The Invincible

THE BLACK RAIN

The Invincible moved across the outermost quadrant of the Lyre Constellation. The heavy cruiser was propelled through space by photon drive. It was the largest ship at the disposal of the space fleet based in this section of the universe.

The ship’s complement numbered eighty-three men, all of them presently asleep inside the hibernation tunnel. The flight distance was sufficiently short that it had not been necessary to resort to full hibernation; the men were simply kept in deep sleep, body temperature regulated so as never to fall below 50° F. Within the cruiser’s control center only the automats carried on their work.

Dead center in the direction finder hung the disk of a sun not much hotter than an ordinary red dwarf star. The moment the sun filled half the screen the space-drive automatically cut off. For a while dead silence reigned throughout the ship. The air conditioning system and the computers functioned noiselessly. The slight vibration ceased when the photon stream no longer emerged from the spacecraft’s stern. This stream had been like an infinitely long sword, sheathed in darkness, thrusting the cruiser ahead through the vastness of space. The Invincible still coasted along just under the speed of light; rigid, deaf and seemingly without any life aboard.

Tiny lights on the instrument panel reflected the reddish glow of the distant sun that loomed on the central videoscreen. Now the magnetic tapes began to move. Programed coded strips crept slowly into the intake slots of a series of instruments. Sparks flew from the transformers; and the current flooded into the supply network, accompanied by a faint hum that was not heard by any living tiling. Electromotors overcame the resistance of long dried-out lubricating oil and started humming. Their low roar soon changed into a highpitched moaning sound. Cadmium rods were pushed outwards by the auxiliary reactors; magnetic pumps squeezed liquid natrium into the cooling coils; a mild tremor ran through the ship’s stern. Faint rattling noises came from inside the hull as if swarms of tiny animals were busily scurrying about, scratching the metal walls with their sharp little claws. This was the sign that the repair robots had started out on their rounds, checking the solidity of the braces of the ship’s framework; making sure that the hull had not been damaged anywhere and that all seams were still welded tight. The entire ship came to life, filled with myriad noises and activities. Only the crew had not yet awakened.

Finally the last automat was fed the proper coded strip and began to send signals to the hibernation center, Antihibernation gas was injected into the cold air. Warm air streamed through the gratings in the floor, up towards the long rows of the sleeping cots. The sleeping men, however, appeared reluctant to wake up. Slowly they began to move their arms with feeble jerks, trying to ward off the nightmares and feverish fantasies that invaded the void of their icy slumber. Finally the first man opened his eyes. The ship had been fully prepared for this moment. For the past few minutes bright daylight had chased the dark shadows that filled the long corridors, the elevator shafts, the cabins, the control center, the workrooms, and the airlocks. And while the hibernation chamber resounded with the sighing and moaning of the drowsy men, the spaceship began its first braking maneuver, as if it were too impatient to await the complete awakening of the crew. Sheaves of fire emanated from the jets at the craft’s nose. A violent shock disrupted the velocity of the cruiser that had constantly traveled at the speed of light. The tremendous counter-forces produced by the forward jets tried to crush the Invincible whose stationary mass of eighteen thousand tons had been multiplied by its gigantic initial velocity. Everything that had not been nailed down tight began to move; lifeless objects seemed to come alive. Hermetically sealed maps bounced about on their rollers in the map room. In the galleys dishes rattled, the backs of the empty foam-rubber chairs began to shake, safety belts and wall ropes swung like pendulums in the long corridors of the decks. All the sounds of clinking glass, tin and synthetic products combined; the noise spread like a wave throughout the heavy cruiser. The hibernation center was filled with a din of voices. Following a brief transitory slumber the men now returned to the world of reality after having spent the past seven months in a state of limbo.

The spaceship kept losing speed. Red clouds shrouded the planet, obliterating the stars in the sky. An ocean became visible, reflecting the sun’s rays as though it were a convex mirror. Now the craft glided over a brownish continent dotted with craters. The crew, however, saw none of this; they were at their posts. A cloud passed through the path of the braking ray. A sudden white glimmer appeared as if quicksilver had exploded. The cloud disintegrated and vanished. For a moment the howling of the propulsion drive grew intense. The reddish disk down below became flat: the planet had turned into an expanse of land. Sickle-shaped dunes stood out, whipped by a strong wind. Strands of lava radiated from a nearby crater like the spokes of a wheel, reflecting the fiery glow of the rocket jets, and almost blotting out the sunlight.

“Central axis — full power! Static drive!”

The needle advanced slowly toward the next sector of the gauge; the landing maneuver proceeded according to plan. The spaceship hovered like a fire-spewing volcano balanced on its head. Half a mile below lay the scarred surface of the planet, covered by sandy ridges of rock.

“Central axis — full power! Brake static drive!”

Now the spot was already clearly to be seen where the braking ray hit the ground. A cloud of red sand rose from the flat surface. Violet bolts of lightning flashed, apparently without any sound, for the thunder was drowned out by the roaring gases. Gradually the potential difference evened out and the lightning disappeared. The spaceship descended steadily without any vibrations; like a mountain of steel held taut by invisible ropes.

“Central axis — half power! Small static drive!”

Steaming clouds of sand swelled up like ocean waves and sped outward in concentric circles. At the epicenter where the bunched braking ray had struck full force from a short distance away, neither steam nor sand had been left. The red, blistery mirror had changed into a lake of molten silicates which finally had evaporated in a column of shattering explosions. The primitive rock of the planet, bare as fleshless bones, turned soft.

“Cut down nuclear drive!”

The glowing blue of the atomic fire died down. A stream of diborane sprayed at a slant from the jet openings. Suddenly a ghostly green flooded the desert, crater walls and clouds. The basalt rocks would no longer remain in a molten state, just where the broad stern of the Invincible was supposed to touch down.

“Reactors zero power. Land with cold drive!”

The men’s hearts began to beat faster. They looked at the instruments. Their sweaty hands grasped levers. This last command meant there would be no turning back now. Soon they would be able to step down on terra firma; even if it was only the sand of a barren planet. Nevertheless they would see the sun rise and set again, see a horizon and clouds, and feel the wind.

“Landing dead center at nadir!”

A continuous moan filled the ship: the turbines extruded the fuel in a downward direction. A cone-shaped green column of fire connected the invincible to the rocky steaming ground. Sand clouds obscured the periscopes located on the middle decks. Only the radar screens in the control center showed the constantly changing outlines of the surrounding landscape which rapidly disappeared under the full fury of the raging typhoon.

“Stop at touchdown!”

The colossal descending rocket compressed the fiery column inch by inch. Rebellious flames swirled directly beneath the ship’s stern. Long tongues licked out from this green fiery hell into the quivering clouds of sand. The space between the burned rock and the Invincible narrowed down to a tiny gap, a glowing green line.

“Zero, zero! Cut all power!”

The rocket had come to rest on the ground. The chief engineer kept a firm grasp on both levers of the emergency starter in case the rock might suddenly cave in. They waited; the seconds crept by slowly, painfully. For a while the commander observed the plumb line, but the tiny silvery lamp did not show the slightest deviation to either side.

They were silent. The nozzles of the jets that only a short time ago had glowed white with incandescent heat began to contract while cooling off. This was accompanied by a characteristic sound not unlike a hoarse groan. Little by little the reddish dust clouds that had been hurled into the air several hundred yards high began to drift towards the ground. The spaceship’s blunt nose emerged first, then the rump, blackened by atmospheric friction matching the color of the old basalt rocks. But the red sand still whirled around the ship’s stern, which now stood firmly on the ground as if welded to the planet’s surface. The Invincible seemed to have become a part of this planet, seemed to have rotated along with it sluggishly for many centuries under the violet sky where bright stars now could be seen, growing dim only in the vicinity of the red sun.

“Normal procedure?”

The astrogator looked up from the log where he had just jotted down the exact time of their touchdown next to the name of the planet: Regis III.

“No, Rohan. We’ll start with the third step routine.”

Rohan tried to hide his surprise.

“Fine,” he replied with the note of familiarity that Horpach occasionally tolerated in their conversations. “However, I’d rather not tell the crew myself.”

Seemingly ignoring Rohan’s remark, the astrogator took his officer by the arm and steered him over to the videoscreen.

Gazing through the stereoptic, multicolored screen of the electron transformer as if it were a window eighteen storeys high opening onto the outside, they saw a true image of the landscape surrounding their landing site.

The force of the landing jet stream had hurled the sand outward and piled it up in a ring of dunes surmounting a shallow hollow. They noticed the jagged rocky rim of a crater some three miles away, its western edge blending into the horizon. Impenetrable dark shadows hung below its steep slopes toward the east. The ridges of wide lava streams pushed through the sand like rivers of reddish-black congealed blood. A bright star in the sky was visible at the upper rim of the videoscreen.

The cataclysm, brought about by the arrival of the Invincible, had gradually died down. Now the desert wind — a violent air mass constantly moving from the planet’s equatorial zones toward its poles — was already driving sandy tongues underneath the ship’s stern, as if patiently trying to heal the wound that the fiery jets had torn open.

The astrogator switched on the network of the outside microphones. The distant sound of malicious howling merged with the nearby rustling of sand gusts as they scoured the steely hull of the ship. For a moment the eerie, grating noise filled the high-ceilinged room of the control center. Horpach switched off the mikes and silence returned.

“Well, that’s what it looks like,” he said slowly “But the Condor never returned home from here, Rohan.”

Rohan clenched his teeth. Better not enter into an argument with his commander. Though they had flown together many parsecs, they had never become friends. Maybe the generation gap was too wide, or the dangers they had overcome together had not been sufficiently severe. This man, whose hair was almost as white as the suit he wore, showed no consideration now for his crew.

Nearly one hundred men waited silently at their posts. Behind them lay the tremendous strain of the approaching maneuver, those three hundred hours needed to brake the kinetic energy that was stored in every atom of the Invincible, to swing the ship into the proper orbit and to bring it in for the landing. Almost one hundred men who had not heard the rustling of the wind for many months, who had learned to hate the emptiness of space in the manner of those who have become too familiar with it. But the commander certainly did not take this into consideration now. Slowly he walked across the control center, grasped the back of his chair and growled: “We don’t know what that is out there Rohan.” And suddenly he snapped, “Well, what are you waiting for!”

Rohan hurried over to the panel and switched on the intercom. His voice betrayed his inner resentment as he shouted, “Attention, all hands! Attention! Landing maneuver completed. Terrestrial procedure, third step routine. Deck number eight — get the energy-robots ready! Deck number nine — start the protective screen reactors! All protection personnel to proceed to their stations! The rest of the crew to remain at their usual posts! These are commander’s orders, men!”

As he bellowed these commands into the intercom speaker he kept his eye on the green eye of the amplifier, which oscillated according to the intensity of his voice. Suddenly he seemed to see inside the flickering light the perspiring faces of the men who were turned toward the loudspeakers. He knew the expression on those faces was changing from amazement to cold fury. Now that they had understood, they would start cursing.

“Terrestrial procedure, third step routine started, Astrogator,” he said without looking at the old man. The old man glanced at Rohan and a slight smile showed unexpectedly around the corners of his mouth.

“That’s just for the beginning, Rohan. You should know that. We’ll probably go for long walks when the sun is setting over the horizon. Who knows…”

He took a thin, long book from a small built-in cupboard at the far end of the wall. He opened it and placed it on the instrument panel that was studded with buttons and levers. He asked: “Have you read this, Rohan?”

“Yes.”

“The last signal registered by the seventh hyper-relay station reached the base just a year ago.”

“I know the message by heart.

“That’s right. But this was not the last signal.”

“Yes, I know, Astrogator. Forty hours later another message was received by the same hyper-relay station. This time apparently in Morse code. The message did not make any sense at all, jumbled up words. And then several times odd noises. Haertel said it sounded like someone was pulling a cat’s tail.”

“Right,” mumbled the astrogator, but he was obviously no longer listening. He stood in front of the videoscreen. Near the lower rim the scissor-like supports of the ramp could be seen. Energo-robots glided down the ramp at equidistant intervals. Each weighed thirty tons of heavy machinery protected by a fire-proof armor made of silicon. As they slid towards the ground, each opened and raised its helmet. They left the ramp; soon they were sinking deep into the sand. Still they made good progress, working their way through the dune that the wind had already blown around the Invincible. One after the other they turned to the right or the left. Ten minutes later the entire ship was surrounded by a chain of metal turtles. The moment each robot had reached its place it started burrowing down into the sand. Soon they disappeared in the sand except for the glittering domes of their Dirac emitters that peered out from the red slopes of the dunes, forming the evenly spaced links of one huge circular chain.

Suddenly the steel floor of the control center began to vibrate. The men could feel it distinctly through the thick padding of foam rubber that covered the floor. An almost imperceptible tremor flashed through their bodies, and for a moment they noticed a quivering in the muscles of their jaws. Everything around them grew hazy. The phenomenon lasted no more than half a second. Once again all grew silent around them, interrupted only by the distant hum of starting motors that rose up from the lower decks. Then everything came back into focus again. The desert, the dark red rocky hillsides, the slowly creeping sandy waves showed up in sharp outlines on the videoscreen. All seemed as it had been before — but now an invisible field of energy formed a protective dome around the Invincible, cutting off access to the spaceship.

Now metal crabs made their appearance on the ramp. They descended slowly, their antennae twirling like the arms of a windmill. These flat info-robots were considerably larger than the field emitters, and walked on curved metallic stilts that projected on either side. The metal arthropods soon bogged down in the deep sand; with reluctance, they extricated their extremities in order to take their place inside the spaces next to each link formed by the chain of the energo-robots.

While all protective measures began to function, tiny control lamps lit up against the dull background of the central panel. The dials of the instruments that counted incoming impulses were suffused by a greenish glow, becoming dozens of luminous green cat’s eyes that stared at the two men. The needles on all the dials pointed to zero. Nothing attempted to break through the invisible wall of their energy field. One needle only kept steadily moving upwards: an illuminated arrow rose up on the energy distributor gauge, advancing beyond the Giga-watt lines.

“I’m going down to get something to eat. Get started with the stereotype, Rohan.” Horpach’s voice sounded very tired as he turned away from the videoscreen.

“Remote control?”

“Not necessarily. You can send somebody out. Or even go yourself, if you want to,” said Horpach as he was opening the door and leaving the room. For one more moment Rohan could see the old man’s profile inside the dimly lit elevator as it started to go down. He looked at the field gauge. Zero. We should really begin with the photogrammetry, he thought to himself. Circle the planet and photograph it systematically. Perhaps something might be found that way. Much better than relying only on visual observations. After all, a continent isn’t the same thing as an ocean, where one sailor in the crow’s nest will do the trick. But photogrammetry would take about one month. Too long.

The elevator had returned. Rohan got in and descended to the sixth deck. A crowd had gathered on the big platform in front of the airlock. The men no longer had any business being there; the dinner gong had been sounded for almost fifteen minutes steadily.

The men stepped aside to let Rohan pass.

“Jordan and Blank, come along for a stereotype investigation.”

“Full protective gear, Navigator?”

“No. Just the oxygen tanks. And a robot. Let’s take an Arctane. He won’t get stuck in that damned sand.” Rohan turned to the men standing around. “Well, what are you still doing here? Lost your appetite?”

“We’d like to see what it’s like outside, Navigator.”

“Why can’t we go ashore?”

“Just for a few minutes — ”

They all spoke at once.

“Steady, steady, men. Don’t lose your cool now. We’ll all soon be going sightseeing. For the time being it’s terrestrial procedure, third step routine.”

The men left reluctantly.

In the meantime a robot had arrived from the ship’s hold. It stepped off the freight lift. It was at least a head taller than the men. Jordan and Blank returned on an electrocart bringing some oxygen tanks with them. Rohan stood leaning against the railing of the corridor. Now that the spacecraft rested on its stern the corridor had turned into a vertical shaft reaching down all the way to the first engine room. Above and below him were the many storeys of the rocket; somewhere in the depths the conveyor belts ran quietly. He could hear faint smacking sounds coming from the hydraulic system. Cool air blew up the shaft from forty yards below where the air conditioning plant inside the engine room had cleansed the fouled atmosphere.

The personnel at the airlock opened the door for them. Rohan made a routine check: the straps were tight; the mask fitted properly. Jordan and Blank entered behind him, followed by the robot. The steel floor resounded under the metal monster’s weighty steps. A piercing, constant hissing sound came from the air that was sucked inside the interior of the ship. The outside hatch sprung open, and they could see the engine ramp four storeys below. A small elevator was already waiting for them. (It had been released from inside the hull the moment they had entered the airlock.) The elevator shaft consisted of a wire network which stretched all the way down, touching the rim of the sand dunes. The elevator cage had no walls, and the men could feel the air, but it was hardly cooler than inside the Invincible. As they stepped onto the waiting platform, the magnetic brakes were released. From a height of eleven storeys up, the four glided down gently, passing the various sections of the ship’s hull on the way. Rohan inspected the walls mechanically. You rarely get a chance to look at a spaceship so closely from the outside, he thought to himself. That rocket had a pretty rough time, all these years. Must have been hit by some meteors… looks as if the armored plate has corroded in spots here; no longer looks shiny…

The elevator reached its destination and came to a complete standstill on top of the soft sand dune. The men jumped out, sinking knee-deep into the shifting sand. The robot waddled ahead with firm strides, like a giant duck. It had been outfitted with absurd-looking monstrous flat feet, reminiscent of snowshoes, for just this purpose. Rohan ordered the robot to stop. Then he and his men examined the outer rim of the jet openings around the stern, approaching as closely as possible.

“They could stand a good cleaning. Need to be ground and polished again,” he remarked to his companions.

As they crept out from under the ship’s stern, he noticed the gigantic shadow cast by the Invincible ahead of them, a dark road stretched straight out across the sand dunes, bathed in the light of the setting sun. A strange calm emanated from the monotonously even sandy waves. Blue shadows gathered in the ridges while rosy twilight played on the crests. This warm, delicate pink reminded him of the pastel hues he had seen in picture books as a child. Such incredibly soft colors. His eyes wandered across the dunes, detecting ever new variations of this yellowish-pink glow. Farther away the colors deepened to a rich red interspersed with sickle shaped black shadows. Far off in the distance where the dunes nestled at the foot of bare, threatening volcanic rocks, the warm colors faded into a uniform yellowish gray.

While Rohan stood gazing at the landscape, his men carried out their routine measurements. They worked at a deliberate pace, mechanically employing the skills they had acquired over so many years. They filled small containers with samples of the atmosphere, the soil, the rocks. They tested the radioactivity of the ground with the help of a probe manipulated by the Arctane robot.

Rohan paid no heed to what his men were doing. The oxygen mask covered only his nose and mouth, while his eyes and the rest of his head were exposed to the air. He had removed his protective helmet, and could feel the wind ruffling his hair. Tiny grains of sand were blown against his face and clung to the skin, tickling where they penetrated the gap between the mask and his cheeks. Heavy gusts of wind pulled at the loose trousers of his protective suit. The huge, bloated sun disk was dipping down close to the horizon; it was possible to look straight into the dark red ball for a moment or two. The wind whistled with long drawn-out sighs. Since the energy field around the ship permitted free passage of gases, Rohan could not make out where its invisible wall rose up from the sand.

The gigantic area that stretched endlessly out before him seemed totally devoid of life, as if no living being had ever set foot on it. Could this be the same planet that had devoured a spaceship as immense as their own? A heavy cruiser with a crew of one hundred men, a mighty experienced sailor of the void, capable of developing energies of several million kilowatts within the fraction of a second which could be transformed into protective screens impenetrable by any matter; energies which might be bunched into destructive rays with the soaring temperatures of a burning star, that would change mountain ranges to dust and ashes, or dry out entire oceans. Yet the Condor had disappeared from this very same planet without a trace. How was it possible to explain the fact that a huge steel structure, built on earth, the fruit of a highly developed technology that had already flourished for centuries, could simply vanish in this red and gray desert without so much as even sending an SOS?

This is what the whole continent looks like, he thought. He remembered the view from above: crater after crater with their serrated rims. The only noticeable movement came from floating cloud banks that dragged their shadows across the endless desert dunes.

“Any radioactivity?” he asked without turning around.

“Zero, zero, two,” replied Jordan while slowly getting off his knees. His face looked flushed, his eyes shiny. The mask distorted his voice.

That’s negligible, Rohan thought. That couldn’t have done anything to the Condor’s crew. Besides, they’d know better than to commit any gross negligence. Even if they hadn’t carried out the routine stereotype examination, the automatic controls would have sounded the alarm.

“Atmosphere?”

“Nitrogen seventy-eight per cent, argon two per cent, carbon dioxide zero, methane four per cent, the rest is oxygen.”

“Oxygen sixteen per cent? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure.”

“Any radioactivity in the air?”

“Practically none.”

That much oxygen. Strange. Rohan was surprised. He stepped over to the robot who held out a cassette containing all the figures for Rohan’s inspection.

Maybe they tried to go without oxygen tanks. He dismissed the thought as absurd. Occasionally a crew member would take off his mask against orders and die of poisoning. Maybe one or two men, but no more than that.

“Are you through with everything?” he wanted to know.

“Yes.”

“Then get back to the ship.”

“How about you, Navigator?”

“I’ll stay a while longer. Just go back now, all of you!” He grew impatient in his desire to be alone. Blank swung the strap over his shoulder. The strap held all the containers together that now dangled down his back. Jordan handed the probe to the robot. The men waded clumsily through the deep sand, the Arctane waddling behind them like a man in disguise.

Rohan walked some distance until he could see the broad openings of the energy-field emitters sticking out of the sand. In a sudden surge of childish mischief he grabbed a handful of sand and threw it against the spot where the invisible wall was supposed to be. Not that he needed any confirmation; he just obeyed a playful impulse. The sand arched through the air, then trickled down in a straight line as if it had hit an invisible glass vault. Rohan’s fingers were itching to tear off his mask.. How well he knew that sensation: spit out the plasti-mouthpiece, jerk loose the safety straps, then pump his chest full of air, sucking it deeply into his lungs…

I’m getting emotional, he thought, as he slowly made his way back to the ship. The elevator was waiting for him, empty, the platform nestled softly in the sand. Within a few minutes the wind had already deposited a fine layer of dust upon the entire structure.

In the main corridor of the fifth deck he glanced at the information panel. The commander was in the forward cabin. He made his way up there.

“To sum it up, it’s quite idyllic out there,” was Horpach’s comment after listening to the navigator’s report. “No radioactivity, no spores, fungi, viruses… nothing except this oxygen. Be sure you have some cultures made of those samples.”

“That’s already being taken care of in the lab. Perhaps life has developed on some other continent of this planet.” Rohan’s voice lacked conviction.

“I’d rather doubt that. Not too much solar irradiation beyond the equatorial zone. Didn’t you notice how thick the polar icecaps seemed to be? They must be some five to six miles deep. More likely we’d find life in the ocean. Maybe some algae or seaweeds. I wonder why no living forms ever left the water and adapted to dry land?”

“We’ll have to take a closer look at that ocean,” said Rohan.

“It’s too soon to ask our people for definite data; but the planet seems to be quite old. It must have been around for a good billion years. Even the sun must once have seen better days. Lost all its lustre. It’s almost a red dwarf star. Puzzling that there is no life on land. Perhaps some special evolutionary characteristic that cannot exist outside of water… that would explain the presence of oxygen, but not the mysterious disappearance of the Condor.”

“Maybe there are aquatic life forms down on the ocean bed, some kind of hidden civilization at the bottom of the sea,” ventured Rohan.

The two men examined a huge map of the planet. It had been drawn in Mercator projection about a century earlier, according to the data obtained by automatic probes. The map was inexact, showing only the outlines of the most important continents and oceans, the approximate extent of the polar caps and the largest craters. A red dot marked their landing site, below the eighth parallel of the northern latitude. Horpach swept aside the map impatiently.

“How can you believe such nonsense!” he snapped at the navigator. “Tressor was just as smart as we are. He would never have capitulated to a bunch of fish from the ocean. Besides, let’s assume any intelligent life had evolved in the sea, it would surely have established a foothold on dry land. They could always have used protective suits filled with ocean water. Rubbish. Total nonsense,” he grumbled, not because Rohan’s suggestion was entirely without any merit. His thoughts had raced ahead to something else.

“We’ll stay here for a while” he concluded. He touched the lower rim of the map, which rolled up with a softly rustling noise, then disappeared on one of the horizontal shelves of the big map case. “We’ll just wait and see.”

“And if nothing happens?” Rohan inquired cautiously. “Won’t we start looking for them?”

“Be reasonable, Rohan! Such a — ” The astrogator tried to find a suitable phrase. But the right word would not come. He replaced it by a disdainful wave of his right hand.

“This planet is as big as Mars. How could we possibly send out search parties for them? How can we hope to find the Condor?”

“The soil does contain a lot of iron,” Rohan admitted reluctantly. An analysis of the soil had indeed shown a considerable admixture of iron oxides, so that ferro-induction values would be useless under these circumstances. Rohan did not know what else to say. He was quite convinced that the Commander would find a solution somehow. After all, they could not return home empty-handed. He gazed at Horpach’s heavy eyebrows with their white bristling hairs, and he waited.

“To be frank with you, I’m not so sure that these forty-eight hours we are supposed to wait will help us in any way; but these are the regulations we have to obey,” suddenly confessed the astrogator. “Sit down, Rohan! You bother my conscience. This Regis III is the most idiotic place in the universe. Sheer idiocy to have sent the Condor here in the first place. I can’t imagine why they did it. But that’s neither here nor there. We just have to face the facts of the situation.”

Horpach fell silent. He was in a bad mood, which usually made him quite talkative and liable to become almost confidential. This was fraught with danger, though, for he might cut short such brief periods of intimacy with some nasty remark.

“Let’s come to the point. We must act; we can’t wait. All right then. Place several photographic probes into orbit around the equator. Make sure the orbit will be circular and not too far out. Let’s say about forty miles.”

“But that would still be inside the ionosphere,” objected Rohan. “They’d burn up after a few times around the globe.”

“So what? Let them burn up! As long as they get in a lot of photos. I’d even suggest not going beyond thirty-five miles. They’ll probably burn up after the tenth orbit. But we can’t send them any higher than that and still get usuable shots. Do you have any idea what a rocket looks like seen from sixty miles altitude, even with the best tele-lens? The head of a pin would be as big as a huge mountain next to it. Start right away… Rohan!”

The navigator was halfway out of the door when he turned to see Horpach throw a paper on the table. It was the report with the results of the routine stereotype analysis.

“What is that supposed to mean? What kind of lunacy is that? Who made out that report?”

“The automatic analyzer. What’s the matter?” asked Rohan making an effort to suppress the anger that was slowly rising in him. Now he’s got to get on my back, he thought walking forward with deliberate slowness. “Read that! Here, you see!”

“Methane: four per cent,” Rohan read out loud. “Four per cent!” he exclaimed in a startled voice.

“Four per cent methane, that’s what it says here. And sixteen per cent oxygen. Do you realize what that means? An explosive mixture. Can you explain why the whole atmosphere didn’t explode when we landed with diborane as a propellant?”

“Incredible — I can’t understand it,” stammered Rohan. He hurried over to the control panel, pushed the button of the suction tube which would deliver a sample of the outside atmosphere. While Horpach paced the floor impatiently in ominous silence, Rohan intently observed the analyzers.

“Well, any change?”

“No, the same analysis as before: methane four per cent, oxygen sixteen per cent,” replied Rohan. Although he failed to understand this result, he experienced a certain satisfaction in the knowledge that the astrogator could not put the blame on him.

“Let me see that, will you,” urged Horpach. “Methane: four per cent. Damn it, you’re right. All right, then. Put the probes into orbit and then come over to the small lab. What do we have our experts for? Let them rack their brains a bit.”

Rohan took the elevator down, called two rocket experts to join him in the small briefing area, where he gave them the astrogator’s orders. Then he returned to the second storey. Here were the laboratories and cabins of the experts. He passed several narrow doors, each marked by a name plate bearing nothing but initials: Ch. I, Ch. Ph., Ch. T., Ch. B. The door of the small lab stood wide open. He could hear the monotonous voices of the experts. Now and then they were interrupted by the astrogator’s deep bass. Rohan stopped at the threshold. All the “chiefs” were assembled in this room: the engineers, biologists, physicists, physicians, and the technologists from the engine room. The astrogator sat at the farthest end next to the portable computer. Moderon, holding his swarthy hands folded in front of him, was speaking. “I’m no gas expert. In any event, we are not dealing here with ordinary methane. The energy of the chemical bonds is different, even if it is only a difference of one-hundredth. It will react with oxygen only in the presence of some catalytic agent, and then only with great difficulty.”

“Where does this methane come from?” inquired Horpach, twiddling his thumbs.

“Its carbon is of organic origin, of course. There is not much of it, but beyond any doubt — ”

“Are there any isotopes? How old are they? How old is this methane?”

“Anywhere from 2 to 15 million years.”

“You certainly left yourself a nice amount of leeway!”

“We only had half an hour. I can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Quastler! What’s the origin of this methane, what do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

Horpach’s glance made the round of his experts. He looked close to losing his temper; but suddenly he smiled.

“Gentlemen! After all, you are the experts. We have been working together for quite some time now. Let me have your opinion now, please. What do you suggest we should do, where shall we begin?”

No one was willing to answer, except for the biologist Joppe, one of the few who were not afraid of the astrogator. He gazed calmly at the commander: “This is not an ordinary planet of the class Subdelta 92. Otherwise the Condor would never have vanished. Since they also had experts on board, neither any better nor any worse than we have here, we can safely assume that their knowledge was insufficient to prevent the catastrophe. This leaves us with the only possible solution: We must continue to proceed with the third step routine and examine the mainland and the oceans of Regis III. To begin with, I’d suggest collecting some core samples for geological analysis. At the same time we should obtain various water specimens from the ocean. Anything else would be speculation, a luxury we cannot permit ourselves in our present situation.”

“Very well.” Horpach pressed his lips together into a thin line. “No problem getting core samples of the ground within the energy field. Dr. Norwik can take care of that task.” The chief geologist nodded his consent. “As far as the ocean is concerned — what’s the distance from here to the shore, Rohan?”

“About 120 miles,” answered the navigator. He was not in the least surprised that the commander was aware of his presence, although he could not possibly see him.

“That’s a bit too far. But anyhow, take as many people along as you think you’ll need. Fitzpatrick, one of the oceanographers, a few marine biologists, and six energo-robots from the reserve stock. Drive to the shore. Work only inside the protective energy screen. No joy rides on the ocean, no diving attempts. Be careful with the energo-robots, we don’t have any to spare. Got it? Well, you can go ahead then. Wait, one more thing: is the atmosphere suitable for breathing?”

The physicians consulted each other in a barely audible whisper.

“Essentially, yes,” Stormont answered finally. His voice did not sound very convincing.

“What do you mean, ‘essentially’? Is the air breathable or not?”

“The high percentage of methane will eventually have some effect on the men. As soon as their blood reaches saturation point, we can expect certain disturbances in the brain. They’ll become unconscious within one hour of exposure, or perhaps it’ll take several hours.”

“How about using a methane absorber?”

“Not practical. We would need too many — you’d have to change them constantly. Besides, the oxygen content of the air is too low. I’m in favor of taking along oxygen tanks.”

“How about you others? Do you agree?”

Witte and Eldjarn nodded their consent.

Horpach rose from his chair. “That’s it, then. Let’s get started. Rohan! What’s the matter with the probes?”

“They are ready for takeoff. May I put them into orbit before we leave on our expedition?”

“Yes.”

Rohan turned away and soon left the noise of the laboratory behind him. The sun was setting as he reached the control center. The serrated contours of a crater stood out starkly against the horizon, its peaks unnaturally clear against the red-rimmed violet and purple of the sun. The sky was more densely star-studded and seemed to loom more vastly in this part of the galaxy than elsewhere. The major constellations began to sink lower and lower toward the planet’s surface, soon merging with the dark shadows of the desert

Rohan called the satellite launching pad via intercom. They were announcing the start of the first pair of photo satellites, to be followed by additional launchings within the hour. In another twenty-four hours the Invincible’s crew could expect to receive a detailed photographic survey of the entire equatorial zone.

Rohan sat down in front of the control panel. No one would ever have gotten him to admit that he felt the same thrill at the light effects whenever a satellite was put into orbit. First the control lamps of the booster rocket would flare up with red, white and blue lights. Then the starter automat would begin countdown. As soon as its ticking ceased, a slight tremor would shake the entire ship’s body. At the same time a bright phosphorescence would illuminate the desert that until that moment had lain like a dark shadow on the videoscreen.

A low rumble spread throughout the whole cruiser, down to the lowest decks, as the tiny projectile shot out of the ramp at the ship’s nose. The Invincible was bathed in a sea of flaming light. The booster rocket fled skyward, its glow a feeble flicker on the slopes of the dunes, which Christmas tree: they indicated that the burnt-out rocket could no longer be heard — the instrument panel was racked by a sudden feverish trembling. The oval-shaped ballistic control lights flashed out of the dark, and were welcomed with friendly encouraging nodding by the shimmering lights of the remote control steering, like bits of mother-of-pearl. Then colorful signals lit up like a Christmas tree: they indicated that the burntout rocket stages had been jettisoned. Finally the rainbow effect created by the constant flickering and shimmering was blotted out by a stark white rectangle. This was the sign that the satellite had reached its orbit. In the center of this glittering white area a small gray island emerged, gradually condensing its vague outlines to form the number 67, the altitude at which the satellite was circling the planet.

Rohan quickly checked out the orbital parameters, but perigee and apogee were close to the values calculated beforehand. There was nothing else for him to do here. He compared the time aboard the Invincible, 18:00, with current local time: it was 23:00. For a brief moment he closed his eyes; he looked forward to this excursion to the seashore, for he preferred working on his own. He felt hungry and tired. Rohan deliberated whether he should take a pep pill, but then decided to have a real meal. As he rose from his seat he realized how exhausted he actually felt. The momentary shock caused by this discovery gave him a new burst of strength. Rohan took the elevator down to the mess hall. His crew was already there waiting for him: the two drivers of the air-cushioned hover trucks. He was fond of the one name Jarg, because of his pleasant disposition. There were also the oceanographer Fitzpatrick and his two colleagues Broza and Koechlin. They were just finishing supper as Rohan ordered some hot soup and helped himself to bread and a few bottles of nonalcoholic beer which he took from an automatic dispenser built in the wall. He placed everything on a tray and walked over to the dining table. At this moment a slight tremor shook the floor. The Invincible had launched another satellite.

The commander had not been in favor of any nocturnal expeditions. Shortly before sunrise, at 5:00 Am. local time, they started out on the journey. They employed the usual precautionary measures, advancing in the painfully slow marching order that was generally known as the “funeral procession.” A group of energo-robots led the way while others brought up the rear. They had erected an ellipsoid force field for the protection of the entire group, for the all-purpose vehicles, the cross-country jeeps containing radar and radio installations, the mobile kitchen, the trailer with airtight living quarters, and the small carriage on caterpillar tracks on which their laser beam sender had been mounted.

Rohan and his three experts climbed into the energo-robot at the front of the train. It was a rather tight squeeze, but this way they had at least the illusion of a relatively normal ride. The entire train moved at the speed of the slowest vehicles — the energo-robots — which did not contribute to the men’s comfort. The caterpillar tracks groaned and crunched through the sand. The turbo engines maintained a steady hum, reminding Rohan of a huge swarm of persistent flies. Cool air blew from the air conditioning duct that opened directly behind their seats. The energo-robot rocked back and forth like a big sloop making its way through heavy seas. After a while the black needle of the Invincible sank below the horizon. For some time they drove across the monotonous desert while the sun rose, blood red and cold.

The landscape changed. There was no longer so much sand. Instead rocky shelves rose at a slant from the ground. Many detours were necessary. Conversation was impossible because of the noisy engines and the oxygen masks covering their faces. Conscientiously the men scanned the horizon, again and again finding the same picture: huge rock piles and big chunks of well-weathered stones. Finally the ground began to slope downwards. At the bottom of a basin-shaped valley they discovered a small brook with a narrow trickle of water that glittered in the red light of the dawn. Both banks were lined with wide deposits of round, polished stones, indicating that the brook occasionally must carry considerable amounts of water.

They halted briefly and examined the water. It was limpid but rather hard, and contained ferric oxide and tiny traces of sulphide.

They continued their march at a faster pace than before, since the caterpillar tracks could make better headway on the rocky ground. To the west rose low rocky cliffs. The last vehicle maintained communication with the Invincible. The radar antennae kept turning; the observers sat in front of their radar screens, constantly adjusting their headsets and chewing grains of energy concentrate. Once in a while a stone was flung out from beneath the turbo-drive vehicles as if by a tiny tornado, propelling it high up the stony slopes. Then their way was blocked by softly arching hills. Without slowing down they picked up a few rock samples. Fitzpatrick called out to Rohan that the gravel-like soil might be of organic origin.

Finally, as they sighted the blue-black surface of the ocean, they also found some limestone formations. They drove toward the shore. The ground was now covered with small, flat stones over which the vehicles proceeded noisily. The hot vapors from the motors, the screeching of the caterpillar chains, the hum of the engines were all instantly stifled as they halted suddenly about one hundred yards offshore. The green-gray ocean stretched out ahead of them, looking no different than the Atlantic Ocean on Earth.

Now a rather complicated maneuver had to be executed: the energo-robot in front of the column had to advance deep into the water in order to maintain the protective energy screen above the whole group. The machine was made watertight, then it rolled into the waves, steered by remote control from another robot. The first robot sank slowly deeper and deeper, disappearing underneath the surface, and could be seen only dimly as a dark spot. Then, obeying a radio signal, the immersed colossus pushed its Dirac emitter above the surface of the water. As soon as the energy field had become stabilized, arching an invisible hemisphere over a part of both the shore and the ocean in front of it, the men could start their examinations.

The salinity of this ocean was slightly less than that of terrestrial sea water, but the results of the analysis were anything but sensational. Two hours later they knew little more than before, so they steered two television probes far out over the ocean, observing their paths on television sets. Not until the probes had disappeared on the horizon did the crew receive signals that were of any interest to them. Some living organisms inhabited the ocean; they resembled fish. As the probes approached, the creatures scatterd with enormous speed, seeking shelter in the depths of the ocean. Sonic depth finders located the first sign of organic life on Regis 150 yards below the surface of the ocean.

Broza insisted on catching one of the fish. The probes pursued the shadows as they flitted about in the darkness of the ocean, shooting electrical charges at them. But the fish were incredibly agile; it took many misses before finally one of the creatures was stunned and could be grabbed by hooks lowered from the probes. The crew recalled the probe immediately to shore.

In the meantime, Koechlin and Fitzpatrick had guided another probe over the ocean, collecting samples of fibers that were drifting in the deeper layers of the sea. The men believed them to be a type of local algae. Finally they sent the probe all the way down to the ocean floor, which at this point reached a depth of 250 yards. Down below were strong currents that made remote-control steering rather difficult. The probe was constantly pushed off course and collided all the time with the rock heaps on the ground. With great effort some of the stones could finally be rolled over. Just as Koechlin had suspected, a whole colony of tiny cilia-covered creatures had been hiding underneath the shelter of the big stones.

After the two probes had safely returned to their base, the biologists began their task. In the meantime a hut had been erected where they could take off the bothersome respirator masks. Rohan, Jarg and the five other men ate their first hot meal that day.

For the rest of the day they were busy collecting mineral specimens, examining the radioactivity of the ocean floor, measuring the amount of insultation and carrying out the manifold tasks that were irksome yet had to be performed with accuracy if they wanted to obtain reliable results.

By dusk everything that they had set out to do had been achieved. Rohan felt a sense of accomplishment as he stepped to the microphone to answer Horpach’s call from the Invincible. He reported that the ocean was full of living organisms, all of which avoided coming anywhere close to the shore regions. Nothing unusual had been detected when they had dissected the one fish they had caught. The evolution of life on Regis III must have been going on for approximately several hundred million years. They had also discovered considerable amounts of green algae; this should account for the presence of the oxygen in the atmosphere. There was the same division of observed organic forms as on Earth and other planets, namely into flora and fauna. Also the skeletal structure of the vertebrates seemed to be typical. However, one organ had been found in the fish specimen for which no corresponding terrestrial structure was known to the examining biologists. This seemed to be a special organ of sense that reacted strongly to minute variations in a magnetic field.

Horpach ordered the crew to return immediately to the spacecraft. He closed the conversation by reporting an important item of news: they had apparently succeeded in discovering the place where the lost Condor had landed.

Despite the violent protests on the part of the biologists (who insisted they would need at least several weeks to complete their investigations), Rohan had the huts dismantled. The engines started and the column began its way back in a northwesterly direction. Rohan was unable to give any further details to his crew, who were eager to learn more about the Condor. He was certain, however, that it was advisable to hurry back, for he assumed that the commander would give out new assignments that most likely would supply them with more rewarding answers. Of course, the first step would consist of a thorough examination of the area where the Condor was supposed to have landed. Rohan drove as fast as the engines would permit. Their return trip was accompanied by a hellish noise as the caterpillar tracks rattled rapidly over the gravel ground, crunching and cracking and spewing out the stones in their path.

At the onset of darkness they switched on their big headlights; before their eyes the flickering light cones drew from the darkness huge, shapeless, apparently mobile silhouettes — which turned out to be nothing but big boulders, the last remaining remnants of an eroded mountain chain.

Several times they were forced to stop before some deep rifts in the basalt that had to be cautiously circumnavigated.

It was long past midnight when they finally sighted the body of the Invincible, shimmering in the distance like a festively illuminated metal tower. A great deal of activity was going on within the area of the energy field. Rows of vehicles were moving about, provisions and fuel were unloaded; groups of men were crowded below the ramp, which was lit up as bright as daylight by the huge Jupiter lamps. From a distance the returning men could hear the noise generated by the workers, busily scurrying about like so many ants in a bustling ant-heap. Now blue signal lights began to blink to indicate the spot where they could re-enter the energy screen. One after another, the vehicles of the returning expedition rolled into the protective hemisphere.

Hardly had Rohan jumped off his truck when he hailed one of the passing men, who he recognized as Blank. Rohan asked him what else had been found out about the Condor. But Blank had not even heard anything about the presumed discovery of the lost spaceship. There were only a few additional bits of information he could supply to Rohan. Before the satellites had burned up in the lower layers of the atmosphere they had managed to make some eleven thousand photographs. These had been transmitted and received by radio signals, which in their turn had been transferred onto specially prepared plates that were now in the cartographical cabin.

Rohan did not wish to waste any time. He ordered the cartographer Erett to come to his own cabin. While standing under a hot shower, Rohan quizzed Erett. He wanted to hear what had occurred on board the Invincible while he had been out on his expedition to the ocean shore. Erett was one of those who had carefully examined the incoming satellite photos for any trace of the vanished Condor. He had been one of the thirty men who had searched for this tiny grain of steel in the vast ocean of sand. Their group of experts had consisted of several planetologists, cartographers, radar observers and all pilots aboard the Invincible. For more than twenty-four hours they had alternately sifted through the incoming material and then noted down the coordinates of any suspicious spot on the planet. Unfortunately the commander’s report to Rohan had turned out to be incorrect: what they had believed to be the spaceship was nothing but an unusually tall rocky spire whose shadow had looked remarkably like that of a rocket. Thus the Condor’s fate remained in the dark as before.

Rohan wanted to report directly to the commander but he had already retired for the night, so Rohan went to his own cabin. Despite his exhaustion he could not fall asleep for a long time. Shortly after he awoke the next morning, he received a request from the astrogator via Ballmin, chief of the planetologists, to dispatch his entire material to the main laboratory. By ten o’clock Rohan felt so hungry — he had not yet had breakfast — that he took the elevator down to the mess hall for the radar observers. He was just drinking his coffee when Erett stormed in, rushing straight to Rohan’s table.

“Did you find the Condor?” Rohan asked when he saw the cartographer’s excited face.

“No, but we’ve detected something much bigger. Come along right away, please. The astrogator is waiting for you.”

It seemed as if the glassed-in cylinder literally inched its way up the elevator shaft. Nobody spoke to them when they arrived at the quiet darkened cabin. The humming of the relays could be heard and the automatic developer spat out shiny moist photos; but no one paid any attention. Two technicians were just pulling a projector out from behind a hinged door in the wall. Just before the technician switched off the light, Rohan managed to locate the white-haired cranium of the astrogator amid all the other heads. The next moment a silvery shimmering screen descended from the ceiling. Tense breathing was the only audible sound. Rohan got as close to the screen as possible. The rather fuzzy image (unfortunately only a black-and-white photo) showed a bare high plateau, surrounded by an irregular ring of small craters, jutting out from the landscape. On one side this tableland fell away steeply, as if sliced off by a giant knife. That was the shoreline, for the rest of the picture was filled by the even black expanse of the ocean. At some distance from this precipice Rohan noticed a mosaic of indistinct shapes that lay partially obscured under some low clouds and their shadows. No doubt about it, this peculiar structure with its blurry outlines could not be mistaken for any geological formation.

It’s a city, thought Rohan with excitement. The room was silent as the technician tried in vain to get the picture into a sharper focus.

“Were there any disturbances during transmission?” the astrogator’s calm voice broke through.

“No,” replied Ballmin out of the dark. “We had good transmission, but this shot was one of the last of the third group of satellites. Eight minutes after it had been launched, it no longer reacted to our signals. This photo was probably taken after the objectives had already been damanged by the rapidly rising temperature.”

“The camera was at a distance of roughly forty miles from the center of this structure,” interjected another voice, that Rohan recognized. It was Malte, one of the most talented planetologists.

“I’d be inclined to put the distance rather at some thirty to thirty-five miles. Will you look at this, please?” The astrogator’s body obscured part of the screen. He took a transparent stencil with many circles and placed it over the various craters in the visible part of the screen.

“These are definitely larger than those of the earlier shots. But it doesn’t matter, either way you look at it…” he added without completing his sentence.

They all knew what he had meant to say: soon they would be able to judge for themselves whether the satellite cameras had been properly focused. For a few moments they regarded the image on the screen. Rohan was no longer certain whether this was a city or the ruins of one. That these geometrically regular structures must have been abandoned for quite some time could be concluded from the pencil-thin wavy shadows of the dunes which encircled them. Some of these constructions had been almost totally covered by the sand. The geometrical order of the ruins was divided into two uneven parts by a zigzag line which grew wider as it stretched further inland. This tectonic fissure cut several of the large “buildings” in half. One of these had toppled over and formed a bridge across the chasm.

“Lights, please,” sounded the astrogator’s voice. As bright lamps illuminated the cabin he glanced over to the clock on the wall. “We’ll leave in two hours.”

Dissatisfied comments greeted this announcement. The loudest protests came from the assistants to the chief geologist; they had already drilled 200 yards down into the ground to obtain soil and rock specimens. With a slight wave of his hand Horpach indicated that he wished no further discussion. “All machines are to return on board ship. Make safe any material obtained so far. Continue examining the photos and carry on with all necessary analyses. Where is Rohan? Oh, there you are. Did you hear what I said? Everyone to be ready for takeoff in two hours!”

The men loaded the machines into the Invincible’s hold. They worked fast but with systematic precision. Rohan turned a deaf ear to Ballmin’s pleas for just fifteen minutes more to finish drilling for his last core sample.

“You have all heard the commander’s orders; now get a move on,” he shouted, urging the men to greater speed as they drove their big cranes toward the ditches and drilling holes. Drilling equipment, provisional turnstiles and fuel drums disappeared quickly in the open hatches leading to the ship’s storerooms. Soon the upturned ground was the only sign left of all their activities. Then Rohan and Westergarde, the substitute chief engineer, made one final inspection of the now deserted working places outside the spacecraft. After having taken care of this last precautionary measure, the two men quickly embarked.

A great commotion then sprang up in the sandy dunes around the ship, caused by the energo-robots obeying the radio signal to return to their craft. Quickly waddling along in single file they soon reached their home base.

Now the ramp and the vertical elevator shaft were pulled inside. For another instant nothing moved: the lull before a storm.

Then the metallic whistling of the air sounded its noisy protest as it was squeezed through the jets. A storm broke loose. Around the nose of the Invincible greenish dust clouds performed a mad dance. Their pale glow seemed to ooze out until it blended with the red light of the sun.

Deafening thunder shook the desert around the ship. Admidst the echoes reverberating from the nearby rock walls the spaceship ascended slowly but with growing speed and soon disappeared in the violet skies above. All that remained of the landing area was a circle burnt into the rocky ground, glazed-over dunes and vapor trails high up in the sky.

When the last trace of the rocket’s presence, a whitish haze, had been absorbed by the atmosphere, when the wandering sandy waves gradually began to cover up the naked rock of the ground, at the same time filling in the deserted digging spaces — only then, much later, did a dark cloud gather in the west. Hovering low above the earth it pushed close, grew, encircled the landing area with a threatening arm. There it remained, motionless.

As the sun was about to set, a black rain fell on the desert.