by Perry Rhodan
Tsathor, distantly related to the clan chieftain but strongly resembling him, sized up Thomas Cardif with interest.
He could not make up his mind about the young man who still wore the uniform of a lieutenant in the Solar Spacefleet. It was not the first time he had ever sat across from a traitor but he had never before encountered a traitor who struck him like this Thomas Cardif.
The destroyer lay in Hangar 8 of the Cokaz 322. An hour before it had been transferred under cover of darkness from the Cokaz 505.
“You can keep the destroyer if you like,” Thomas Cardif had boredly declared. “I won’t he needing it anymore.”
Tsathor had nodded in agreement, not allowing his joy over it to show. “Cardif, you don’t need to prove your identity. You look like the young Perry Rhodan...”
“I’m an Arkonide, Tsathor!” the lieutenant interrupted sharply. His voice was ice cold but his reddish shining eyes, the legacy of his mother, betrayed much of his internal excitement.
“As an Arkonide you will not be able to speak in the name the Terrans,” Tsathor told him. “Or did I misunderstand you before?”
Thomas Cardif smiled wanly. “Who are these Terrans, really? There is only one race in the Galaxy and you belong to it as much as I do: the Arkonide! The Robot Regent will recognize me and together with it and the clan of Cokaze we’ll put the Terra System where it belongs. We’ll make it a colony of Arkon and its trade will be handled entirely by the Cokaze clan.”
“Wonderful, if it comes to pass,” said Tsathor, filled with apparent enthusiasm at the vision the young man had called up, “but what are you going to get out of it?”
“Rhodan’s destruction! His death. That will be enough for me.”
The Springer gave a start. The answer he had just heard had contained the most terrible words he had ever heard pronounced in his long life. The young man had spoken them without passion or the slightest trace of excitement, as Tsathor realized to his inner horror. “Isn’t Perry Rhodan your father, Terran?”
“Springer, I am a Terran just as little as Rhodan’s my father. The only thing I can’t deny is that he was indeed one of my parents. I suggest that we drop the subject until Cokaze arrives...”
Tsathor’s headshaking made Cardif’s eyes gleam again. “What else is there to ask?” With that arrogantly spoken remark, Cardif had clearly identified himself as an Arkonide.
Tsathor was impressed by it against his will and, much less emphatically than he had intended, he asked in reply: “What reason do you have to hate Perry Rhodan that much, Cardif?”
Thomas Cardif laid his well-groomed hands on the table. It was a more than clear gesture that indicated he was ready to answer the question. “Going against the advice of the doctors and even though she was deathly sick, Rhodan sent my mother, the Arkonide Lady Thora, on a dangerous mission to Arkon 3! He wanted to he rid of her because she was suddenly aging. He wanted to be a widower so that he could marry a young woman. He sent my unsuspecting mother to Arkon, and that she was unsuspecting—both as to the state of her health as well as to how dangerous the mission was—was proven by the fact she did not say goodbye to me before she left.”
“I saw her once more when she was dead, the only person who had ever loved me. And dead is how I’ll see Rhodan again—the one person I’ve hated ever since the day I found out he was my parent!”
“There’s room in space for only one of us. The universe is too small for both Perry Rhodan and Thomas Cardif!”
* * * *
A portion of the press in the Solar Imperium took sides with Rhodan and another portion came out as the irreconcilable enemy of the Administrator. The not very large majority in the vote of confidence was used as a take-off point for new attacks. The newspapers in the African sphere denounced Reginald Bell for having brought up the Kimberley Iron scandal in the middle of the debate. They were of the viewpoint that the results of the vote of confidence had been thereby nullified, for the 21 representatives who were soon to be brought to trial had been Rhodan’s opponents.
The surprising withdrawal of the Arkonide robot fleet was noted with satisfaction. The New World Press, its star columnist Nicktown and his 30-line lead article leading the parade, poured oil on the still seriously troubled waters of internal politics, and the inevitable trend of events was that the majority of Terrans rather quickly lost all interest in the controversy. Yet, under the surface it was still boiling, and Allan D. Mercant’s Solar Defense kept a very close watch on the currents of opinion.
Twenty-four hours after the debate there were still some political groups attempting to sow discord. They did not suspect that each of their steps was observed and that they were much less dangerous than they imagined.
Meanwhile Rhodan had carried on a long hypercom discussion with Atlan, who was disturbed by Rhodan’s difficulties on Earth. He offered his friend every possible assistance.
“Admiral, I’m grateful for the offer but at the moment I need fewer demonstrations of power and more time!” Rhodan told him.
“Well, barbarian, then I’ll let it be known through the Brain to the entire galaxy that the Solar Imperium stands under Arkonide protection. Do you agree to this formulation?”
Rhodan had considered for a moment, glancing back at Bell, Mercant and Freyt and observing their agreeing nods. Then he turned back to Atlan and said: “Agreed, Admiral. I think that the formulation ‘under Arkonide protection’ will give me the breathing space that we so desperately need right now. I won’t hide from you the fact that my position has never been so weak as it’s been these last 24 hours.”
A bitter smile came to Earth over hypercom. “Then two powerless pretenders held out their hands to one another, Perry. By the immortal gods of Arkon, I tremble to think of the moment when the Great Imperium finds out that I hold the power instead of the Robot Regent. You are in the midst of an internal political struggle but I have all that yet to face and, setting our friendship aside, Terran... I have to help you so that you can help me when I need your help. I would much rather be Perry Rhodan than Atlan, because your name has weight throughout the globular cluster... throughout the entire galaxy. But who am I? Who has ever heard the name Atlan? I am nothing next to you, Terran, and I’m no more to the positronic Brain here. Do you see how closely our fates are bound?
“Perry, it’s wonderful to have you for a friend.
Before Rhodan was able to reply, Atlan, 34000 light-years away and under the cover of the positronicon dome on Arkon 3, had switched off.
Rhodan did not look cheerful. “This move doesn’t make me at all comfortable. Yes, I know,” he said hastily, raising his hand defensively as Freyt, Mercant and even Bell offered protests at the same time, “we don’t have any other choice, though I don’t dare try to predict whether this stay of execution will help us overcome our internal difficulties or not. Frankly, the change of opinion in the press is a riddle to me.”
“Not to me,” rumbled Bell. “Everyone’s afraid that the Battle of Terra could be fought all over again, and once people start asking themselves where the Druuf ships have gone we’ll really be in for it. We’ll be the scapegoats for having led the Earth into this latent danger and then not even Atlan could help us. Then we’ll be swept away.”
“What’s bothering me is the Springer patriarch Cokaze,” said Mercant, giving expression to his pessimistic opinion. “Cokaze has cleared all his ships out of the spaceports on Earth but now they’re holed up on Venus and Mars. Are the
Springers still hoping to force us into giving them a trading monopoly?”
“Who’s the defense chief here, you or me?” demanded Rhodan sharply.
“Sir,” Mercant replied, formally now, his features tightening, “Solar Defense has never before had so many tasks to fulfill as it does now. In places where I could use 10% of the men, I’m happy to have two or three percent available. It isn’t Solar Defense that has failed or is failing and has not wanted to recognize the signs of a gathering internal political
storm or has underestimated their meaning!”
“Thanks!” said Rhodan sarcastically. “It’s refreshing to be able to hear the truth. What is the location of the. deserter, Lt. Thomas Cardif. Solar Marshal Mer—”
“I don’t like the way you put that!” Bell blustered but was interrupted brusquely by Rhodan.
Bell looked at him, startled. What Rhodan was thinking could he read on his face.
What’s the matter with you? was the silent question.
But Rhodan’s expression remained icy. “Please, Solar Marshal, I’m waiting for your answer!”
Bell gasped for breath. Freyt sat as stiff as a statue. Mercant breathed deeply. No one could remember ever having been in a similar situation. All three realized now that there was only one Chief: Perry Rhodan.
A father had not asked after the whereabouts of his son. The question had been posed by the Administrator responsible to the Solar Imperium.
“Sir, I am unable to supply you with any new information concerning Thomas Cardif. As of today it remains unknown to us where he went after leaving Pluto, nor do we know where he is now. For this case I recommend that the Mutant Corps be called into action.”
* * * *
Thomas Cardif sat across from Cokaze.
The old, much-experienced Springer and the young, deserted lieutenant of the Solar Spacefleet dealt with one another like equal partners.
Cokaze’s cabin in the Cokaz 1, which had landed on Venus and now stood next to the Cokaz 322, was the site where the first conferences were conducted, conferences aimed at wiping a small, independent interplanetary empire off the galactic map.
Cokaze regarded the young man again and again with astonishment and a slight touch of fear. He was fascinated by the lieutenant’s ice cold logic but his hate for Rhodan frightened him.
“Cokaze, you will never get that trade monopoly from Rhodan as long as he is Administrator,” Cardif stated. “And you won’t get it from his successor if you don’t do anything yourself to overthrow Rhodan. Any new Administrator will look at you and your clan as aliens but you would be regarded as Arkonides if the new Administrator happened to be Arkonide himself! Do you understand now what you have to do?”
Cokaze stroked his neatly-trimmed beard. “Give me some time to think about this, Cardif,” he requested.
“What are you prepared to do to bring Rhodan down?” Cardif asked like a practiced negotiator. “You’re waiting for a treaty by which your clan is given the right to bring goods into the Solar System and to export the Earth’s products. You’ve long known that such a treaty would make your clan the richest in the Milky Way. Something like that has its price. What are you willing to risk?”
For the first time the Springer showed surprise. “Cardif, you’re as peevish as Rhodan and as arrogant as an Arkonide. And when I think of how young you still are, I could feel a twinge of horror if this business deal wasn’t in progress...”
The hypercom loudspeaker crackled and the vidscreen flickered. Both Cokaze and Thomas Cardif were startled to recognize the wave pattern of the Robot Regent.
The Robot Brain on Arkon was announcing its decision.
The jumble of lines, whose pattern was known to the entire galaxy, now gave way to a view of the enormous dome on Arkon 3. At the same time, the metallic-sounding voice of the soulless positronicon could be heard.
Cokaze and Cardif looked at each other in triumph.
The mammoth positronicon on Arkon 3 had just announced that the Solar System had come under Arkonide protection!
Both interpreted the message from their own point of view. They read from it the annexation of the Solar Imperium by the positronicon on Arkon 3.
“Cardif, I’m ready to risk something, as you were saying earlier. My fleet will withdraw from neither Mars nor Venus. My ships will remain at battle readiness. Rhodan can’t afford to confront me with his fleet, and having two planets of his Imperium in my hands will be a good position from which to negotiate that trade monopoly.”
“But you, Cardif, you have something to do yourself.”
“As an Arkonide and Perry Rhodan’s son, you will be the logical choice to succeed Rhodan as Administrator, and judging from the latest message from the Robot Regent on Arkon 3 that we just heard, I’m convinced that the positronicon will name you the new Administrator of this small solar system.”
“Springer, it ill becomes you to force me to assume a role I haven’t yet decided to take on!”
All the arrogance of the degenerate Arkonide race came to the surface in that one statement. Thomas Cardif’s eyes blazed at the Galactic Trader, and Cokaze, who was one of the richest private individuals in the galaxy with far more than a thousand cylindrical spacers at his disposal, shrank in fear before the young man’s haughtiness, and once more he realized he was facing an Arkonide.
A process of development that spanned a period of time of more than 15,000 years had left its mark on every Springer: to every Springer, even one in the position of patriarch, an Arkonide was the master!
Cokaze involuntarily backed down in the face of the reprimand, even to the extent of changing from Interkosmo to Arkonese, and said: “Lord, I don’t believe you have any other alternative!”
“I have no intention of taking the matter of deciding who the next Administrator. will be out of the Regent’s hands,” Thomas Cardif answered testily. “Before I delve any deeper into the subject, Springer, I’ll first get in touch with the Positronicon on Arkon 3!”
“When?” inquired Cokaze, who, now that he had decided to get involved with the internal political struggles of this solar system, was also anxious to get that desired monopoly treaty in his hands.
“Right now, Cokaze. Get me a connection on the Regent’s hyper-frequency!”
* * * *
Atlan gave a start when the telecom loudspeaker announced Thomas Cardif’s name.
The huge com center of the gigantic computer was receiving half a thousand other messages at the time. Each was recorded, examined by the positronicon for its importance and then relayed to Atlan according to its urgency. But this telecom call from Venus, Allan was listening to directly.
Perry’s son, he thought. O gods of Arkon, has the boy gone mad?
He listened with bated breath.
That was an Arkonide speaking, not any man of Earth! Only an Arkonide could be so arrogant and demanding.
And Atlan thought of Thora, the Arkonide woman from a noble family, and remembered what Perry had told him of his son. Thora was Thomas’ mother. She had learned to master the unfortunate characteristics of her people but those characteristics had been passed on to the genes of her only child—and those characteristics now ruled him.
Thomas Cardif wanted to destroy his father!
He wanted to make an Arkonide colony out of the Solar Imperium!
He wanted to break the economic backbone of mankind and give a monopoly on trade to a Springer clan!
And now the Positronicon had to answer but it was no longer an independent identity. It was only an instrument for the power behind the throne, and Atlan remained silent.
He switched on the Positronicon’s legal sector and fed into it Thomas Cardif’s message. At the same time, the computer was instructed to advise Thomas Cardif to wait.
Atlan was clever enough not to rely on his personal feelings. The Milky Way was supposed to continue in the belief that Globular Cluster M-13 was ruled by the giant positronicon, and out of necessity not to complicate his situation any further, Atlan left the judgment to the decision of the legal sector.
The metallic voice was still telling Thomas Cardif to wait when the evaluation was delivered to Atlan.
Arkonide laws forbade any intervention by Arkon but at the same time it was stated that Cardif’s actions were also contrary to Arkonide law.
“Hm...” said Atlan, dissatisfied. “Reggie would call this interpretation ‘lawyers fog’ but if I phrase it any more clearly some lawyer will soon realize the
Posit
ronicon has made an erroneous decision and I can’t let it come to that. I can only explain things to Rhodan.”
Cokaze gave the robot positronicon’s answer to the best lawyers of his clan. Tension shone in his eyes. Cold as an iceberg, Thomas Cardif sat next to the patriarch.
The lawyer Zutre, a specialist in the legal profession, was able to comment at once. “Sire,” he said with a grin, “may the gods grant that all the statue code paragraphs forbidding the Brain to intervene in internal affairs long remain in effect! But the most interesting part of this answer is in the comment that Thomas Cardif’s actions stand in opposition to Arkonide law. This is only a phrase and what it really says is that Arkonide protection of this solar system is no more than a non-binding statement of intent.”
Cokaze dismissed the lawyers. When he was alone with Cardif, he looked at him challengingly.
“Springer,” said Thomas Cardif, his voice unchanged, “I need a room in which I can work out my proclamation to the Solar Imperium without being disturbed. Are your hypercom transmitters strong enough to drown out the most important stations on Earth?”
“Lord,” answered Cokaze, stroking his trimmed beard, “the Earth will hear your proclamation very well, indeed!”
* * * *
When Thomas Cardif’s proclamation came through, the personnel at the Terrania hypercom station thought at first it was some sort of practical joke in particularly bad taste but the alarmed station director had a different opinion and put through an alarm connection to Perry Rhodan. “Sir,” he said excitedly, not even waiting for Rhodan’s face to appear on the vidscreen, “Thomas Cardif is just now issuing a statement in which he names himself the new Administrator of the Solar Imperium.”
Then Rhodan’s face showed on the screen. The grey eyes looked at him calmly. “So why are you so wrought up?” he heard Rhodan ask. “Please relay the statement on to me when Thomas Cardif has finished giving it. I’ll be waiting...”
