by Hans Kneifel
Ameda Fayard looked at him and raised her own beamer. "Should I help you?"
"Thanks, but no ... I need inspiration, not someone to point out targets for me."
Rhodan shoved the second beamer into a loop on his spacesuit and squeezed his way out of the steamy confines of the cockpit. He closed the hatch, fastened his spacesuit, and climbed with some difficulty to the highest point on the Shift on which he could stand with relative safety. In spite of the sunlight, he saw the swarm that circled above the Shift at an altitude of about 200 meters.
"Instant adapter!" he murmured ironically, thinking back to what he was called in the early days of the space program. "It took a while." The fire spindles, he thought, are masters of energy manipulation and without a doubt they've known for a long time what spaceships are and what they're for. They're observing us, and now me in particular. He set Mahal's weapon to its narrowest beam and minimum power, and began to burn a crude picture of a Space-Jet in the snow. Steam rose where the beam hit, and the thin shadows stood out clearly in the morning light.
Then the outline of a Halutian followed, holding stylized flowers in two of its hands. The first attempts were non-verbal when I was young, Rhodan thought. That plaque that was put on a space probe with the famous drawing by da Vinci ... Or was it Michelangelo? I'm basically doing the same thing.
He waited, marked the Halutian with the symbol of a sun. Then, after drawing an arrow pointing to the stars from the Space-Jet, crossed out both pictures with long strokes. "Denetree's supposed Keeper," he murmured. He turned ninety degrees and "drew" the turtle-like Shift. Next to the Akonian space vehicle appeared eight humanoid figures, who also held the suggestions of flowers in their hands and were given the sign of a sun.
The watching spindles had become attentive. The swarm seemed to be circling more slowly and lower over the ground. Rhodan would have preferred to work with the limited capabilities of the Shift, with changing radio frequencies perhaps. But with these simple pictures he was risking the least possible chance of a misunderstanding. Non-verbal communication, back to the roots. Did the spindles see the same things with their energy senses as he did with human eyes?
" ... And the well-intentioned newcomers," he said. From out of the Shift appeared a row of dots that were supposed to lead to the stars and to the two starships, which were drawn as circles. One perfectly round and the other flattened. Then the handbeamer's energy pack was empty. "And now what?"
Of course, the spindles could only reply with a discharge of energy. Assuming they even understood the meaning of his drawings in the ice. He had no alternative but to wait. Suddenly another variation occurred to him, and he turned to a fresh section of snow. There he used the second beamer to draw a nearly U-shaped piece of the ark. He added many little people, and many large flowers next to a symbol of the sun. Finally, he had run out of ideas and began to climb down from the Shift.
Perhaps the spindles would need a great deal of time to be able to consider and make a decision.
10
After the Disaster
Echkal cer Lethir glanced over at the podium. The Maphan, Jere von Baloy, was not sitting in his commander's chair; that meant he was still asleep in his cabin, as shown by the duty roster. Only the pilot's position was occupied.
Since his exchange with the Terran commander, helpless rage in Echkal had grown along with his impatience. He had the feeling that they were making a mistake they would pay dearly for. Almost everything he saw concerned him.
Sharita Coho was a Terran of the kind known from Akonian history books: self-righteous, overbearing and arrogant; as though the universe belonged to her people and her people alone. Echkal cer Lethir could believe her capable of anything, except just one thing: admitting an error.
The humiliation that the Seventh Akonian Fleet under Admiral Mechtan von Taklir had handed her a few days before, must be eating away at her. Echkal would not have given up so easily in her place. He would have indicated his readiness to cooperate outwardly and then struck back at the appropriate moment. Not exactly a subtle method, but no other choice would have remained to him. It was a matter of survival for his proud but small people in the face of Terra's superior power. And when it was a matter of survival, anything was allowed. Everything was allowed.
The power drain that plagued the LAS-TOOR had to be the work of the Terrans. Their scientific and technological potential was hundreds of times greater than that of the Akonians. And thanks to Perry Rhodan, the PALENQUE would have access to that potential. Who knew what the Terrans might have been up to on Maahkora? The brand-new Space-Jet could have been just a diversion, a cover for the real work that had been done.
So far, so bad. Echkal cer Lethir came from a humble background. No noble heritage had helped him on the way to the Fleet, no rich family had promoted his career. Echkal had learned that, now and then, one had to resort to morally dubious tactics to get ahead. That applied to a species as well as individuals. The Terrans themselves could not help but think and act any other way. What else could be the source of their superior power?
Only ... did they have to be hypocrites as well?
Their displays of friendliness drove him to madness. Why didn't they openly admit their methods and goals?
And the biggest hypocrite of all the Terrans just happened to have moved into his cabin at the invitation of Jere von Baloy, who thought it was an excellent joke. Now it was too late; the "hostage" had settled into his cabin. Doctor Hartich van Kuespert, the hyperphysicist of lower nobility: cer Kuespert, in Akonian terms. With his inappropriate, non-uniform-like, Terran leisure clothing. Just as short as Echkal unfortunately was. This pseudo-nobleman must have volunteered just to be able to spy on board the LAS-TOOR.
"But the time for this game of hidden tactics and motives will soon be over! I'll see to that!" the Ma-Techten of the LAS-TOOR growled. As he glanced across the control center, he calmed down a little. Everything was perfectly clean! High-quality, reliable Akonian instruments and equipment; everything looked fresh from the factory.
The situation was nerve-racking for all the members of the crew. Like its three moons, they circled the planet in a high orbit, repeating endlessly. And Maphan Jere von Baloy did not do anything in the slightest to change their situation. Instead he slept or sweatily exercised his enviably tall body, and wore used, tattered overalls. All signs of a careless attitude towards his profession that Echkal had no sympathy for.
"I'll show you, Jere von Baloy!" the First Officer whispered. "And you over there, too!"
"Over there" meant a distance in their orbits of less than a light-second from each other. Both ships were still in visual range. From the Akonian ship, the spherical PALENQUE resembled a tiny, rising moon. The Terran commander had babbled something about glowing creatures that had robbed both ships of their propulsive energy. She couldn't have thought of a more insane lie! Admittedly, the LAS-TOOR's hyperdetectors were out of commission, so it would not have been possible for him to check her claim. But that was not necessary, either. It was obvious that the Terran woman considered them to be fools.
The Ma-Techten pressed a sensor field with his finger. "Two Neehlaks to the control center," he rasped.
"Right away," a deep voice replied reluctantly.
It took a while before two crewmen arrived on the bridge through different entrances. The Ma-Techten waved them over.
"Go at once to my ... to the cabin of our Terran hostage. Bring him here immediately. During this orbit. I'll delay him here and ... search the cabin. Thoroughly!"
"As you wish, Ma-Techten." One after the other, they left through the hatchway without any particular haste. Anyway, Echkal did not want to disturb the Maphan's sleep. Not yet. The time had not yet come in which to defy the commander openly. First more of his fellow crew members had to realize the truth about the Terrans. Then he could act, take over command, and tow the Terran ship to Drorah. An examination of that ship would confirm his suspicions.
Echkal cer Lethir waited impatien
tly, checked the ship's energy supply, and received the same status reports as before. The remaining energy available was not even enough to increase the LAS-TOOR's velocity appreciably. Only Echkal cer Lethir's heartbeat was speeding up.
The crewmen returned, with the Terran between them. When he saw Echkal, he came towards him and reached out his hand.
"I've been wondering when you'd finally want to draw upon my scientific counsel," he said in a friendly if somewhat pedantic tone. "Unfortunately, I do have to confess that I don't foresee a quick alteration of the situation in the near future and ... "
"Spare me the pretty words!" Echkal said cuttingly. "I understand the situation better than you suspect. You are a hostage on board. Effective immediately, you will be treated as one."
"But why?" Van Kuespert ran both hands through his thinning brown hair. "By the solar wind! What could I have to do with your loss of power? Don't you know that your Shift is also ... "
"That doesn't matter," the Ma-Techten replied coldly. "Akonian jurisdiction is in effect here on board, and at the moment I am the acting commander. You will not return to your cabin until further notice, Doctor van Kuespert. Or should I say my cabin?" He gestured to the Neehlaks. "Take the hostage to a detention cell!"
Van Kuespert let himself be taken away without resistance.
Echkal cer Lethir turned to the Espejel on duty and said, "When the Terrans condescend to remove the blockade, send this ultimatum to the commander on the other side."
The com officer nodded, then acknowledged and stored the recording. His expression did not reveal what he thought of it.
The Ma-Techten stared into the main hologram and observed the Terran ship, its hull reflecting the rays of the sun. It looked as though the PALENQUE continued to follow the LAS-TOOR in orbit around Mentack Nutai.
When the LAS-TOOR drifted out of the planet's shadow towards the daylight hemisphere, Echkal cer Lethir did not see a large number of tiny points of light rising through the clouds and approaching the ship. Within an hour, the points of light would become long, gold-shining spindles.
"And what do we do with the crawler?" Isaias Shimon asked with a muffled voice. He was drinking carbonated Akonian fruit juice and chewing on a brownish concentrate bar.
Rhodan shrugged. "I don't give orders here," he replied. "I do have a suggestion: when the spindles have consulted among themselves long enough, perhaps they'll let us take off, and then we should fly back to the stranded Lemurians."
"And then?" Mahal murmured sleepily.
Rhodan answered the Akonian pilot tersely. "I don't know yet. We'll think of something."
They had waited some two hours. In the tight quarters of the cockpit, all but Rhodan had managed to take off their spacesuits and stuff them into side compartments. Even so, it was still terribly cramped as well as damp and warm. Solina and Ameda had found room in the pilot's seat and had attempted to use napkins and paper towels to dry the written documents they had found in the base. Kealil Ron huddled on the floor, his back against the base of the control panel, and seemed to have fallen asleep.
Once again Rhodan puzzled over what destination the Halutian might have been flying to in the stolen Space-Jet.
As before, none of the communication systems were functioning.
Solina suddenly looked up from the first page of the document that was readable. "A scientist on the first landing team brought his family along," she said. "A boy about ten and a girl of seven or so. The girl wrote the text and the drawings are her brother's."
"How do you know this?" Rhodan asked.
"The old man wrote notes commenting on the text. He was the last survivor of the Akonian base and had been left behind at his request. He was incurably ill and very, very old."
"I see," Rhodan said. "How much time is there between the original text and the commentary?"
"I don't ... we don't know yet. We haven't gotten that far." Solina rustled the paper.
"The little girl seems to have been telepathic," Ameda continued, "or else she found out how one can communicate with the spindles. As we know, children can serve as unconscious mediums because they think differently and more simply than adults. She and her brother went out on long hikes to explore, and so they found out that they—other small creatures and children, as well—didn't constitute a threat to the glowing spindles."
Denetree was also overwhelmed by exhaustion. She had curled up between the seats and seemed to be dreaming of the Keeper. Even in sleep, her face had that melancholy expression that it took on when she felt no one was watching her, and she drifted in her daydreams. Her braided pig-tail had come partially undone.
The sun was nearly at its highest position in the sky, and the slowly circling spindles could hardly be seen.
Arsis broke the silence. "I wonder if the spindles harassed the Lemurians after the crash or even seriously attacked them?"
"That's certainly likely," Rhodan replied. "The only welcome intruder here so far seems to have been the Halutian."
"We can't help anybody now," Arsis said. "Neither the Lemurians nor ourselves."
Perry Rhodan merely nodded. The swarm moved in the bright sunlight on the reflective ice expanse in bizarre, constantly changing patterns around the Shift. The team waited for the success or failure of his attempt at non-verbal communication.
11
The Decision of the Menttia
—What should we do about the strangers?—
Since the great metal wheel had burst in the air shell and struck the home world in pieces, the swarms could count no more than a generously estimated half thousand individuals. The Menttia had attempted to observe and interpret all the activities of the strangers with their energy senses. As they did so, they began to understand that the newcomers were different from those conquerors who in the past had wreaked such devastating havoc among the swarms with their deadly energy.
—If we cautiously loosen the barriers, the strangers will reveal their true intentions by their actions."—
The collective had decided. The Menttia of the White Winds understood and moved towards the intruders, united with the waiting swarm, and absorbed their impressions. They had allowed a completely strange being, whose landing they had not been able to observe—and who was responsible for the destruction of the settlement from the past—to take off from their world. The stranger had escaped with a spaceship belonging to the "others."
—We can prevent the few strangers from being a danger to us at any time.—
—We will therefore restore the freedom of their machines to them.—
A shining cloud sank in broad spirals over the polar ice surface towards the two tiny points. Once above the zone of destruction, the uncountably huge number of shining Menttia, floated over the simple symbols of depths and shadows and understood their meaning.
Solina Tormas was the first to be startled awake. She nudged Kealil Ron and pointed out the viewport, on which the last snow was melting into single drops.
"If nothing else, the light's different," Rhodan said seconds later. He squeezed through between Isaias and crawled through the hatch into the open. He had never seen such a large number of shining spindles before. They were numerous enough to hide the sun. As he raised his head and looked into the glow, he heard a crackling behind him and then the characteristic sounds of the Shift's systems starting up.
"Perry!" Kealil Ron exclaimed from the pilot's seat. "We've got power again!"
Ten seconds later, Arsis called: "The com's still dead. But perhaps ... "
Rhodan slowly turned around. It was early afternoon. Above the ice field, the bronze-colored, shadowless gleam of the collective intelligence hovered unchanged. His drawings in the ice could no longer be made out clearly. He nodded, grinned briefly, and wormed his way back into the Shift.
"The spindles are dictating our choices," Rhodan said. "If we still can't use the com, we'll try face-to-face conversation. Do we want to fly over to the crawler?"
"We can do it faste
r on the ground with the caterpillar tracks," Kealil Ron offered, tapping on his console's sensor fields, flipping switches, and waiting until the ramp creakingly retracted and the hatch was closed. He laughed briefly. "Hang on tight, friends."
The caterpillar tracks engaged with a jerk. Within a few moments, the Shift was in motion and rumbling ahead with churning tracks. Top speed was 180 kilometers per hour and the vibrations thoroughly shook the crew inside. Eight people completely filled the interior. They hung on to anything solid and to each other, and tried not to get in the pilot's way. Two fountains of snow sprayed high into the air behind the tracks as the Shift covered the short distance to the crawler.
"If the Shift can take off," Rhodan shouted through the noise of the engines, "we'll send some of us back to the PALENQUE! More than four people won't fit in the crawler!"
"What about us?" Hyman Mahal called.
"We'll leave a few people with the Lemurians and fly behind the crawler."
"Fine with me," Kealil Ron replied. "Anything's better than being jammed tight in here."
A few minutes later, he slowed up and stopped in a cloud of snow and ice crystals next to the crawler, which was half buried in snow. The occupants were apparently sleeping and had not noticed that the craft's power had been freed. Kealil Ron operated the warning buzzer and opened the hatch. Within a few moments he was alone in the cockpit.
Rhodan hammered with his fists on the opaque viewport of the crawler's tiny cabin and woke the three prospectors.
"I'd like to have Denetree along for the discussions with the Lemurians," he said while he waited for the crawler's crew to open the tiny hatch. "Isaias or Hyman? Who really wants to go to the PALENQUE?"
"We haven't had need of the doctor so far," Shimon commented. "Would you like to go back upstairs, Hyman?"
Mahal watched as the crawler crew crept out of the cabin one after another. His expression turned doubtful. "By all means. Will they take me along?"
