Original subtitles

What sounds like a fairy tale today, may be tomorrow's reality.

Here's a fairy tale from the day after tomorrow.

There are no more nations.

Only humanity and its colonies in space.

Distant stars have been settled.

The ocean beds are inhabited.

Space ships cross the galaxy at unimaginable speeds.

One such ship is the Orion.

A small link in a great chain of defense against threats from space.

Let's join Orion and her crew

on patrol at the edges of infinity...

6. The Space Trap

Great McLane, we're all done.

- All done, once again. - Once again?

It's the second time you're sending me away for light pressure spores.

Can I help that the Office for Space Exploration is so anxious about it?

- I'll slowly become a botanist. - Are you familiar with the panspermia hypothesis?

No, but I'm sure you'd like to share your knowledge.

The theory is that life didn't emerge on Earth,

but was transfered from another planet

in meteorite cracks, by light pressure from the sun

- or by solar storms. - Interesting.

If you would pick up dust samples from spore currents...

Is that advisable?

Why not?

The samples may belie the entire panspermia hypothesis,

in which case you'd lose your only subject of conversation.

Very funny, Major.

Well, the mission is important, and your joke is somewhat inappropriate.

So off you go, and happy spore-hunting!

Thanks, General.

General... The request from the Supreme Commander.

Oh yes. Commander, there's one more thing.

The Supreme Commander would like a small favor.

Would he really?

Does the name Peter Paul Ibsen mean anything to you?

I've heard the name, but...

Famous author, recipient of the Utopia award.

Oh you mean "Piepo"? Yes, I've read a few of his books.

Science fiction or what's it's name.

Pure nonsense.

His novels are world famous.

Doesn't bode well, but I guess it takes all kinds.

What does that have to do with me?

The Supreme Commander wants you to take Ibsen along to Umbriel.

Spring-Brauner, it's not your idea, is it?

Ibsen is engaged to the daughter of a minister.

The minister is a former schoolmate of the Supreme Commander.

Ibsen would like to gain experience, and collect material for a novel.

Does he now? And of all ships, it had to be mine.

So it's going to be both spores and material for a novel?

Not for the life of me. Let him buy a multi-use ticket to Mars.

He wants experience.

Someone must have recommended you.

And you're famous, McLane.

You'll address me as "Commander!"

And if I refuse?

You can do that if you'd like to put me in an embarrassing situation.

When I tell the crew, they will go hog wild.

Base 104, take-off at 12:27, Orion 8.

Platform 4. Countdown minus 320.

Cyrus 29, standby in area 9!

You'll be clear to land in approximately 12 minutes.

- He can't be serious. - The Supreme Commander usually is.

It always happens to us.

Piepo, that liar. In his novels, humans control the space-time leap.

If he enters engineering, I'll hit him on the head.

- He might be quite nice. - What an optimist.

It's a scandal! Secret Service should have been informed!

Nothing worse?

Departure in 5 minutes. Is the computer ready?

Yes. The first phase has been programmed.

So what are we waiting for?

We'll leave on schedule, with or without the great poet.

Not to worry. I'm here now.

Here's my new novel, hot off the press. That's why I'm late.

Would you like a dedication?

Peter Paul Ibsen reporting for duty!

Your luggage?

Already in cabin 9 as instructed.

How did you find your way?

I've prepared by studying the ship's drawings.

I thought the drawings were classified.

Mr. Ibsen seems to be a man of connections.

Let me introduce the crew, Mr. Ibsen.

Just call me Piepo!

- Lieutenant Jagellovsk... - I already know who they are.

I've done my homework.

So what are you doing here, if you already know everything?

In theory, yes. But in practice I've got a lot to learn.

Let's take off. Man your stations!

Activate the control center!

Guide beam at its initial coordinates!

Orion calling base 104. Ready for take-off!

Base 104 calling Orion 8.

Automatic launch at countdown minus one.

104 releases control to space station 3.

Understood! Thank you, base 104!

Where may I sit?

Lieutenant Jagellovsk, do any special security measures apply to Ibsen?

You're the boss.

It pleases me that you admit that. Take Sigbj�rnson's seat for now!

You're well prepared.

Normal take-off. Receiving guide beam from space station 104. Out.

Are you happy with it?

- Yes, why? - In a few years, it will be scrap metal.

Multiple functions will be combined into one computer.

- Yes, you should know. - That's inevitable progress.

I described that as far back as four years ago in a novel.

Excuse me, I need to go freshen up.

- Arrogant whelp. - He's not so bad.

- No one says otherwise. - Handsome man.

The two ladies won't be needed until we reach our destination.

Women are such suckers.

Exactly my thought when I saw you with two girls at the Starlight Casino.

Don't be jealous!

It's amazing that you can make up such stories!

- Mostly it's a drudgery. - With your imagination?

You're painting a romantic picture. It's hard work, just like yours.

People imagine space travel as an adventure, when in reality

it's, apart from your lovely company, quite monotonous.

Monotonous? Such nonsense.

Cliff, why don't you find a way to make his journey more pleasant?

Like hell I won't.

We can't afford to sneak up on the son-in-law of a minister.

It's been a row right from the beginning.

My daughter wouldn't let Ibsen leave. Women!

Imagining all kinds of dangers.

The mission is completely harmless.

Aren't there two women on board?

There's no need to worry, Sir.

Lieutenant Legrelle is constantly in love with McLane - secretly of course.

And as for Tamara Jagellovsk,

many crewmen doubt that she's a woman at all,

and not a very attractive robot.

Is it possible to contact the Orion by lightwave?

A greeting from Peter Paul would set my daughter at ease.

The connection is unfortunately broken at the moment.

Broken? Since when?

Since last night. Station 1 has lost contact.

But that's... terrible!

- What shall I tell my daughter? - It's only a temporary glitch.

Happens now and then.

Keep me posted! Let's hope it will soon be repaired.

If not, you'll put me in an awkward situation.

- Still nothing? - No, we're cut off.

Must be cosmic interference.

I'll have to be content with that.

Commander's log.

I haven't been able to reach the Space Patrol.

We're approaching the area for spore collection. End.

Everything ready?

We'll gather the meteoritic dust magnetically.

With some luck, we'll collect enough spores

to keep the scientists busy for a year.

Commander?

May I ask something?

Anything, Sir!

Down there is an asteroid, 20,000 kilometers from Umbriel.

And... ?

Why go to all the trouble

of gathering small particles?

Because spores can't be caught like butterflies.

One single rock from that asteroid may save a full day's work.

You're right about that. Yes, you've got a point.

I'm happy to be of service.

Then it's easier for me to ask for something.

Something I've always wanted.

I'm sorry, but the two ladies are indispensable right now.

No, for once in my life, I'd like to pilot a shuttle.

You're crazy!

I earned top scores at a course on autopilot four weeks ago.

Sure you did, but that's only theory.

Anyone can hop around on a guide beam.

It's basically the same. For me it's about the feeling of space flight.

You and your feelings.

Please, grant my wish!

I'll be forty on the day after tomorrow.

Are you sure you can handle it?

In my books, they are already old technology.

In your books, people travel by teleportation.

Just a trip to the asteroid.

If it's a problem, you may log that I've left without authorization.

Alright. Lieutenant di Monti will accompany you.

Please let me go alone!

- Not on my responsibility. - Just me and the universe,

that's my dream.

- What a romantic. - Nothing wrong with that.

Lieutenant Legrelle, your duty on board is space surveillance.

Judgment of male charm will have to wait for your free time.

Please, I'd really love to. It's completely harmless.

Alright, anything for some peace and quiet. It's on your own risk.

Thank you very much!

Mario, prepare shuttle 1! Launching chamber 1 ready!

Space surveillance, stand by for shuttle 1!

It never occurred to you to ask me, your security officer?

You've been on my mind ever since Ibsen came aboard.

- What do you mean? - I mean... never mind.

I take it back and apologize.

Your private feelings are none of my business.

Shuttle 1 ready for launch.

Away with it! Good luck, Mr. Ibsen!

Hearty thanks, Commander!

- You shouldn't have let him go. - It's completely harmless.

He can't leave his guide beam.

Commander, I'm disappointed.

The guide beam would even let the shuttle fly unmanned.

I'm no kid.

Taking over controls now.

No you don't, Ibsen! Don't you get it?

I'll stay on course. Don't worry!

- He's deviating. - What a fool!

Ibsen, what are you doing? Stay on course!

- He's heading for the moon of Umbriel. - Nice place.

Ibsen, do you read?

I read you.

The shuttle is a bit fickle. I'm off course, I don't know why.

Can you see me on the radar?

Hello, McLane?

Do you read? Requesting course correction!

Hello Ibsen? I don't read you anymore. Do you read?

- The radar echo is gone. - So is the radio connection.

- Perhaps he's ashamed. - I wonder who's more ashamed?

He must have touched down on Umbriel.

- Dangerous? - No, just desolate.

A godforsaken pile of gravel. I don't fancy picking him up there.

- Why doesn't he report? - He's probably busy landing.

Peter Paul Ibsen in shuttle 1 calling the Orion. Commander McLane?

Peter Paul Ibsen to the log.

I'm mysteriously off course, and has touched down on an unknown asteroid.

Deviation 12 degrees.

Attempting to return to the Orion.

Ibsen to the log. The take-off was unsuccessful.

The engines work, but something ties me to the ground.

I'll try the emergency take-off.

Since I'm out of touch with the Orion, I'll keep on recording.

The emergency take-off failed as well.

The asteroid has an Earth-like atmosphere.

I'll go out and examine the ground. The problem probably lies there. End.

Who are you? What do you want?

What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?

I guess he's only trying to scare us.

I don't think Ibsen is as childish as you.

Helga defends the poet by tooth and nail.

- Her motherly instinct awakens. - But he's turning 40 tomorrow.

Stop your bullying! I'm sure there's an explanation.

Impressive logic, Major. But what's the explanation?

Orion 8 calling Ibsen. Ibsen, please respond!

Ibsen!

And where is the Orion?

In the proximity of Umbriel.

I don't know its exact position.

Any lies will be punished. How many people are on board?

Myself and six more.

Under whose command?

Under Major McLane.

Formerly of the Fast Combat Units?

Yes. But what do you want?

Answer my questions!

Is the Orion a large ship?

- Yes. - Model?

Alpha 3.

Specially equipped.

Excellent.

You may now speak with the Orion.

You'll tell them that you've landed on Mura due to a malfunction.

What's Mura?

Tell them that you can't take off on your own,

and that you want them to pick you up. Understood?

Understood?!

Proceed!

Will you talk now?

Your fine head is right between two needle-thin omicron beams.

Pretty hot, aren't they?

We keep them 15 millimeters from your skin.

But that may change.

I'll speak to McLane.

- I'll tell them what you want. - Excellent.

No need to tell you what will happen if you try to warn him.

Ibsen, please respond!

- No use waiting any longer. - We'll have to go get him.

Atan, change course for Umbriel! Hasso, engines plus ten!

Willy-nilly. Plus ten!

Cliff, we're being hailed on channel 3!

- Peter Paul Ibsen calling Orion! - Finally. What's happened?

I had to land on Mura. Sector N72918.

What are you doing there? We thought you were on Umbriel.

Malfunctioning controls. You must pick me up.

Are you hurt? Your voice sounds funny.

Is something wrong?

Ibsen? What's happening?

Where are you?

I'm in the administrative building at the colony.

Is everything else OK?

Everything's OK, Commander. Over and out.

Well done, Ibsen.

We'll grant you a short break.

Tamara?

Yes.

Sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you.

It's nothing controversial.

Would you check if we're allowed to land on Mura?

I know that straight off.

Only Secret Service and supply ships may land there

without top level clearance.

So landing is prohibited.

That's all I wanted to know.

On the other hand, if we return without Ibsen, my head will roll.

And you won't be too happy either.

So...

What do you recommend?

I know that you'd like to leave Ibsen on Mura

where he'll have to wait six months for a transport home.

What I would like is beside the point. It's your call.

- I'm really inclined to... - I don't care either way.

Then land on my responsibility.

Really?

- May I? - Be my guest.

Atan! Set course for Mura! Prepare for landing!

Course for Mura!

Do you really miss him that much?

Any more questions?

Yes. Tell me...

Is it really as bad on Mura as it used to be in Siberia?

It's not an idyll, but people are well off.

They are autonomous, and allowed to move around freely.

Rather humane.

Is it humane to banish people for life from Earth?

We used to have prisons and capital punishment.

So they are big time criminals?

Not as such.

Unwanted individuals. Notorious and famous people.

Then Ibsen will fit in perfectly.

Both famous and unwanted.

Cliff, we're approaching the landing ellipsis of Mura.

Prepare for landing! I'm coming.

Piepo awaits!

- Distance? - 5,000.

Set up resonance contact!

Resonance contact.

Engines off!

Done.

Report when we've reached the target coordinates!

Coming in on the computer.

Engineering, full deceleration!

Relative velocity zero.

- Float landing cushions! - Done!

Entrance down! Stand by for disembarkation!

Atan and Helga stay on guard.

- The others will get off. - Cliff, we're being hailed.

The administrative center on Mura calling McLane. Do you read?

- I do. - Turn on your videophone!

- Ibsen, for God's sake... - You can see his predicament.

Everyone must leave the ship, unarmed, one at a time.

The slightest resistance, and Ibsen goes up in flames.

Do you understand? No discussions!

Don't try to leave anyone behind!

We know how many you are. Get going!

Commander to the crew.

Leave one by one. No resistance!

Get out!

Quicker!

Speed it up!

Get in here!

Stop!

Get in there!

Stay here!

Cliff, they want to separate us.

Damned swine!

Easy, Hasso.

Get in there!

Keep going!

Welcome to Mura, Commander McLane.

Who are you? What's this supposed to mean?

Please take a seat!

Your friend Ibsen has spent a few unpleasant hours in that chair.

Let's hope it won't be needed with you.

You're rumored to be an intelligent man.

Who are you? By what authority...

One thing at a time.

It's nice to be able to welcome you here.

Enough of this nonsense. What do you want?

I thought Mura was an...

An exile. You can say it!

A colony of damned, of outcasts. You're quite right.

It is. But not much longer.

- Where did you get weapons? - A good question.

It wasn't easy.

It took us years to find a weak link within the authorities on Earth.

A department manager at supplies accepted bribes.

It all began with euphorine pills.

Later, he couldn't deny us weapons.

One word from us, and he too would have ended up on Mura.

I'll catch him.

Hardly, Major McLane.

You don't think we'll let you return to Earth, do you?

How dare you...

Dare? The only thing I don't dare is to release you.

What do you intend to do?

It's a great day for Mura.

A historic event.

We've waited patiently for this day.

And it was an act of providence that you came along.

What do you want?

The Orion, of course!

Hijacking any passing freighter would have been of no use.

We had to wait for a large, modern spaceship.

Waiting is hard on Mura. But it's paid off on a grand scale.

Not even I would have dared to hope for the Orion.

- What will you use it for? - We're going to leave for good.

Mura will become what it was,

before the Earth started to resettle its unwanted individuals here.

An insignificant pebble in the desert of the universe.

Where will you go?

The Earth doesn't want us. Perhaps someone else appreciates us more.

You're going to... No, it can't be.

Why not?

In your eyes, aliens are disgusting beasts.

You call them frogs.

On Mura, we think differently. We hate you, just as you hate them.

You're going to the frogs? You must be mad.

I'm already considered mad on Earth, but they are mistaken.

Your name is Tourenne, isn't it?

I'm flattered.

Yes, I was famous once.

My stasis beam was a sensation.

You endangered thousands of lives. That's why you're here.

Forgotten on a desert planet like a leper, and why?

Just because my definition of ethics didn't agree with theirs.

The Earth didn't want the stasis beam.

Perhaps their interest will awaken, now when the others will have it.

Give the weapon to the aliens? Do you know what you're saying?

Sending me away won't go unpunished!

You can't really wish for the demise of the human race?

No one on Mura wishes for anything more.

- They should have killed you. - Wishful thinking.

Let me give you tit for tat, but in a more forceful way.

- What do you mean? - I have no choice.

I hate to kill you, you would have been useful.

But you're a hero of sorts, and as such you're dangerous.

You would always oppose me, that's why you must die.

- A victim of your own fame. - There's no need to kill us.

Just leave us here!

You know too much. The Earth mustn't know that I've defected.

- Why then, are you telling me? - Just for my own pleasure.

- Your terrified face is priceless. - Dirty swine!

Don't tempt my good will!

I intended to grant you a painless death.

But that may change.

So you've got the nerve to tell me that you haven't heard from the Orion in six days?

Would you prefer a lie?

- What shall I tell my daughter? - That's your problem.

My problem is the lack of contact with the Orion.

No more talk about interference! That should be gone by now.

No, it must be something else.

It's irresponsible to send my son-in-law with McLane.

It wasn't my idea.

You wanted McLane, and no one else.

You should have known better. You know McLane.

Yes I do. He's my best man.

We'll see about that.

I have a feeling that it's the ship they want.

Why do you think so?

Ibsen whispered something like that in passing.

Do you know what my first thought was?

Same as mine: Penal colony. Shortage of women.

Ibsen might have revealed that there were two women on board.

Thank God, that wasn't the case.

Did you see the way the two men looked at us?

Yes, it gives me the creeps.

I almost feel sorry for one of them.

So young, and committed to Mura.

Not much longer. They are going to hit space with the Orion.

Wait a moment...

We might use the Orion as a means of exerting pressure.

Yes, but how?

Hasso and Mario are in the next cell. If we...

Keep quiet!

I've got something important to tell you.

What would that be?

News, young man.

Nosy women aren't appreciated here.

Are you all that impolite to ladies?

There are no ladies here.

Am I no lady?

You're delaying me on patrol.

Keep quiet, or you'll get a taste of the stasis beam!

Will you administer it personally?

You're a funny one. I almost feel sorry for you.

How so?

- The time will soon be up. - For all of us?

Yes.

- Do you have us all, then? - What do you mean?

That's my point.

My colleague has escaped.

Maybe you'll put in a nice word for saying that.

What?!

Don't move, or I'll shoot!

We've got nothing to lose.

How many of you are there in the hallway?

- None at the moment. - Can you open the next cell?

Get out!

Go on!

Unlock it!

Hasso! Atan!

Get in!

- We must get aboard the ship. - Take the gun!

- What should we do? - They've got the ship...

A single word from you will send you to heaven ahead of us.

It's been nice talking to you, McLane.

You're the last person from Earth that I'll ever see in my life.

And I'm in luck. It might have been a more stupid person.

I hate stupidity.

Then you must hate yourself.

On Earth, I've often been considered evil. But "stupid",

- that's new to me. - It's nevertheless true.

You've made up a detailed plan, and forgotten the most important thing.

What would that be?

How do you intend to fly the Orion without trained personnel?

You have no idea how many experts we've got on Mura, all anxious to

fly a spaceship once more.

When was the last time they flew a large ship?

My best man joined us three years ago, after drowning his own astrogator.

Three years? He'll be completely lost on board the Orion.

Like asking an actor who's played a doctor to perform real surgery.

- Are you putting me on? - Not at all.

I've got nothing more to lose.

From my spot in heaven, I'll enjoy watching you

crash straight into the first meteorite you meet.

Has that much been changed?

The engines are completely new.

The controls were replaced shortly before we took off.

You're bluffing!

You'll soon see for yourself.

I've kept a close watch on scientific developments.

You know very well that three years is a long time. Give up, Tourenne!

You can kill me, but not impress me.

You're narrow-minded.

You'll have that back!

You'll have that back with interest!

I don't know if the frogs have a sense of humor.

But if they do, they'll laugh a lot at you.

It's a shame that you're never going to get there.

You ridiculous, mean old man.

Proceed!

Make him sweat!

We can talk like this too, McLane.

I know how to handle whelps like you. Closer with the beams!

It's dark, McLane.

I can see you very well.

I can see the terrified look on your face.

You still look just as miserable.

Thus ends the life of a hero, in fear.

Admit that you're scared.

Tell me that you're scared!

Don't hope for a quick death!

It will be just as slow as I want it to be.

Now tell me that you're scared!

Yes, I'm scared of a ridiculous, mean old man!

Let him burn!

Alarm! Four people from the Orion have escaped.

They've taken Hendryk hostage.

Abort!

Well, McLane. I admit that you've succeeded.

Our conversation has bought your people time to act.

It won't help you much, though. On the contrary, it gives me an idea.

Perhaps I do need you and your crew,

but there's one man I don't need:

Your Utopian poet, and he will die now, as a deterrent.

Every time someone takes action against me, a crew member will die.

The least important first.

Next the woman from Secret Service, then the other girl, and so on.

Finally yourself.

Do you still think I'm ridiculous?

Get the poet from his cell!

- Where's the guard? - In hibernation.

Great! We'll need him as a witness. Prepare for emergency take-off, Hasso!

Not without the others.

It's our only chance. If we leave, they won't dare to do anything,

because they know that the space fleet is on its way.

No, they may kill Cliff and Ibsen out of pure hatred.

My dear McLane.

I ask you to watch closely. The death of a human.

I'm sure you've seen it before on your journeys.

Still, I ask for your attention. In a way, you'll see your own death.

A carbon copy of your own death.

So you'll experience your death twice. A rare treat.

A poet once said that not until death do you experience real life.

By that token, I'm giving you life twice. Aren't you grateful?

Eternally.

If I'll ever get away, I will drown you in gin, so slowly

that Ibsen's death will seem like an act of mercy.

Pity you'll never get the opportunity.

Proceed!

External call for the boss. Lightwave from the Orion. Channel 3.

I want to speak to the top villain! The boss swine! The main gangster!

Why don't you respond?

Admit that you're the biggest swine on Mura!

If you don't, you're in trouble!

- We're on board the Orion. - What do you want?

I have supercharged the ship with energy.

Do you know what that means?

What are you up to? My people will...

I'll release the energy

unless our full crew is back on the Orion within 15 minutes.

Ibsen too. Understood?

- Now listen. My people... - I won't listen!

Orion will blow up in 15 minutes, and take the entire colony along.

And my watch is accurate to the second.

We've surrounded the Orion with a forcefield. We can...

There will be a bang in 15 minutes unless the crew gets back. Out.

Looks like you've won, McLane.

So get going!

Leave, and take your crew along!

Do you really mean that we're free?

I've had a change of plans.

You may understand at a later time.

Off you go!

I promise to let everyone return to the ship unharmed.

I wonder why the ship wasn't guarded.

I guess they didn't expect us to escape.

Four minutes to go.

They are coming.

- We made it! - Yes.

Hello Cliff!

Man your stations! We must be off. Prepare for take-off!

- Ready! - Return to Earth programmed.

Let's go, Hasso!

Departure! Emergency take-off!

Cliff, what's going on?

- Hasso, what's wrong? - I don't get it.

- The engines work alright. - Why can't we lift off?

The same thing happened to me.

Add sleeping energy!

- What? That's insane! - We'll have to take that risk.

Cliff, look at this!

It's an electromagnetic forcefield.

Cliff, we're losing power!

The forcefield drains our power.

Mario, check the armoring power!

The transducer works at peak capacity, but the power disappears.

Hasso, let's try again.

Think it over, Cliff! We've only got power for one more attempt.

If that fails too, we'll be stuck here.

Cliff, the armoring is losing power too.

It's a trap. The harder we try, the stronger the forcefield.

Yes. That's why Tourenne gave up so easily.

We must go out and find the generator.

- Do you think they will allow that? - Cliff, incoming call on video 3.

Hello McLane! How are you doing?

Won't you try to take off once more? No?

Smart, because it would have been futile.

I hope you appreciate our advanced technology.

My experts aren't such fools after all.

Why this cat-and-mouse play?

Why do you release us, just to keep us here?

I simply couldn't allow your rude engineer to blow up the Orion.

Be reasonable, McLane! I have a proposition.

You'll let my men aboard, and teach them the new technology.

In exchange we'll let you live. We'll leave you here when we go.

- How do I know that you'll keep your word? - You'll have to trust me.

Accept it! We don't have a choice.

Send up your people!

Excellent! And don't bother looking for your weapons.

We've got them.

- But we've got this one. - The swine missed that one.

It will be his demise.

I'll try to separate him from the others when I show him around.

- Use the elevator. We can lock it. - You're right.

I'll give him the works in there until he agrees to open the trap.

Unless he's got too many guards.

- He thinks we're unarmed. - It's our last chance.

- They're coming! - Give me the gun!

Hello McLane, we're coming!

And no tricks! We're armed and you're not.

It worked. He didn't notice anything.

Wait for my sign!

So my friend. Who's got the gun you snatched before?

What gun?

No nonsense. Do you take me for a fool?

I haven't forgotten about the gun.

So who's got it?

If you don't tell me, everyone will have to strip naked. The ladies too.

Well, then.

Let the demonstration begin. Go ahead, Commander McLane!

Out of the way!

I'd better demonstrate a normal take-off.

- Who's the astrogator? - I am.

Then go watch the work at the computer!

You'll go to engineering!

And I'll have a look at the autopilot.

Any requests of your own?

Yes, I'll stay and keep an eye on you.

- Man your station! - Will do.

My compliments, Tourenne!

The forcefield that surrounds us is a masterpiece.

What's its diameter?

Why?

I'll demonstrate a take-off, and abort right below the forcefield.

That will show you the precision of our autopilot.

- Is that of interest to you? - Of course, Boss.

The field's diameter is 580 meters, and its apex at 860 meters.

Atan, calculate the approach angle for the apex!

- Why? - Do as he says!

- No passive resistance, please! - What's the angle for?

For power leveling.

Ibsen, have you ever used the concept of power exchange?

- Why yes, in a book... - Enough talk! Let's get started!

Programming ready?

Ready.

Commander to engineering. Stand by for take-off!

At countdown minus 5, full acceleration of S1!

What's "S1"?

Small particle accelerator. Your "experts" don't know much.

We're here to learn.

Commander to tactics.

Why are you still here?

Man your station for take-off!

Stop, where are you going?

- To the tactics console. - Why?

The first phase is critical on a spaceship like this.

We monitor the power consumption using two independent systems.

That's why the armoring energy has to be monitored from tactics.

You'll go along to keep him from getting any ideas.

Hasso, is everything ready?

Ready!

Ready for take-off!

Mario!

Initiate countdown!

I thought the computer did that.

Watch closely, you'll understand in a moment!

What was that, McLane? What are you doing?

Killing me now means suicide.

Hasso, sleeping energy off!

Done.

Mario, all suppressors on!

Cliff!

Atan, watch out!

Greetings from the Orion!

Atan, help Mario in tactics! I'll go to engineering.

Cliff, that won't be needed.

My baby is already asleep.

Watch those men!

If you're equally good as a writer, you'll go far!

Take him to hibernation!

- Now we've deserved a whiskey. - YES!!

And then homeward!

And all your suffering before you caught on...

Tourenne would have understood a more pronounced hint.

We caught on quickly.

I still don't get it.

It was quite simple.

- If we charge the shuttle... - ...until it superpulsates...

with energy, and launch it at an 80 degree angle towards

the apex of the forcefield, two fields will form

which cancel each other out.

For an instance, the trap will open, and then...

A marvelous idea!

Unfortunately not his own.

No, but it might have been.

I'll use it in my next book, if I may.

If you cut me in on the royalty.

I'm afraid more people will want a share.

A brilliant idea.

The hero in my next novel will blow up the trap just like we did.

I thought science fiction was pure fantasy, but this was for real.

- Don't you write about the future? - Not anymore. Only about you.

Fact surpassing fiction.

Cheers!

The fate of a space traveler.

I think we should contact Space Patrol. We're seven days overdue.

There's no cause for alarm.

You've said that for seven days.

I want a straight answer. What's happened to the Orion?

I'm not a clairvoyant.

But for what it's worth, McLane was once 17 days overdue.

On the 18th, he happily appeared, asking about my blood pressure.

What a joker.

Is it true that he takes to the bottle?

Does he drink? Yes, like a fish.

That too. My son-in-law in care of a drunkard.

When my daughter finds out...

Don't worry. Spirits aren't allowed on board.

General!

General, Orion hails us!

Orion 8 under Commander McLane calling from sector 15A-78-18.

We're on our way back to Earth.

Where are you? We've been worried sick.

We stopped by on Mura.

Your orders were to...

I'm sure you'll be interested in my report.

McLane, how is my son-in-law doing?

He was fine when I last saw him.

What do you mean? I must speak to him at once!

Impossible!

Why is that? I insist!

He's lying in his cabin.

Is he ill?

Oh no. Drunk as a skunk. Over and out!