by Perry Rhodan
"If it works I'll sleep on a bed of nails," Col. Freyt exclaimed, completely baffled. "Are they really off? The whole kit and caboodle?"
He looked around in vexation. The little Gazelle, which had suddenly loomed so large in his eyes, had disappeared from the hangar as if it had never been berthed in it.
"O.K." Freyt gritted his teeth with stirred emotions. "Prepare ship for battle action! If they ever come back we'll receive our signal. Get ready for an emergency start!"
• • •
Their return into the physical reality of the normal world was performed more swiftly than in a regular spaceship transition. It was as if nothing had happened at all. The short painful strain in the area of the neck was little more than the passing aftermath of a nerve reflex which could not affect the alertness of the mind.
Julian Tifflor listened on his helmet radio to the heavy breathing of the awakening men. Nobody screamed or moaned but they all saw the white-hot flames on the picture screens of the GZ1.
The cadet's hand jerked forward. However the step-switch of the impact shield projector was already shoved into high position. It was one of the things that had been taken care of before the launching.
The outraged 'element' air engulfed the Gazelle in flames on its furious plunge to the depth. Far below the ship, but already clearly discernible, sketched the landscape of a planet which they had known only from hearsay up to now.
"The Crystal World," Khrest's voice could be heard above the din of the machines. "We're above the equatorial continent. Fly across the sickle-shaped ocean and land in one of the gorges of the coastal mountains."
It was remarkable how unemotionally the Arkonide greeted his final return to his homeland.
Violet impulse rays flashed from the forward steering jets of the spaceship. Within seconds the speed of the GZ1 was braked to the point where it came under the influence of the growing effect of the planet's gravity.
"If they spot us now we've had it," Bell said tonelessly. "They can't fail to see us. We're shining brighter than a comet."
"We're on day side," Rhodan interrupted. "Quiet on board! Cut the useless talk. Tiff, fly normal speed and act as if you were at home. Don't go higher than 15,000. Keep your speed at Mach 5. Arkonides wouldn't fly faster when they want to view their world from above."
"But there must be tracking stations here somewhere," Bell emphasized again.
"Sure, but we're outside their area of operations. Since we've already entered the atmosphere, the automatic scanners are no longer interested in us. The robot stations act strictly in accordance with their programming. Any object flying below the restricted altitudes is considered safe. If we had arrived in a regular flight through space, their heavy stuff would already be popping all around us.
Rhodan stopped speaking. He knew exactly what to expect on Arkon 1. It was unthinkable that anyone or anything would be aroused by an airship no matter how unexpectedly it appeared.
It had already been established that the three-part planet with the collective name of Arkon was surrounded by an outer and inner belt of fortifications. The outer ring was formed by approximately 5000 enormous platforms and space fortresses bristling with formidable firepower which the Ganymede had already felt.
The inner defense zone was identical with planets 5, 6, 7 and 8 which under the embargo of spaceships now in effect also served as transit ports for the interGalactic trade.
Therefore the robot brain on Arkon 3 had drawn a logical conclusion if it considered airships inside its atmosphere to be nonsuspect. These were precisely the deliberations which had led Rhodan in the last consequence to venture on this mission.
Tifflor had slowed down his reentry speed and the Gazelle moved in aerodynamic flight along the shore of the small ocean. All was quiet aboard the long-range reconnaissance patrol craft. The picture screens held the attention of the crew. Even in the storage room silence reigned. They chose a course hugging the shoreline. Wherever they turned their eyes there were neither cities nor large habitations visible.
The terrain resembled a vast park without borders whose natural features had been eliminated and changed down to the smallest details. There had been talented and creative and at some places obviously mentally deranged artists at work transforming the original wilderness according to their image of beauty and sensual desire.
Rhodan sighed when he caught sight of a three-mile-wide river. Near its estuary the magnificent flood of water rose in a bold curve into the cloudless sky, defying all laws of nature. It followed the path of a steep parabola, thus forming a dazzling arch of swirling and foaming masses of water whose myriad light reflexes painted their picture screens with a scintillating riot of colors.
"Circle a few times around the water-gate," Thora called impatiently. "Hurry up, Tiff. No Arkonide would neglect admiring the Arch of Zoltral on a pleasure trip."
Bell began to swear mightily and Rhodan wiped the sweat from his brow without a word. Tifflor rolled his eyes mournfully and went into a curve while slowing down his speed.
Rhodan gave a few short instructions. The taskforce still reckoned with the possibility of an ambush out of the blue. However nothing untoward happened. All vessels they encountered glided quietly and smoothly through the air as if the Terranian reconnaissance craft were part and parcel of this planet.
The eastern coast of the sickle-shaped ocean came into view. The outlying islands served as completely isolated retreats. No cities existed on Arkon 1. It baffled Rhodan where the 10 billion Arkonides lived. The great size of the planet and the fact that its surface was exclusively dedicated to homes and recreation could explain its apparent emptiness.
They flew over some of the old buildings which—seen from outside—resembled large conical champagne glasses anchored in the ground by their slender stems. The walls slanted outward with imposing elegance, a testimony to the ingenious mastery of statics.
Again the devotion to privacy was in evidence. It was an obvious principle to place the gardens and terraces inside the enclosure of the cone-shaped walls. Rhodan had already had the opportunity to inspect a similar palace on the fifth world of the solar system.
There were few noteworthy variations of the outer form which was an outright contradiction to the theory of destandardization. The buildings on the islands were apparently for the use of the general masses of the people. The individualization could not be realized to such a degree that each family occupied a home of its own characteristic design.
Rhodan quietly shook his head. Something seemed not quite right in this world. Arkon 1 reminded him vividly of the planet Wanderer, whose inhabitants had even gone further: they didn't set out to change an existing planet to suit their fancy.
"The shape of the Gazelle will make us conspicuous," Marshall warned. "Thora, are you sure you're doing the right thing?"
"This flying disk won't attract harmful attention. At the most they'll marvel at its futuristic inventive construction. Nobody is going to get excited. You don't know Arkon, John!"
The three-mile-wide arch of water was more than 10,000 feet high and below its apex rose a funnel-shaped palace with fanciful gardens and a floating viewing platform which seemed to soar weightlessly out of the inner courtyard as they came closer. Somebody down there seemed to go out of his way to greet the slowly flying patrol craft.
Tiff took the risk of diving under the watergate. Rhodan instinctively pulled in his head when the blinding light of the white Arkon sun was suddenly split and radiated in a thousand eerie hues.
Thora had fallen silent. She looked quietly down until she said in a trembling voice: "This is my home, Perry. I grew up in this palace. It's the ancestral seat of the Zoltrals."
Rhodan had already assumed as much when she mentioned the technical marvel in connection with her dynasty.
Tifflor pulled the machine up again while Rhodan tried to distract Thora. "I suppose that this arch of water is created by a carefully coordinated antigrav field."
"If tha
t field collapses, the people in the funnel underneath will drown like rats," Bell muttered his unfeeling if accurate comment.
"You barbarian!" Thora lashed out with scorn. "Can't you understand that a highly cultured race like ours is on a never-ending search for new beauty? The style of standardization which is so common on Earth has been abandoned by us 8000 years ago. We don't want to press everything into the same mold. This is particularly true of our private homes. It'll never occur to anyone to imitate this unique Portal of Zoltral. It would be considered an affront to unwritten customs. No park looks like another one and nobody would keep the same pet as his neighbor."
The showpiece of an overdeveloped civilization was left behind. Tifflor calmly resumed his previous course and Bell grinned maliciously. Rhodan's imploring look came too late.
"Does that also mean that your surgeons will never remove an inflamed appendix by the same method of operation? If I were to proceed with style in an absolutely unorthodox manner I'd start my incision at the sole of the foot. Crazy!"
"Arkonides don't have an appendix," Khrest said with a trace of a smile. "However it's quite true that the medical scientists are also inclined to vary their routines. An individual surgeon might at least choose different back ground music for identical operations. Lieutenant Tifflor, would you please fly to the primitive wilderness preserve over there. That's where I hunted my first saurian as a young science student."
Tiff pulled the machine around in a tight curve to a large peninsula which resembled the steaming jungles of Venus. Fearsome creatures flew against an invisible energy dome which restricted the Rapping animals to their assigned realm.
"It's an artificial landscape, too," Bell snorted contemptuously. "I must be slowly going mad. How do I recognize my own symptoms?"
"Don't you have protected wildlife areas on Earth?" Thora flared up, deeply annoyed. "Why does it seem so peculiar to you if cultured people endeavor to shape their natural surroundings according to their personal wishes? There's hardly a rock left on Arkon remaining at the spot where nature deposited it."
Bell refrained from answering. He looked around helplessly but he saw only faces showing more or less consternation. The impressions were overwhelming. What seemed to disturb their feelings most was the fact that nobody paid the slightest attention to their presence. It looked as if Arkon had never conducted a single war, let alone conquered a whole galaxy. Arkon 1, the Crystal World, was the secluded sacrosanct domicile of people who for 10,000 years had considered it undignified and a perversion to build their own residences next to industrial factories.
Tifflor got in line with the increasing air traffic. They noticed the first express ways down below. The glittering graceful ribbons spanned the water as if nature had created them. They were not supported by pillars, proving again that they were cradled in a forcefield.
Bell perched silently on his seat in front of the weapons control panel. of the Gazelle. Each time an airship came within range of his target screen his thumb moved automatically to the red buttons.
They flew inland over the coast. The mountain Khrest had pointed out was not a natural range of peaks since the massive rocks had long ago been transformed to the taste of the Arkonides. They had carved gigantic heads and torsos of stone. The crowning adornment was a mile long sculpture of abstract form which topped the ridge of the highest mountain chain. The slowly approaching Gazelle was inundated in a flood of reflected light. Rhodan closed his eyes before the radiant brilliance.
"It's the symbolic representation of the conquest of the Galaxy," Khrest declared solemnly. "It was created by the most important artist of his time, Eukolard, who spent his life working with an ordinary energybeamer to mold the various scenes. He never used jet attachments as other artists will do. When the work was finished he required the entire energy output of the planet Arkon for 8.3 hours to transform the minerals by an intricate process so that now the sculpture is a pure diamond. The robot brain designed the grinding for the most brilliant effect and the vibration guns of the fleet finished this testimonial to our history under the guidance of Eukolard."
"Diamond!" Tifflor involuntarily exclaimed with a sigh.
"It's a common substance here although pure carbon is considered very precious on Terra," Khrest explained.
"Let's go on! We don't want to get sidetracked," Rhodan ordered curtly. "Khrest, where's a good spot for landing?"
They found a place 150 miles farther east. When Tifflor set down his machine in a rocky gorge they were only 200 miles away from the Arkonide government center. The narrow gorge was bridged by a crystal road.
Rhodan was the first to leave the ship. The coral-red water of a babbling brook flowed at his feet. A ledge protruding from the cliffs could serve as an excellent cover for the small spaceship. Rhodan looked around to examine the place. It was a lonely spot where no Arkonide was likely to stray. He slowly relaxed his tense, vigilant attitude to breathe the pure fragrant air to the fullest.
The men of the taskforce climbed out in a strangely subdued mood. It was warm but the heat was not humid. The ravine was in a cooling shade and the ship's instruments registered 80° F. at the bottom.
An auto road of converted energy glistened 300 feet above them. Thora explained: "We love to go places in ground vehicles which enable us to enjoy the beauty of the land so much better. The network of road was designed purely for the purposes of relaxation and recreation. They won't be used by anybody who's in a hurry."
Perry Rhodan swallowed hard. He got the feeling that his brain was beginning to swiftly rotate. He had long known the facts. The hypno-training he had received had given him detailed information about life on Arkon. However, theoretical knowledge and physical observation were two different things.
Rhodan's nerves were overwrought. He was reminded of the problems on Earth. There arguments continued to rage about the construction of speedways while here equivalent countless billions bad been spent on roads for the sole purpose of providing an occasional pleasure ride in old-fashioned vehicles.
The contrast was too great to be quickly assimilated by the human mind.
Rhodan decided on the spot on the one correct approach. "The government center, the so-called Hills of the sages, is about 200 miles away from here. The sun will go down in four hours. Take a rest and try to sort out your impressions. I can't use people who suffer from inferiority complexes. You may move freely around in this canyon but keep your weapons handy. You never know if we'll be detected here although it's highly unlikely. Don't forget that this peaceful, serene world represents only a part of a greater domain. Two similar planets are circling about the same glaring white sun at a scant cosmic distance where entirely different conditions prevail. It would have been quite impossible for us to fly around there as we please. But don't assume that we're already out of danger! We can return to the Ganymede only if we can obtain an official permit. In a few hours I'll be on my way to try to talk with the Imperator personally. Khrest and Thora will accompany me. And..." here Rhodan hesitated for a second, "...and don't believe for a second that an unauthorized start will succeed as well as our landing on Arkon! If we poke our nose into outer space against the will of the robot brain we'll be turned into ashes by hundreds of guns firing simultaneously from their interceptors. If our negotiations are not successful our goose is cooked. O.K., that's about all there is to say. Sleep, talk or take a walk, but keep in mind what's ahead of us!"
Rhodan stripped off the spacesuit which restricted his movements. The shadows in the canyon grew longer. A strange vehicle flitted along the shining ribbon of the road far above the, heads of the quiet men. Its occupants never stopped. With all the miracles everywhere in abundance, this gorge wasn't worth a second look.
4/ HIS IMPERIAL GLORIFICENCE
"His Million-eyed, All-Seeing, Omniscient Illustrious Highness, Ruler of Arkon and the World of the Bleak Island; His Imperial Glorificence, Orcast XXI, Deity of the Most Ancient Generation of the Universe; decrees that the D
ance of the Singing Waters shall begin."
Imperator Orcast XXI, witty critic of his times, known as affable cynic, delightful conversationalist and creator of sublime works of art, decided to extend his raised right arm with the edge of the hand pointed forward, which caused the robot-guided individual sensor of the automatic water display to shift a shade from its mechanical setting. The Imperator wrinkled his painstakingly groomed eyebrows with studied irony as the Chief of Protocol winced in desperation. "The palm of the hand forward, Your Supreme Highness! The positronic sensor requires the total impulse emanations from the palm of your Supreme Highness."
Orcast desisted as he was wont to do on urgent requests or categorical orders. His right arm dropped down and the low-pitched roar inside the suspended water sphere diminished to a rhythmic hum which seconds later faded away in countless harmonically modulated cadences. The water sphere, measuring 3000 feet in diameter, began to diffuse in sprays under the pull of the antigrav composition. Splendiferous color reflexes were created in the surging and undulating element which began to take new shape in geometrical figures true to the latest masterwork.
The attention of the crowd of invited guests was drawn to the artistic treat offered. They decided to change their position, enabling them to look upwards at the magnificent show unfolding over the inner courtyard of the Crystal Palace.
"Overwhelming," Orcast admitted to his favorite guests. "However I must seriously question why the Deity from the Most Ancient Generation of the Universe is not permitted to stretch out his hand as he pleases. It seems to me that my much praised Divine Status leaves something to be desired."
Modest laughter applauded the reflections of the ruler. With a sardonic smile Orcast took delight in the embarrassment of his Chief of Protocol. "Be that as it may," Orcast continued, "my omniscient mind seems to be unable to suppress the barbaric pangs of hunger of its apparently less spiritual organism in accordance with the rules of decorum. Greetings, Offentur. Your composition will go down in history as a major achievement of modern art."
