"(novel) (ebook) - Perry Rhodan 0070 - (62) The Last Days of Atlantis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

Naturally the unknown enemy was much better acquainted with the laws of their plane of existence than we were.
After we had been merely observing in outer space for 8 days, the enemy's spaceships broke through the strange discharge field for the 2nd time. At the last moment I had just about given up the idea of hostile action. We had moved far enough away so that we did not have to expose ourselves to the enemy fire.
Nevertheless we learned an important lesson from the incident!
When alien ships appeared so swiftly there was practically never any space-warp distortion, whereas with our own translight technique a hyper-shockwave was quite inevitable. My mathematical section had figured out that the aliens more or less flew through the 5th dimension. This was a very essential difference from the hyperjump or transition method which we used.
Secondly, the spaceships we detected never moved faster than 50% the speed of light, although our energy detectors indicated that their propulsion engines were running at full power.
Thirdly, the mysterious foe only came through when the outlet funnels held their stability for at least 3 hours!
That was probably the most important discovery of them all. It meant that the enemy knew exactly when he could depend on such energy formations and when he could not!
Within about a week, therefore, we picked up some very good data. In our own space the enemy apparently couldn't fly faster than 34 light-speed. In addition, he used a linear hyperspace flight technique and he could also calculate the life expectancy of a funnel forcefield.
Those were 3 fundamental factors on which we could build up a system of prediction. If I had had an Arkonide fleet at my disposal, the phantom would have been eliminated in a few days. I might have risked sending a robot-piloted battleship through the first likely discharge channel. Then we would have certainly demonstrated the effectiveness of our weapons on the 'other side'!

* * * *

Since our top alert takeoff, 11 days of Atlantis time had passed. I stood off at a distance of only 6 million miles from the 2nd planet with my 2 fighting units. The remarkable magnifying circuits of our telescopic cameras gave us a clear view through the thick cloud covering of the jungle world.
Down there hardly any organic life remained.
However the robot Brain that had been built on Larsaf 2 under my regency did not appear to have been disturbed in any way. Whenever we signalled it, its hypercom reports returned promptly to us. But its instrument test results didn't tell us anything new. The fortress stronghold that I had ordered constructed for the protection of the great robot Brain had not been activated or brought into action at any time.
"Because nobody's around anymore!" commented Tarth grimly when he heard about it.
Until now the 3rd planet had been spared from any of these weird phenomena but now worlds 2 and 3 approached each other more closely from day to day. A full opposition was imminent. By now we should be feeling the influence of the time-wall's advance offshoots.
I looked thoughtfully at the giant viewscreens of the panoramic gallery. The Paito was about 60 miles away. We could still communicate clearly by normal radio. Our flight speed amounted to only 6,200 miles per second but the emergency spots at all machine controls were doubly manned.
We were waiting for the next outlet funnel to appear. My plan was set. If we were to see or track enemy ships, we would leap to the edge of the discharge field in a fast, short transition and penetrate through in a surprise forward thrust. But under no circumstance were we to remain more than 1 hour of standard time in the other continuum. Our assumption that a return would be impossible after collapse of a funnel was well grounded. The enemy forces appeared to be subject to the same difficulty because they made a panic course change for home every time they reached a time limit.
Nostalgically I gazed at a distant, barely discernible light-point which in reality embodied an entire star cluster. There lay Arkon, our home world. There a bitter battle of life and death was being fought for the survival of the Arkonide race and the Greater Empire.
We had not received any further messages. My hypercom dispatch had remained unanswered. I had long since given up the idea of ever getting reinforcements in either ships or repair equipment and supplies. As soon as this thing with the unknown aliens was cleared up, I intended to offer my services again as a fleet commander. Granted, of course, that I at least came out of this with I large spaceship. I could not risk any more losses or our return would be prohibited forever.
I was just about to discuss the detailed possibilities with Tarth when the radio officer on duty stepped into the Command Central. In his hand was a decoded foil strip.
Capt. Masal silently saluted. "More troubles, Your Eminence," he said, hesitantly. "A message from Feltif. The colonists refuse to leave their farms. They base their refusal to obey orders on the fact that they are subordinate to the civil rights legislation of a colonization board but not to a Fleet admiral. Furthermore, Feltif informs you that our settlers have taken precautions to reinforce the undermanned ground defence positions in case of an attack"
I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. I had expected as much! The people were 2nd generation Arkonides. They were descendants from the planet Zakreb 5, which had formerly been settled by true Arkonides. Their offspring had been forced to emigrate again because the colonial world had already become overpopulated.
"You mean to say they refuse to go to the undersea pressure dome?" asked Tarth in bewilderment.
"Oh yes. They have a deep aversion to the water and the confined close quarters down there."
I reached for the deciphered dispatch. The text was clear enough. In the issuance of orders I had overlooked the fact that the settlers came from a dry, poorly watered world. From the standpoint of colonial psychology it was wrong to assign them to an undersea dome as a refuge.
"Are you going to stand for that?"
I looked at Tarth with a deliberate coolness. This was a decision he would have to leave to me. "Am I supposed to use force to drive the Zakreb people under the sea? And if so-what with? With crewmen from the ships or perhaps the 300 soldiers in the ground positions?"
The commander pressed his lips together. Anger flashed in his eyes. To Tarth this insubordination was tantamount to high treason. Our acute lack of personnel seemed to be beside the point.
Due to its still inadequate automation, the old Tosoma required 3000 crewmen. The modern Paito managed with as little as 600 specialists. The remainder of my fighting men were in the Atlantis ground positions. It was foolish to think of forcing the obstinate colonists.
I turned to Capt. Masal. "Message to Feltif, Fleet code A13-BQ, pulse transmission. The settlers are to be advised that in case of an attack an evacuation is no longer possible. In consideration of my vital responsibilities, which have recently come to include the task of protecting the entire world from annihilation, rescue assistance can no longer be guaranteed. The colonists are hereby at liberty to act at their own discretion. However, under these conditions I can no longer accept any responsibility for the results of coming events."
Minutes later, the pulse-modulated dispatch was transmitted. Its reception was confirmed by Capt. Feltif. Shortly thereafter, information was received to the effect that the Farmers' Mutual Trust Council had accepted my decision with the greatest satisfaction.
I handed the return dispatch to the First Officer of the battleship. The smile on my face must have been somewhat puzzling to the men. "File this and also have it registered in the positronic memory bank. It might come to pass that we'll be asked later to explain how 10,000 Zakreb settlers could perish."
Peasants!" snorted Tarth with all the scorn of which he was capable. "Impertinent and presumptuous louts who can't see any farther than the nearest nuclear-powered tractor, which they also expect to be furnished by the State."
With that the case was closed for the old war-horse. I was certain that in an emergency Tarth would not lift a finger to help the settlers now. For my part, I had neither the inclination nor the time to bother with any more internal problems.
In this respect, however, the native inhabitants of Larsaf 3 were wiser in their attitude. It may perhaps have been something in their primitive instincts which caused them to regard my instructions as an unavoidable decree. Which could of course save them, perhaps all of them. I was very fond of these tall, powerful people with their velvety skins and their peaceful, unrebellious conduct. I couldn't remember having gotten along so well with an underdeveloped colonial race as I had with the Atlanteans. One day they would rise to become a great and powerful nation. It was not within my responsibilities to encroach upon their natural development but it was within my province to defend this people's homeland.
I asked the First Officer to bring me the appropriate sections of the colonial laws. According to these I was even duty-bound to guarantee the protection of the Empire to any willingly subject race of people.
In the midst of this train of thought I also made a decision that I would go by the book and make the enemy officially and fully aware of my intentions.
Masal appeared in the giant Command Central. I dictated to him the Declaration of War according to Article 16, Volume 2, of the Emergency Powers Code for all commanding officers of the Fleet who were operating outside the boundaries of the Empire.
I had the open broadcast sent out at repeated intervals of 10 minutes. When the next outlet funnel appeared at a distance of only 3,000,000 I had the Tosoma's beam transmitter send the same message right into the gaping throat of the discharge zone. There was nothing more I could do. Besides, the attack on Kehene's auxiliary craft was unquestionably to be regarded as an act of war.
The discharge field disappeared within only 14 minutes. The phenomenon was one of those unstable or short time quantities whose duration we could not calculate in spite of ourselves.
I looked at my watch and wondered whether or not I should lift the full battle alert status for an hour or so. My men were strained to the breaking point and in some cases exhausted. Then something happened for which I was not prepared. A 2nd discharge funnel became visible just about 5 minutes after the first one had disappeared. In spite of the latent danger involved, I was fascinated. The image took form in what appeared to be empty space and yet I knew the end of one continuum was there where the other universe was overlapping into ours.
The funnel was long and narrow; at least so it seemed. Our instantly operating instruments revealed that its maximum diameter was nevertheless about 3.6 million miles. It became ever more visible as it continued to load up with the energy charge from the other plane. Owing to its deep reddish glow the funnel mouth loomed up clearly against the darkness of interstellar space. Somehow it seemed to be composed of solid material, since it blotted out the distant stars and either absorbed or reflected their light.
The opening was turned toward us at an angle of 43.7░.
Silently we watched the darkish opening with its mottled bright red background. Seconds later the alarm whistles began to shrill, jolting me to new alertness.
The matter detectors were in sync with the screens of the main tracking centre and now they were showing us 7 green-shimmering points of light. At the same time a fluorescent diagrammatic curve gave us information concerning the material composition of the observed objects.
10 seconds later we knew that we were dealing with the attackers' spaceships. Another 10 seconds after that our reconnaissance flight speed was increased by the full thrust of the engines.
I switched on a full alarm. When the sirens began to howl, the 3,000 men on board the Tosoma knew that the long-promised attack they had been drilling for so ceaselessly had at last arrived. If the aliens were sending 7 ships this time into our space all at once, it was a guaranteed certainty that the discharge funnel was stable.
From that point on we were on automatic controls. I listened to the roar of the engines, observed the flickering control lamps of the weapons circuits and checked the power meters of the fully loaded inertial absorbers, which were protecting us from the g effects of high acceleration.