by Perry Rhodan
Rhodan began to slowly pronounce the letters: "D... R... U... S... Man, do you know what it's spelling? Drusus!" he shouted, with such force it hurt my ears. "Drusus! They're here!"
Still shouting wildly, he jumped to the transmitter and threw the switch to starting position. Together we strove to fasten Lloyd's feet in the contact cleats. Once this had been done, we pulled him up by the arms and supported him between us. Then I pressed the release button of the machine.
This time the pains of dematerialization were welcome—whatever might follow. Before we attenuated, I caught one last sight of Rhodan's face. It was literally beaming.
• • •
When we came to, we were lying between snow-white sheets in beds which were undoubtedly located
in the splendid ship's clinic on board the Fleet flagship Drusus. But Lloyd was nowhere to be seen. I got up on my elbows and looked wonderingly about me.
A stout-looking man with straw-blond hair and an oversized smock looked into my eyes. "Hello, Doc," I said. "Are we back home again?"
Instead of greeting me, he puffed out his cheeks and asked: "Where, by all that's holy, did Lloyd pick up that amoebic dysentery? He was half asphyxiated by the time we pulled him out of the transmitter."
It was a full confirmation that we were safe now. It was quite typical of Dr. Skjoldson to inquire first about the really sick ones among us.
"No idea, Doc, really. Lloyd thinks he may have picked it up from the spring water on Grautier."
"What? Here? Our own water?"
This comment shocked me into new alertness. "What do you mean—'here'? Are we by any chance on Grautier?"
"What did you think? You slept 14 hours. After circling about for a small eternity, waiting for you in that crimson universe of the Druufs, the Drusus has come back and landed a long time ago. So he thinks it may be the spring water, does he? Hm-m-m-m... ?" He stroked his beardless chin and looked at me appraisingly. "Then I don't understand why he didn't come to me before our emergency takeoff. The infection must have been noticeable by then."
"You're right about that, Doc. Maybe you shouldn't have put up that sign in the California —remember? That thing about patients only coming to you on their hands and knees? These guys have an awful lot of pride."
This time he was sorely hit but he didn't have a chance to answer.
A howling pack of men invaded the sickbay. To begin with, there was good old Reginald Bell, trailed by the blond giant, Sikerman. I wasn't able to determine who the rest of them were. We were flooded with questions, which Rhodan answered though only half awake. On the other hand, I wanted to know what took the Drusus so long.
While Rhodan finally became himself again, Bell spoke to us gravely. "The California’s return hyperjump was a good one and we also made our breakthrough. There was no further loss of consciousness, so your theory about balanced forces holds good. But when we got through into our own space, we weren't able to bypass the robot fleet's blockade lines. If the Drusus had tried to reach us we would have risked being caught in the battle. Since a shortime before there were more than 50,000 ships standing in front of that discharge hole. So we held off awhile and we thought you'd be OK because we were able to figure out the extent of your air supplies. Of course if we'd known about Lloyd's ailment and the grief it was going to cause you, we would have come back for you. But as it was, we considered the risk to be far greater than our chances of success.
"Anyway, we finally worked out the only possible solution. After a head-breaking tussle with our calculations, we figured what was necessary for making a big hyperjump out of there. But the problem had a simpler solution than we thought. We feared we'd run into insurmountable difficulties by making another hypertransition—but we didn't."
"How is Lloyd doing?" asked Rhodan weakly. I myself felt exhausted.
"Splendidly," replied Skjoldson. "The dysentery has already been arrested. You've all received a protective inoculation. In a few days he'll be completely recovered. We caught him just in time!"
"And the Arkonide fleet?"
"They've withdrawn with a large part of the Springer Fleet because just now the Druuf attacks have stopped," answered Bell somewhat impatiently. "But what was the matter with you? I worked almost six hours with the receiver gear, pumping out the ship's name in Morse code. After all, that's what we agreed on!"
"Agreed on?" I asked, astonished. "How is that? We didn't know anything about it."
"After the California took off, I sent the message to you."
"Very funny," grumbled Rhodan irritably. "We were just able to hear that you had gotten through the attack front. Beyond that you were too garbled—we didn't catch any more of it."
Bell made a long face. In the background the mouse-beaver Pucky let out a shrill guffaw. He seemed delightfully amused over the squelching of his 'special' friend.
We ignored him. Fellmer Lloyd's words were still ringing in our ears. He had relayed the telepathic message of an unknown entity to us.
"Are we missing a man from the California?" inquired Rhodan.
The men who were standing around us looked at each other perplexedly. No, with the exception of ourselves, the crew had been fully accounted for.
"Give it up, Perry," I interjected softly. "That's something we'll probably never find out."
"Alright, so what's the story?" cried Bell.
"Later," mumbled Rhodan sleepily. "Later. But that's something I'm going to find out, I give you my word."
Dr. Skjoldson dispersed the curious men with some very hard words, thus invoking his undisputed authority as Chief Physician of the Drusus.
However, I pondered long over the meaning and sense of our undertaking. I had to concede that at least we knew whom we were dealing with in the other time-plane. These were the same intelligences who had destroyed my attack squadron incredibly long ago. They had forced me to lie in a biochemical sleep for millenniums.
It was their fault that since the golden age of the Roman Empire I had been forced to wander about on the wild and barbarous Earth—always striving to teach the Terranians so that one day they might finally possess the technical capability to at least build a hyperspace radio transmitter. It had been useless. No one had been able to help me and it wasn't the easiest of tasks to simply come up with a 5th dimensional field converter.
But now I knew where the perpetrators were to be found. One thing was certain: I had a very heavy account to settle with them.
With these thoughts on my mind, I fell asleep. The time had come to collect my strength for the trials to come. Rhodan's Fleet stronghold on the Myrtha planet Grautier was a crazy idea. But perhaps I could bring my warning to bear so that we would no longer he on this world when the imminent and inevitable came to pass and we were discovered.
Perhaps!
CRIMSON UNIVERSE
Copyright © Ace Books 1975
Ace Publishing Corporation
All Rights Reserved
THE SHIP OF THINGS TO COME
YOU ARE ABOUT to read an excerpt from our next novel. The Druuf reflected again. The pause was unnaturally long and not because the Druuf required relatively more time to ponder; for him time only went slower, that was all.
"We want to conquer the realm of those who attack us," he explained at length. "As you said, those are your enemies. You wish to help us in destroying them. We are thus doing you a favor."
"Yes," said Rhodan slowly. "And what happens then?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Very simple. Once we've smashed the enemy together, will you continue the war? Against us? Have I expressed myself clearly enough?"
"No, we will not do that!"
This time he is lying, came Harno's warning.
Rhodan had known it. They wanted to conquer the Arkonide realm and then bring all the intelligent races of the galaxy under their rule. And they would succeed unless someone took care at the right time that their advance was stopped.
That's what Perry's doi
ng there,
UNDER THE STARS OF DRUUFON
by Clark Darlton