The Crystal Prince

by K. H. Scheer

  Science Fiction Novel Atlan, Perry Rhodan

  THE CRYSTAL PRINCE

  PROLOG

  IN THE GREATER IMPERIUM of the Arkonides it is the year 10,496 A (for Arkon)-a time corresponding to the Earthly year of 9,003 BC. Thus it is a time in which the inhabitants of the Earth are yet submerged in primitive barbarism, knowing of neither the stars or the great heritage of vanished Lemuria.

  By contrast-and despite the great war against the Maahks-Arkon is in its fullest prime. The present Imperator of this vast domain is Orbanashol III, a man of brutality and cunning who is rumoured to have instigated the death of his brother, Gonozal VII, in order to take over the rulership for himself.

  Even though Orbanashol III has firmly established his dominion, there is one man whom the Emperor of Arkon must fear: Atlan, the rightful heir to the throne. After Gonozal's death, Atlan had disappeared without a trace, along with the former physician to Gonozal VII.

  The young Atlan, who is still unaware of his true origin, is very much alive. While Orbanashol's henchmen stir up the entire galaxy in their relentless search for him, he takes an assumed name and joins more than 300 young candidates from the noblest families of the realm in a final test of manhood and completion. The outcome of this is of the utmost importance to the future course of his life.

  Atlan seeks to win the coveted mark of knighthood for Arkonides, the Ark Summia, which will entitle him to the long-awaited activation of his "extra-brain". He knows no fear, for he is THE CRYSTAL PRINCE…

  THE CRYSTALPRINCE

  by K H Scheer

  A Division of Charter Communications Inc.

  A GROSSET & DUNLAP COMPANY 1120 Avenue of the Americas New York, New York 10036

  THE CRYSTAL PRINCE

  Copyright © 1977 by Ace Books An Ace Book by arrangement with Arthur Moewig Verlag All Rights Reserved

  First Ace Printing: November 1977 Printed in U.S.A.

  ATLAN #4

  1/ THE GUARDIAN REPORTS page *2/ FRATULON'S WARNING page *

  3/ IDENTITY CRISIS page *

  4/ THE TEST BEGINS page *

  5/ THE RIVER OF NO RETURN page *

  6/ THE INNER CIRCLE PLAYS FOR KEEPS! page *

  7/ DEADLINE: SUNDOWN page *

  8/ ARK SUMMIA: KNIGHTHOOD OF ARKON! page *

  9/ AWAKENING AT CRISIS page *

  10/ THE MOMENT OF TRUTH page *

  11/ HIS MAJESTY, GONOZOL VIII! page *

  1/ THE GUARDIAN REPORTS

  …This being the 1132rd positronic notation fed into the secret pulse code of the true Imperator, by reason of critical phase. These archives now protected against unauthorized access by high-explosive destruct mechanism, which is hereby activated.Be it further set forth as follows:

  At the time of his maturity, in the 18th year of his life and corresponding to Arkon calendar year 10497, Atlan was transferred to the Inner Circle.

  After careful deliberation I have decided to send the Crystal Prince to the most significant of the 5 planets available to us for testing and evaluation.

  Justification:

  The operational pattern of the mercenary bounty hunters, the Kralasenes, as well as the modus operandi of their employer, acting Imperator Orbanashol III, provide a psychological basis for concluding that Atlan will have been sought everywhere by now—but for the time being not yet in the proving grounds of the world known as Largamenia.

  Unquestionably the investigations of the search commandos will extend eventually to this principal planet of the 5 possible test worlds but it is hoped that the Crystal Prince will have gained a margin of time against them. Time is of the essence!

  As revealed in my previous secret reports, it has been 14 years (Arkon time) since the personal data pertaining to the then 4-year-old Crystal Prince and heir to the Imperial Throne were rescued just in time from the hands of the secret police and Atlan’s uncle, Orbanashol III. Therefore, during the severe qualification trials on Largamenia, any premature identification of Atlan is also out of the question.

  Tanictrop, as a shining example of Arkonide scientists and a gifted man of both discretion and high personal courage, will henceforth be my assistant. It was Tanictrop’s son, Macolon, who was to have completed his qualifying trials so that he might obtain the coveted Ark Summia but in this his luck did not prevail.

  However, only a few trusted people know of his untimely death, so Atlan is to take over that role, in which his every physical and mental ability will be required to win the Ark Summia. Integral to such an effort is the possibility of activating his extra-brain, which is present in almost every highly trained Arkonide—and which is an incalculable asset for any future ruler!

  Atlan has always been kept uninformed in regard to his actual heritage and his future significance. My oath to his murdered father and my lord has hindered me from making such a revelation. Even though the circumstances of my lofty mission often made this promise appear to be antiquated and no longer applicable, ever since Gonozal’s death I have never broken my word.

  But now the time has come to enlighten the Crystal Prince. However, his impetuous temperament, his profound sensitivity and his deeply rooted inclination to subordinate all other interests to the security and welfare of the stellar empire of the Arkonides—all these considerations impose the need for a very prudent approach to such revelations.In years past it has been difficult to hold the young prince in check. My psychological methods were necessarily variable and seemingly dilettante—but they served their purpose. Atlan’s persistent questions regarding his true origin often brought me to the brink of mental and spiritual exhaustion.

  He is unrelenting with himself and is bright and sincere. My proposal—it’s been about half an Arkon year ago—to announce his candidacy for the final and most difficult qualification tests on Largamenia sent the youngster into a transport of ecstasy. Nevertheless this resulted in his pestering me all the more with his insistent questions. It was very difficult to make the proposition plausible to him that he should make his debut there under an assumed name, that for the time being he was to forget his own identity and represent another Arkonide.

  The Crystal Prince finally agreed under one condition: that after a satisfactory completion of his tests he would be unconditionally informed. To this I acceded and to this extent the time of silence has come to an end.

  However, the task of coordinating the personality and identity factors of the Crystal Prince with those of Macolon proved to be the most difficult undertaking of all, if not almost insurmountable. If it had been possible with the available state of technology to furnish Atlan with Macolon’s brain-wave patterns, the problem might have been resolved as easily as the matter of outward appearances. Inasmuch as all appropriate attempts failed miserably in this regard, I was forced to take the longer and more awkward course of approaching the problem in reverse.

  Before his death, Macolon had been known and loved as an officer of the Arkonide spacefleet. At that time he had been Chief of the 34th Lakan attached to the Tanterym Offensive Task Force. Naturally his dossier data and identity factors were registered in the Fleet’s main positronic data banks as well as in numerous other auxiliary records.

  With the help of my trusted friends, among whom are numerous persons of high influence, I was able to erase Macolon’s actual data and surreptitiously replace them with those of the Crystal Prince. For many of my accomplices it was a venture of life and death—in fact four Arkonides were shot down by the automatic defences of the robot brain that they were forced to manipulate.

  All of us must bear this painful loss as part of the price to be paid for overthrowing the criminal usurper, Orbanashol III. Before this latter adventure may be undertaken, however, Atlan’s final cycle of development must be compl
eted and he must be equipped with the Ark Summia. An Imperator whose extra-brain has not been parapsychologically activated is unthinkable.We are aware of the fact that some Imperators in the past have not satisfied the requirements of these final tests but because of their lofty heritage and heavy positions of responsibility they were excused. In most cases the results were lamentable!

  As a medical expert all I can say is that any Arkonide who has not withstood the qualification tests is not fit to receive the Ark Summia. Well… exceptions were made in the interests of the Greater Imperium. It is not my place to concern myself with the political orientations of my forefathers.

  But Atlan must not fail! I have prepared him accordingly, having given him knowledge of many things and in unobtrusive ways I have provided him with his father’s inheritance. Now events have been brought to the point where the seemingly impossible may be made possible. The Crystal Prince of the Imperium, rightful successor to Imperator Gonozal VII, has arrived in the final testing ground on the world of Largamenia.

  He has already passed the scientific examinations with the effortless ease I had anticipated. However, now begins the testing period of his total person and the quality of his overall personality. And in this there are other standards of measurement.

  I am advocating this course of trial and testing although there is a considerable body of Arkonide opinion that rejects such undertakings as being primitive in their nature. For example the view is held that sword fighting is a bit archaic for space age Arkonides. And there are many similar views as well.

  But I believe that physical stress is neither inappropriate nor primitive. I too was once subjected to such tests. The concept of manly fortitude may be expressed in many ways but experience has taught me that body and mind are a single metal to be tempered in the same fire. The two must be alloyed together in the crucible of experience.

  Now all that remains is to hope that Atlan will perform as expected. I have no concern about his personal capabilities—I only worry about the inscrutable vagaries of fortune! What can happen, for example, if he should meet a man who was very close to Macolon, perhaps a spaceman who might have gone through experiences with Macolon that would only be known to the participants? That’s only one of the many conceivable pitfalls. In my opinion the Crystal Prince is not nearly so much endangered by his forthcoming tests of manhood as he is by the possible vicissitudes of fate.

  But then again, Atlan is prepared for such incidents. That sharp mind of his is apparently capable of mastering even insurmountable situations. He has proved that often enough on the planet of Gortavor.

  Nevertheless I realize now with greater clarity than ever how hard it will be not only to keep a political fugitive alive and well but also to yet guide him on the way to desired results. However much I might wish to fortify the young prince with a full report of his true origin and the sterling qualities of his venerable father, this I cannot do—not yet!So Atlan will have to negotiate the steep path without this—but I will be watching in the background. He must obtain the Ark Summia! There is no way to activate the extra-brain except through prescribed channels. Besides, it would be very damaging to the young man’s self-confidence if he didn’t succeed in achieving the A.S.

  Signed: Fratulon, personal physician and confidant to his Omniscient Highness, Gonozal VII of Arkon. Registered on the l0th day of Tarman in the year 10497 A.

  2/ FRATULON'S WARNING

  Obviously the man approaching us was drunk. I had never seen even Fratulon in such a state of inebriation.He belonged undoubtedly to one of the crews of the Fleet formation which had landed on Largamenia recently with engines almost burned out, their munitions holds emptied by their running battles and their provisioning all but exhausted.

  We had heard reports of this particular unit’s battles and heavy casualties clear from the Persypty sector which lay deep within the zone controlled by the Maahks. So it was not surprising that these men had been permitted certain liberties which normally would be prohibited.

  I watched the big fellow at first with amusement but then testily as he gave signs of being wild and boisterous. His close-fitting ship’s uniform would have given him a striking appearance if it had not been so dirty.

  Beside me was my friend and companion in the examinations, Tirako Gamno. “That one’s really blasting you with that look of his,” he commented. “I think he has a half-conscious notion of giving you a bad time so we’d better get out of here before he tries it.”

  Tall and fragile-seeming in outward appearance, Tirako sighed when I shook my head. “The prospect no doubt fascinates you, right?” he said with a note of warning. “That figures! If you don’t pass the Ark Summia with flying colours you’ll get there by stubbornness alone. But—that’s the proper attitude for such a primitive Arkonide process. It’s abominable! Hadn’t we better get going, after all, my esteemed Macolon?”

  I grinned. Good old Gamno! He was smart, almost too smart, also aesthetic and well equipped with a fine gift of sarcasm—but once more he was fearful of getting into a possible complication.

  It was incomprehensible to me why his father, who was certainly a man of experience, should have falsely evaluated his son’s abilities to this extent. Of course Tirako Gamno had passed the first and second-degree examinations with an overall citation for being “outstanding”, which was better than my own fairly successful performance. All of which had reflected his sharp intelligence and forever unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Now, however, he was to enter his third phase of testing. By the multiple worlds of Arkon, how would he ever fare in that?

  “Come on!” he urged me. “That fellow’s a giant. He’s even taller than you and wider and heavier too! He’s a burly slob—so what’s holding you?”

  “His eyes!” I retorted. “They’re too clear and awake for a drunk. Oh—oh! Here he comes!”The street was old and narrow. Tiftorum was the capital city of Largamenia and as such it could look back on 7,000 years of history. In facts the streets we were in now were a part of the historical sector, as evidenced by the poor and antiquated street lighting. This of course was in sharp contrast to the bright spectrum of brilliant modem lighting surrounding the places of entertainment and the numerous stores and even the fronts of the basement taverns.

  As the stranger came closer I could see that he really was a big, muscular bruiser. His eyes had narrowed and were now not so discernible. Was he trying to conceal their revealing clarity? Fratulon’s teaching had been engraved on my memory: “Don’t trust a stranger if he is either too inconspicuous in his manner or too challenging.”

  Tirako was still trying to convince me of my danger. “He’s the type who’s naturally against anybody in an officer’s uniform—maybe he even hates you. His kind is obvious—rowdies and street fighters. No respect for manners even in public!”

  “Oh I’m on to him alright, “ I agreed, making sure to play the role of Macolon.

  But he wasn’t far from wrong! This space soldier was an Arbtan, which meant fairly high rank among noncoms. As he came to a stop and stood before me he seemed to sway drunkenly. A number of pedestrians slowed their pace to observe us curiously. Although we were obviously being menaced, it would not occur to anyone to come to our assistance. All candidates for the Ark Summia were required to save their own necks. It was an unwritten law.

  The Arbtan surveyed my tailor-made uniform, which was moss green in accordance with Institute regulations. Candidates like ourselves were also marked by insignia in the form of bright red stripes which came over both shoulders and reached almost to our belt buckles.

  Tirako reached for his service weapon.

  “Hands off!” I whispered to him. “Shut up and watch! You can also use this experience!”

  Suddenly the spaceman gripped my left shoulder and his face came close to mine. “Well now, if it ain’t one of the fair-haired laddy boys fresh out of Faehrl—school for the sons of the demigods! Not to mention a baby-sitting outfit for backsliding cheats and fakes!
Has Your Eminence ever smelled the stink of smouldering equipment and burning bodies, hah? Of course not—what would you know about that! But oh he’s wearing the nice red stripes on his shoulders now, isn’t he? All ready for the third phase, right? What happens then?

  Then Your Highness will be set loose over men like me. No practical experience, no feel for a real combat situation but a smart mouth, fine manners—and the Ark Summia. And at the first thunder of battle you’ll go under cover. But at least one thing they’ve taught you at Faehrl is that the Maahks are pretty good shooters. You know what—I think I’ll just knock you around a bit before you become my superior officer. That way I can get off with less time in the brig for messing you up!”

  He guffawed and now also grasped my right shoulder. I was about to put an end to the matter with one of Fratulon’s special leverages but then the thing happened that I had half expected. I knew his eyes were too keen for just a plain drunk. And now I heard him whispering to me: “Message from Fratulon. Danger! Watch for an officer of the Argosso. Name’s Tschetrum, arrived with our outfit. Knows you well. Read the report, study his photo, be guided accordingly.— OK, now throw me!” As he spoke, something dropped into my pocket.Again he spoke loudly and shook me, adding more insults. I shook off the momentary shock of his message and made a lightning move, lifting him off the ground with a special grip. With a yell he flew back and hit the ground so hard that I caught my breath. But I noted the skill behind this burly soldier as he completed a back roll, even though pretending to be hurt. Groaning and cursing he lay there for a moment.

  I figured it was the time and place to strike the appropriate pose. “If I’m not mistaken, Arbtan, a flight patrol is due here any minute from your own combat unit. I don’t believe your commanding officer will want any trouble, do you? I’ll forget your insults. I am Macolon, the last commander of the 34th Lakan, Tanterym Task Force. Now get out of here!”