by Perry Rhodan
Sgt. Groll stood rooted to the ground. It is an odd sensation to be on an uninhabited planet and suddenly to encounter another living being. Especially if you have no idea who this other "person" might be.
While Groll stood listening for the steps of the stranger, his thoughts were racing wildly. His head was filled with all kinds of speculation. A living creature here on 13B? Could it be that Lossosher was right after all? Was the unknown race indeed living here on this moon? Those unknowns that once upon a time had made a gift to the Ferrons, the matter transmitter, and then had withdrawn to some unknown destination? Could it be true that they had brought their own planet to this place in the system, and then disguised it as a moon of the 13th planet?
And--were they vicious?
Groll's hand moved instinctively to his belt. The heavy butt-end of his raygun felt reassuring to his touch. The question still remained if this weapon could be effectively used against beings who thought in a fifth-dimensional manner. Beings that were capable of building matter transmitters. The unknowns who could impose their will on an entire planet and displace it its original orbital path.
His heart was heavy with doubts but he did not lose courage. Besides, he suddenly realized that he might turn out to be one of the most important members of Rhodan's space expedition. What if he should be so and discover the hiding place of those unknowns they were looking for...
Lossosher apparently had stopped. Groll could no longer hear his footsteps. For a moment he could hear the faint echo of the creeping steps of Lossosher's pursuer, then everything became quiet. Only a gentle wind rustled through the rock pillars.
Cold shudders ran down Groll's back. His fingers grasped tightly the butt-end of the weapon that he had pulled out of his belt. His thumb lay on the trigger. He did not dare move, fearing this might draw the unknown's attention to him. He still had the advantage of the element of surprise. The unknown evidently must think that he was facing only one adversary: the Ferron.
However, Groll could not remain inactive. He was responsible for the scientists safety. And Lossosher was unarmed. Sgt. Groll plucked up courage and began to move. First one cautious step. He was not sure which direction to choose but he supposed that Lossosher and the unknown stranger must be behind the next rocky cone. The scientist certainly paid no heed to what else might be going on around him, as he was searching for the remains of a lost civilization while a living enemy was creeping toward him.
Groll's hand tightened around the gun. He made another step forward. He was careful not to make any noise. The ground was even and it was easy to walk around the occasional little heaps of rubble in his path, in order to avoid stumbling over a small stone.
The blood almost froze in his veins when he heard a shout of surprise very close by. It must be Lossosher. But he did not call out in fear; on the contrary his voice sounded triumphant. Groll was at a loss; he did not understand this.
Then once more the strong, firm steps of the Ferron. Groll heard stones being moved and rolled aside. The echo resounded from the rocky walls. In between came the sound of the labored breathing of the hard-working scientist Lossosher was talking to himself all the while, but it was impossible for Groll to understand even a single word. However it was easy to guess that the scientist had made some thrilling discovery and had become entirely oblivious to his surroundings.
The pilot inched his way around the rock pillar that obstructed his way, keeping virtually glued to the smooth stone. He saw now how the narrow path widened into a small plateau that was bounded by steep walls. The distant Vega sun was very low in the sky, its rays just barely touching the tops of the highest pillars. It grew rapidly darker.
But it was still light enough to recognize Lossosher, who was busy moving big boulders with his bare hands, trying to clear a structure that was half buried underneath the rocks. Groll could just make out the very top of the building. Seen from the distance it appeared to be a pyramid.
Lossosher was working hard, rolling the stones aside. Now Groll could see the smooth walls of the pyramid. Its even surface was broken only in the center by some kind of an inscription. Lossosher concentrated on removing the rubble to lay bare the writing.
About 10 yards away from Lossosher was another rock pillar with a gaping, dark, half-round opening, the entrance to a tunnel. The last weak rays of the sun permitted Groll to make out that the floor of this corridor fell away at a steep angle about six feet away from the entrance.
Obviously Lossosher must have overlooked this entrance or he would not have given his undivided attention to the pyramid. Groll was just about to call out to the scientist when he remembered the hidden stranger. He had almost forgotten him in the excitement of watching Lossosher's discovery. Now the raygun in his hand made him once more aware of the lurking danger.
Where was this unknown creature whose creeping steps he had heard a little while ago? Was it sitting in some hiding place busy observing what Lossosher was doing? What if it had also detected him as he was standing, closely pressed against the rocky wall? And if not why did it remain so quiet now?
Cautiously Groll started to move ahead, staying close to the wall. Between him and the opposite wall of the narrow gorge was an empty space almost 20 yards wide. Lossosher and the pyramid were about 30 yards away, and the entrance to the tunnel farther still.
Groll came to a little nook. He stopped. He was fully covered here from all directions. If he were to advance any farther he would lose this advantageous position. Why not remain here and continue observing Lossosher from this distance? The unknown enemy provided it really was an enemy-would only concentrate on the Ferron. The opponent would have to give himself away at some time. And then Groll would act accordingly.
It grew almost totally dark now. The last sun rays disappeared. Soon the first stars became visible in the sky. Lossosher did not seem to notice these changes around him; he was obsessed by his find. Not until he had pushed aside the last obstructing boulder, bending over the mysterious inscription in order to decipher it, did he become aware that it was too dark to read. He had no flashlight on him. He cursed softly and straightened up again, standing and hesitating over what to do next. For a few seconds his figure loomed like a dark shadow against the still brighter walls of the rocks. The 13th planet rose above the horizon, providing just sufficient light to recognize Lossosher's shadowy outlines.
And it was a shadow that made an end to Groll's passive waiting. Close by he heard a noise. The unknown must have been standing at the same rock, hardly 10 feet away from him, silently observing Lossosher all the time.
Now once again the stealthily advancing steps-then all of a sudden Groll could see a dark figure standing out against the faintly illuminated rocky wall. The shape was larger than life size, its outlines resembling vaguely those of a human being. Yet the pointed head and the shimmering armor evoked horrible memories of an era long gone on Earth and at the same time recently come alive again in the Vega system.
But Groll was not quite sure of himself. Although it was against Rhodan's principles to judge any alien by his outer appearance, and although Groll had been schooled to be unprejudiced, he was almost paralyzed with fright.
Incapable of moving, he remained standing in the safety of the niche, grasping his gun for protection. He tried hard to pierce the darkness in order to see better. Lossosher was still hesitating, his upright figure outlined against the lighter background. He seemed resigned to having to return to the space fighter plane. He did not see the strange, weird-looking shadow, although it was less than 10 feet away from him.
Groll came to life again. If he hesitated any longer, the hazy figures of the scientist and the stranger would blend into each other and Groll would not be able to distinguish them. And this would condemn him to inactivity, make him unable to come to the Ferron's assistance. Groll raised the raygun and pointed at the strangers shadow. He kept his eyes fixed on it while he called out:
"Lossosher! Watch out! Run to the right. A str
anger is creeping toward you! Hurry!"
Groll did not intend shooting at an alien life form as long as it had not been identified beyond a doubt to be hostile toward him. The last thing he would want to do would be to start a war with the inhabitants of this planet-he had difficulty regarding 13B as a moon. Of course, the inhabitants were fully entitled to check out any intruders in their territory.
Fortunately for Groll something happened that made such a decision superfluous. The mighty shadow in the middle of the plateau ceased moving ahead toward Lossosher. Groll expected at any moment to see the flash from some weapon. He was determined to answer this fire. But all remained quiet.
While the Ferron hesitated just a second before he followed Groll's instructions and ran quickly out of the presumed line of fire, the stranger seized the opportunity to duck and run. Groll's attention had been diverted for an instant by the Ferron's movements, although he still kept his eyes on the stranger's shadow. But this slight diversion was enough.
Rocks and stones were spattering in all directions as the unknown scurried as fast as a weasel toward the rock pillar with the entrance to the tunnel. It disappeared instantly into the depth of the rocky shelter. Groll could still hear the noises coming from the shaft but they rapidly died down, growing more distant; then all was silent.
Groll waited almost a minute before he called to the Ferron: "He is gone; come here! Let's get back to the ship. Who knows what other dangers are lurking here in the dark?"
The Ferronian scientist came running across the plateau. He did not seem to realize the danger he had barely escaped a little while ago. He was very excited as he said loudly and triumphantly to Groll: "I have found it! I have found those that live longer than the sun!"
Groll felt annoyed. He put the raygun back in his holster.
"A fat lot of good that would do you as a dead man!"
The Ferron seemed startled by this remark. "What do you mean by that? That stranger? Unimportant! Probably just some poor guy out for a walk. He got scared by us and ran.
Groll walked ahead.
He murmured: "Symbolically speaking, the sun does not live here for very long."
4/ STRANGER IN A STRANGE TUNNEL
Another night went by.
Rhodan was determined to solve this day the second part of the cosmic puzzle. He assembled the people he had selected to participate in this venture and pointed out to them the risks they were facing. Then via a matter transmitter they transferred by the fastest and most convenient way possible directly to the Red Palace of the Thort.
The robot guard did not seem to have budged from the spot since they had left him.
"Nothing to report, sir," he announced when queried by Rhodan.
Bell stepped up to the metallic figure fashioned in the image of their Arkonide masters and with a friendly pat on its cold shoulder he asked: "You mean to say then that it won't be any special risk for us to enter this transmitter and have ourselves carried off to some place?"
"The matter transmitter is in perfect working order, ready at your service," the robot replied without directly answering Bell's question.
"Since you are coming along with us on this trip we have nothing to worry about," grinned Bell. "If you weren't absolutely sure that this thing here is working alright, you would not be willing to run any risks for your own safety's sake."
The robot gave no answer.
Rhodan hesitated a few moments before he entered the transmitter. He was the first to do so. Then his friends followed, Khrest, Haggard and the two mutants. Anne Sloane and John Marshall. Bell let the robot pass in front of him to enter the cage.
It was a tight squeeze inside the narrow confines of the wire cage. An indescribable, eerie feeling came over them. They were all aware that this venture represented a challenge to the past.
Rhodan's hand gripped the lever. It was the same type they knew from the other transmitters they had operated so many times. Their destination had been predetermined for them. This transmitter was the sender and somewhere the receiver that belonged to it must await them.
"Our feelings of apprehension are easy to understand but they are not justified," Rhodan said to his friends. "The positronic brain's deliberations, which as you know are based on infallible logic, state that we are not threatened by any direct danger. We are simply pursuing a trail which was laid many thousand years ago. We don't know how long this trail will be and where it will lead us. We don't know either how many way stations there are along this road. A superior intellect has puzzled out these problems which We must solve in order to meet their originators. The light they are speaking of is the conservation of cells, which equals eternal life."
"Although I have decided to accompany you on this mission," Khrest remarked in an uncertain voice, "I did it merely out of a sense of duty. I owe this much to my own race. But I must admit that I do not share your optimism."
"You mistrust your own creation, the positronic brain, Khrest? It was not I who worked out the procedures we are to follow, it was the brain that recommended it as the end result of its, logical deliberations. And the brain can never be wrong."
"Agreed. However it can make relative mistakes in case the data it has been fed are wrong. Then the conclusion it arrives at must be wrong too. What information do we have about the mentality of those beings that posed the big riddle for us?"
"Quite a lot, Khrest. They must have been endowed with a great sense of humor, that's for sure. And they must have been highly intelligent. And they were, and even still are, friendly to a certain extent, for otherwise they would not be inclined to share their secret with others. The riddle is nothing but some kind of insurance. I have pointed that out to you repeatedly, Khrest, and it is time that you finally believe me. We can reach our goal only if the conditions are right, namely, our intelligence must be of the same quality and level as theirs. And I am confident that this is the case."
"Sure, sure," muttered Bell. "At least I hope it is. I am not too happy about it, though, to be frank. Honestly, I have made my peace with the Lord, as the old saying goes."
"That doesn't sound like you, Reg," Rhodan said. His hand was still resting motionless on the activating lever. "Did you get cold feet all of a sudden?"
"On the contrary," Bell answered with a feeble grin. "The ground is burning under my feet."
Haggard, remained silent and so did Anne and John. They had absolute confidence in Rhodan's judgment. Whatever he decided was alright with them. He would not undertake anything light-heartedly. His presence spelled safety for them.
The robot was silent too. This was not unusual, however. Bell was of the opinion that a robot was incapable of experiencing any emotions. Yet there were some moments when he began to have doubts.
"Ready?" Rhodan asked.
All nodded a, silent "yes."
Rhodan's jaw line firmed up, his lips narrowed. His eyes were filled with a light of resolute expectation. And then, with a firm motion he depressed the lever.
In contrast to the usual travels with the matter transmitter, they experienced at once a sensation that was not totally unfamiliar to them. Stabbing and gnawing pains coursed through their brains, then passed with agonizing slowness down along their spinal columns. Everything grew hazy in front of their eyes; their thought processes ceased entirely.
In reality, all this lasted only a fraction of a second-or was it an eternity? Then, suddenly, it was all over. Their thinking ability returned; the pain vanished; they could see once again.
"Oh, blast it all!" Bell was cursing loudly. He was clinging to the robot's solid form. "Some fun! That's the last time I'm going on such a trip!"
"And how do you imagine you will get back again, Reg?" said Rhodan. "Where are we?"
"You are asking me?" Bell tried to pierce the twilight around them with his eyes. They were still standing inside the transmitter cage but they realized it was not the same transmitter they had entered a few seconds earlier. It must be the receiving station.
Rhodan opened the gate of the transmitter cage. The same instant everything grew bright around them. The hidden light sources increased in intensity. The men did not move. They waited; they wanted to find their bearings first.
The transmitter was standing in the center of a gigantic hall. They could not locate any exits. The room was cluttered with machines and all kinds of strangely formed objects. There was hardly any free space in this huge area. Narrow passages led through the maze of mysterious machinery whose purpose was beyond their comprehension.
"Let's go!" Rhodan ordered with a strained voice. He was the first to step out of the cage onto the even floor of the hall. "I wonder where we will find our next task?"
As if in answer to his question an inscription lit up all of a sudden on the high ceiling of the room. It was the same writing they had all seen before-strange symbols, hieroglyphics. But even before Rhodan was capable of looking properly at the first letter, the inscription grew dark and entirely disappeared. Rhodan was shocked as he realized he had missed his chance. The inscription had been a clue, a part of the solution of the riddle. He blamed himself for not having thought of bringing a camera along. Since he could not register lightning fast impressions, let alone remember them, he should have thought of such an eventuality and have provided for it. But now it was too late. It seemed senseless to proceed any further.
John Marshall, the esper, intercepted Rhodan's thoughts. "Don't despair," Marshall tried to cheer Rhodan up. "They surely haven't lured us this far only to let us turn back again with nothing achieved. Even if we should never learn the meaning of that inscription-provided they won't repeat it for us somewhere-there will certainly be other tasks awaiting us."
"The symbols will be deciphered by the positronic brain," interjected Khrest. "One of us will have to bring it back and the teleporter Ras Tschubai can pick up the decoded message within a few minutes.
