The Secret of the Time Vault

by Perry Rhodan

  "In spite of all," said Rhodan, "it isn't transparent, even for Sengu. Only, if Sengu cannot penetrate it with his eyes, you won't be able to do it either. Tako, you won't manage to penetrate it, even when you dematerialize. Why don't you try it?"

  Tako didn't lose a second. The place in which he'd just been standing was empty now. Rhodan had wanted to add something more, but the Japanese had acted too quickly. A wild shriek of pain echoed loudly in the stillness of the giant chamber. Rhodan and Ras were startled out of their wits. Then they observed an odd spectacle.

  Tako materialized in mid-air. He slid downward along the invisible wall, arms and legs spread apart, desperately seeking to hold onto something. His face was a horrified question mark. He landed on his feet, standing once more on solid ground, looking perplexed, trembling all over.

  "What in the world was that?" he cried out.

  "The barrier," explained Perry Rhodan. "While you were dematerialized, trying to fly inside the vault, you bumped into the barrier surrounding it. You materialized again and simply skidded down along its side. That's all. You see, you can't penetrate the screen either. I hope the robot brain will be able to give us an answer to that, I can't handle it by myself."

  Ras walked gingerly along the wall, rejoining his two friends.

  "That's weird," he said. "Is that an energy screen?"

  "I don't think so Ras. A teleporter can get through an energy screen quite easily, but never through a five-dimensional field. The field doesn't exist here where we are; it's somewhere else. I can't quite explain this; I'm sort of guessing. I can't find the proper words. I might be standing at the threshold of comprehending this strange phenomenon. I've some vague idea how all this is interrelated, just enough to supply the necessary data to the electronic brain in our Stardust II. Perhaps the brain will be able to find the answer to this mystery. Let's leave; no use wasting our time here any longer."

  In silence the three men started on their way back.

  The empty hall remained behind, and inside, the greatest mystery of the universe.

  Bell's hour of triumph had arrived. Bright and early in the morning he assembled his mutants, showing off in the worst possible way. He was telling all kinds of crazy jokes, which so exasperated Anne Sloane that she had him float up to the roof of a Sicha house. But this didn't disturb Reg Bell. He simply continued his tale how, once upon a time long ago, he'd cut off the buttons from his sergeant's pants, and then had sewed them back on again, but all in the wrong places. He described these spots in all detail, which again drove Anne to lift him off the roof, leaving him suspended in mid-air.

  "If you don't stop, Reg, I'll let go, and let you drop to the ground, all two hundred pounds of you!" threatened Anne.

  Bell was waving his arms and legs, jerking around helplessly.

  "I've heard worse threats from my sergeant, but never such insults. Two hundred pounds! How dare you, Anne. You know I only weigh ..."

  "Mister Bell!" It was John Marshall, the telepath. "Your jokes aren't as funny as you might think. Tell us the stories about your sergeant's pants when we men are alone! Anne's quite right to let you dangle up there."

  "That doesn't bother me," protested Bell, but his voice quavered a bit. "I'm only fifteen feet above ground ..."

  "Don't forget, gravity's greater here than back home. You can break every single bone in your body if I let go," warned Anne. "Be reasonable, then I'll let you come down safely."

  "I'll come down by myself," said Bell, and tried to reach for the edge of the roof. But it was too far away. "Tama Yokida, come and get me! We men must stick together!"

  The slender Japanese, a telekinetic like Anne Sloane, took over. He let Bell drift closer to the roof. Bell grasped the rain gutter and climbed onto the wooden shingles.

  "Bring a ladder!" he ordered. "We men must demonstrate that we don't depend on women!" He overlooked the fact that the ladder sailed through the air as if pushed by invisible ghosts, then leaned against the side of the house. He climbed down slowly, planting himself in front of the pretty young girl. "I must express my disapproval young lady. You're abusing your precious talents."

  "You're right." Anne laughed. "I've been using them on worthless objects."

  Everyone joined in the laughter, although nobody, except for the telepaths, knew whether her remark had referred to Bell or the ladder.

  Their fun was suddenly interrupted by a message coming from the sender of the resistance groups. The Topidian envoy ship had entered the system and was approaching Ferrol. The time for action had come for Bell and his mutant corps.

  Bell's mood changed abruptly. Now he was serious and matter-of-fact. "Wuriu Sengu is to go first. Anne Sloane will follow him as the telekinetic and then André Noir as the hypno. The others will stand by. They'll follow as soon as I send further instructions. Is that clear?"

  He didn't wait for their answer, but stepped into the small wire cage and disappeared almost at once. The mutants followed in the order Bell had indicated.

  More than two hundred rod-shaped Topidian cruisers, with their characteristic bulge around the middle, were lined up in closed ranks at the giant spaceport of Thorta. Their crews were standing at attention in front of their battleships, ready for a final inspection by Trker-Hon, who had been named commander of the Topidian fleet. Shortly afterward, Trker-Hon returned to the Red Palace. Rok-Gor was already waiting for him.

  "Everything's ready for the arrival of the commissioner," announced Trker-Hon. "When's his ship supposed to land?"

  "Any moment now." Rok hesitated slightly before he inquired: "Have there been any further incidents?"

  "None; everything's normal again. Maybe the Ferrons have given up all this nonsense."

  "Not the Ferrons," Rok corrected in an irritated voice, 'the Arkonides! As soon as the commissioner leaves after his investigation, and if all goes smoothly, we're going to annihilate the ninth planet. We must teach these impertinent imperialists a lesson. Where's Chrekt-Orn?"

  "He's waiting at the spaceport."

  "All right then, let's go!"

  Everything had been prepared in the best manner, according to Topidian standards. A platform had been erected directly in front of the crews, and TV cameras and hyper-transmitters had been set up. Rok-Gor was very eager that the Despot - over eight hundred light-years away - should witness his hour of glory. He wanted to convince the ruler how excellent his decision had been to have nominated him, Rok-Gor, as the commander-in-chief of the expeditionary forces. It would be only a question of time now until he'd be promoted to the position of space admiral. That this promotion would mean exile or even death for the unfortunate Chrekt-Orn didn't bother him in the least.

  It wasn't surprising, therefore, that Chrekt-Orn was awaiting the commissioner's arrival with very mixed emotions. André Noir, who "listened in" to Chrekt's thoughts for a while, even felt a little sorry for him. He decided that he needed to be taught a lesson which he wouldn't forget for some time.

  The car stopped. The commander-in-chief and Trker-Hon got out. Rok-Gor used the remaining time for an inspection of the troops. The war had apparently been forgotten; they acted as if no hostilities had ever existed, while ultra-fast scout ships patrolled the space around Ferrol, making sure no unpleasant surprises would disturb the commissioner's visit. The Topides, at least, believed these precautionary measures would do the trick.

  Meanwhile, hidden in the secret chamber, Bell had Sengu give a nonstop report on the events at the spaceport. The seer could watch the scene as if he were present in person.

  "He's about to finish inspecting the troops - what a pompous ass, this new commander! He did nothing to deserve this promotion. He got his post only because we let Chrekt-Orn swing from the chandelier ... The special envoy craft's arriving. What a huge crate, by Topidian standards, of course. It's one of those cigar-shaped ships with a bulging middle. It's landing now. The troops are presenting arms. The entrance hatch is opening. A lizard-man's coming out. wow, what a uniform! I'v
e never seen anything as colorful as that. André, it's your turn now. I can't hear what's being said. You can read their thoughts."

  And André Noir went to work.

  The commissioner and his entourage had stepped onto the platform directly from the ship. The commissioner walked ahead while his men, about twenty Topide officers, kept at a respectful distance to show the honor that was due him. Inside the vessel, the hyper-transmitters were busy sending an instantaneous account of what was happening here. This way the men on Topid became an eyewitness to the galactic event.

  Rok-Gor marched stiffly toward the commissioner, who was waiting for him to come close. Rok-Gor saluted. "Welcome to the Despot's envoy on the conquered eighth planet of the Vega system. The situation here on Ferrol is calm, our forces are superior and the final defeat of the enemy is at hand."

  The commissioner came immediately to the point. "How about the inexcusable blunder we've heard about? Chrekt-Orn, what have you to say in your defense?"

  The former commander-in-chief had kept humbly in the background. He stepped to the fore now, conscience-stricken. His black lizard eyes looked sad and frightened. "We're fighting not only against the local Ferrons," he said, "but also against the hated Arkonides. They've already established themselves in this part of the universe, as could be expected after having intercepted the distress signal. Their superior fighting forces and weapons ..."

  "Superior?" shouted the commissioner, and threw a questioning glance at Rok-Gor. "I was just told that this campaign has practically been won."

  André Noir took over the helpless Chrekt-Orn. "It has hardly begun," Chrekt croaked firmly. "Rok-Gor hides from you all the difficulties which he can't handle. Topides have come under magic spells, lifeless objects begin floating and flying through the air, our commanders are losing control over their battleships, they start shooting at our own cruisers, our officers seem to be losing their minds, they are totally confused ..."

  "Lies, nothing but lies!" Rok-Gor yelled, full of fury. "Chrekt-Orn wants to cover up for his own inefficiency. we're not dealing with any supernatural enemy forces!"

  "True, the opponents are quite normal beings, nothing supernatural about them. They're simply superior to us. In my humble opinion, it would be advisable to leave this system a once."

  The commissioner listened attentively. He felt alarmed at this war of words. "Why all these different explanations? what's really been going on here?"

  "A great deal" Chrekt cried out. "Mutiny among the officers ..."

  "They were properly punished!" Rok-Gor interrupted. "These things will happen occasionally. And there's no reason why we should break off our victorious campaign."

  "The Arkonides have come to the aid of the Ferrons, Commissioner. They have new weapons that can take over the minds of other creatures. They can even seize control of our cruisers this way."

  A voice came over the loudspeakers of the Topide envoy ship. "This is the Despot speaking! I demand an immediate explanation of what's happened on Ferrol! Whoever the enemy may be, he must be defeated. And if Rok-Gor isn't capable of doing so, I'll simply have to replace him with a better man. Where's Trker-Hon?"

  "Down with the Despot!" shouted the new commander of the Topidian battle fleet. "Down with his commissioner!"

  "What did you say?" screamed the outraged commissioner. He cocked his head to one side, trying to understand. He couldn't believe his ears. Trker-Hon came closer.

  "You heard me right the first time! I said, down with the tyranny of the Despot. We have no business being here. The Ferrons haven't done any harm to us. Down with the commissioner! We don't need any spies and informers here!"

  The tall lizard on the platform was gasping for air. He signaled with his left clawed hand. Rayguns flashed as his companions drew their arms lightning fast from their holsters.

  "Mutiny! We have a mutiny on our hands, Despot!" the commissioner announced. "What are your orders?"

  "Death for all mutineers!" commanded the Despot from over eight hundred light-years away.

  Rok-Gor suddenly drew his raygun. He pointed it at the commissioner and pulled the trigger. The highest dignitary of the Despot died instantly. His companions froze in horror, but a moment later they opened fire and killed Rok-Gor on the spot. Then they withdrew hastily to the safety of their ship.

  Once more the Despot's voice came over the loudspeakers. "Chrekt-Orn, report back to Topid as soon as you've brought the campaign to a glorious end. And if you should send me a message of defeat of our own forces, this will seal your death warrant. In case you should try to avoid just punishment and fail to return to Topid, you can rest assured that my men will find you. They'll pursue you to the farthest comers of the universe. You as well as your officers."

  The voice over the loudspeaker broke off. The big ship trembled, and lifted off. It raced up into the skies with unbelievable speed, and soon disappeared from view. A few seconds later a deadly silence covered the spaceport. Then suddenly, Trker-Hon began to shout at the top of his voice: "Long live our Despot! Long live our glorious Despot! May he reign forever!"

  Cruiser Number Thirty-seven rose gently from the ground, ascended vertically, looped the loop and peppered the parade ground with a broadside of neutron beams. The lizards fell to the ground, seeking cover. Trker-Hon yelled hysterical commands, ordering an officer to take up a fighter plane, pursue the cruiser and arrest its crew. He was horrified to discover that the cruiser had started without any men on board.

  Trker-Hon realized that his entire fleet might take off any moment the same as Cruiser Number Thirty-seven had done. He knew now that the Ferrons had become invincible with the aid of the Arkonides.

  "All men aboard! Into the cruisers!" he screamed, terrified. "We're leaving Ferrol this instant! Stand by for further instructions!"

  Back in the secret chamber of the Red Palace, André Noir listened to Trker-Hon's final commands with satisfaction.

  "That's his own decision," he said to Bell. "I didn't suggest this order to him. I hope they've finally come to their senses. And as Sengu can see, Chrekt-Orn doesn't put up any opposition to these commands. On the contrary. He's in favor of instant flight. I think we've gotten rid of those lizards. Anne, how about a final demonstration?"

  The young girl seized Sengu's arm. "I'll have a look at the scene out there," she said. Bell was seized by a feverish lighting mood. What wouldn't he have given to be right on the scene! But worse still, he couldn't 'see" like the mutants what was going on. But then he remembered: the Red Palace must be free now of enemy forces. He could simply take the elevator and ride up to the roof and observe everything from up there with his own eyes.

  "Wait a couple of minutes, Anne, then have the lizards execute some fine military drills high up in the air!" Bell stormed out of the secret chamber and raced along the corridors. His friends could hear his hurried steps grow more and more distant.

  "He's a daredevil, taking unnecessary risks," growled André. Then he concentrated again on his mental observations. "What's happening now, Sengu?"

  "Orderly retreat," replied the Japanese. "Seems, though, that they're leaving most of their equipment in Thorta. Maybe they'll want to pick it up later on."

  "I'll cure them of that notion right away," promised Anne. She waited for two minutes, then Sengu reported that Bell had made his way safely up to the roof and was standing there looking over to the spaceport. Only then did the young girl start to concentrate with an intensity she had never achieved before.

  "I think the lizards will never return to Ferrol to get the rest of their equipment," said Perry Rhodan to the Thort. "Bell and his mutant corps have taught them a fine lesson and frightened them out of their wits. They won't ever forget that, I'm sure. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd leave the Vega sector for good."

  Thora, who'd taken part in the conversation, as well as Khrest, shook her head. "The electronic brain's predicted with a probability of ninety-nine percent that the Topides will not leave this system. You know wh
at fate awaits them on Topid. Chrekt-Orn and Trker-Hon will search for some uninhabited planet and settle there rather than face their Despot. The brain's assumptions agree with our own first-hand experiences in our dealings with the lizard race. It behooves us not to let them out of our sight."

  Bell, who'd just arrived from Thorta, shrugged his shoulders.

  "They've had it for good. You should've seen how our little Anne had the fleet dance in the air, all in rhythm. "What a sight; the flagship was waltzing around with a patrol cruiser."

  "They prefer ghosts to death," replied Thora. "Especially if the ghosts like to fool around."

  "I gave them a good run for their money! " Bell protested. "I wasn't too soft on them."

  "We must admit that you've victoriously brought an end to an interplanetary conflict, which really should be called an interstellar one, with a minimal loss of life. Rok-Gor and the commissioner paid with their lives, and one ship was lost. You were very merciful indeed!"

  "I was the one who ordered Bell to use these tactics," Rhodan defended his friend. "Deringhouse and his squadron fighters are following the fleeing enemy to observe their movements. I expect to hear from him at any moment. According to his latest report the three hundred seventy Topidian vessels have already crossed the orbit of the thirty-eighth planet."

  "They seem to be fleeing, indeed," Thora expressed her bewilderment, "Could the electronic brain be so wrong about that?"

  Rhodan didn't answer. He didn't believe either that the electronic brain might be making a mistake. What was it, then, that the Topides were planning, knowing full well that they didn't have a ... ghost ... of a chance in this sector of the universe?

  5/ THE INFINITY BOX

  Forty-two planets were revolving around the bluish Vega sun. The outermost planets were ice worlds, totally devoid of life. The sun was too distant for its warming rays to have reached the lonely wanderers.

  One of the disadvantaged members of the Vegan solar system, the fortieth planet, was circled by six moons that showed no phases and remained forever dark. These moons were the size of small to medium planets in reality. They weren't different in any respect from the huge world whose gravitational pull made them its constantly swirling prisoners.