6/ ARKON DOES NOT ANSWER
My Commander’s chair was shaking violently. It lasted only a few moments until I had regained my senses. A contact release turned off the automatic vibrator equipment.
In the Tosoma’s Command Central a hundred heavy thunderstorms seemed to have broken out all at once. The weapons forming the ‘green’ broadside fired in a breathtakingly swift, concerted rhythm. Naturally this was the integrated fire control positronic, which had picked up the targets much faster than we could have and was firing at volley tempo.
When my vision cleared I saw that we had jumped right into the thick of it. The 7 enemy units had been taken completely by surprise.
Before I could even give my instructions over the microphone, the U-battery of ‘green’ side had already opened up with effective fire. Because of the airlessness of space I could not actually see the yard-wide beams of solar-magnitude heat energy going out but I was well able to hear the signal bells from the translight-speed energy tracker, which announced a heavy explosion in the immediate vicinity. Seconds later the light reached us.
On the panoramic viewscreens, 2 nuclear sunballs blossomed simultaneously. 2 light-points became hand-sized balls of livid heat, which then expanded into mammoth, blue-white spheres of incandescent fire.
"Target 1 out, target 4 out—destruction total," came the automatic tinny-voiced announcement from the fire control robot.
The indicator board’s flickering lights told me that the gun turrets had swung about. We were firing with everything we had on board. Under the molecular-decohesion effect of the disintegrator guns, another enemy ship blew into a fluorescent cloud of atomized vapour. On the sweep radar screens, of course, this phenomenon was only discernible as a sort of electronic bas-relief.
In spite of everything happening so fast that it was almost beyond the human threshold of comprehension and response, Tarth had to switch to manual control because what was coming up was not programmable. We were racing directly through the enemy formation and before us gaped the maw of the funnel. There was no more time for the running battle, since our course was opposed to that of the enemy ships and the moment of effective range became negligible.
I noticed 2 other explosions which had apparently been generated by the Paito, following close on our heels. Thus in one single blitz attack the enemy had lost 5 ships out of a total of 7.
It became clear to me that the unknown foe was immeasurably outclassed by Arkonide battle experience. Naturally they would have to learn this fact, and more or less swiftly, as had been the case with all of our other enemies—except for the Methans.
The hit-counter babbled at us but the muffled detonation was almost drowned out by the thunder of our engines driving at full power. The indicators revealed that our 3-ply defence screen had been hit by a thermobeam. The impact was markedly small, almost pitiable. With such weapons there could be no chance against a major battleship of the Tosoma’s class.
Tarth roared with laughter. "Ho-ho! Their defence screens are miserable and their attack weapons are even more of a disgrace! I—!"
A frightful howling sound drowned out his words. We had shot down into what Kosol called a discharge field. Our magneto-hypergrav defence screen began to show a sphere of flames around our hull, which could be seen in the optical viewscreens. This meant that we were penetrating some sort of finely attenuated matter.
The howling sharpened to a sustained screaming as we neared the narrow end of the funnel. The individual power plants of the Tosoma were running at their highest capacity. The automatic power controls shut down all peripheral equipment operations that were not absolutely vital.
All I could still see in the viewscreens was a writhing, flaming field of red. It was an unheard of gamble to thrust forward into this uncanny pattern of forces at almost the speed of light. For some time now there had been nothing to indicate the presence of the remaining 2 enemy ships. They were probably going through a wild braking manoeuvre by now. Their commanders must still be feeling the chill of terror in their bones—that is, if they actually had any bones or limbs at all!
Reports from the different ship sections were avalanching. Tarth sat close beside me in his commander chair, his lips moving without my being able to understand a word. The howling screams of our passage continued blasting our ears. Titanic explosions of force racked our protective screens, shaking the Tosoma’s hull in every joint and seam.
The auto-controls of our spacesuits clapped our helmets over our heads and covered our ears with cushioned noise dampers, at the same time turning on our suit communication systems.
I was just thinking that I had taken too great a risk in plunging thus precipitately into this unknown nothingness, when suddenly the storm of raging forces ceased. The sea of flames covering the defence screens disappeared almost simultaneously and before us in empty space we saw a great, deep-red sun.
It was as if we had popped out of a transition and entered an alien solar system but the impression was deceiving. Instantly I missed the deep blackness of our own universe. Here everything appeared to be shrouded in a sort of dark red twilight haze. The constellations were entirely alien and in this time-plane our lightspeed flight took on the aspect of something monstrous and frighteningly unreal. We were hurtling toward the red sun faster than we actually should be.
I heard Tarth giving out orders. It was his responsibility to bring the ship out of the danger zone as fast as possible. Our matter detectors showed 3 planets at a fairly close distance from us. The coordinate readouts were produced more swiftly than even our excellent positronic computer had ever been able to before. The roaring of our engines increased beyond measurement. I knew that Tarth had thrown in the last reserves. We made our escape manoeuvre using the plasma afterburners, which added another 80,000 pounds of thrust.
Behind us the hurtling Paito held easily to our course, also driving out of the danger area at emergency full thrust. As we passed the giant red star, our widely-extended outer screens were again besieged by ravening forces. Then we were through and beyond it.
Our hypercom connection with the Paito happened so abruptly that I suddenly realized the theory of alternate timeplanes was demonstrating itself. As a result of our daring manoeuvre, what we had brought along with us was something that could only be called a relativistic quantity: namely, our own stable time reference.
Based on the empirical evidence of our observations, what was happening was that we were moving twice as fast as any equivalent time-rated event in this universe.
Far ahead of us appeared a planet that also glimmered with the same reddish light. Our flight was so swift that it seemed we were suddenly going 1000 times faster than light. So the time had come for action. The analytical instrumentation buzzed and hummed. The world ahead had a thick atmosphere, classed as an oxygen type. By a strange coincidence it was also Planet 3 of this particular system. It was as though it was a parallel to our own frame of reference back in the system we had come from.
Once again I sent out the official declaration of war on the hyperbeam. Then we swept past the 2nd planet so closely that we were forced to make an evasive curve around it.
The Paito, commanded by Capt. Inkar, now came into closer formation with us. I could see him clearly on the regular TV hookup. Tarth gazed at me searchingly. His lips were compressed and his jaw was set in his hard-lined face.
I switched to general fleet com and picked up the microphone. "Squadron leader to all hands: the energy readouts on Planet 3 ahead show that spaceship bases, major-class power plants and energy-beam projector installations have to be present. What we have to assume is that this world represents a carefully developed main base, so positioned that the enemy can launch an attack every time he figures out when a discharge field is going to form. We will attack in accordance with the Nebula Sector Plan, using all available weapons. We will make a double target pass, the Paito on polar course, the Tosoma taking north and south belts of the equatorial line. Following the attack run we assemble at our entry point and fly non-formation back through the funnel. Neither ship waits for the other one. Once in normal space, suspend space battle operations and fly directly to Larsaf 3, where you will prepare to make a defensive stand against any enemy units that might break through. You will operate on the assumption that there will be pursuit. That is all—confirm!"
All commanders had understood. There were no further questions. The Nebula Sector Plan covered all contingencies in the type of blitz attack we were contemplating and which we had carried out on many other occasions. At best, of course, the plan was based largely on our experiences with the methane breathers. It had not yet been applied to an unknown enemy who could easily depopulate entire planets and blast a reconnaissance ship without any warning.
Neither in the legislation nor mental makeup of my venerable race was there any provision or inclination to hesitate or hold back in such a case as this. Our 5,000 years of galactic politics had led us to believe that attack was the best form of defence. I was determined to either be master of the present dangerous situation or at least to show the aliens our teeth.
3 minutes later we switched to retro-thrust, braking our forward motion. It had been impossible to get any direct bearings on specific targets.
As Fleet Commander, I was provided with numerous internal surveillance devices which were designed to supply me with direct, personal information concerning the crew activity—all operating without intervention by the various section leaders. So I was able to see and hear my weapons fire control officer, Eseka, as he extended the grav-launcher in preparation for using our most dangerous attack weapon. Arkon bombs were carried to their targets by self-guided missiles capable of the speed of light. Their high-energy firing velocity was in the neighbourhood of 6,200 miles per second.
The warheads had the characteristic of generating an inextinguishable atomic holocaust which affected all elements having an atomic number higher than 10. We ourselves knew of no method to stop such a fire, once ignited.
I did not dare to employ the newly developed gravitation bombs in this unstable-seeming universe, since the ‘GRBs’ were normally considered to be 5th dimensional energy weapons.
As we drew near to the planet on our prescribed course, we detected more than 100 fair-sized ships that were quite obviously preparing to make an emergency thrust out into space.
Once more I picked up the general fleet com mike. "Squadron leader to all hands: Enemy units commencing intercept manoeuvres. Disregard them and prepare for atmospheric entry. Concentrate all available energy into the forward collision screens for air-molecular repulsion. Sustained attack fire, robot-controlled, fan-out attenuation within saturation factor of 5 kilotons TNT per square mile. Ready…? Then let them have it!"
In such operations we did not indulge in very much conversation. My men were too well coördinated with one another to require long-winded explanations.
The Paito disappeared beyond the planet’s rim. With the giant flagship we ploughed through a barely noticeable formation of enemy spaceships, followed by a rising howl of violently compressed air masses as we made our entry dive, even though we were keeping to the highest strata of the atmosphere. From the computer room came the announcement that our fairly negligible speed was nevertheless double the theoretical top velocity permissible in this time-plane.
The effects related to this development were momentarily of no concern to me. In spite of the thick ear-protectors I was wearing, my auditory senses were racked with pain. The spherical hull of the Tosoma resounded like a giant bell. Then on top of it the automatic weapons opened their rapid intermittent fire. By comparing our intrinsic velocity with target distances, the master positronic system was able to control the firing intervals so that a swiftly erected learning curve of empirical data resulted in a precise coalescing of range-effective areas, making an even blanket coverage.
We could not observe entirely what was going on down below. We had our hands full trying to hold the ship in its attack orbit because with our engines at full power we were exceeding the free fall limits and the resulting centrifugal force was naturally trying to hurl us on a straight line out into space.
Tarth was shopping for spare energy to throw into the forward collision shielding, even diverting the idle power from the gun turrets that were on the lee side of the firing. Our bow side entry screens were flaming white hot from atmospheric friction in spite of our passage through the thinnest upper strata.
We circled the planet in just 5˝ minutes. The course-holding manoeuvres were dangerous. Our overstrained equipment couldn’t take the load for very long.
When we reached our starting point after the first orbital run, veering 10° north in the process, I noted on the groundward viewscreens that there was nothing but incandescent land areas and gigantic atomic mushroom clouds to be seen—the latter no doubt having been generated by fissionable or fissionable material. Probably the atomic blasts might even represent explosions of the long, cylindrical enemy ships as they were caught in our fire.
After the 2nd tactical target run, the Tosoma peeled off and away. Maj Eseka had launched a total of 10 Arkon bombs, all of which had struck their designated target areas and ignited.
Finally the terrible thunder of the impulse and disintegrator weapons ceased abruptly. Which only enabled us to distinguish the almost equal raging and roaring of the engines and the power reactors. The battleship’s mighty shell still resonated noisily with them. We still could not risk taking off our noise mufflers.
"Where is the Paito?" I shouted excitedly into the head mike of my helmet.
Capt. Masal responded from the tracking centre: "Just coming up over the northern pole, Your Eminence. Still maintaining remote fire, accelerating, now using thermocannons vertically on red sector, needlepoint pattern. Apparently no enemy units visible. Now the firing has stopped—only quanta output from propulsion detectable. According to emission readings, no damages apparent. Over and out!"
I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to look at Tarth. My flagship commander smiled back at me. I heard his deep voice in my earphones:
"They won’t try stealing off harmless settlers again and they’ll lay off shooting up our patrol ships! By Arkon!—who are we dealing with anyway? Are they phantoms, robots or what? How is it they make use of a natural phenomenon for their dirty work? Even if you won’t permit it, I’m going to make a forced flight in the Tosoma to Arkon and get hold of an attack fleet. I’ll do it one way or another!"
"If it were not for the Methans, yes," I answered wearily, inwardly assailed by self-reproach. Had I proceeded justly? Who were the unknown aliens?
The throat of the outlet funnel loomed before us. We plunged into its depths at light-speed but this time to our great astonishment the previously observed effects did not occur. I was merely expecting that our forward motion would be restricted by invisible forces but this time it seemed that we were pushing through a soft, yielding mass.
The announcement was not long in coming from the power and engine control centre. "Speed dropping at 75 mps in spite of full thrust, rate constant. Question: should we inject more nuclear fuel?"
I ordered it immediately, knowing full well the overload I was putting on the equipment. Behind us hurtled the battle cruiser Paito but Inkar had not yet hailed us.
Eternities seemed to pass before we were finally released from the funnel. Just as I was about to turn again to Tarth with a sigh of relief a report arrived from the tracking room:
"Discharge field has disappeared. No further energy variations detectable."
This calmly delivered news made me turn pale. Tarth’s eyes were suddenly like saucers. Kosol’s face gleamed white from the intercom screen. I saw him look hastily at his watch.
"By our own time frame we were over there just 65 minutes," he said in a troubled tone.
By our time-frame!" The thought almost exploded in my brain.
How could the field have vanished again? We knew that it would have to have remained stable for at least 3 hours. Had we experienced one of those feared lapse-rate changes—a reference-oriented time shift? By others’ reference points did our 65 minutes equal 65 days, or even as many weeks?
I clambered slowly out of my high-backed chair and lifted the microphone with a trembling hand. "Masal, put in a call to Atlantis, quickly! Call Feltif. I have to know what may have…"
I didn’t have to say any more. The emergency call came in under Fleet Format KRA-Q-Z. It was an automatic taped message on open channel and uncoded:
"Capt. Feltif to Squadron Chief. We are lost. 5 gun positions have been destroyed and on top of it we’re faced with a very heavy overlap front. Half the colonists have been drawn into it. We are retreating with the natives into the forest wilderness and mountains. Approximately 100 enemy ships are maintaining a running attack. The axial stability of the planet is wavering. It appears that the time front has brought strong gravitational fields with it, which are changing the inclination of Larsaf 3’s axis to the ecliptic. This is Capt. Feltif. Where are you? I’ve been calling for 9 days. Arkon does not answer. End of message. Will repeat in 3 minutes, will repeat in 3 minutes."
Everybody heard the distress call. I stood there as though liquid air had been poured over me. Tarth’s face was like a stone statue.
"Attack immediately, come what may," I heard myself saying.