by Perry Rhodan
"Sure we are, but only because for a long time already we have rebelled against the Arkonide masters. It's just that we resorted to passive resistance, and not to force of arms. I regard the high commissioner simply as a relic from the past that must be removed."
"You want to kill him?" said Daros, horrified. "If necessary - yes. He controls the only radio communication we have with Arkon. If we interrupt it, he has no chance to warn the Arkonides. You see, I've thought of everything already."
Daros cocked his head. "You know that I don't share your ideas. Why do you confide your plans to me?"
The Lord of Tuglan smiled coldly. "I have no son, brother, and someday you'll succeed me: as a ruler. I want you to be a wise ruler. You should know the reasons for my actions in the future. In reality, you're to be envied. I shall free Tuglan; you, however, will be able to someday reign over a free race."
Daros shook his head; he did not return his brother's smile. "These are nothing but empty words, Alban. You can't free a people that is already enjoying freedom! Do you want to force us to become any happier than we are already? Don't we live in peace and prosperity? what improvements could your so-called freedom contribute to our present state of happiness?"
Alban's smile vanished. "This freedom I want is a symbol, that's all. Nothing would be changed in our external situation, I agree. But just the feeling alone, not to have to obey anyone - well, just the very idea to be free..."
Daros rose to his feet. His dark eyes stared it his brother. A sharp line had appeared around the corners of his mouth. "I don't share your opinions, Alban. You're the Lord, and the power over the realm of the eight planets rests in your hands. You must make the decisions. But I'm warning you: don't count on my support in this game. I would light alongside you if I could see any sense in all of this. But this way - no, I'm sorry."
Alban did not look at his younger brother. His eyes flamed angrily as he stared into a corner of the room. He spoke very softly. "It might prove to be dangerous if you oppose me, brother."
Daros smiled gently. "Is that meant to be a threat? Who says I'm opposing you? I just don't agree with your plans, that's all. If you think I'd go to the high commissioner and betray your plans to him, you're mistaken. On the other hand, you're wrong to assume he won't find out about it. The Tuglanians are happy with their fare and aren't at all interested in becoming involved in a war that spells disaster."
"We'll win this war."
"What's the difference? Wars never bring luck to anyone, not even to the victors."
"What nonsense!"
Daros impulsively stepped closer to his brother and grasped his hand. "Alban, please be reasonable. Even if you should succeed in removing the Arkonide commissioner, you won't feel really free. Arkon's very far away from here, that's true. But one of these days Arkon will learn of our open rebellion. They'll send a punitive expedition - I prefer not to think what might happen to us in that case."
Alban smiled again. "There you are, Daros. Could we be called a free people if we're threatened with extinction? This threat hangs forever over our heads."
Daros pulled his hand back. "You don't understand me - or perhaps you don't want to understand me."
Daros left the room, his head held high with pride.
Alban stared after him, a grim expression shrouding his eyes. The high commissioner was a typical Arkonide. To judge by his looks alone, one could have mistaken him for Khrest, but in reality he was even far more degenerate. He was incurably ill; he suffered from leukemia. Although a very intelligent person, he still was mentally and physically lazy. He did not take his duties any too seriously and limited his activities to occasional routine reports which he sent to Arkon. They always contained the same message: Everything is fine in the system of the Laton sun.
He almost never received a reply.
Even today's visit failed to rouse him from his usual lethargy. The young Tuglanian had asked to see him, claiming to bring an important message. The high commissioner received the visitor with a great deal of reluctance.
"You're very late. I was just about to finish up here for today."
The Tuglanian slumped into a seat. He looked utterly exhausted. "You wanted to finish up for today? Unless you watch out, they'll soon finish you for good! Be careful!"
The Arkonide leaned forward in his chair. His searching eyes examined the visitor. The high forehead below the white hair was smooth and without a wrinkle. Commissioner Rathon was old and yet young-looking. And despite his mental sluggishness he was a very clever person. But he was also suffering from the hereditary defect of the Arkonides: He was overbearing.
"You're talking nonsense!" he interrupted the Tuglanian. "Who would dare attack the high commissioner of the Galactic Empire? He would incur the wrath of a power that could destroy this solar system within a few seconds. Oh, why should I even get upset about such idiocies? My time's too precious, especially my leisure time. Good-bye!"
The Tuglanian remained seated. "You think too highly of yourself and not enough of us. That's your national disease. If I'm willing to help you, it isn't because of your beautiful red eyes but only because of my love for my own people. I don't want war to break out between our two nations. Is that clear?"
"Why should it come to a war between us?"
"If you should be killed, then war will be inevitable," the unknown visitor said brutally. "And you can be sure you'll be murdered!"
Rathon began to feel uneasy. "I'm the ambassador and special representative of the realm of the Arkonides, young man. Whoever attacks me, also attacks the Galactic Empire. Those who harbor such thoughts must also think at the same time of the destruction of Tuglan and its colonial planets. Who could be that stupid?"
"Someone is foolish enough!"
"Who?"
"The great Lord of Tuglan."
It was very quiet in the room. Rathon sat motionless at his desk and kept staring at his visitor. Rathon was concentrating and thinking. The incredible news he had just heard seemed to have jarred him out of his habitual calm. But deep inside he resisted the notion that his tranquil existence might come to an end through such an extraordinary event. Life was too pleasant and enjoyable to have to undergo any changes.
"Well," he said finally. "The great Lord of Tuglan. Do you have any proof for your claim?"
The Tuglanian shook his head. "There's never any proof positive for rumors, Rathon. I have a friend who works in Alban's palace and is the source of my information. It's rumored the Lord intends to disrupt any communication with Arkon."
"Idle talk!" Rathon's voice was filled with scorn. "I shall find out for myself that there's no truth and substance to this gossip. Tomorrow I'll go and see Lord Alban and ask him in person."
The young Tuglanian leaped to his feet in alarm. "No, Rathon! You can't do that! Not under any circumstances! Do you know what would happen to me and my friend if the Lord should learn of this betrayal?,
"If you've spoken the truth you'll be under my protection," reassured the commissioner.
"Provided your protection will still be worth anything by that time," muttered the visitor, and walked to the door. There he turned around once more. "I implore you not to go to the Lord. Just wait and be on your guard, that's the best advice I can give you. Your life will be in great danger if you should alert Lord Alban."
Commissioner Rathon waited until the door closed. Then he pressed a hidden button under the top of his desk. A videoscreen lit up on the opposite wall. The face of a man became visible. He was a Tuglanian, dark-haired and young. There was humble expectation in his eyes.
"Ror, come to my office. I have some work for you."
2/ ...AND ROBOTS
Three robots tended the hyperwave broadcast station of the Arkonides on Tuglan.
The station was located in a geodesic dome on the outskirts of the capital. The building was surrounded by a high wall that provided more decoration than protection. For thousands of years it had never occurred to anybody to enter th
e area of the station.
A wireless energy line connected the broadcast station with the headquarters of the high commissioner. Rathon could obtain direct contact with Arkon, thousands of light-years away.
The three robots represented a top product of Arkonide electronics. They were equipped with mechanically working memory storage banks and were powered by a never-failing atomic battery. Their external appearance was that of a typical Arkonide, except for their metallic skin which gave away that they were nothing but machines.
They could execute all necessary manipulations with their right hand, to which they would attach any tools a particular job required.
Their left hand served exclusively as a weapon. The built-in pulse-ray gun was so powerful that it could destroy any enemy or attacker at a great distance. As long as these three robots had existed, they had never encountered any situation which would have necessitated the use of this weapon. The built-in locking device, which prevented any misuse by force, had never been broken so far. Their electronic brains had never had to draw the logical conclusion that these ultimate weapons ought to be used. Until now the robots had been merely peaceful workers and silent guards.
Until this day. The two shadowy figures stopped before the wall. The giant blue sun had long since set in the sky and the silvery starry night had replaced the dusk.
"That's the place," whispered one of the Tuglanians almost inaudibly. "Do you think the robots will give us any trouble?"
"Why should they?" whispered the other Tuglanian. "They don't know what we plan to do. And besides, I don't believe they would attack Tuglanians. That's never happened before."
"Nobody's ever come here intending to blow up the station," replied the first man. "But the great Lord is right: only if the communication with Arkon is cut can we obtain our freedom."
"I don't understand too much about politics. I've always felt free and I can't imagine what greater freedom would be possible. But I'm sure the great Lord knows what he's doing."
"Shh! I heard a noise behind the wall." Both men remained quiet, but they heard nothing more.
"The wall isn't too high. I checked it out yesterday and I found a good spot where we can climb over it. The rest shouldn't present much difficulty."
They crept along the wall, the hand of the one Tuglanian searching along the masonry until he found some molding jutting out. He stopped suddenly. "I've found it. I'll climb up first and then you follow me. Set the timer of the bomb for five minutes!"
"All set."
"Okay. Watch it!"
The Tuglanian's shadow was sharply outlined against the star-studded sky as he sat astride the wall. He helped his companion up to the top of the wall. Then they waited and listened for any noises coming from the garden. Nothing stirred. The roof of the cupola shimmered like silver in the light of the stars. At the highest point in the middle of the roof, they could see an antenna with a golden-colored sphere at its end, pointing into the nocturnal sky. That was all that was visible of the extensive installation.
"Where are we going to place the bomb?" whispered the Tuglanian who had been last to climb the wall. "The roof's supposed to be made of an indestructible alloy."
"Yes, it's made of Arkonite. We'll plant the bomb inside the station, of course."
Why so complicated? I'm convinced we could have vaporized the entire building with a halfway functioning ray cannon."
"Oh, you fool!" exclaimed his companion furiously. "It's supposed to look like an accident. Or maybe that the primitive inhabitants of Planet Thirteen carried out this attack. We mustn't be suspected at all."
The first Tuglanian noticed some movement close to the geodesic dome. He ducked down and pulled the other down onto the top of the wall. "Let's get down into the garden! The robots are on the alert. I don't know what will happen if they discover us inside their territory."
They jumped off the wall. The soft ground muffled the impact. They crouched on the ground for a long time, watching the building. But there was no more movement there. All remained quiet.
Inside the dome, the three robots stood in front of the videoscreens. Impulse currents flowed through their brains and made contacts in the relays. Previously unneeded areas were activated. For the first time in thousands of years an alarm was given. The built-in loudspeaker came alive.
"Somebody has intruded in our garden," Number Two stated calmly. Number One nodded his head, an almost human-like reaction. The Arkonides had been clever and had purposely endowed their robots with emotions.
"Two Tuglanians, if the seeker speaks the truth. What do they want here? The thought-receiver gives no information."
The third robot depressed several buttons, pulled some levers and stared at a small videoscreen which quickly filled with some abstract patterns. They whirled about in total chaos until they apparently presented an orderly picture. The robot absorbed the images and then said with his metallic voice:
"Their telepathic emanations are indistinct. As far as I can make out, they do not come as friends. Unfortunately their thought impulses are too weak. It will be difficult to find out what their plans are. But in any case they do not mean well."
Robot Number One glanced at his left arm. Number Two observed this glance and shook his head.
"There is no immediate danger, Number One. I will go out and ask the two Tuglanians what they want from us."
"That would be wrong," protested Number One. This was a demonstration of a new trend among Arkonide scientists. They constructed their robots not all according to one and the same scheme but gave them their own identities and individual thought processes. They had even identified them further by giving the robots numerical designations. Robots of the same type could therefore have different opinions. "Go to the door and observe them, but do not let them see you. This way, perhaps, we have a better chance of finding out why they came here."
RN2 disappeared.
On one of the screens the garden and its environs could be seen. The searching infrared rays conjured up a lifelike image on the ground glass screen. Even the faces of the two Tuglanians could be clearly distinguished.
They talked to each other and now one of them pointed toward the geodesic dome. Then both jumped down into the garden and hid behind some bushes.
"They have seen Number Two," said RN3 calmly. "Too bad."
"Why is that too bad?" wondered RN1. "On the contrary. They have given themselves away with this reaction. They do not intend to pay us a polite visit. That becomes evident from various factors. Firstly, they come at night and climb secretly over the wall. Their bad intentions are demonstrated, secondly, by the fact that they try to hide from Number Two. Now we know at least where we stand."
"And what are we going to do?" The eyes of RN1 seemed to glitter still more icily than before. There was a cold fire in his crystal lenses. "What does logic tell you!"
RN3 snapped back immediately: "Defense!" The two Tuglanians crouched waiting in the bushes for ten minutes. Then their patience came to an end. "It was nothing," whispered the politically inexperienced man to his comrade. "We were mistaken."
"I'm not so sure," doubted the second man, but then he shook his head. "Well, in any case, we can't afford to wait any longer. The robots cannot possibly know what we have in mind. Regardless whether they've spotted us or not, we must carry out the orders of the great Lord. I'll go first; you follow me. And have the bomb ready."
The two conspirators reached the building. They still did not see any suspicious movements, for RN2 had long since returned inside the station and locked the door. He reported: "I am convinced they harbor no good intentions. We should ask them about it, Number One."
"Maybe you are right," the robot leader agreed. "Unless we do something, they will remain outside and we will never learn what they wanted from us. Since nobody can penetrate the cupola, we have to open the door. So - go ahead!"
The two Tuglanians were still waiting. One of them lingered the time bomb nervously. He seemed not to know wha
t to do with it. It was quite a shock when suddenly part of the curved wall slid aside. A robot stood in the opening.
The two Tuglanians were so scared to death that they could not move. The robot addressed them in the Tuglanian language. "Why have you come here? Do you not know that it is forbidden to trespass on this station?" The politically slightly more talented of the two conspirators regained his composure. He tried a friendly smile. "We came to warn you," he said. "They're planning an attack on the radio station of the high commissioner."
In vain, RN2 tried to probe the thought streams of the two Tuglanians, but they were too weak to release the necessary impulses. "Who?" the robot asked distrustfully.
"A secret organization that rebels against the empire. The great Lord found out about it and asked us to warn you."
"Why do you not go to Rathon? Why do you come to us, and in the middle of the night?"
"Nobody's supposed to find out about our visit."
That sounded logical enough. RN2 pondered for a while. Behind him sounded the voice of RN1: "What do they want?"
"They have come to warn us of a plot against us and the station!"
"Then bring them inside."
The Tuglanian secretly pushed down on the button of the timing device. The firing mechanism started up in the bomb he was carrying hidden inside his pocket. Five minutes remained to deposit the bomb and then to escape to safety.
RN3 greeted his colleagues and the visitors with silence. The robot recognized a change in the colorful patterns on the thought-image videoscreen. This could lead to some interesting conclusions. He decided to be on his guard and to continue observing the Tuglanians.
In the meantime, the conspirator carrying the bomb in his pocket looked around feverishly for a place where he could deposit it. Five minutes could be a very long time - under certain circumstances. When you had to consider your own safety, however, live minutes were much too short.
RN2 walked behind his visitor, while RN1 led the way. He was filled with doubts. He did not know what to think of this visit. If it were true that the Lord of the Tuglanians had discovered the imminent attack on the Arkonide radio station, it would have been normal procedure to directly warn the high commissioner of Arkon. Instead, he sent two men to the station to warn the robots. That was not logical. There was something suspicious about the whole affair.
