The Crystal Prince

by K. H. Scheer

  In the past night period on the test planet of Largamenia, Atlan the Crystal Prince of the Arkonide Stellar Empire was forced to overcome an obstacle related to his identity alteration. Unexpectedly a certain Tschetrum, who is an officer of the heavy cruiser Argosso, made an appearance. This occurred as a result of his transfer to Admiral Genomarp’s 904th Attack Group.

  Owing to Atlan’s exposure to discovery during the test period, my most vital task is to monitor any arriving spacemen who might have had a chance to be in close personal contact with Macolon. This precaution has proved to be justified! Tschetrum was discovered by virtue of the surveillance procedure. His experiences with Macolon could be sufficiently reconstructed so that Atlan could at least have time to study the most important phase of their joint missions.

  An Arbtan by the name of Unkehtzu—connected with long-time friends in the Arkonide Fleet—was the one who made the deciding identification of the former 2nd Watch Officer of the Argosso. As a result, Unkehtzu has been listed for a commendation later.

  It came to my notice that the Crystal Prince intended to visit the old centre of Tiftorum—and there was a threat of danger! Based on psychological probability it was anticipated that Atlan would look for the famous street of the Red Arches, and the Arbtan was accordingly sent there with the message. The most important and probably most critical factor in my calculations was the tavern’s proprietor, Morenth, who is a middleman for Sofgart the Blind.

  IF Atlan was going to be confronted with Tschetrum at all, it could only be there! The Arbtan was instructed to forestall any possible manoeuvres the tavern keeper might attempt. He was to watch for Atlan’s expected arrival and immediately make contact with him.

  This plan succeeded. My calculations were correct. It was possible to warn Atlan in time and to inform him concerning Tschetrum. But this risky psychological game was not without its unknown factors. Morenth was not only himself prepared for making the test of identity but was even provided with suitable reinforcements. The Arbtan only got ahead of him by a matter of moments but otherwise Atlan would have been lured into the tavern on some other basis.

  What is vital to my successful operation is the question as to whether Morenth and other middlemen of Blind Sofgart have any specific reason for this special investigation of Atlan. By the time the danger had passed my friends were able to advise me that all aspirants to the 3rd phase—that is, contenders for the Ark Summia—had gone through some strange experiences. That is gratifying to know.It means that Atlan’s case was not extraordinary but rather just one among 342 others. From this it may be deduced that Orbanashol’s hunters are still groping in the dark. Latest reports from the four other test worlds indicate that the candidates there have also been subjected to close scrutiny. They are searching for the Crystal Prince of the Greater Imperium! They know that if he lives and is still reaching for the Throne he is now of an age where he must undergo his final tests. If the enemies of Atlan and myself are reasoning from this point and probably assuming that he is getting the help and support of influential friends so that he can challenge the Throne as the rightful Imperator of Arkon, then the Ark Summia not only becomes a clear indicator for them but plain and simply the key point itself.

  If Atlan is ever discovered it will be at this particular time! And of course the unrightful Imperator is fully aware that the Prince can be dangerous to him after his extra-brain has been successfully activated.

  In consideration of these suppositions it is clear to me that Atlan has never been endangered before as he is now. It is advisable to be constantly alert and on guard.

  4/ THE TEST BEGINS

  I had been accompanied to the locale of the first test by three officers of the Faehrl Commission. They were guarded and monitored by two registration robots. The officers who were highly qualified scientists and technologists with space experience were quite polite and correct. This was all I was permitted to expect from them.Any slightest indication of assistance to me for the solution of problems or tasks ahead would have resulted in severe punishment for them and immediate disqualification for me. So it was useless to ask any leading questions.

  Once more the robots checked the identification strip on my left wrist. It was firmly bound to the tissue itself and was unbreakable. It could not be removed. Even if an accident should cause my body to be mutilated this impulse strip would remain undamaged.

  The robot flashed a violet signal light.

  “Identified and ready for position one,” declared one of the officers. “Hertaso Macolon, will you please step forward?”

  I stepped forward and took a position in front of the three men. The local test leader surveyed me intently. “Do you feel mentally and physically in condition to master the test which lies before you?”

  “Yes, Your Eminence.”

  “Very well. But in spite of the thorough instructions you have been given in the lecture halls of Faehrl, it is my traditional duty to warn you once more. You are risking your physical and mental well being. Is this understood by you as you face the starting mark?”

  “Yes, Your Eminence.”

  “You will be left to your own resources, Hertaso Macolon. Your trained intelligence will already have indicated to you that you must keep your senses alert and that you must not expend your physical reserves prematurely. Are you familiar with the operation of a primitive boat?”

  I glanced across at the small skiff that was waiting for me. It wasn’t even plastic; it was rustically constructed of wood. Outside of two oars in the oarlocks, a strong paddle and a hefty-looking pole that was taller than a man there was no evidence of any other articles of equipment.

  Although this was all that met the eye it did not necessarily mean that I had to reach my goal with the boat. This realization in itself was one of those hints a candidate for the Ark Summia had to perceive. If he were not flexible and quick to adapt, his physical strength and prowess would avail him nothing. Each Hertaso knew by virtue of countless instructions that these tests were not for courage and agility alone. Success would depend on a total coordination of all available factors of ability. Thus it was possible that an apparently insurmountable problem or obstacle could be easily eliminated or resolved through a timely recognition of other circumstances and conditions.

  The basic axiom behind all such instructions was: “Never forget to use your intelligence and powers of discernment! The extreme conditions you will encounter during your forthcoming trials will only become hopeless if you simply rely on muscular power or primitive tricks you may have picked up in the course of your own previous experience.”I had no intention of surmounting the forthcoming trial by any such means. I knew there had to be better alternatives. Certainly the rowboat was a factor in the game. And reaching the goal was another. But how that was to be achieved was not specifically stipulated.

  The test leader for this trial arena read the rules aloud once more. He concluded with: “Your time extends until sundown. Atmospheric pressure and oxygen content here are 35% below normal. This means, of course, that your physical exertions will drain your reserve staying power more rapidly. You may utilize any means you may deem suitable against obstacles or dangers you will encounter. You may fight any and all creatures you meet, according to your own judgment. You are to proceed as if you had made an emergency landing on an alien world—in other words, you are acting in the interests of the Greater Imperium. Any consideration, pity or reservation of any kind will be mutually inappropriate. All conditions of an involuntary landing in enemy territory will be simulated. You are without weapons and are only provided with a regulation flight suit. Your destination is a secret supply depot of the Fleet. If you fail to reach it, it means that in the actual situation you would be lost.”

  “I understand, Eminence.”

  “That is to be expected. Remember that your life and health are of secondary importance. Reaching the depot is not only in the interests of self-preservation; above all your mission is to deliver strategically vita
l information. You must assume that fleet units in space are dependent upon your information and you are to act accordingly.”

  “My life is for Arkon, Your Eminence!”

  This ended the prescribed formalities. The paltry indications that had been given me seemed to make the situation clear enough. I was to act and think as I would if I were on an alien world that was occupied by an enemy. However that did not mean that I had to give preference to the use of force in all of its various applications. The test trials of the Third Phase were many-faceted. But then again it went without saying that a prospective Fleet officer, among other things, would certainly know how to make ample use of his highly trained body.

  Much more important was the question of how he would use his intelligence. As a result of our many years of combat operations against the Maahks, we knew it was often a better alternative to negotiate with neutral alien races rather than try to convert them by force into dubious friends and allies. It was said of Arkonides that they were conquerors, hard and unrelenting, and this was largely justified. We did not hesitate very much where the prize of success was involved. Other peoples were variously motivated, perhaps, but these rigorous measures on our part were simply representative of the Arkonide mentality. Still, when occasion demanded we could also be shrewd psychologists.

  Naturally the Inner Circle, composed of the highest officials of the Testing Commission, were inclined to test all Ark Summia applicants according to guidelines that not all Fleet commanders and politicians knew how to deal with. In recent times it had become desirable that the forces of leadership in all professional disciplines should be proficient in alien race psychology.

  * * * *

  At some distance in front of me near the towering cliff wall the big transport glider took off. With it went not only the three test officers but also the two monitor robots. To all appearances I was alone—alone in a synthetically altered environment beneath an energy dome of visibly broad dimensions.The oxygen content of the atmosphere was still sufficient. Also, at least here at the rest point, the light air pressure had no appreciable effect on me. But under conditions of physical exertion this would no doubt change. What proved to be a more serious problem was the heat and humidity of the place. Both of these quantities had a reading of 96%.

  I analysed my surroundings. The so-called starting point had been carefully selected. It lay in a deep, mountainous basin that was surrounded by steep and rugged cliff walls. It would have been foolish to consider scaling these precipices.

  So all that remained was the boat.

  It lay on the shore of a mountain lake that was also closed in by the precipitous cliffs. To the north of my position a waterfall roared downward from a mountain river, whereas in an opposite direction across the water there was a narrow canyon which was obviously the outlet. And there began the difficulty!

  The opening in the cliffs was too narrow for this mass of water and this produced a damming effect. From there the waters plunged away in a surf-like maelstrom of deep rapids and whirlpools.

  I took another look at the glassy smooth landing place for the transport gliders, realizing that many a Hertaso before me had probably disembarked here to be sent into the uncertain paths of their adventure. The thought that I would be constantly observed through hidden monitoring devices was of no consequence to me now. No one could or would help me here. Each false move would be penalized with a minus point on the scoring, which would be analysed by robot calculators. I knew that the comportment of the test candidates would be evaluated according to mathematically logical guidelines.

  At least that was one consolation! We were spared the dubious judgments of supposedly disinterested persons who nevertheless were subject to influence by their moods or even their favourable preferences.Testing, I drew in a deep breath of air. It was predominantly mouldy smelling. Beyond the outlet gorge the country appeared to widen out. I anticipated encountering tropical forests, the nature and extent of which were unknown. The reference to fighting “any and all creatures you meet” returned to my mind. In this connection I thought of my friend Tirako Gamno who had been picked up a few hours before me to take the first test. How might he be faring now? Of course I couldn’t be sure that all Hertasos had stood in this place or if each of them had had to survive that specific river journey.

  But since the survival factors were always maintained at an equal level for all, I took it for granted that Tirako had stood exactly on this spot and stared into the muggy mists of the unknown with a thousand questions on his lips. It was possible that he lay even now somewhere down stream on a rocky shore, exhausted, near to death and waiting for help.

  Help—?! How would that look to our monitors? What would the Inner Circle do in case of mishaps and accidents? What was in the rulebook where the life and well being of an unsuccessful participant was threatened? Were they actually left to an uncertain fate? Was it true that no thought was given to rescue them? Thus it had been stipulated and proclaimed, but I didn’t believe a word of it!

  One didn’t just leave the young heirs of great families to lie here and die. Of course some deadly mishaps had to be reckoned with but I could imagine situations where even the well-intentioned rescuer might arrive too late.

  I shook off these thoughts and concentrated on the task before me. I was supposed to reach a calm lake somewhere in the flatlands. There a depot had been built which was identical to those which the specialists of the Arkonide Fleet had established on countless worlds. Once I arrived there I would have won this phase of the testing—that is if I could manage to discover the undoubtedly camouflaged station in time and get it open.

  I walked slowly over to the rowboat. It was long and narrow with high gunwales, a pointed bow and a squarish transom stem equipped with a rudder and tiller.

  But why that?

  I had no sooner gotten into the boat to inspect it than I suddenly froze. All at once I felt calm and adjusted to my ordeal. What was I supposed to do with a rudder if I also had to row or paddle? After all, I only had two hands and one pair of feet.

  Then I tensed as the first unpredictable incident occurred.The stranger suddenly appeared from behind a large boulder next to the cliff. He held the weapon, a heavy Luccot, in two slender but sinewy hands. He was very tall and broad- shouldered. He was dirty, dishevelled and wild looking but his weapon appeared to have been sufficiently preserved to accomplish its purpose.

  He wore a medium heavy combat spacesuit with a power supply and a collapsible pressure helmet such as was used by the Fleet landing troops. There was a flight unit attached to his back tanks for operation within an atmosphere but it had been shattered. Both of the counter- rotating helicopter blades revealed heavy damage from glancing shots. They were half-melted away.

  He spoke in the rough dialect of colonial Arkonides, which was hard to understand. His movements were unusually sluggish yet powerful. “Oh no you don’t, my noble little Arkonide!” he exclaimed threateningly. “I’ve reserved that boat for myself! A man has to have some way to get out of this hole, doesn’t he?” He briefly indicated his useless rotor blades. His gesture with the gun muzzle was eloquent enough.

  I got out of the boat without a word and pulled the bow up onto the shore, after which I sat down on the gunwale and regarded him.

  “Oh I know, little boy from the Crystal World!” he ranted. “You’re thinking now that my humble self may be a part of your little test run, right? Wrong! I’ve got no part in it! I’m the real thing, laddy; I’m running from the search patrols as well as from a disintegration chamber. Now where do you suppose a deserter with his wits about him would turn on this planet? Naturally to one of the energy bubbles where the life-support conditions are at least bearable. A man gives things a chance, he hopes for awhile and then he has to look farther. Make no mistake, boy—I’ve had enough of your methane war. There comes a time when a man has to get out of it, sooner or later, don’t you think?”

  He laughed easily but nothing escaped him. Do
ubts began to assail me. If I was looking at a programmed robot—which of course would still represent a certain degree of difficulty for me—I’d have to be careful to maintain my identity as Macolon and forget about being Atlan. But on the other hand it was unlikely that a machine could be made to simulate a person like this, from the way he acted.

  I stood up. “Deserter?” I repeated slowly. “They’ll give you a roasting, space soldier!”

  “You said it!” he confirmed, emphatically. “But only if they can find me. I’ve been in here for half a planetary year. They’re still looking for me. What do things look like on the outside?”

  I sat down again on the boat and rested an elbow on my knee. “What’s it supposed to look like, soldier? Think it over!”He shrugged his heavy shoulders and took a new grip on his weapon. Its muzzle swung in my direction again. “OK, move it, lad! Get out of my way!”

  I had to stall for time. My doubts as to his genuineness had not completely disappeared. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that there must certainly be monitoring devices around here?”

  He spat on the ground. “I was Arbtan of the landing commandos, a specialist in silent demolition. So don’t give me that nonsense! I’m an expert, boy! Didn’t you hear me say I’d been here for half a year? I’ve seen more Hertasoes than you think. There’s no monitoring here! The starting posts are seldom equipped with observation gear. And do you know why? Because after those transport gliders take off too many kids like you have gotten the idea to search the place in the hope of finding some clue or crutch to help them out. I’ll admit you’re not like those other fools. You seem to be a pretty good man. You didn’t waste any time on foolishness. But now get up and move out of the way!”