Stanislaw Lem - The Invincible

“The center might be hidden in the middle of the cloud.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Jazon, can you conceive of a means of telecommunication independent of electromagnetic waves?”

“Completely out of the question, if you want my opinion.”

“What do you think I asked for?”

“The extent of my knowledge is not the same as what exists or might exist. We don’t know any other type of communication. That’s all.”

“How about telepathy?” came a voice from the background.

“No comment,” replied Jazon curtly. “Nothing of the kind has ever been detected, as far as I know. Not in any part of the universe explored by man, at least.”

“Let’s not waste our time with useless discussions. Get your men together, Rohan, and make the supercopter ready for takeoff. Details about the ecliptical orbit will be in your hands within the hour. Stroem will work it out for you. Stroem, please calculate a constant orbit with an apogee of 150 miles.”

“Will do, Astrogator.”

The astrogator opened the door leading to the command center.

“How are things going, Terner? Nothing yet?”

“Nothing. Just a lot of static, that’s all.”

“No trace of emission spectrum?”

“Not a trace.”

That means that neither of the two machines is using any of their weapons. They’ve stopped fighting, thought Rohan. If they’d gone on to use laser fire or induction emitters, the instruments aboard the Invincible would register such activity at a distance of several hundred miles.

Rohan was far too gripped by excitement to worry about the mission he had been ordered to carry out — and far too busy to indulge in the luxury of anxiety. There was no time for sleep that night. The supercopter had to be checked out, additional fuel had to be taken aboard, provisions and weapons had to be loaded. The men worked hard to finish all the necessary preparations in time. The instant the red disk of the sun peered above the horizon, the two-storey-high craft, weighing seventy tons, lifted off into the air. Heavy dust clouds whirled around the launching pad. The copter flew in a straight line toward the northeast, Rohan quickly gained an altitude of almost ten miles. He could travel at maximum speed within the stratosphere. There was also less danger of an encounter with the black cloud, or so he reasoned.

Whether he was right in his assumption, or whether it was just luck, preparations were met for landing hardly one hour later. The sun’s slanting rays fell on the supercopter as it descended, while the sandy crater below still lay in the gray light of dawn. Even before huge fountains of sand gushed up to meet the downward blast of hot gas jets, the video technicians alarmed the men in the command center that they had sighted something suspicious in the northern part of the crater. The heavy craft interrupted its descent and hovered, trembling slightly as if poised on an invisible tensioned spring. From a height of 500 yards they made a thorough inspection of the spot.

The screen of the magnifier showed a gray-brownish background against which tiny rectangles stood out, grouped geometrically around a larger, steel-gray rectangle. Together with Ballmin and Gaarb, who were sitting next to him at the controls, Rohan realized that these were the vehicles of Regnar’s expedition.

Swiftly, with all precautionary measures, they landed not far from the area. The telescopic landing legs of the supercopter were still working and clicking into place simultaneously, when the crew began to lower the gangway and send off two scouting machines, well-protected by a movable force field. The interior of the crater resembled a shallow dish with a jagged rim. A black-brownish crust of lava covered the central cone of the ancient volcano.

The scouting vehicles needed a few minutes in order to cover the distance of one mile that separated them from Regnar’s group. There was excellent radio communication, no sign of interference. Rohan spoke with Gaarb, who was riding in the front vehicle.

“We’re still climbing a slight incline, we should see them any moment now,” Gaarb repeated several times. Suddenly he shouted: “Here they are! I can see them!” Then he added with a calmer voice: “Evidently everything seems to be okay there.” He counted: “One, two, three four — all the vehicles are there. But why are they parked in the sun?”

“How about the men? Do you see any of our men?” inquired Rohan, who sat tensed in front of the mike.

“Yes. Something’s moving over there — two men. Here — another one — somebody is lying down in the shade — I can see them, Rohan!”

His voice grew distant. Rohan could vaguely hear him say something to his driver. Then came the dull echo as they shot off a smoke signal. Gaarb’s voice came on strong again.

“That was just a little salute to let them know we are here. The smoke is drifting over their way now. It will soon clear up. Jarg, hey there, Jarg! What’s the matter? Hey there, guys!”

His excited shouts were loud in Rohan’s ears. Then there was abrupt silence. A motor sprang to life. Rohan could hear the humming engines move farther and farther away until they came to a halt. Then a few hurried steps, muffled sounds of shouting, indistinct screams and then silence again.

“Hello, Gaarb, hello!” Rohan kept repeating in his mike. His lips were trembling. Footsteps approached, someone running across the sand came nearer; the loudspeaker began to crackle.

“Rohan!” Gaarb’s voice sounded strange; he was breathing hard.

“Rohan! Damn it! It’s the same as with Kertelen! They’re all crazy — they don’t recognize us, they don’t talk — Rohan, can you hear me?”

“Yes, I’m listening. Are they all the same way?”

“Looks like it to me. But I can’t say yet for sure. Jarg and Terner are just going through the group to see — ”

“How about their force field?”

“It’s switched off. I can’t detect it. I don’t know. They must have switched it off.”

“Any signs of a struggle?”

“No. Nothing. All the vehicles are parked here. There’s no damage. And the men are simply lying around or sitting there. You can shake them and they don’t react at all. What? What’s the matter over there?”

Rohan heard a distorted sound, interrupted by a long whining whimpering howl. Rohan gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the feeling of nausea that welled up from the pit of his stomach.

“For God’s sake, that’s Gralew!” came Gaarb’s horrified voice. “Gralew! Gralew! Don’t you recognize me?” Gaarb’s panting, amplified by the loudspeaker, seemed to fill the entire command center.

“Gralew too,” he uttered breathlessly. Then he fell silent, as if gathering new strength.

“Rohan, I don’t know if we can handle this situation by ourselves. We have to get them away from here. Send us some more men, will you?”

“Right away.”

One hour later the convoy of horror stopped below the metal body of the supercopter. Only eighteen men out of the original twenty-two that had left with the expedition had been found. The fate of the other four was unknown. Most of the group had offered no resistance and had come along peacefully. Five of the men refused to budge and had to be taken by force. They were carried aboard on stretchers, then brought to an improvised infirmary on the lower deck of the supercopter. The other thirteen men, whose rigid masklike faces were especially terrifying, were brought to an isolated room where thy allowed themselves to be put to bed without any resistance. They had to be undressed. They were as helpless as newborn babies. Rohan witnessed the scene silently. He stood in the corridor between the rows of cots. He noticed that most of the men remained passive, although those that had been carried off by force continued to whine eerily.