyclone struck us and this time I was lifted up violently. Apparently we were being just grazed by the vacuum suction of a fast-moving spaceship.
Things happened too swiftly for immediate comprehension. Several shadowy shapes went by at a considerable height above us. Bright flashes of light illuminated the semi-darkness and then afar off, an atomic sun-ball seemed to inflate like a balloon.
Blinded by it, I closed my eyes and waited for what was to come. Somebody clutched my ankles, seeking support. We lay flat on the platform as the glowing hot pressure front of the explosion arrived. Like a world in collision. Minutes later I could not have explained how I lived through the inferno.
Almost benumbed by the experience, I helped Rhodan to his feet. Our two antigrav gliders had almost been capsized. The atomic blast had gripped them from underneath and spun them more than 50 yards across the flat terrain.
"That must have been at least 100 megatons!" groaned Rhodan. His left wrist seemed to pain him from a bad bruise. "Do you think these contraptions will still fly?"
"They've got to, sir!" said one of the crewmen. "All that equipment has got to go back—especially the Physiotron."
We turned to search for Bell. He waved at us from the other platform. So at least all was in order in that department.
I was already checking the propulsion engines when the major's report finally came in. I heard Rhodan scolding him before I made out his words:
"Sorry, sir; that was apparently shaving it a bit thin for you. Stupid of the robot ship to explode like that. May I request further instructions?"
"The devil take you—and piece by piece!" retorted Rhodan. "You could have held your fire from the Druuf for at least two minutes. He would have been a few thousand miles away from us by then. OK, forget it! Stand by till we have these two freight decks secured. Then fall in behind with the whole formation. Use the pursuit ships as a rear flank protection. In an emergency the fighter jets can get through the lens faster than you could with your heavier guppies. Is that clear?"