by Leo Lukas
"Excellent, Maateechten," the Maffan replied. "Take the collected samples for analysis in the laboratory. The sooner we know if this ark is also contaminated, the better."
All of a sudden, Boryk understood. Maffan, Matekten ... Then the third, chatting in a low voice with the girl, was probably the Majittri! Back on the beach earlier, they hadn't meant him at all, but were addressing each other with their official titles. He had been worried over nothing.
Relieved, he stood up, stepped out of his cover, and ran down the slope.
His people cheered him when he came into view, and respectfully made way for him so he could step through the circle to the giants. At the same moment, the Matekten-giant went through the shining green arch—and disappeared as though he had dissolved into thin air!
"What ... what is that?" Boryk stammered.
"A long-distance mover of matter," came the answer from the little box on the Majittri's belt. "One can reach a completely different place very far away through this gate ... You seem youthful, Boryk, but your subjects, who regard you highly, have told us that you knew their grandparents."
"That is true. You don't need to speak to me as though I am a small child."
The giant laughed behind his transparent yet completely non-reflective helmet visor. "Pardon me. I didn't want to insult you. My name is Jars. My companions are named Achab and Bront. So you possess considerable life experience, and you've even visited the Beyond, we've been told. Can you imagine that your world is not the only one, that there are many more worlds beyond counting, most considerably larger?"
"I've never thought about it ... but of course, why not?"
"Very good. You see, this gate leads to such a different world, actually a moon called Xolyar."
"That's where our Fleet base is located," the Maffan named Achab added, "a barracks to which an army hospital and several military-operated scientific research projects are attached. Among them is one for biological warfare."
"I see." This giant used many more words that Boryk could only partly understand. Still, he didn't like him very much; he preferred the one named Jars. "Can I have a box like that, which speaks your language as well as our own?" he asked him.
"A translator?" Again the Majittri laughed. "Good idea. Bront, would you be so kind as to let Boryk have yours? It's always good to bring a gift for the host when you go visiting."
The third Guardian detached the box from his belt, tapped lightly on it in several places with his fingers, bent down to Boryk, and gave it to him with a grin. The villagers cheered and clapped with enthusiasm.
"Thank you very much," Boryk said.
Almost simultaneously, the little box emitted sounds that weren't so very different, though somehow stretched out, much softer, and deeper. It seemed logical to him that there would be a similarity. People and giants were related, one of them had claimed. And didn't it also say in the Holy Writ that the inhabitants of Heaven and Hell had been created in the image of the gods? The Naahk had confirmed it. But Boryk didn't want to think of her now. He secured the little box to the waistband of his trousers by threading the bendable hooks attached to the rear side through two belt loops.
"I assume," Achab spoke up again, "you can't tell me anything about the hypercom signal that was transmitted just after we entered your ark?"
Again he understood most of the spoken elements, but the sentence as a whole had no meaning for him. He looked at the Majittri seeking help.
"Of course not—you're asking too much of him," the Majittri said to the Maffan with, it struck Boryk, a reproving undertone. Overall, there seemed to be a certain tension between the two. That was quite normal and had been the case in the village as well before he had combined both offices in his own person.
Oh no! Not now! he screamed in his thoughts a moment later. A slashing pain between his shoulder-blades announced a new attack.
If that wasn't enough, the giants now turned the conversation in the direction of the subject that was by far the most unpleasant for him. "You owe your longevity to the device whose outlines show through your shirt—am I right, ever-young Boryk?" Achab asked. "Would you like to tell us how you obtained it?"
No, he wouldn't. Desperately he thought fast, trying to find an excuse. At the same time, the weakness crawled down his backbone and began to spread out through his entire torso, along with panicking fear of death.
"Take your time," said Jars the Majittri. "No one is forcing you. You don't even have to answer at all if you don't want to."
That was probably meant to sound sensitive and empathetic. For Boryk, there was also an undercurrent of a threat: If you don't admit it here and now, you will later. We aren't in a hurry because we have the upper hand. You won't escape us, little man! Where could you flee?
The panic and the weakness sank into his thighs and surged into his chest up to his neck at the same time. No, he almost didn't have any time left! Soon the attack of weakness would bring him down, right in front of the eyes of the entire village. That was something he had to avoid at all costs. For his people he was a fixed point to which they could orient themselves. As dependable as the sun and moons in the sky, as enduring as the volcano cliffs, the sea, and the horizon. If he collapsed in front of a large number of those who depended on him, lost consciousness, perhaps even died, it would disturb them beyond all measure. He didn't dare subject them to that shock. Not now, not when their view of the world was already being seriously shaken.
He had to withdraw, now, at once, before the attack completely overwhelmed him. But the giants, hungrily staring at the place on his chest where the sad goddess's amulet hung, wouldn't allow that. From their body language, astonishingly similar to that of human beings, he perceived that they were already impatient. They pretended to be tolerant and patient. Pah! In reality, time was a fire burning at their feet. They didn't want to stay here much longer, but to return as quickly as possible to wherever they had come from. No, he couldn't expect any understanding from them no matter how much they tried to make him believe it.
He had to get away, away from here. But how? He didn't have nearly enough strength to leap up, take off running, run away, flee into the cliffs, at least to crawl into one of the tunnels in the Silver Mountain and hide there until the attack had passed. After just a few meters he would topple and collapse. And the giants would give him no rest. They would press him further. They would ask him about the Naahk and the amulet. It had been a mistake to reveal himself to them. Who would stop them from simply taking the chain away from him when he was no longer able to give them a satisfying answer?
Boryk suffered. Mortal agony and leaden weakness swept through his bones. The paralysis began to seize his muscles. At the same time, in his veins and arteries, the cold fever began to mount. The fire.
The power.
He hadn't used it in a long time. His people followed his instructions without hesitation and hadn't questioned the wisdom of his decisions in many years. Could he even still control it any more? Should he, could he use the power on the giants?
Pointless musings, senseless doubts. Weakened and under extreme pressure, Boryk couldn't afford any scruples. He struck hard and ruthlessly, in a sudden attack with everything he had.
They groaned, resisting. Briefly. When they wavered for a moment, he immediately increased his effort, pouring the lava of his willpower over them, burning away every last shred of resistance. His vision blurred. The attack was almost overwhelming him. Boryk couldn't tell the giants apart any longer.
No matter. Now or never.
"Stand up!" he commanded them, and they obeyed. "Give me what I need to get along in the other, faraway world!" he demanded. "Give me the most valuable thing you have! Quickly!"
The giants opened their suits and fumbled around inside. One exposed his chest and felt for an amulet, very similar to that of the sad goddess.
"No, not that!" Boryk exclaimed. "I already have one of those. Don't you have something like the Holy Writ, in which it is wr
itten how this world is made?"
His field of vision narrowed. Pitch blackness, as dark as any night, flowed from the edges towards the center. The giants handed him small objects that he stuffed into his pockets without taking a closer look at them. He ordered them to forget him and the entire incident. They had mentioned a hospital, which seemed to be a cottage in which healing was practiced. He needed help, or at least a hiding place.
Putting one foot in front of the other with the greatest effort, he staggered towards the humming archway. And fell more than walked into the green light.
11
Death of a Technician
17 April 1327 NGE, Akon System
"The Keeper! The Keeper!"
Wherever they went, Icho Tolot attracted enormous attention. The ark inhabitants, normally rational and disciplined people, followed him in crowds. Everyone wanted to see the four-armed colossus with their own eyes, although his visit was broadcast on the ship's on-board video system and it had been repeatedly emphasized beforehand that this was not the "real" Keeper.
Aykalie tan Taklir led the Terran delegation through the habitat sections of the ACHATI UMA. As well as the Halutian, Aykalie was also accompanied by both her former opponents Solina Tormas and Eniva ta Drorar.
The meeting with the historian and the, for once, decently clothed computer network specialist had started out a little chilly. After the first exchange of information, however, Solina had admitted to herself that high noble birth and technical competence weren't necessarily mutually exclusive. It was clear that a professional relationship between them had developed. Meanwhile, they were each glad to have found someone who shared a fascination for ancient Lemurian history. Even so, a lingering remnant of the usual suspicion and competitive feeling common among scholars in related fields remained.
Perry Rhodan and his companions didn't hide their astonishment at how unspectacular life aboard the ACHATI UMA appeared. "You'd think you were walking through a small town consisting of five large high-rise apartment buildings with built-in shopping and recreation centers." the Terran Resident summed up, shaking his head. "It's hard to believe this habitat was constructed 55,000 years ago."
"You can't begin to imagine what a treasure-trove this ark represents for us historians," Solina enthused. "The ACHATI UMA's journey has suffered far fewer problems than the other arks, thanks to its obviously more advanced technology. So Lemurian culture has been more accurately preserved than in the NETHACK ACHTON or the LEMCHA OVIR. Going on board this ship is like a trip through time."
"On the other hand," Aykalie put in, "you mustn't ignore the fact that the society on board has a relatively strong military character, which means it isn't absolutely representative. The majority of the original crew was recruited from the ranks of that era's space fleet. A clear hierarchical structure has been maintained up to the present day, about twenty-five generations later. Although the man at the top has been absent for a long time."
"Levian Paronn," Rhodan said.
"Exactly. The position of Commander has been unoccupied ever since and the highest rank is that of his First Officer. As you have requested, we will shortly be holding a conference with the acting commander, along with some other leading officers. Incidentally, the First Officer doesn't wear a Cell Activator."
They crossed a high, expansive hall that had been arranged like the central square of an urban pedestrian zone. There were benches, flower borders, several fountains ... and in the center a life-sized monument made of marble-like plastic that depicted the Keeper.
A Halutian.
In exactly the same red battlesuit that Icho Tolot wore.
The resemblance was striking. Every detail corresponded exactly. It was no wonder that the people in the crowd that had assembled around the monument broke out in enthusiastic cheering and applause when Tolot stamped towards them.
"It looks to me like you're even more popular here than on Terra, my friend," Rhodan said jokingly.
"That is merely your jealousy speaking," replied the Halutian in kind, "since no one knows you here and for once you are not the center of attention." He made the best of the situation, waving to the Lemurians and carefully touching the hands reaching out to him. He even let children be passed to him and rocked them gently on his massive arms.
"You'd make a pretty good Santa Claus," Rhodan ribbed Tolot from behind him. "You already have the red suit, so you just need the white beard and the hat ... "
"Ho, ho, ho."
The conference took place in a small multi-purpose room and didn't produce any new information. As expected, Rhodan asked about the ark's logbook, but that contained only dry flight data and no clues relating to the vanished commander. One of the officers said his grandmother had heard a story from her grandmother that Levian Paronn had kept a kind of diary. But since that journal had apparently meant a great deal to him, he always carried it with him, and had taken it along when he left the ark with the Keeper and his ship.
After they had thanked the deputy commander and his officers and taken their leave from them, Icho Tolot asked to see the cabin that had been placed at the Keeper's disposal. Aykalie had anticipated such a request. "I'll be glad to show it to you, but you'll be disappointed because there isn't much to see. He hardly even used the room since he lived on his own ship."
"That is reasonable," Tolot rumbled. "I would have done the same."
The cabin was located in the central cylinder, at the bow end of the habitat section. The scant furnishings had been proportioned for Halutian requirements. "Nothing has been changed or even removed," Aykalie explained. "The Arkies swear that this room has been sealed off since the Keeper left."
"They could have saved themselves the trouble," Rhodan murmured after they had searched through the drawers and cabinets. "There's nothing here."
"It's the same way in the Commander's private quarters," Aykalie said. "He didn't leave a single personal item. No clothes. No gear. No papers. Nothing."
"They knew they were not coming back," Tolot concluded. "But why? And where did they go? What did they intend to do? Why did the Keeper go to the LEMCHA OVIR last?"
"Because he could no longer reach the ACHATI UMA?" Rhodan speculated. "I'll have to pass on the other question. I simply can't accept the idea that Paronn is missing. It doesn't seem like him! He organizes a monumental project like this and then after all that time leaves it in the lurch? I don't think so."
"Activator carriers have died," Icho Tolot said. "We are just as vulnerable as anyone else."
"Some less than others." Rhodan slapped the Halutian on the hip. "But don't you also have the feeling that Levian Paronn is very close? Sometimes it seems to me like he's secretly looking over my shoulder."
Tolot turned to Aykalie. "If you have no objections, I would like to remain on board and stay in this very cabin. The room is empty. Yet it has something to tell me. I merely have not found out what."
"That can be arranged, I think. We have to get permission from Space Admiral Mechtan tan Taklir and the acting commander of the ACHATI UMA. But in my opinion that will be just a formality."
"I thank you."
Rhodan grew thoughtful but didn't make any comment about his Halutian friend's decision. He and Aykalie had just turned to the others when Aykalie's wrist-communicator sounded.
It was Mechtan, completely beside himself. "It's a catastrophe!" he roared. "I need the fleet base's entire scientific staff at once! One of the NEANN OCIS's inhabitants was able to escape through a teleporter and come here! This is one hell of a mess! We've got a disaster in the making here on Xolyar! Our analysis of the test samples from the ark has shown that all the inhabitants are highly infectious even if they are probably immune themselves."
"Does that mean ... ?"
"You guessed it! This diseased little troll is running around on Xolyar, the entire empire's most important teleporter connection point! The plague that almost completely wiped out the crews of two arks is now spreading to Akon!"
Wonderful.
She felt betrayed, dirtied, humiliated. And she was angry at herself because she couldn't turn her thoughts in any other direction. She was supposed to concentrate on her assignment, but instead she kept seeing the scene in her bedroom.
Vilgu had been assigned to fill in for a co-worker who had displayed a rather uncoordinated hand with kitchen utensils. She was a teleporter technician serving with the Seventh Fleet and the base on Xolyar called her while she was attending the open-air performance of an old Akonian swordfight opera. No problem She came at once, since she was on call after all. She just had to make a quick jump home to change.
Mmm.
She forced herself to devote her attention to the long-distance teleporter. A connection over a thousand light-years had to be established. Routine. Still, one's mind had to be on the task. There was a lot of space between here and the portable device on the UMBERIA. Ah, there was the signal from the opposite station. A bit weak, so the Syntron boosted the transmission power. Vilgu added a little extra. This close to the center of the Galaxy, one could never be too careful.
If the two had only had the decency to meet somewhere else. But no, the disgusting affair had to take place in her own bed! She would burn the sheets with her thermobeamer. Along with the tasteless erotic lingerie her soon to be ex-spouse had given her for their last anniversary.
The connection was made and remained stable. Another one, Vilgu thought. She sent the ready message. Moments later, a space soldier came out of the light arch, the Ma-Tekten of the UMBERIA to judge by his rank insignia. He waved to her, then disappeared with a container under his arm into the decontamination chamber.
