by Perry Rhodan
The communication system was still intact. It was the last equipment that was to be destroyed so that the direct line to TT-1 would not be discovered immediately. Cardif used it to make a report of Tu-poa's death. The priest's demise was acknowledged but otherwise the news was lost in the whirl of emergent events.
The videophone console was just dissolving under Cardifs energy beams in a coruscating spray of molten metal and plastic vapors when two Antis appeared in the main doorway and shouted to him.
"Cardif, we only have five minutes before the ultimatum takes effect! You must hurry!"
He knew what the next move was. He calmly holstered his weapon and joined the other two but he was surprised at the strange direction they were taking as they led him away.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
One of them smiled maliciously. "We don't want to make it obvious to Rhodan that we're all heading for the spaceship at once, even though it's under as strong a defense screen as the temple is.
"A subterranean passage?" His wonderment grew. It was hard to believe that the priests would resort to such primitive methods.
"That's right," answered the same Anti. "Often primitive methods are more effective than the most refined technology."
But first their course took them into the open where Cardif was somewhat startled by the nearness of the enemy. Off to the left of the pyramid's peak at an altitude of some 500 meters, the Ironduke hovered motionlessly. The name of the ship was dearly visible on the vast spherical hull but this was not what attracted Cardif's attention. He was mystified by the strange appearance of the ring-bulge.
"What type of ship is that?" he asked curiously of his two companions.
They were looking at their chronometers and urging greater haste. They didn't know what the odd design of the Terran flagship could mean but it seemed of little concern to them. Cardif refrained from asking more about it yet he could not explain why this discovery had filled him with a strange uneasiness.
As they hurried across the court the mass of the pyramid began to obscure the hull of the ship more and more. They approached the temple entrance, which was standing wide open now in opposition to the strictest rules of security.
Another priest was waiting for them. "Hurry!" he urged, and he led the way inside.
At a glance Cardif could see that everything here had also been destroyed. The great main hail on the ground floor had been gutted by beam fire and was empty. Behind the metal obelisk, which had also been damaged, the entrance to the underground escape route was located. A spiral staircase led downward.
While they were descending, Cardif touched the Anti he had questioned before. "La-ger, they must have spotted me and recognized me on the Ironduke as I came with you across the temple courtyard. Wouldn't that have given them a chance to get a fix on my new brainwave pattern?"
La-ger gave him a superior smile. "Have you forgotten that we possess mental powers against which Rhodan's mutants are helpless? They can neither measure your frequency nor penetrate your thoughts. We've provided for that because by now we know that Rhodan mainly wants you. When unknown agents set free those 48 Terran prisoners we had and took them away with them, you know, Rhodan must have found out that you are the one who discovered and developed the Liquitiv."
They had come out of the stairwell by now and were hurrying along a straight lighted passage.
"A tremendous compound, that Liquitiv," commented Cardif grimly. "All their medicos can rack their brains about it and never know its secret but in 30 years there won't be any more Terrans left. You know Liquitiv can be produced in forms other than liqueur. It can also be infused into certain grains and cereals, once a few difficulties have been overcome."
The three Antis forgot in this moment that they were fleeing from Rhodan. In silence each of them decided that their leader must be advised of this information at once. It was a final confirmation that Thomas Cardif was their weapon for reaching their ultimate secret goal-the rulership of Arkon.
Of course they told themselves that he was only a temporary means to achieve their purpose. Others before the Antis had thought the same thing, however, until they suddenly realized that a man like Thomas Cardif was not to be exploited with impunity. He was not only an Arkonide but also a Terran. And his father was Perry Rhodan.
At the end of the passage they hurried up another staircase. The upper exit was only dimly illuminated and as they emerged they found themselves beneath the spaceship, exactly under the keelside airlock. A temporary structure of plastic paneling obstructed any observation of the lock from the outside.
A grey-bearded Springer was already waiting for them, impatiently signaling to them to hurry. "Only one minute to go!" he told them as he pushed them inside.
The lock clanged swiftly behind them.
The Galactic Trader shouted into a wall microphone to the Control Central: "Everybody on board-including Cardif!"
The Antis stared in silence at the Springer commander as he laughed in sullen triumph. He looked at the view-screen which revealed the great hulk of the Ironduke above the temple and after uttering a hateful curse he called into the intercom: "All hands into heavy spacesuits! Take-off in 20 seconds!"
This announcement caused about 150 Antis to go into a deeper silence. Each of them drew upon his last reserves of mental power to strengthen the long-ship's defense screens to an unimaginable degree.
Mighty machines came to life in the engine room. Under the control of the Springer clan's best pilot, tremendous forces were unleashed that drove the impulse engines to their limit of power. And finally in plain view of the Ironduke the small cylindrical ship dared defy Rhodan's ultimatum. It took off from the surface of Lepso.
• • •
Brazo Alkher heard the alarm from energy-tracing in the Control Central. From his Fire Control Center he too had caught the starting movement of the Springer ship in his target optics. He did not open fire with pulse cannons, thermo guns or disintegrators. Instead, he unleashed super-powerful tractor beams from five of his gun turrets. They were to force the fugitive ship to the desert's surface, after which the beams would hoist it right to the hull of the Ironduke. He had glanced at three of his instruments and he knew the horrendous power behind the combined beam force-but in the next instant he couldn't believe his eyes.
The Trader ship was getting away!
It rose up in spite of the traction beams. In a wild surge of acceleration it sped into the sky as though its crew expected the world beneath it to burst into a nova at any second. Direct sight was impossible now because the take-off had kicked a few thousand cubic meters of sand and gravel into the lower layers of the atmosphere.
But that part was no deterrent to Alkher. The optical system of his target sights did not depend alone on visible light. In a lightning move he hit the master switch, which was programmed to open a concentrated fire from all weapons against the fleeing ship. Within the Ironduke two power stations suddenly came to life which were for exclusive backup of the weapons section. The great spherical hull was shaken by the howl of silo-thick energy beams which tore through the heavy atmosphere of Lepso and unleashed hurricanes in their wake.
"What the devil!" yelled Alkher, unable to comprehend what he saw.
Under the giant beam-fire of the Ironduke the Trader long-ship only gained speed. Neither disintegrators, thermo or impulse beams succeeded in ripping the enemy defense screen asunder. A tremendous cascade of ravening energy virtually sprayed off the screen in all directions. For a moment the rocky desert wasteland was bathed in the glare of an artificial sun.
Almost with the swiftness of a positronic brain, Alkher realized what his ray-fire was causing. The gun crews in the turret emplacements imagined there was a heavy short in the power-feed system when their combined salvos failed them.
But Brazo had struck the main power switch to zero. He had no intention of using the impact of the Ironduke's beams as a means of accelerating the fugitive ship. He had made a rough calcula
tion of the probable thrust value of the mighty energy beams as they crashed against the Anti-reinforced defense screen of the enemy. All the Ironduke had accomplished was to help the other ship's engines to hurl the fugitive at still greater speed into space.
"Attention, Commander!" Brazo shouted into the intercom mike. "Our beam-fire has only given the fugitive additional thrust. It's reached the upper levels of the atmosphere. In view of circumstances, firing operations have ceased."
"Glord!" It was a bewildered cry from Control Central-quite recognizable as coming from Reginald Bell.
Rhodan followed up his exclamation with a pointed remark: "If the commanders of our super-battleships don't have such clever weapons officers, their world-buster bombardments will only give extra wings to our fleeing bird! Hello Com Central! Open channel to all super-battleships. Are you sending?"
"We're on the frequency, sir!" came the answer.
Then Rhodan relayed to the giant ships what Brazo Alkher had realized in the fraction of a second. When he was finished he felt the gaze of Col. Claudrin turned upon him.
The commander's voice thundered proudly: "Sir, there's no other weapons officer in the Fleet who can match him!" Nor was he wrong.
Somebody shouted: "The Barbarossa's got it!"
Energy-tracing confirmed: "Direct hit! The ship's spinning in space!"
But then nothing more. The Imperium-class battleship Alexander opened with all guns from its pole turrets, firing directly at the cylindrical ship wobbling above it. The resulting direct hit was powerful enough to blast thin any defense screen known. But it accomplished nothing more than a giant display of pyrotechnics as the energy bombardment sprayed from the enemy's screen. In fact the weirdly-stable screen seemed to have the effect of halting the ship's spinning motion as it virtually absorbed the extra power, causing the fugitive vessel to straighten out and ride a catapult of extra thrust into the outer void.
The Ironduke's hypersensor detected a transition jump.
It was not possible to determine the Trader ship's point of re-entry into the normal universe. For Bell and Rhodan there was no mystery to it: they knew that the Antis' mental powers were also capable of absorbing a hyper shockwave.
• • •
Dr. Nearman started from a narcotic stupor. He thought he heard something-but such a sound had never been heard before in TT-1.
"Nonsense!" he muttered half under his breath.
He turned on his side to surrender to the first quickening phases he always enjoyed after taking two flasks of Liquitiv within an hour.
"Wonderful stuff!" he mumbled contentedly.
He wasn't thinking of Perry Rhodan nor was he worried about the fact that he was the only member of the technical staff left in Sector TT-1. The others had fled. He had also prepared himself for flight already but he didn't wish to leave TT-1 until the first wave of drug euphoria had subsided and he felt sufficiently strong again.
He was still lying on the bed half-dreaming when he was again startled by a distant jangling sound. He raised up and listened. Then he heard the heavy marching tread of a column of robots! The noise was coming from the long corridor. Rhodan! With that single thought he was out of bed in a single motion,
On the table was a plastic bag containing 50 flasks of Liquitiv together with some food tablets and money. He snatched this up on the run and went out of his room toward the emergency exit. This was an antigravshaft one meter wide which would bring him up 800 meters to a plateau that was close under the peak of the Cif Mountains.
The distance to the exit was 200 meters but he figured he was not yet in any danger. He was still moving along at a slow trot when he was suddenly horrified to hear the metallic footsteps of a robot behind him. When he heard the machine call out to him and order him to stop he didn't even dare look back. He sprinted toward the safety of the shaft with the desperation of a madman.
Made it! Or so he thought as he jumped for the door but at that moment he yelled in pain. A ray-beam had struck his thigh. The second shot missed. Pain shot through his body. He would have yelled in agony if he had not still been under the influence of his drug intoxication. In fact it was the only thing that enabled him to stand the pain. While he floated up the hidden shaft he was able to examine the severe injury he had sustained. As a doctor he knew the wound was in a very bad place for haemorrhaging. He came close to fainting when he saw the damage the robot beam had caused.
All he could think of now was to get to the high-speed glider.
This emergency gravitor had been provided exclusively for just such cases as this when a secret fast getaway was required. The shaft had three speed zones. The first and last 50 meters generated an antigrav field that maintained a speed which was standard to similar Arkon installations. Between these two zones, however, the user of the lift was swept upward at four times the normal speed.
Which was lucky for Dr. Nearman.
Once on the plateau, he grasped the plastic bag in one hand and crawled painfully to the glider. It took every reserve of strength to pull himself up inside the craft. He ripped open the first-aid kit and groaned in relief when he saw the plentiful supply of medicines and bandages. He began at once to dress his wound.
It was only an hour later that he was able to fly the glider. Keeping close under the cliff walls of the Cif range, he hoped to escape the clutches of Perry Rhodan.
• • •
But Rhodan was standing in front of the main tank installation in TT-1 while his combat robots were searching through every part of the system of caverns for living beings. A team of doctors from the Ironduke was busy with unfamiliar inspection equipment. A group of engineers was trying to determine how much Liquitiv was still in the giant tank. All the smaller tanks they had inspected had been empty.
They arrived at an estimate of between 30,000 and 35000 litres.
"No more?" asked Rhodan. "Is that actually all of it?"
About 50 men stood around him and waited for him to continue.
"Well, gentlemen, unfortunately that proves conclusively that Lepso is not the main narcotics source of the Antis-it's only a distribution point." Rhodan eyed them all gravely. "The Liquitiv supply we've found here wouldn't even be enough to cover one day's needs for all the addicts in the Solar Imperium alone."
Col. Claudrin stared incredulously. "What?-30,000 litres of this filth-absorbed in one day? In the Solar Imperium?"
"Much more than that, I'm afraid, Colonel-no doubt very much more. Now maybe you can understand my disappointment. We haven't yet found the main source.
They had been here two hours now and during that time Rhodan had not discussed his son or even mentioned him by a single word or inference. He only discussed the Antis.
One of the Ironduke's medicos approached him. "Sir, we finally got the hang of the Antis' inspection and test equipment. We checked out this local Liquitiv and made a comparison with our own data. It's the same stuff alright, to the last drop. Identical with the rejuvenation liqueur they've been selling on Earth."
"But-no trace of what this hell-juice is made out of, doctor?"
Fifty pairs of eyes turned to the doctor as he slowly shook his head. "No, sir-we have found no derivative trace."
"You also tested whatever you found in the smaller tanks?"
"Yes sir. There were only a few dregs left in the bottom of the bottling tanks but every drop was identical with the main supply."
With those words the doctor buried one more of Perry Rhodan's hopes.
The minicom transceiver buzzed on Rhodan's wrist. A voice came thin the micro-speaker announcing that the message was from the Ironduke and that Alan D. Mercant wanted to speak to him. Rhodan switched on and frowned sharply at Mercant's face on the tiny screen. "What's the matter?" he asked.
The Chief of Solar Intelligence appeared to be excited. "Sir," he said in a slightly hoarse tone, "we've just received a report from one of our agents on Aralon. Over 40 years ago Edmond Hugher was a student at their biggest university-on
a scholarship paid for by the Antis. He made top grades-even was excused from final specialist exams because of his genius. There has been no record in the annals of the university to equal it since. His specialty was-"
Rhodan cut in swiftly. "Mercant! Millions of addicted victims throughout the galaxy know what his specialty was far better than we!"
He snapped off the connection and turned away as though to leave. Pucky was about to follow him but Bell held him back.
"Stay here, short stuff... Now's the time to leave him alone."
"So what happens now?" Pucky chirped as Rhodan disappeared into the outer corridor.
"That's a good question." Bell sounded very depressed, which was hardly characteristic of him. "We've lost Thomas Cardif's trail. They've confirmed that the Traders' long-ship has given us the slip. I'll lay you odds there's not a single Anti left on Lepso."
• • •
Meanwhile the small cylindrical ship of the Springers steered a course between two brilliant stars and hurtled toward its goal at almost the speed of light. In one of its cabins sat Thomas Cardif, who was immersed in deep concentration.
"Glima," he said, suddenly startled that he had spoken his thought aloud. He shook his head slightly. "Now I finally understand why I always enjoyed doing those Terran crossword puzzles. Icelandic wrestling-five letters. That's glima. But I know two stranger words."
He stared long into space while his hands tightened into fists.
He seemed to savor the name as he shouted it aloud: "THOMAS CARDIF-that's who I am!"
BLOCKADE: LEPSO
Copyright © 1976
Ace Books
by arrangement with Arthur Moewig Verlag
All Rights Reserved.
