by Perry Rhodan
"Well, let’s have it!" bellowed Claudrin to the head operator. He was a fast mover and demanded the same speed and precision from his men.
"The area of the probable target zone is approximately 180 cubic light-years," announced the technician. "That’s a probability value of 73.6%"
When Bell came up to Claudrin, the Epsalian glanced briefly at him, anticipating his wishes. He shoved the microphone toward him and then went back to his controls.
Bell spoke into the mike: "This is a dispatch to Fleet HQ... Following units alerted for action: third heavy cruiser task force; 18th, 19th, and 23rd light cruiser flotilla also release three super battleships for emergency search mission and possible combat. The target areas is..."
The incomplete coordinates which had come in over the I-109’s signal beam followed Bell added another sentence: "The Administrator is missing in the indicated space sector. Signed: Reginald Bell."
A re-run of the text was channeled through from the Com Room. Bell wasn’t listening. He was staring at the deck. "For somebody out there, something’s gone haywire..."
"For whom, Mr. Bell?" asked Claudrin.
Bell looked at him in surprise. He was only aware then that he had spoken aloud. "I don’t know, Claudrin. I don’t even know what made me say that. So when do we slide into semispace?"
Other than the rebuilt Ralf Torsten, the Ironduke was the only spaceship equipped with linear drive. With this propulsion system the discomforts of dematerialization and rematerialization were no longer necessary. A compensating converter known as ‘the Kalup’ served to generate a sixth dimensional forcefield which compensated for the hard and soft radiations of the fourth and fifth dimensions. Only thus was it possible to move in the semispace zone between the fourth and fifth dimensional universes, where velocities of millions of times the speed of light could he attained and a special 3D optical sensor never lost sight of the target star while en route.
In a broad sense it was a flight toward visibility. In comparison to the old system of hypertransition the new method was simply beyond evaluation.
But because of the linear drive the Ironduke was capable of reaching the targeted space sector much sooner than the other spherical ships of the Fleet, which had to traverse the vast abyss of thousands of light-years in a series of hyperjumps.
Jefe Claudrin did not allow Bell’s question to disconcert him. "No sooner than usual, Mr. Bell," he answered. "Even when the Chief is involved it doesn’t pay to take risks."
Claudrin’s slightly caustic reply was justified. It was not too long ago that the Fantasy had exploded on its flight back from the Blue System. For any responsible commander, that catastrophe was enough of a warning not to experiment with the new propulsion system.
"OK, Claudrin." Bell wasn’t in the least offended by the admonishment. "If anything comes up, I’ll be in the chart room."
He took Allan D. Mercant with him. En route neither one had anything to say. They avoided having to criticize Perry Rhodan’s actions. In the chart room, Mal. Lyon was already sitting before the charts. He made a move to jump to attention as the two men came in.
"As you were, Lyon," Bell told him with a wave of his hand. "I see you’re looking over the charts already. Good, we can all see them together..."
After that there were only a few short remarks made now and then as they worked on the stellar data. Finally Bell picked up a magnetic marking stylus and made a circle in a northern part of one of the charts. "That’s where we have to look for Rhodan," he said, then glanced at Mercant. "Does that give you any ideas, my friend?"
"Actually, I’ve noted two things, Mr. Bell. So far, our hypersensors haven’t picked up any signs of a transition jump. We’ve had some cases in the past where that has happened, when two ships in separate locations have made a hytrans at the same time. There’s a blanking or heterodyning effect where the weaker transition is damped out by the other one.
"That’s one thing; the other has to do with the space-jet’s hypercom distress call. Hypercom transmission isn’t subject to the type of interference that often gives us trouble in normal communication, so there’s only one explanation for those garbled coordinates: anti-mutants!"
"Unfortunately we’re both in complete agreement!" said Bell grimly. "And my circle on the chart shows where we have to look for Rhodan. But one thing I don’t get, Mercant: why didn’t the Chief go into transition immediately after leaving Wanderer?"
Mercant’s answer was a cautious one. "He may have been attacked just after he left Wanderer but from our position we can only conjecture, Mr. Bell. We still don’t know anything. This enormous area of 180 cubic light-years opens up many possibilities."
Maj. Lyon didn’t dare to interrupt the conversation so he could only listen attentively.
Bell grunted perplexed. "If Perry were only his old self we would be sure of what he might have done after leaving Wanderer. But in a case like this...?"
It was an unmistakable confession that Bell was stumped. He threw the marker onto the chart. "Alright," he said, somewhat irritated, "180 cubic light-years is one big chunk of space and even if that sector is fortunately thinned out as far as stars are concerned we’d still be dealing with an unknown quantity of suns. If I keep following the logic of it I’ll start counting confetti."
"I’m almost ahead of you in that department, Mr. Bell," commented Mercant dryly.
Bell couldn’t control his temper. He banged the chart table with his fist. "What the devil was Perry trying to do? I’d like to take all those doctors that recommended that shock therapy and... and send them to Siberia!"
Mercant smiled ironically. "Siberia has become a summer playground. If I ever retire I’d like to spend my doddering old days somewhere in the tundra. Are you trying to give the doctors a bonus, Mr. Bell?"
"So then you’re convinced that this whole bag of snakes is due to a fluke in those shock treatments?"
"Mr. Bell, is there any other explanation for Rhodan’s strange behavior? And then there’s the death of that Anti at the Trader base... I can’t get that out of my mind. I had a very good look at that priest and
Bell stared at him, curious that he had stopped but forgetting that Maj. Lyon was seated beside them. "Murder?" he asked with a note of anxiety.
"You might put an exclamation mark after that word, Mr. B..." Mercant caught himself, realizing that Lyon was present. He placed a hand on the major’s shoulder and looked at him penetratingly without saying a word.
Lyon met his gaze steadily. "I think I’m going to have to get into this discussion, sir," he said, "but there’s really only one statement to make: I’ll swear on a stack a bibles that the Chief is incapable of murder. There has to be some mistake."
Mercant sighed deeply. "Lyon, I can only hope that you’re right." Then he turned to the star map, recalling the galactic coordinates of Wanderer, and pointed out the area. "If you mark Wanderer’s position as here, then that makes it the center point of the search area, Mr. Bell. If my hypothesis is correct, then all we’d have to do is draw a line between Wanderer and the Solar System and search along that, with maybe a leeway of three light-years on either side of it."
Bell wasn’t listening. "Mercant—what were you saying about the Anti?"
The Solar Marshal had been expecting the question. "He was unarmed. His position on the floor was practically an exhibit A—I mean a classical example of a person who has been shot without having been able to even defend himself, much less do any attacking. Rhodan’s story about the paperweight is strictly ‘no sale’. The blood on it alone is proof of that. Rhodan’s chin scratch was too minor for that much blood to have been transferred to the weight. Blood traces are only left on a weapon where a very severe wound is involved."
"Why have you waited until now to tell me all this, Mercant?" asked Bell coldly. Without knowing it he was taking over Rhodan’s role more and more. He was in the process of stepping into his friend’s shoes as the latter appeared to be more incapable of wearing the
m.
"Because I’ve only been able to put it together in the past few hours," Mercant explained. "After coming back from the clinic I couldn’t sleep. By the time I heard the sirens... Well, it was only then that I had the picture—and now you know."
Maj. Lyon spoke up. "And I don’t believe it! The Chief is not capable of it!" Bell and Mercant were startled to hear the absolute conviction in his voice.
Finally, Bell answered him. "Major, if it turns out that you’re right, then the Solar Marshal and I won’t deserve to call Perry Rhodan our friend."
• • •
Nolinov and Alkher heard the heavy footsteps of robots and they knew what was next.
Nolinov unbuckled his seat belt and quipped sarcastically, "Here comes our furlough, sailor—maybe a permanent one!"
Alkher also unbuckled himself. They were standing unarmed by their flight seats when the first towering robot entered, to be followed by four more of the powerful fighting machines.
"Come with me!" ordered the one who had entered first. The thing’s weapons held steadily on both the Terrans.
With their positronic escort, the two men left the space-jet. The disc-shaped vessel was surrounded by robots but they opened a narrow aisle for them to pass through the cordon. The Terrans followed the Colossus who had come for them.
When Nolinov tried to speak to Alkher, the metallic voice rattled back at him: "No conversations!"
Nolinov shut up. He knew that robots operated according to their programs and programs had no feelings. He had no intention of committing suicide.
They had no chance to escape and hide somewhere in the big cylindrical spaceship. When they came inside onto the main deck, toward the machine room section they saw groups of men talking excitedly. An uneasiness buzzed through the ship and shouts were heard. Something about a fire that had not yet been brought under control.
Brazo Alkher smiled faintly, happy to realize that his triple beam shot had caused such damage where it counted. This fact improved their whole situation. By now the Solar Fleet must be on its way to this area, he thought, and it shouldn’t be any problem to capture the Antis’ crippled long-ship.
Suddenly a heavy blast was heard throughout the vessel, which was almost 1,000 feet long. The shuddering had not yet subsided in the floor-plates before sirens began to howl. The various excited groups they had seen scattered now in every direction. The Antis running past them paid no attention to the Terrans. Panic was on the faces of the priests of Baalol.
Nolinov grinned unabashedly and his eyes gleamed when he saw the consternation the sirens were causing. But they were suddenly gripped hard by the robot. A cabin door opened and the two of them were unceremoniously tossed inside. By the time they got up again, the door was shut behind them. In some perplexity they looked about them.
"Those robots are real friendly!" muttered Nolinov. He made another check to make sure they were alone in the cabin.
Another grinding jolt struck the vessel’s entire frame but this blast was not as strong as the first one. The howl of the sirens continued.
"Congratulations, old buddy!" said Nolinov in grim satisfaction. "You hit these pirates where it hurts."
Alkher modestly shrugged off the compliment. "It was an accident."
Just as I fired, they started a course change, so instead of giving their faces a tan, I tanned their bottoms for them."
"One of these days you’re going to die of modesty," grunted Stant. He was still looking about in the well-furnished cabin. "We need something to break that door open with. You see anything that might be handy, sailor?"
"You mean you want to make a try to escape without the Chief?" asked Alkher testily.
"If that’s the only way, yes!" came the unhesitating reply.
"I don’t go for it, Stant. We’d do the Chief and ourselves more good if we could pull off a little more demolition in their power and engine sections. Every minute we can delay them here betters our chances. Don’t forget our distress call!"
Meanwhile, Alkher happened to place his hand on the door handle. Without thinking about it he turned it and was shocked to find that it opened! Through a crack in the door he could see two Antis standing in the passage with their backs to him. He glanced swiftly at Stant, who gave him an answering wink. He was with him.
Soundlessly he swung the door wide open. He took the priest on his right and Nolinov jumped on the other one. The anti-mutants’ outcry was drowned in the howl of the sirens. In the next moment the two Terrans dragged their unconscious victims into the cabin. The door closed by itself and Stant kneeled down beside one of them. Alkher inspected the other priest.
Five minutes later the servants of Baalol lay bound and gagged in the adjoining bathroom. Nolinov and Alkher had appropriated their clothing, which didn’t amount to much. Their disguise wasn’t very good but they were counting on the turmoil and panic to cover their masquerade on their way to the machine rooms. There was some feeling of security in the heavy energy weapons they had obtained.
"All set?" asked Alkher.
"Let ’er rip, old buddy!"
The two captives left the cabin and as they moved along the main deck toward the engine rooms no one became suspicious of them. The sirens were still in an uproar and crewmembers were running everywhere. Far aft in the power and engine sections there were still repeated sounds of explosions. It appeared that the Antis had not yet brought the fire under control.
This was almost too easy, Nolinov was thinking—just as disaster emerged from a cabin in the form of a robot.
5/ DAY OF THE ANTI-RHODAN
Thomas Cardif thought that his luck had run out as he looked around the circle of fanatic priests. Even Rhobal the high priest was no longer friendly to him. They were standing around him since he was the only one in the large cabin who had been told to take a seat.
Rhobal spoke to him in cold, threatening tones. "As Edmond Hugher, you were permitted by Baalol to complete your studies on Aralon. As Edmond Hugher you swore your allegiance to Baalol forever. It is Baalol you have to thank for releasing you from the hypno-block that Arkon forced upon you for 58 years by order of your father. And as Thomas Cardif you again swore that you would be eternally grateful to Baalol. With our help it was possible to put Rhodan out of the way; with our help you have become Perry Rhodan! And for all this you still attempt to betray us?"
"Cardif, one word from us and the Terrans win rip that mask from your face and your game will be at an end! If you don’t hand over what you have brought with you from the invisible planet, we shall announce your identity. We would have also revealed your identity if you had managed to get to the Earth with the cell activators. Have you seriously been toying with the idea of trying extortion on us?"
These questions and accusations had been delivered to Cardif like so many hammer blows.
"Where are the cell activators?" asked Rhobal threateningly as he aimed a hypno-beamer at Cardif.
In his helpless rage, Cardif realized that all resistance was useless, yet in the depths of his despair he remembered that the 20 cell activators were sealed in a spherical time-field which could only be opened if he so willed it!
"Rhobal, your 20 activators are in my cabin in the space-jet." Now his voice was calm again. He straightened up like the genuine Rhodan and ignored the hypno-weapon that was aimed at him.
The more than two dozen Antis in the room were startled in spite of themselves by the change that had come over him. Suddenly Rhodan’s son was radiating that certain essence which had always made his father stand out from the masses.
"Go get them, Rhobal!" he challenged. "I know that you’re interested in them only as a matter of course but what’s so important, really, about having eternal life? It should mean little to you—or am I wrong? Well? Which of you will receive an activator? Have you already drawn straws among you, to decide?"
He knew these servants of Baalol better than any other Terran. His psychology was deftly applied to play one against the other. H
ere he was facing the most influential of the Antis. He knew them all and there was not one of them who was free of a greed for power. He knew how each of them had gotten to his present position. Not one of them was prepared to give up an activator willingly.
"Cardif," Rhobal warned him, "you will not succeed in sowing dissension among us, no more than you will succeed in getting away. Do not forget that Perry Rhodan still lives! And he will continue to live as long as you so that we may always remind you that you are only his soul"
For the first time there was a defiant gleam in Cardif’s eyes. Antis! He spoke derisively as he glared at each of them. "You are not stronger than I! You are planning to take over the Solar Imperium, are you? Well, go ahead and try it—without me! Those 300 extra Springer bases haven’t been approved yet. So how are you going to set them up—without me? Neither your agent Banavol nor the Baalol priest you sent to Pluto could force me to the wall!"
Rhobal was quick to accuse him. "Cardif, you murdered Juglun, alias A-Thol!"
Cardif-Rhodan answered with a cynical laugh. "Coming from you, Rhobal, that’s a strange accusation. All right, so how shall we proceed in the future? On the basis of equal rights?—or do you still believe you’ve got the upper hand?" He waited calmly for them to make their decision.
The high priest turned to two of the Antis. "Bring the cell activators from the space-jet!" he ordered.
At that moment the vast spaceship was shaken by another powerful explosion. It brought a faint smile to Cardif’s lips.
"Go!" said Rhobal urgently to the two priests, who had stopped in sudden fright. His eyes flamed anger as he turned back to Cardif. "If we all blow up because of your space-jet’s treacherous attack, you will die with us!" he shouted.
"That I can’t change," was Cardif’s cold reply.
Then they all waited for the two Baalol servants to return. When the door finally opened, they all expected to see the two priests and their coveted booty. Instead of this, a robot pushed Brazo Alkher and Stant Nolinov into the room.
