Crimson Universe

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Crimson Universe Page 9

by Perry Rhodan


  I might have made a final effort if I were sure of having one of these creatures' spaceships and if I knew I could operate it. But there was little chance of that, so I soon refrained from fantasizing. I would probably have stood helplessly before the controls, anyway, and would have ended with my hands up in surrender.

  But surrender we would not. If the Druufs had been humanoid, then maybe! However, if they were anxious to obtain our healthy carcasses for research purposes, then they'd better come and get us—and where we chose to wait for them.

  I looked over at Rhodan, who had also found a good position. Naturally our resistance was meaningless. Sooner or later they'd have us. Actually one shouldn't attempt something if he knows full well that there's not the slightest hope of success. But then—what hasn't man done for no good reason! For us it would be reason enough to just be free to breathe this exceptionally good air for another hour. That, at least, would be something!

  9/ A STRANGE VOICE CALLING

  Altogether we had four entrances to cover. The fifth archway opened behind us. Only a few moments before, the gateway to my right had been hit by the sun-hot beam of my thermo-blaster and was now a glowing mass of molten rock. Underneath it lay the melted down remains of two metal robots which had been of a weirdly unusual design.

  The Druufs had not, themselves, appeared in the line of fire, but they had also not made any serious attempt to drive us from our cover. The advance robot detail did not even seem to represent the specialized type designed for combat. It seemed more likely that they had made a preliminary thrust with mere maintenance robots, in order to see how we would react to their appearance.

  Well, we had certainly expressed our reaction. Translated in universal terms, we were saying: not one step beyond those archways!

  In this action my conscience was clear because I had previously succeeded in delivering to the Druufs a quite official declaration of war. In the final analysis, Rhodan and I were representatives of a major galactic government, whose applicable laws drew a definite line between murder and military acts of war. So by this time the Druufs should know where they stood. It was up to them to adjust themselves accordingly.

  The insulated butt of my thermo-weapon had become fairly warm. In its miniature fusion chamber a tiny catalytic charge waited for the next electric ignition spark. A fractional part of the released energy was then absorbed by the micro-converter, which generated power for focusing the force fields in the reaction chamber as well as for the rectification process. Otherwise a small atom bomb would have exploded in my right hand, because the catalytic charge worked by a cold fusion process at an ignition temperature of about 7200°F.

  My target, which was the farthest archway to my right, must have been about 100 yards from us, but we still felt the heat released from the shot. Evil-smelling smoke fumes pervaded the large chamber. The machinery around us had been shut off shortly after I first opened fire so we were able to hear the hissing and bubbling of the glowing lava quite clearly. The sharp odor came apparently from the burnt out remains of the robots.

  Rhodan was the first of us to start coughing.

  I looked across at him with my eyes streaming tears from the irritation and tension. "A couple of real heroes we are!" I complained. "All this beautiful air for a change—and we're polluting it already!"

  He waved off the criticism and fought an impulse to cough again. Then he shouted back: "Do you gather that they don't want to damage their power plant? If this is a vital energy source, then we're squared away pretty good!"

  I laughed ironically at his optimism. But that's the way they were, these little barbarians. The whole world had to come down on their heads before they would surrender.

  Shortly before my first shot I had risked calling Fellmer Lloyd over the helmet radio. He had answered at once and informed me that he had succeeded in cleaning out his spacesuit. The sanitary section was so badly damaged, however, that it wouldn't be possible to repair it without special tools. Otherwise he was getting along fairly well.

  It only served to convince me that he was feeling miserable, which he would naturally conceal from us under the circumstances. The stunned Druuf was still stiff and numb, which again emphasized that these behemoths really had a sensitive nervous system.

  I looked upward at the ceiling, where I was sure there must be exhaust shafts for some kind of air-conditioning system. I finally detected a few openings there but the now almost unbearable fumes were not being sucked out. It was evident that the Druufs had also shut the air system down.

  It had become dark in the room, although there was still some illumination from the glowing red spheres that hovered near the ceiling. I assumed that these apparatuses were some kind of antennas.

  Rhodan's shout of alarm crashed into my deliberations. I ducked my head so quickly that I struck my chin on a protrusion from the foundation base before me. Angrily I dropped to my knees and again raised my weapon. This time the robots appeared simultaneously in all three of the remaining entrances.

  I heard the deep thunder of Rhodan's blaster. The brilliant beam blinded me so that I could hardly see my target. I did not press the trigger until the cross-hairs of my reflex gunsight were directly over the spherical form of a robot who had moved with considerable speed into the broad passage between the giant reactors. He was still about 50 yards away when the finger-thin beam of energy struck him squarely. My ears were still hurting from the thunder of my shot when the ball-shaped thing exploded.

  A blinding bolt of lightning shot toward the ceiling. Before the shockwave reached me I was already flat on the floor, gripping the base of the machinery next to me. There was a roaring and rumbling as though this unknown world were flying into pieces.

  Rhodan fired again. I noticed that he made a strategic sweep of both entrances on his side with the ravening energy beam. After I had taken up my position again, still more of the spherical robots streamed forth from the archway on my side.

  I fired twice. The blaster kicked brutally in my hands and ahead of me was chaos. However, before another robot could explode the rest of them drew back so swiftly that I couldn't find another target. Holding the beam in a continuous firing mode, I traced it over the framework of the entrance, which caused the whole archway to collapse in a bubbling mass of molten masonry.

  It was high time to close my helmet. The heat was unbearable and the smoke clouds were getting so thick that we could hardly breathe. My headpiece clicked sharply into its magnetic clamps and the oxygen system began to work automatically.

  "That ought to do it." Rhodan's voice resounded in my helmet phone.

  "Are you sure there are no robots hiding in here?" I asked.

  "I'm pretty certain of it, from what I can see in all this blithering mess. I think we'd better make a slow pullback into the transmitter room."

  "But that's crazy! We must hold the power station as long as possible. If the machines are so important to the Druufs that they don't want to destroy them, then—!"

  Suddenly Lloyd's voice interrupted our conversation. His tone was remarkably calm. "The air is getting bad back here, sir," he announced. "I've tried but there's no way of closing off these archways."

  I grasped a fact he didn't choose to mention. If he was forced to close his helmet too, he would have to draw more oxygen out of his reserve tank. As we had determined following our rematerialization, he only had six hours left.

  I could only see Rhodan's shadowy outline. Ahead of us the exploded remains of the robot were burning out. "OK, let's go," I replied dejectedly. "But it will be necessary to melt down the opening behind us so that the smoke fumes can't come through. Alright, Barbarian, you handle that part. I'm going back to Lloyd."

  "I'm amazed that the Druufs haven't reached us by radio and demanded a surrender," he answered, changing the subject. "I'm transmitting with five watts of power. They should surely be able to receive me."

  "You can count on it. But they probably can't make a thing out of your English. P
erhaps they understand

  Arkonide?"

  "Ha!"

  "Don't think you're the hub of the galaxy, my friend. Why shouldn't they understand Arkonide? Virtually billions of our people have been drawn into the Druuf plane over the course of time. By now they must have arrived at something like, for example, a translator machine. To my knowledge, no English-speaking humans have ever been swept up by the overlap zones."

  He was suddenly speaking Arkonide but it didn't accomplish much.

  "The air's getting worse!" Lloyd reminded us.

  Rhodan moved slowly toward the opening behind us. After casting one last glance at the darkly illuminated machines, I followed him. For a moment I toyed with the thought of rendering them useless but then I realized how senseless such destruction would be.

  When we were almost to the archway, the mutant started to shout. "Sir, somebody is trying to break through the ceiling of the connecting passage. Sir, Atlan, Chief—just listen! They'll be through any minute! They're behind you! I can sense their thought-waves plainly—I know their intentions!"

  We were already running along the fairly straight tunnel, which was altogether about 150 yards in length. This time we dispensed with our former dignified walk and sprinted as fast as we could go. We turned on our powerful helmet spotlights, which brightly illuminated the way before us. At about the middle of the passage a large hole was forming in the ceiling but before anyone could fire through at us we had passed it.

  We yelled to Lloyd so that he wouldn't mistake us for the enemy, and finally we staggered into the transmitter room. The mutant had not yet closed his helmet although here the air was already interspersed with fine wisps of vapor. I also flipped my head-covering back. Rhodan dodged behind the solid protection of the entrance framework. He was panting heavily.

  "That was close, wasn't it?" remarked Fellmer.

  I turned to look searchingly into his face. It was pale but for the moment he seemed to be enjoying some relief. "How are you doing?"

  He made a disparaging gesture. "Not very well, sir. After the last attack I must have fallen unconscious. How long yet, sir?"

  He referred to our present situation but I wasn't able to enlighten him very much about it.

  "Sooner or later they're going to run out of patience," said Rhodan gravely. "If I were in their place and this were my installation, I wouldn't put up with it for very long. Atlan, we're only going to surrender at the last possible moment, is that clear?"

  That sounded like a command. But I was in no mood to take orders nor was I obligated to do so as long as I was not on board a ship of the Solar Fleet engaged in battle, where a system of subordination was to be expected.

  I looked at him appraisingly. "I'll think about it, friend! I don't particularly relish the idea of being vivisected by a gang of overgrown beetles!"

  Lloyd's face had lost all its color.

  I could hear Rhodan's teeth grinding. "Nevertheless, Let's take one danger at a time," he retorted, holding stubbornly to his point. "That way we may still have a chance to survive."

  "Ridiculous! If we were back in the Einstein continuum and in the hands of a known race of people, I might agree with you. However—!" I shook my head and turned once more to the entrance. Everything was quiet in the tunnel.

  I was about to put a concentrate tablet in my mouth, from the food supply in my helmet, but just then the Druufs made another attempt. A bright shaft of light came from the hole in the ceiling. We listened, holding our breaths, to the sound of heavy rumbling.

  "Sounds like a rolling tank!" whispered Lloyd.

  "Or heavy fighting robots with built-in defense screens," I added. "If they send such machines after us, with our hand weapons we'll be helpless. OK, consider well whether or not you'll surrender. I'll decide that only at the last moment."

  Fellmer's face was ghastly pale. Choking and struggling against an increasing nausea, he turned away from us. A shortime later he lay crumpled against the wall.

  Outside in the passage, debris was falling from the ceiling onto the floor. There were large rocks interspersed with thick chunks of the tunnel-lining material. They were widening the opening although it seemed foolish. Why didn't they just send their troops or, whatever they might be right through the power plant room? I gave up fretting about it. By now it didn't make any difference to us what direction they came from.

  I lay prone in fighting position, my weapon set to fire. It was set again in full beam power. The thumb of my left hand rested on the closure button of my helmet.

  Suddenly Rhodan shoved against me with an outstretched foot. His face reflected an unusual excitement. "Don't you hear anything? Somebody is calling my name!"

  "Huh...?"

  "I'm telling you, somebody is calling me by my name! It's a telepathic message!" He laughed uncertainly and turned to the mutant. "Lloyd, don't you hear it, too?"

  "Yes sir, but very weakly," Fellmer moaned. "Somebody is calling 'Perry Rhodan'. Danger is approaching. The caller says he's sorry he caught us in the transmitter by mistake. It may have been fortunate, however, since he can now overcome his inner resistance. No, sir, he doesn't know who he is. I just asked him that."

  Rarely had I ever seen such a perplexed expression. Rhodan seemed beside himself. As for myself, I considered the whole thing to be a bad joke.

  "Who in the name of Heaven would know my name in this place?" he asked. "What kind of mumbo-jumbo is he giving us, anyway? He must know who he is!"

  "Precisely!" I agreed, completely humorless. "It's nothing but a trick of the Druufs."

  "Another message!" interjected Lloyd. "He says we should climb back into the cage. He wants to 'switch us back'. In fact he used the expression, 'back-channel'. But he still can't say where he knows your name from or why he wants to help us in the first place."

  This time I became irritated. "Watch yourself," I snapped at Rhodan. "Something's coming through the hole."

  I recognized the massive legs of a giant robot. It had been patterned after the Druufs themselves. It proved to me that this was a fighting machine. Almost every robot-building intelligence copied their own anatomical features in the design and manufacture of such weapon carriers.

  I hesitated no longer. With a dull roar the blaster recoiled in my hands. The heavy energy beam struck the dangling metal legs—and rebounded in a sparkling spray. My second shot started the ceiling to melting but the machine sailed gently downward.

  Red hot shock-waves blasted through the gateway. We didn't have to touch our control switches because the automatic thermo-circuits in our helmets reacted to the situation. I risked another surprise attack by fire but its impact only caused the robot to stagger back slightly.

  Without a word between us, we jumped back into the large chamber. As the machine was just about to enter, the archway collapsed in the fiery breath of our atomic fire. The air which had still been usable until now was suddenly blood-red. The defense screen projectors in our suits began to operate. Actually it was insane to use thermal weapons in here.

  "More messages," Lloyd told us through the helmet voice com. "He's urging us to get onto the platform. He'll switch us back at once. He says more robots are advancing toward us. Glord, sir, you should at least try it!"

  I didn't know whether he was addressing me or Rhodan. I looked over at the energy-grid structure. I had no confidence in it whatsoever. But it was then that the heavy grid bars began to shimmer. Either this was because of the enormous heat or somebody had actually turned the transmitter equipment on.

  "I'm losing my marbles!" muttered Rhodan, bewildered. "Is something happening there?"

  "It's a bit risky," I scoffed, in spite of our desperate situation. "Who knows what'll happen to us in that thing?"

  Lloyd staggered past us on wobbly legs. He approached the grid bars and then passed through them unhindered. For a moment we watched him breathlessly but nothing happened to him.

  On the other side of the collapsed entrance we heard a thundering. Someb
ody was starting to clear away the white-hot mountain of debris with some kind of equipment.

  "We have about one minute, Arkonide!" Rhodan's eyes fairly glittered at me. Then I got up and also went to the grid enclosure. He followed close behind me.

  Lloyd was listening inwardly. "He wishes us luck," said the mutant. "Again he says it was a mistake on his part. He'd like to tell us..."

  I didn't hear the rest as an invisible force gripped me.

  10/ THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

  Our excavation on Hades was as dark and empty of air as before.

  Once more we found ourselves inside our transmitter but we didn't know how long we had been unconscious. In fact, Lloyd was still out. Rhodan groaned in an effort to suppress his pain. We remained silent for some time, unable to find an explanation for the phenomenon.

  My logic struggled to assimilate the incredible happenings we had come through. This sudden rescue in our greatest moment of need seemed like some sort of trickery or cosmic joke. Yet there must have been someone on that unknown world who knew Rhodan. But who? Was it a person who had one time been taken over by the relativity field of the other time-plane? My head swam when I attempted to unravel this train of thought.

  Rhodan spoke suddenly over the helmet com. His voice sounded tense. "Lloyd has just about five minutes of air left—which means we were unconscious for more than five hours."

  This was a shock to my nerves. It was probably why the mutant had not yet regained consciousness.

  We tried to awaken him with shouts and by shaking him roughly. And this was why we almost missed seeing the transmitter's green signal lamp, which lit up as before. But this time rather than holding steady it blinked in an uneven cadence.

  I required several seconds to realize that a message was being sent. By a process of on-and-off switching, someone at the other end was communicating in Morse code.

 

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