by Perry Rhodan
He arose and stood there, swaying for a moment between the ruins of the wall until a grating sound made him turn. A figure staggered out of the pall of dust. "Hepna-Kaloot!" shouted Kutlos. "The Solar Fleet is attacking!"
The little priest still carried the water canister although it had burst open on one side and had lost much of its contents. Kutlos decided to ignore him and turned away down a nearby passage. Everywhere he had to clamber over rubble and destruction. He could tell by the repeated whistling sounds that the defense batteries had gotten the ground-to-air missiles into action. Up in Control Central somebody must have taken command in time. He breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps there was still something that could be saved.
A group of heavily armed priests was running toward him.
"This way!" he shouted. "Follow me! We must go to the spaceport!"
They did not appear to recognize him because they came to a stop and warily raised their weapons. Kutlos looked down at himself and realized he was covered with dust and dirt and his clothing was in shreds.
"It's the High Priest!" yelled one of the Antis.
Kutlos passed his palm over his face and it felt as though it was covered with a layer of fuzz and scum. He looked through one of the nearby windows just as one of the low-roofed buildings exploded. The entire roof soared upward and was engulfed in clouds of burning gases and smoke while the supporting walls sagged inward, broke asunder and dissolved into nibble and dust.
"To the spaceport!" he shouted again.
Acrid smoke was coming in from all sides and farther ahead a grey-black cloud of it was pouring through a break in the wall, threatening to obscure their vision entirely. Through the general bedlam came Hanoor's voice over the loudspeakers but Kutlos couldn't understand what the old priest was saying.
The armed group of Antis joined him and he ran ahead of them, leading the way. Someone behind him reached a weapon to him. The weight of the heavy metal against his hip was reassuring. The men were coughing and gasping and the smoke brought tears to their eyes as they stumbled over fallen beams and great chunks of masonry. They came to the place that had served as cover to Kutlos during his contest with Hepna-Kaloot. The belligerent little priest was nowhere to be seen but Tasnor was still there. He had sat up finally and was looking about him in wide-eyed perplexity, muttering incoherently to himself. Kutlos came to the younger man's side and bent over him to see his condition. Tasnor's gaze was blank and lusterless, being focused on what Kutlos silently presumed to be the realm of death.
"Go away!" Tasnor mumbled. There was neither hate nor anger in his voice-only rejection and an infinite yearning for peace. Kutlos placed both arms around the youngster to support him.
"You have to get out of here!" he said gently. "The Terrans are attacking the station in their ships."
For a moment it seemed to him that he might succeed in pulling the priest back to the present. There was a momentary flicker of life in the staring eyes but it was only an unconscious reaction. Tasnor's will was not behind it. Kutlos let him sink back gently.
He straightened up and turned to the others. "Let's continue," he said tonelessly.
They moved around Tasnor's body without looking at him and hurried their steps to escape the sight of their dying companion.
The main force of the Terran attack was being concentrated on the central station, of that Kutlos was certain. He had also noted that a relatively small number of ships were engaged in the action. This could mean that the main forces of the Solar Fleet were in a space battle with the robot flotillas of the Imperator. For Kutlos it was a reassuring thought although he had no facts to substantiate it.
His deliberations were interrupted when a number of men penetrated the passageway through a nearby hole in the wall. In the dust and smoke it was difficult to recognize who they were but in any case they were a welcome reinforcement to his group.
Then Kutlos came to a stop. These were no servants of Baalol nor were they the hoped-for Arkonides. They were Terrans!
Out of pure instinct the high priest turned on his individual defense screen and opened fire.
• • •
They landed in the area of the third power station and Brazo Alkher shut off his deflector. Nolinov emerged out of invisibility near him. He was streaming sweat but he grinned.
"Familiar territory!" Brazo called to him, referring to their imprisonment here.
He looked around him warily. Cardif had not yet landed with troops but the Antis' defensive fire had already grown weaker.
A commando named Buster Coleman came up to him. "Over there, sir!" he said. "The walls have fallen in and we can enter without having to blast an opening."
"Mitchum!" Alkher called out.
The man from Brazil appeared at his side and looked at him expectantly.
"Take three men and check that broken wall. If things are clear inside we'll use it as our entrance."
"Yes sir!" Mitchum picked out three men and started out.
Alkher watched as the four of them ran toward the building with the double persuaders in their hands. They clambered over fallen rubble and Mitchum was the first to duck inside the structure. Immediately he reappeared and signaled with his long arms, as if to say "All clear." In that same moment a small ammunition depot blew up under the impact of an impulse beam.
"No danger at all," commented Nolinov dryly. Apparently there was more danger of being hit by their own ships than there was of being caught in Anti counter-fire.
Alkher lifted his weapon arm. "Let's go!" he shouted.
Mitchum's lanky figure was discolored by smoke and half covered with dust when they reached him.
"Everything's in order, sir," reported the South American. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Inside-it's all clear."
They squeezed through the opening in the shattered wall and entered a smoke-filled corridor in which nothing could be seen beyond a distance of 20 meters or so.
"Sir, I'd say we'd better-"
Whatever Mitchum was going to say remained unfinished. Alkher was shocked to see the Brazilian raise his hands in the air, after which he collapsed silently to the ground. In front of them, vague figures in waving capes were emerging out of the opaque clouds of smoke.
"Antis!" yelled Nolinov.
Alkher reacted almost instinctively. In one jump he was behind a shoulder of the broken wall, where he readied his weapon. Somebody cried out in sudden pain and then the passage was filled with the roaring and hissing bedlam of combat fire. Alkher felt a painful knot in his stomach when he saw four dead Terran commandos who had not gotten out of the way in time. Biting his lip in a mixture of rage and anguish, he moved into the battle and opened fire.
A strange thought came to him in the midst of it. He was thinking that while he was here fighting for his life there were countless young men like himself back on Earth who were pleasantly pursuing more peaceful occupations without the slightest awareness of a certain Lt. Brazo Alkher. By his presence here, along with the crews of the Solar Fleet, he was helping to guarantee that men of Earth and all humans on far colonial planets would be able to live in peace.
• • •
The first time Kutlos was hit he knew that he would never reach the transport-ships alive. Against the special weapons of the invaders his individual screen was not enough to protect him any longer. He lay motionlessly behind a shattered switch cabinet and pressed his face against the cool surface of the metal. One after the other they would end like this. Gonozal VIII had abandoned them. The plan of Holy Baalol had failed.
Someone close to him groaned. Kutlos started to move away from the cabinet while waves of pain raged through his body. He peered across a burst jumble of wires, coils and shattered tubes. Before he could see his wounded companion he was hit again. This time there wasn't much to feel except that the strength ebbed swiftly from his legs.
The unknown wounded man groaned again. Kutlos grasped two protruding fuse boxes and drew himself over the polished surface o
f the fallen cabinet. He slipped over the other side of it onto the floor. He saw no one. A strange sensation pervaded the lower part of his body and it almost seemed as if his legs were made of wax. He ran his hands over his body and when he brought them back they were smeared with blood. He began to wonder why nobody around him was putting up any resistance against the Terrans.
"They've run away," he muttered to himself bitterly. But then he noticed that the sound of fighting in the passage had ceased entirely.
Footsteps approached him. Kutlos strained with all his might to get up but nothing happened. It cost him such an effort that he had to close his eyes in complete exhaustion. Somebody pulled the blasted switch cabinet away and the screeching of metal seemed to him to be excruciatingly loud.
He opened his eyes and saw a row of combat boots. When he elevated his gaze he saw the owners of the boots and finally their faces looking down at him from high above as through a mist: Terrans. One of the faces came nearer to him, lean and angular with earnest brown eyes. Somehow this man seemed to be familiar-and then he remembered: he was one of the prisoners they had allowed to escape during the sham battle with the Springers.
"Kutlos!" the Terran called out to him.
"I hear you," he answered with dignity, speaking in Intercosmo. "Whatever it is you want from me you must hurry-Tav dordo... I am dying."
Brazo Alkher swiftly inspected the high priest and saw that he was wounded in two places. He frowned while struggling with mixed feelings. Young Mitchum lay behind him already dead.
"Kutlos, is the planet Trakarat the central world of the Baalol cult?" he asked.
Kutlos only nodded since speech was difficult for him now.
Alkher interrogated swiftly. "Can you give us the position data for Trakarat or any other information on it?"
"I could," said Kutlos with an effort.
"Then speak!" demanded the Terran.
"No." It was a flat denial but quite simple since he could speak no more. Knowing that death was claiming him now he either remained silent in response to each question or laughed in scorn.
Shortly after that his head sank back and his eyes stared lifelessly. Brazo Alkher straightened up resignedly and seemed to swallow with difficulty.
"No use," he said with a note of despair in his voice. "It was all for nothing."
• • •
The Baalol defense lines gradually collapsed and Cardif's attack rolled onward in full force against the last pockets of resistance. The special commando team under Alkher and Nolinov pulled back to the spaceport. The two lieutenants did not have much to say to each other. Behind them in the ruins lay five of their men for whom nothing more could be done. They had brought two more with them who were gravely wounded. The men were in a dejected mood since the price had been high for little or no information concerning Trakarat.
"Maybe Rhodan has had more luck than we did," said Nolinov finally.
Alkher remained skeptical. "The Antis fought in sheer desperation and those 10 cruisers weren't exactly out to spare anybody-if there are any enemy survivors at all."
"Sir!" exclaimed somebody suddenly. It was Coleman.
Brazo turned to see what he was pointing at. Two figures were running straight across the open area. Although they were not wearing the clothing of Anti priests they were obviously not Terrans. Apparently the two men were fleeing and their goal was the spaceport.
"After them!" he ordered.
He picked out four men, who switched on their antigravs and flew toward the fugitives.
Nolinov watched them pensively. "Somehow those two seem to look familiar to me," he said.
"That's impossible," Alkher told him. "How could you know them?"
Nolinov didn't seem to want to express his suspicion. He remained silent as they continued their march toward the transport ships. On account of the wounded, whose suits were damaged, they had refrained from using their antigravs. Within 10 minutes they overtook the other four commandos, who had meanwhile captured the strangers. They were big, burly and savage looking, their eyes wild with fear. One of them looked at Alkher and Nolinov with an incredulous expression on his face.
"I was right!" exclaimed Nolinov triumphantly and as Alkher looked at him uncomprehendingly he smiled and pointed to the two prisoners. "Old friends of ours, Brazo," he said sarcastically. "But the last time we saw them they were supposed to be badly wounded."
"The Springers!" murmured Alkher.
It all came back to him now in vivid detail. He and Nolinov had been permitted to escape from the Antis as a part of the Baalol plan and in the process they had run into these two men. The priests had deliberately drawn the two Terrans to take cover on a plateau, which was the planned landing area of the Springer space lifeboat. It had been made to look like an emergency landing but naturally these two Springers had not actually been wounded. It had all been part of the sham attack for the benefit of the two Terrans. Apparently these two had not been able to return to the long-ships of their clan. Instead they had been caught here in a real attack which had led to the defeat of their allies.
Alkher stepped up to one of the Springers and clapped him roughly on the shoulder. "What happened to your injuries?" he asked ironically. "Didn't you heal up rather quickly?"
"We are peaceful Traders," the man replied. "We haven't anything to do with this situation."
His companion nodded urgently in confirmation. Alkher regarded the statement with skepticism since he knew that Galactic Traders only demonstrated their peace-loving natures when their lives were threatened. Otherwise they were not squeamish about committing any deed of violence.
"You don't say!" exclaimed Nolinov in mock astonishment. He joined his companion and aimed the persuader at the captives. "Alright," he said with sudden sharpness, "let's see how peaceful you really are if you're such innocent little lambs!"
Anyone who didn't know Nolinov would have been frightened of him at this moment. His eyes flashed dangerously and his face muscles hardened menacingly. It startled the two Springers, who were already intimidated. They thought despairingly of their chances for escape.
"We'll tell you anything we know," said one of the Traders quickly.
"We're searching for a specific planet," said Alkher. "It is supposed to be the central world of the Baalol cult. It is called Trakarat. What do you know about it?"
The first Springer who had spoken looked uneasily at Nolinov's double-barreled weapon before answering. "We've heard that the priests often talk about this planet. We don't know its location but it must be easy to identify because of its unusual appearance."
"What's that supposed to mean?" urged Nolinov.
"Trakarat has a double ring around it," the Springer reported, "something like one of your own planets in the Sol System. I think you call that one Saturn."
The Trader hesitated but when Alkher nodded to him he continued. "Trakarat's in a family of 15 other planets that circle a red binary star. The name of the binary is Aptut. Judging from the conversations of the priests it must be close to the center of the galaxy."
The two lieutenants exchanged glances. Nolinov lowered his weapon, much to the obvious relief of the two Springers.
Alkher spoke to them. "You'll be held captive until we've determined the truth of what you've told us. If you've told us lies you'll simply have to face the alternative-tell us the truth or else!"
Inwardly, however, he was already convinced of the validity of their information. The Traders were much too frightened to risk angering the Terrans with fictitious data. He turned to Nolinov. "Let's contact the Ironduke. Bell and Mercant may be glad to hear about this. At least we've picked up some pretty good clues and a system like Aptut's should be pretty identifiable."
"They'd better send us the guppy now," said Nolinov. "Our mission on Saos has been completed."
He activated his micro-transmitter. They were already beyond the area that had been receiving the brunt of the cruisers' annihilating bombardments. It would be only a
matter of minutes before the last Anti resistance was broken and then Rhodan would be making his ground invasion of the station's ruins.
7/ COSMIC DETENTE
He clambered over mountains of debris, staggered onward between caved-in sections of the walls, charged across small open areas and pressed through choked or half-fallen doorways. He had long since ceased looking back to see if the troops were still following him. There was a constant ringing in his ears that seemed to drown out all other sounds. In the eerie twilight dimness of the shattered pyramid he came upon a maze of passages, ruptured lift-shafts and staircases that had been blasted to fragments.
Thomas Cardif felt a piercing pain in the area of his heart and had to come to a stop. Sweat covered his body, ran down between his eyebrows and stung his eyes. Suddenly he sensed the presence of men around him and as he turned around fiercely he saw them standing there-the space infantry of the Solar Fleet. They had gathered behind him shoulder to shoulder, grim-faced, silent, holding their double-barreled persuaders, in readiness.
For the first time Cardif sensed what it would feel like to really be Perry Rhodan. These men were following him into a battle which they considered to be senseless but they were at his side for the concept, legend or symbol that Rhodan represented to them.
He lowered his weapon and stared through them or beyond them with a salty taste in his mouth, thinking desperately of his physical condition and his need for a cure, whether from the Antis or any other source. No matter how much he had stormed and raved at the doctors in Terrania over the space hypercom their findings had been of little consolation to him. Of course the top specialists were working day and night on the problem but no remedy was able to arrest the disastrous effects of the cell activator. As far as an operation was concerned they had told him repeatedly that such a procedure would be fatal.
