5/ CHIEF OF SOLAR DEFENCE
7 weeks later I was in San Francisco at the airport waiting for the clipper to Terrania. The big game had begun.
I had needed only 3 weeks to toughen the musculature and stamina of my body and to complete my equipment. That way I had 4 weeks ’til today to make the necessary preparations.
It was quite clear to me that I couldn’t show up in Terrania as an ordinary citizen. Of course it would have been possible for me to do so but it wouldn’t have done me any good.
I had to figure a way of being in a position to gain access to a small and preferably fully automated super-light-speed spaceship. To this end I had to give the appearance of a scientist or technician with immaculate credentials.
Not even then would it have been advisable for me to fly to Terrania and naively apply for a job in a responsible position. Therefore I was compelled to go through regular channels and submit a written application with all kinds of references and copies of diplomas which I had done a week ago. Yesterday I had received the request to come to an appointment with the Personnel Office in Terrania and to present my original diplomas.
I glanced at my briefcase where I carried all the papers I had acquired in one week.
A citizen of Terrania had to have proof where he was born and of what parents. I had chosen the little town of Greenville in the north American state of Maine as my place of birth and used my psycho-beamer to obtain a birth certificate and have it filed retroactively in the register.
From then on my name was Skörld Gonardson, the son of Swedish immigrants who had come long ago to Maine, and I had seen to it that they had the proper immigration papers.
The registrar of the small town had no inkling of being duped and was ready to swear at any time that I was born in Greenville at the southern tip of the Moosehead Lake.
My next step led me to the University of Portland where I ‘convinced’ the old president and 2 deans that I had been their best student. My psycho-beamer enabled me to get an authentic graduation diploma ‘summa cum laude’.
My 3rd effort entailed a few more complications since I now had to deal with a specialized branch of a large space academy.
The California Academy of Space Flight—CASF—had already existed earlier but now was organized along Arkonide lines. Rhodan himself had attended it but this was a long time ago.
I had selected this particular academy because of its unrivalled reputation. Its degree opened doors everywhere. Only the academy in Terrania was supposed to be superior but it accepted only students who had already graduated from other institutions and I was reluctant to use my psychobeamer in the capital for fear of being quickly exposed.
It took me 2 weeks to obtain the ‘genuine’ documents. I had to persuade more than 10 scientists, using extreme caution, before I was given the original diploma with a retroactive date.
On the strength of these records I could show that I had taken 15 semesters of high-energy technology and hyper-dimensional mathematics for which I had been bestowed with a Ph.D.
It had been very difficult to seek out the individual teachers and numerous students but I had no other choice if I wanted to gain their confidence and learn the ins & outs of their special academic environment.
Fortified with these preliminaries I had made arrangements for my employment of 6 years in the field. I picked a wealthy scientist who headed his own research company, employing 5 assistants. He was said to have been one of the scientists who had taken part in his younger years in Rhodan’s missions to Arkon.
I had no trouble brainwashing the 5 assistants of the old gentleman and Prof. Steinemann, expert in 5-dimensional field theory, gave me a very flattering letter of reference after completing 6 years of work for him.
I had mailed notarised copies of these documents to Terrania after I had read in the scientific journal The Solar System that there was an opening for the position of a test supervisor in Terrania. I applied for the job and had only yesterday received the reply in my small apartment.
So far everything seemed to work out perfectly. I had deposited my luggage in a locker at the airport and carried only my important original documents and some money in my briefcase. I had realized the sum of 15,820 Solars from the sale of some exquisite rubies from the treasure in my bathysphere. This money was deposited in a San Francisco bank. I had figured out that I could have saved this considerable sum from my salary paid by Prof. Steinemann. In addition I pretended to have made some minor inventions which turned out to be very lucrative.
I was convinced that I had made no serious blunders. The oscillation frequency of my cells had been changed and the instruments in the shelter had given constant results. Thus it was no longer possible to identify me in connection with my sojourn in Lisbon.
I refrained from dying my hair and eyebrows. I was familiar with the human frame of mind. They probably expected me to wear a disguise and for this very reason I preferred not to alter my appearance.
My white-blond hair was also a characteristic of my alleged Scandinavian ancestry. However I had to do something about the reddish tint of my eyes which could give me away and so I had taken the precaution of consulting an ophthalmologist who attested that I suffered from a slight conjunctivitis. Of course I had to influence him a little with my psycho-beamer.
In the wake of my hectic activities I felt somewhat fatigued again. My subconscious kept penetrating the conscious level of my mind with mild admonishments. Perhaps I could have found a small, super-light-speed ship at one of the other spaceports of Terra. But I had the inescapable feeling that such a ship could only be obtained at the Solar Imperium Spaceport in Terrania. I doubted that these ultra-fast spacecraft which were used for Rhodan’s space patrol were available anywhere else.
My thorough inquiries had determined that this latest type of ‘Space Jets’ was the only suitable craft for my purpose.
A muffled droning roused me from my preoccupation. The Gobi Clipper was on the verge of landing. I watched the landing manoeuvre of the European machine. It was a long slender missile with tiny delta wings, 2 stabilizers and 2 variable impulse engines which enabled it to set down vertically.
The craft touched down exactly in the centre of the red circle marked on the ground. It touched the ground so softly that the springy landing legs barely rocked.
The robot voice of the flight supervisor rattled off its stereotyped announcement: "Far East Clipper ZACHO, flight 23-1712 to Terrania, start 20:03. Take your seats. Stop limited to 10 minutes."
Now the time had come. I picked up my briefcase and fingered the sunglasses shading my eyes. Then I walked to the automatic passenger control.
My ticket was routinely accepted. A little jetcopter transferred me and the other passengers to the Clipper waiting in the distance. The hull was about 100 meters long. Heavy-duty robot lifters loaded enormous quantities of cargo into the holds of the ZACHO.
I found my seat in a swivel chair near the juncture of the delta wing. The big ship took off very smoothly. I already knew that these machines were equipped with thrust-neutralizers. The gentle vertical start was followed by an acceleration push of at least 10G. However nothing whatsoever could be noticed of an uncomfortable lurch.
The needle-nosed Clipper soared into open space. The flight to Terrania took only half an hour but the landing manoeuvre required almost as much time as flying the whole distance.
The sight of the megalopolis below took my breath away. So this had happened to the old Gobi Desert! Terrania was reported to already have a population of 14 million and whoever lived and worked here was somehow involved with space travel. The tiny base had blossomed into a gigantic Solar centre. It was big, beautiful and—mighty!
This thought caused me a great deal of anxiety. Something had to be done about it, I reflected, deeply troubled.
The Clipper touched down and soon a young officer approached me. He carried a service gun and wore an insignia of a comet pierced by an arrow on his left shoulder. "Mr. Skörld Gonardson?" he inquired in a raised voice. I confirmed.
"Happy to see you, sir! I’m here to take you to your residence. My machine is waiting behind the hangar. May I have your ticket?"
I handed him the narrow plastic strip. They seemed to be very well organized here. A thunderous roar made me turn around instinctively. In the distance a spherical giant soared into the sky of Gobi. The sound waves arrived after the starting spacer was already lost in the sky.
My eyes followed the ship wistfully.
"Only a cruiser of the Terra class, escorting the regular transport convoy to the Vega system," the lieutenant smiled. "We don’t take any chances with the unarmed cargoships alone." He winked an eye and grinned wryly.
I thought of the Encyclopaedia Terrania, according to which Rhodan was declared to be dead and the Earth destroyed many decades ago.
Some ‘destruction’ this was! The entire Galaxy had been outsmarted by one man!
"Let’s go!" I said. "It’s so infernally hot here."
"Wait till June," he grinned with youthful boisterousness. "Then the fat people can fry in their own lard."
He studied me so intently that I couldn’t help laughing. As if I had an extra ounce of fat!
"You won’t have to worry about it. You look alright to me!" he said condescendingly. "Cigarette?"
"No, thank you. I don’t smoke. I consider it an abominable habit."
He grinned in dismay and put the pack away again. "That’s what a lot of people say, sir. Since I want to stay on your good side, I’ll have to control my vice."
I liked the young officer and his cheerful attitude. "Why do you want to stay on my good side?" I asked.
He puffed out his cheeks and tipped up the shield of his cap with his index finger. "I’ll have to pull guard duty in the test zone at the pleasure of my superior and since you’re going to be the boss of T-18, it would be wise for me not to antagonize you."
I frowned and picked up my briefcase. This was a real surprise.
He chuckled softly and stared at me. "You didn’t know about your luck, did you? Whenever we summon applicants to our citadel they’re as good as accepted. Otherwise they’d never get as far as Terrania."
"Is that so?" I replied. "And why is it better not to annoy me?"
He looked shyly around and put his mouth to my ear. "There are rumours around here that the big oil tank in hangar 18 contains grease from the bones of young lieutenants who were so brash as to make a nuisance of themselves and recently one of my comrades zoomed for 3 hours as an energy spiral between here and the Moon. All he did was to refuse to polish the shoes of the head physicist."
He nodded ominously until my flabbergasted expression stirred his merriment. I couldn’t resist joining in his laughter.
They certainly had a sense of humour, these Terranians! Perhaps it was an essential ingredient of their success. This lieutenant, for example, seemed to be the joy of life personified. Nevertheless he was probably a fierce fighter when the chips were down. People like that stopped being funny in a hurry.
I recalled a man I had once known. He shared his last crust of bread with me but when he found out who I was he wanted to murder me.
Upon asking him, the lieutenant told me that his name was Tombe Gmuna and that he was 21 years old. He had just finished the Academy where he had received hypno-training in galactonautics, high-energy weapon science and galactic languages. I was aware that it would have been almost impossible to cram for such studies and finish at the age of 21 without hypno-training.
It revealed to me that Perry Rhodan had already adopted the improved method of training the young recruits for his elite forces. Another reason to aggravate my apprehensions.
People of my origin usually can notice it no matter how discreetly they’re scrutinized in an investigation. Gmuna’s ebony-black face radiated sheer exuberance of carefree youth. He laughed often and loud, was pleasant and considerate. But now and then he interspersed our conversation with some circumspect remarks which revived my nervous tension of the last few weeks. I soon realized that he had been handpicked as a very capable officer and that I had been under observation even before I stepped into his little jetcopter.
Now I was sure that Gmuna was no ordinary Space Force officer. If Rhodan could command such efficient men, I had little time to pursue my scheme. Unless I managed to accomplish it in the next 8 days my game was bound to fall through. My instinct told me not to exceed a limit of 6 days. Undoubtedly nobody was admitted to the Space Force port without being thoroughly tested.
My answers seemed to satisfy Gmuna. The minute signs of hidden tension vanished from his behaviour and he was his own jaunty self again. I felt that he considered his task at an end.
We flew out of the passenger airport in the helicopter. After a few minutes I sighted the glinting bubble of the energy dome which I recognized from the picture in the encyclopaedia. This must have been the spot where Rhodan landed his old moon rocket 69 years ago.
We neared a spaceport of tremendous dimensions. Despite our high altitude I was unable to see the far border of the port. There was a multitude of gigantic hangars whose enormous size caused me deep concern.
"Final assembly station for battle cruisers," my companion explained. "Quite a view, isn’t it?"
I agreed wholeheartedly. It was indeed imposing. We flew around the port, making a wide curve to the east to avoid a giant sphere coming in for a landing. We steered toward a complex of high-rise buildings where apparently the administration offices were housed.
We had left the city of Terrania far behind us. This was the base of the Solar Fleet which was headed by a man whose name was nowadays spoken only in whispers.
It was evident that Rhodan was an excellent psychologist. He had wrapped himself in a cloak of silence and retreated into the background, rarely permitting the Terravision cameras to film him.
For some time he had assumed the role of the invisible man behind the power. Obviously he had no desire to be constantly in the public eye.
The result of his well and carefully chosen behaviour was that he gained the nimbus of a glorious hero whose magnificent feats were spread by tales from mouth to mouth. Nonetheless I was convinced that Rhodan was the driving power in the small circle of his assistants. This man would never take the risk of not keeping the closest watch on the mammoth establishment he had created.
We touched down on the spacious roofport of a hundred-story building, just before a radio alarm directed all aerial vehicles to land at once.
When I stretched my cramped legs after alighting from our little machine, Gmuna pulled me behind the copter already anchored by magnetic cable locks on the roof. "Don’t look at it!" the officer shouted.
At first I didn’t know what he meant but then the first sound waves reached us.
Far to the south, almost below the horizon, a glowing, fire-spitting spaceship became visible. It swelled like a gigantic balloon and raced toward the sky in a wild spurt.
Light spread out across the former desert which now had been transformed into a modem industrial landscape with a sprinkling of a few green oases.
Breathlessly I gaped at the tail of fire fading away in the distance. It was not the exhaust of the impulse engines but the luminous particles of the superheated atmosphere in the wake of the starting giant.
I was stunned. "A ship of the Stardust class?" I asked hesitantly.
"Much bigger than that!" Gmuna enlightened me. "Imperium class, 1500 meters diameter. I believe it was the new Supernova on a test flight. Please, come with me!"
I followed the young man as if in a stupor, hardly noticing the robot control at the high-speed elevator which took us down. All I could think of were the dimensions of the ship shooting up into space. 1500 meters! I had never seen anything like it and I had to restrain myself from asking if this space-giant had been built here on Earth.
But of course it was! There was no other possibility. I was profoundly shaken and confused, unwilling to believe my eyes and gullible enough to explain it away as a skilfully induced hallucination. However I kept telling myself with all my logic that Rhodan had more than half a century of peace without interference from the outside world to achieve his miracles.
Not one of the intelligent races of the universe had the slightest inkling of the tremendous might accumulated here.
I analysed my own feelings. There was no hate in me for these little and yet so great Earthlings. But I had become dismayed and intolerant. They had no right to exploit the accidentally acquired knowledge of an alien people. If Rhodan had not stumbled on the Arkonide explorers on the Moon, this planet Earth would at best have been able to develop a primitive mode of intersolar space travel.
I felt deep rancour about my fate which had made me sleep through the most crucial years of mankind’s progress.
There was another aspect which aroused my burning curiosity. How old was Perry Rhodan? When he occasionally appeared on the television screens he looked like an athletic man under 40.
Looks are deceiving of course but he must have used a mask. My inquiries at Prof. Steinemann’s had gained me the information that Rhodan was born 104 years ago. Even if he had applied the Arkonide methods of rejuvenation, he was already an old, worn out man whom I would give only 10 more years under the best of care.
These cold figures spelled out that Rhodan had every reason for spending his life in retreat. A man 104 years old was no longer vigorous and alert, neither mentally nor physically.
I must have smiled a little. The Encyclopaedia Terrania had not mentioned this peculiar problem at all. The mass of the people were silently encouraged in their belief that Rhodan was a miracle of creation. Here and there one could hear whispers of his relative immortality but this was the height of nonsense of course.
I was startled from my thoughts when Tombe Gmuna spoke up. "Do you have your original diplomas with you, sir?"
"How’s that? Yes, of course. Are we at the Personnel Office?"
"Not yet. First we have to go through Solar Defence."
He gave me an innocent grin but his dark eyes probed me. I exhibited the slight nervousness that always besets the most law-abiding citizens when they are unexpectedly confronted by the minions of the law.
"Oh no, that too!" I remarked. "Well, let’s get it over with! Did it ever occur to you that a big man like me gets hungry one in awhile? The trip was rather tiring."
Gmuna laughed. His professional suspicions seemed to have been allayed again.
I walked through the sliding door. If they were to put me now before an ordinary X-ray machine, the game would be up.
This was the unknown factor in my calculations. Of course I had put my psycho-beamer in my special luggage which I had left at the Terrania airport. I could hardly afford the risk of carrying such an unusual weapon on my very first visit.
Thus I was completely helpless and I had to trust my hope that the inevitable medical examination would not be performed immediately on my arrival. If they gave me only a day my chances were greatly increased.
Most of my luggage was still in San Francisco but I had deposited the special equipment I had taken along in a locker in Terrania. I had laid my plans carefully but I needed a little good luck as well.
I was prepared to come soon face to face with a mutant. If they had assigned such a specialist to the case, it was most likely to be a telepath. I assumed that Rhodan deployed these special experts for the most important tasks in outer space but I couldn’t rule out the possibility that I was subject to such an investigation. At any rate, I was ready for it. My monoscreen passed only what I wanted them to know.
I simply was Skörld Gonardson who had never been near a fishing submarine nor laid eyes on its crew.
A heavyset, broad-shouldered man in the uniform of the Solar Imperium rose from behind his desk. He was a Lieutenant General.
"Kosnow," he introduced himself. "Please sit down, sir! Cigarette?"
He opened a cigarette case made of Zalos and offered it to me with a friendly smile. I declined without betraying any emotion although I instantly realized that this officer must have been at least once on the planet Zalit in the Arkonide Empire, which was the only place where this metal could be found.
I glanced with curiosity at the fluorescing greenish material. To ignore such a rare and beautiful piece might have aroused suspicion. "No, thank you. I don’t smoke," I replied. "May I ask what kind of material this case is made of? It looks so unusual."
Lt.-Gen. Kosnow coughed slightly and motioned Lt. Gmuna to leave the room. "Of course! I’ve yet to see the scientist who wasn’t curious about it. But please sit down!"
My extra-sense reported: Not bad! This was a test. They’re looking for you. It was a neat trick. You’ve got to keep yourself under control.
I was in the presence of a man who undoubtedly belonged to Rhodan’s inner staff. Kosnow was in charge of the Solar Defence.