by Perry Rhodan
Bell turned his head. "And … ?"
Rhodan's lips formed a thin line. With a significant glance he looked at his watch. "We shouldn't expect miracles even from the products of a far superior technology. Clear thinking people with coolly reasoning brains can figure out that any mechanism might eventually fail." He laughed briefly in resignation, "that's exactly what is going to happen here. Unless there is still something else!"
Bell searched along the western perimeter of the encircling enemy positions. The delicate infrared radar equipment let them see even the glowing cigarettes of the Asiatic soldiers. On the screen a three-dimensional ring of widely dispersed flickering dots became visible. It was strange.
Bell did not fail to register Rhodan's short laugh correctly. Bell's pale face lost even more of its color, while his eyes were questioning.
"Unless there is still something else," repeated the commander, lost in thoughts. "They'll keep up this bombardment for hours. They are hoping for a collapse of our energy screen, but they are certain that our nerves won't hold out much longer. The only person who could understand the functioning of the reactor and who could regulate it again is Khrest. But he is deeply unconscious. This state might continue without endangering his health, but it certainly endangers all our lives! It will probably cost our lives! In case the reactor quits, whether it dies down quietly or explodes violently, we are lost. We are close to capitulating, do you understand?"
Bell kept staring at his radar screen. A new shockwave from the desert ground made the hanging lamps sway wildly. The shadows on the walls of the tent assumed horrifying distorted shapes. Beyond the partition both physicians seemed to jerk violently under the impact.
Bell looked up briefly from his screen and glanced toward the Sickbay. Khrest's shadow was etched sharply on the dividing wall. Still motionless, he was resting on his couch. Several of the medical robot instruments of the Arkonides had been rendered unserviceable. They had obviously not been designed for extreme conditions. Now the physicians were forced to carry out the intermittent examinations of blood pressure, heartbeat and respiration personally. This was a demanding job, made especially difficult while dealing with an unknown organism.
"Yes, I do understand," Bell answered. "Khrest must wake up. I see no other way out." He grinned with a sly grimace. "Or call Thora. Your latest appeal to reason had no effect on her, though! Maybe it will finally sink in that things are getting serious here."
"The same thought has occurred to me, too," Rhodan replied slowly. His hand grasped the plug, and a fixed smile played around his lips.
"There is something still the matter, my friend! That fabulous Arkonide sender gave out just a couple of minutes ago. We are cut off. Would you like to try to repair it?"
Reginald Bell froze. The pallor of his face revealed all— he realized that their wonderful experiment was just about to fail miserably. But he caught himself quickly. Without a trace of panic he remarked, "That was to be expected. They unload tens of thousands of tons of explosives on our energy bell. In all likelihood they are also trying to detonate subterranean charges outside our area. They must intend to drive us insane with these artificially induced earthquakes. Okay, the set no longer functions. When will Thora notice it?"
"At her next daily communication. It's due at 8 A.M. If we fail to reply to her call, she will act."
Bell swallowed hard and painfully. The lean face of his former commanding officer had changed into a rigid mask.
"What do you mean by that?" inquired Bell hastily.
"What?" Rhodan turned the volume down on his loudspeaker. Bell's strong voice had blasted painfully against his eardrums.
"Despite the fact that we were upgraded by the scientist Khrest to class D of the intelligent galactic life forms, she still refuses to deal with us on an equal basis. In case we don't reply to her routine check, and as soon as her robot direction finders ascertain that our energy bell is under constant bombardment, she might assume that something has happened to all of us, particularly to Khrest. Then she will abandon all restraint and act exclusively as the commander of a space battleship. She had already been very close to teaching a most painful lesson to mankind. Okay, we'll soon know. How about it—do you want to tackle that repair job of the Arkonide sender?"
Rhodan's hand touched the plug of his walkie-talkie. His gray eyes were alight with a cold gleam. Bell could not help feel that Rhodan was just about to make a decision.
"I'd rather sit down on a red hot stove without the benefit of asbestos trousers."
He squeezed out the words with determination. "What in hell do I understand about that thing! I couldn't even repair the smallest loose connection. I can't even open the metal casing. Our cutting tools won't even make a dent in it. I've tried everything I could think of. But this set has neither screws, clamps nor terminals. It looks as if it were cast out of one solid piece. Of course, it must be possible to get inside that mechanism somehow. Only don't expect me to do it. I just don't know how."
"You are absolutely certain of that?"
Rhodan stated with deliberate slowness, "You realize, don't you, that I shall never expose the human race to the wrath of a woman spaceship commander?"
Bell did not reply. He knew the answer.
"Well, then we are agreed on that."
"You ought to try to search for some way of informing her," Bell blurted out, quite alarmed. "If we surrender, then we should at least see to it that Khrest will first be rescued by her."
"That's exactly what I plan to do," declared Rhodan briefly. "If Khrest has not regained consciousness by 8 A.M. I shall get in touch with her via the main U.S. broadcast station at Nevada Fields. Our own sender is too weak to get through to her. If Allan D. Mercant is smart he will cooperate at once. He should realize that neither he nor others can claim Khrest for themselves. Thora can set free the Arkonide scientist Khrest at any moment she chooses. I'd rather not imagine what our fate would be afterward."
"Please, try it," whispered Bell with agitation. "For God's sake, will you try it!
There is no telling what she might do otherwise."
Rhodan switched off. Bell's desperate voice ceased abruptly. Shortly after 3 A.M. Rhodan cautiously pushed aside the room divider curtains. He saw Khrest's lean face, his high domed forehead bathed in perspiration. He was stretched out motionless on his couch.
Dr. Haggard turned around.
Rhodan quickly established contact via his walkie-talkie. "How is our patient, Doctor? Please, be frank with me. We have come to the end. The reactor has begun to change color in an ominous way. Our radio communication has been interrupted. How is he?"
Haggard obviously belonged to that race of men who do not know the meaning of the word "nervousness." He did not display the slightest excitement. "Some mysterious side effects could have been predicted," he declared calmly. "Khrest reacted favorably to the injections. The serum has done its work; his leukemia has been cured. His circulatory system is absolutely stable, and his heartbeat and pulse rate are normal. His blood count shows no abnormalities of any kind. But I have no idea why he is not coming to."
"He must regain consciousness, he simply must!" urged Rhodan. "By 8 o'clock he must be sufficiently awake to give us some vitally needed information. Unless I answer Thora's daily call, we are in for a major catastrophe.
"Why doesn't she come here with one of her auxiliary vessels?" the physician demanded angrily. "It should be child's play for her to help us in this desperate situation. I find her attitude rather incomprehensible. She entrusts to your care this dangerously ill man and permits him to be taken back to Earth with you. Yet she refuses to do the least thing to help his recovery. That is sheer insanity. If she is so anxious for him to get well again, you'd think she would do everything in her power to make sure of it."
"You fail to recognize the mentality of these people, Doctor," countered Rhodan. His face grew dark. "Thora is under the influence of a strong code of honor and racial prejudice. Her conditi
oning cannot be reversed within a few short weeks. In her opinion we are a very backward race. She neither desires nor is she permitted to take up relations with us. But if she ever does so, it may come in the form of a very painful lesson that might turn into horrible punishment if mankind ever dared to offend her exaggerated self-image as a member of the ruling galactic nation. Please try to understand her attitude from a purely psychological point of view."
"She ought to replace her education and arrogance with some logic," insisted Haggard. "If I found myself in a critical situation I would grasp at any straw."
"This is exactly what she did, when she entrusted Khrest to our care. She has foiled an atomic war and has created a volcano in the Sahara desert. The only reason for these actions was to ensure a safe stay on Earth for Khrest."
"Then she did not intervene out of concern for humanity's survival?"
"Not exclusively. We should not expect any miracles or heroic and benevolent deeds from her. Whatever we receive from the Arkonides in the form of knowledge and material goods will have to be paid for eventually. Thora has already committed acts that conflict with her own convictions. She has placed her confidence in us and done something forbidden by her honor code. Of course, she acted in an emergency. Her spaceship is unable to start. Her degenerate crew is incapable of repairing the damage. They simply neglected to take along any spare parts because of criminal frivolity. This race is at the end of its existence. Khrest, the last outstanding mind, is severely ill. Should he die or be harmed by any human being, Thora will regard our world and its inhabitants as sublevel forms of intelligent life. In her cold rage mostly fostered by her terribly offended self-confidence, she will start thinking about this human species. She will look upon us in the manner of a scientist who contemplates the fate of a beautiful but expendable guinea pig. She will deliberate on our future in a cold, logical, essentially prejudiced manner, which from out point of view appears to be unjust. I will not let it get to that point, Doctor! I have started this enterprise motivated by the desire to unite mankind in order to see it grow strong and happy. I shall not risk humanity's survival by insulting a representative of a superpowerful alien race. Did I make myself clear, Dr. Haggard?"
Rhodan's eyes seemed to consist of broken pieces of ice. Suddenly Haggard became aware of the suggestive power radiating from the icy stare of this tall, lean man.
"What are your plans, Major?"
"Don't call me that. I have been stripped of my rank and dishonorably expelled from the space force. I shall try to save whatever is salvageable. If Khrest is not conscious by 8 o'clock, to help us reestablish radio communication, then I shall surrender. At least I know that lever that switches off the Arkonide reactor. That's at least something, isn't it!"
He let out a bitter laugh. Haggard looked at him thoughtfully. Rhodan continued with emphasis, "Doctor Haggard, Thora has excellent televisors. If the radio communication will not work, then she will have us at once under visual observation with these superior instruments. If the intense barrage should still continue, she would consider us to be in danger, or perhaps even dead. Then the world would experience the most horrible fate. I shall see to it that the bombardment ceases at 8 o'clock sharp. That is our last chance to forestall any rash acts by this impulsive woman. Only in the greatest of emergencies will she send a rescue craft down to our planet. By setting up this situation, I still risk that she will make some mistake, despite the cease fire.
My plan is a compromise situation. It would be infinitely preferable if you could rouse Khrest before 8 o'clock. Our sender can be only slightly damaged. He will manage to reestablish contact with Thora. Try all that is humanly possible, Doctor. My second alternative is sheer desperation. I am convinced that Chinese will abruptly stop the bombardment after my radio appeal to them. But can we be as sure of Thora's reactions?"
Rhodan shrugged his shoulders. Haggard averted his glance. He could not bear to look into Rhodan's strangely glittering eyes.
"What do you want me to do?" stammered the physician.
"Not much. Since you diagnosed Khrest's circulatory system as unusually stable, just inject some stimulating drugs. You brought them along for such an eventuality, didn't you? Wake him up!"
Haggard hesitated. "I might risk everything this way. Do you realize that?"
"You won't risk any more than you already have. If he could withstand the anti-leukemia serum, then his organism will also manage to deal with stimulants. Activate his body. It must be possible to awaken him from this deep leaden sleep."
"I'll give him a shot of the same strength that can be tolerated by the average human being without harm," stated Dr. Haggard resolutely. "But not any stronger, not even a microgram more!"
"That will do fine," consented Rhodan. Suddenly his face became distorted. His hand whipped down to his holster and jerked out his gun while he spun his body with lightning speed.
All ready for action, he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at a can of beans that had hit him hard between his shoulder blades. Up front, hardly visible in the feeble glow of the radar screens, stood Bell, waving and shouting excitedly. Rhodan vaulted over Khrest's couch. A few wide jumps brought him close to Bell. The plugs slid into place as if by themselves. The wild roar of the engineer became painfully audible in Rhodan's earphones.
"You seem to have protective padding on your back, too!" shouted the heavyset man. "That was the third can, my friend." His index finger stabbed wildly towards the radar screen. "Three small bodies, close to the ground, at a speed of eighteen to twenty miles per hour. Probably three people. Now they're clearly visible. I am going out of my mind. There are really three men with rotor flying engines!"
There was no doubt any longer. These were three persons, flying just above ground level, tiny rotor blades attached to their backs. They flew in precise formation straight toward the protective energy screen. Reg started up again, "Looks as if they want to run head on into the energy wall. Odd, isn't it?" His excitement had given way to utter amazement. Rhodan had walked over to the Arkonide reactor. Pushing a small lever sufficed, as Khrest had explained some weeks ago, to change the structure of the energy screen, so as to render it permeable for ultrashort radio waves. It had previously permitted passage of Rhodan's own broadcasts, which presented an insolvable mystery for the trained mind of a human engineer. He could not explain it, though he had witnessed it with his own eyes. Rhodan jumped back to the instruments. The big receiver of the Stardust was working now. A red bulb began to glow. The acoustical whistling signal was inaudible. The roaring detonations drowned out everything pitilessly. They switched their portable F speakers over to the powerful receiver. A soft whisper came over the earphones: "Captain Albrecht Klein calling Major Perry Rhodan. Don't shoot! I am coming with two colleagues. You have met me before as Lieutenant Klein, from International Defense. I am broadcasting with minimal strength. Please come to the border of your enclosure. I must talk to you. We are waiting. Don't shoot. No danger."
Rhodan adjusted his instrument so that only Bell remained in contact with him. Without waiting for Rhodan's comment, Bell stated blandly, "Klein? Must have been promoted. Isn't that the guy that you let through the screen so carelessly? He saw Khrest then, didn't he? I don't like him."
"But I do. I'll take one of the trucks. You watch from here. When you hear from me the password 'Armageddon,' open the screen for exactly three seconds right in front of where I am standing, for just about an area of six by nine feet. I have already prepared for the structural change."
"You're crazy! If they use that moment to chase a remote controlled rocket right through the gap, that would mean curtains for all of us. Klein might carry such a gadget hidden on his body. I know these tricks, my dear friend. After all, I remember my days with the intelligence service. I will not open."
His gaze was clear, his eyes hard. But after having looked at Rhodan's mask-like face for a few moments, he lowered his head. "Okay. Password 'Armageddon,' I'll wait for your signal."
Rhodan left, his heavy machine pistol, with the most dangerous microrak missiles, swinging over his shoulder. But far more dangerous was the silvery rod in his hand. The Arkonide psychoradiator was surprisingly effective at short range.
Rhodan was not willing to run any risks.
While outside, the gas turbine of the Chinese truck began running, Captain Reginald Bell stood still rooted to the ground, staring at the spot where Rhodan had just been. He still could feel the bright flicker in his commander's steely eyes. Bell had been absolutely convinced he would foil Rhodan's project. Then he had nodded in agreement, without hesitation. He turned to his instrument panel. He was still pale and shaking. He firmly closed his eyelids, as if to shut out some picture.
The imaginary vision remained. Rhodan's burning glance seemed to have etched itself on his retina. Abruptly he opened his eyes. Reginald Bell was a man with a strong character who could be a daredevil with well defined ambitions. He was a special pilot not giving to feelings of anxiety. But now he was experiencing fear.
He muttered a curse, then started to observe Rhodan, who was racing over the stone strewn desert landscape. Only a few sparse plants could grow there, since the area was too remote from the river with its life giving water. Rhodan drove straight toward the point where the three bodies had touched ground. Bell kept him on course with several short corrections via walkie-talkie. He did so with a monotonous voice while his emotions were raging inside. How was it possible for Rhodan to have caused him to change his mind so quickly?
How … ?
He was still pondering that question, when Rhodan suddenly stopped his car. He was close to the energy wall, and the time was 3:22 A.M. The psychoradiator jerked upward in Rhodan's firm hand. Far over to the other's side there were the blinding fireworks of innumerable explosions, almost as bright as day. Only the three bodies in their dark overalls were discernible. They cowered dose to the ground.
