by Leo Lukas
"So there's a smaller crew than on the earlier generation ships?" Eniva asked.
"Exactly. That's because the later arks may have incorporated the more advanced technology, but it wasn't developed enough to encompass a truly gigantic ship. Here, comfort has been traded for size. The ACHATI UMA set out with just 10,000 passengers."
"For each inhabitant of the ship, that is an average of about 20,000 cubic meters available," Tolot calculated in a flash, "which amounts to a cube roughly 27 meters on a side. Since the technical and mechanical facilities are largely concentrated in other sections of the ship, this volume is very comfortable and allows the crew the possibility of increasing its number still further."
"As far as Jere has been able to find out," Solina reported, "the capture of the ark and contact with its crew took place without any great difficulty. The ship and crew were in considerably better condition than was the case with the NETHACK ACHTON. Supposedly everyone has remained on board. They're being psychologically treated and slowly prepared for the culture shock that's in store for them."
Her entire body tingled in anticipation. She could hardly wait to meet these people face to face. Perhaps the old Lemurian culture had been far less corrupted on the ACHATI UMA than on the NETHACK ACHTON or the LEMCHA OVIR, whose crews had had to struggle with far greater difficulties.
"Was Levian Paronn mentioned?" Tolot asked.
"No," Solina said, "but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Either the Fleet, the Council, and the Energy Command are keeping it secret even from Jere tan Balloy, or Paronn simply hasn't stepped forward yet. From what I know about him, he's mastered the game of disguise and intrigue very well."
Rhodan looked at the chronometer on his multifunction armband. "We absolutely have to get on board Paronn's ark. Our beloved commander Sharita should be alert and lively again by this time. If I know her, she won't pass up the opportunity to personally call Drorah and request permission to enter the Blue System."
Sharita Coho was in fact standing at her command console when they came back into the control center. She looked rested after a good sleep, but anything other than happy. That was probably due to the exchange she was just then having over the hypercom.
"What do you mean, 'closer approach temporarily denied by order of high authority due to internal state affairs'?" she barked into the holo. "You certainly aren't going to shoot us down if we do it anyway!"
Solina recognized the man on the other side of the connection as Mechtan tan Taklir, the Admiral of the Seventh Fleet, and someone she had already met. He was considered a hawk and a traditionalist, yet upright and relatively reasonable for an officer.
"We don't want to but we will, so don't force us," the Takhan replied curtly. "Provoking a conflict between Akon and Terra isn't in anyone's interest. Your PALENQUE will remain where it is along with the Halutian space-sphere and the LAS-TOOR. The crew of the LAS-TOOR has been ordered to go to Drorah immediately by teleporter. And that includes everyone: the ship will be sealed and left in the control of the on-board Syntron. In addition, I must emphasize that this order also applies to those crew members currently on board the PALENQUE."
Solina and Eniva looked at each other. The computer network specialist rolled her eyes. "Impossible," she whispered. "I simply must change outfits before we go. Animated nature is totally out of style on Drorah!"
Sharita struggled for words. Rhodan, who stood outside the range of the optical field, pointed his finger at first himself, then at the holo, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.
Sharita nodded. "I am granting my passenger Perry Rhodan permission to participate in this discussion."
But not even the Terran Resident could change the Admiral's mind. Mechtan tan Taklir stood firm. Orders from the highest authority. Finally Rhodan gave up.
"Perhaps you could do something for us on Drorah," he said with a smile to the two Akonian women after the Takhan had ended the hypercom communication.
"We will do everything we can," Solina promised.
They regretfully took their leave from the Terrans, with whom they had become friends, and teleported to the LAS-TOOR. There, everything was complete bedlam as a result of the Admiral's order. Jere tan Balloy had also protested loudly against it, but didn't get any better results than Rhodan. All they could do was pack their bags.
A little later, Solina Tormas stepped with mixed feelings through the light-arch of the teleporter.
7
Showtime
"I would have loved to see Rhodan's face when you told him where to get off!"
"Oh, you know, Aykalie-kins, it wasn't as bad as that. He understood that I was following my orders, and that was the point. The man is a pro who can make the distinction between the person and the function. Wish we had more of his kind in our fleet."
"Is that the hard-core Terran-fighter talking?"
"I know leadership qualities when I see them, my child, and Rhodan has some. For my taste he's too easy on his people, and anyway I can't stand that typical, slimy, Terran grass-roots democracy where every last latrine cleaner is asked his opinion. But Rhodan has saved the Terrans from disaster every time, even when nobody would have bet a Galaxy on his chances. He's successful, that's what counts. Damned good head on his shoulders, too. The 'instant adapter,' they call him, because he can adjust to new circumstances more quickly than most people. Thinks faster than his shadow, you might say. Ha ha, that's a good one."
Mechtan tan Taklir laughed heartily over his little joke. Aykalie joined in. Her grandfather had been in a good mood for days. The discovery of the star ark had made him a top-rank celebrity as soon as it had been publicly announced. Since then he had been invited as a star guest on various tri-vid shows more times than he had in all the decades before put together. And even if he never would have admitted it, the old warhorse enjoyed being the center of attention. Not even Aykalie's husband, Jars tan Aburrir, who otherwise was not exactly one to hide his light under a deflector shield, indulged in his new-found fame like Mechtan. Now in the offing was another appearance for the two with a very popular talk-show host for one of the biggest networks.
Aykalie looked at her wrist-chrono: the broadcast would begin in five minutes. "What will he do now? Rhodan, I mean? Sit there quietly and pick at his toe jam?"
"Sometimes I think you've been hanging around the officers' clubs too much lately, my dear. If your mother heard that! Toe jam! Ha ha, just thinking of the Resident ... Ahem. Well, there isn't much else he can do. He won't risk a military confrontation. His red-eyed pal Atlan might, and try with the Halutian ship—that has the best offensive and defensive weaponry—to break through our cordon, but not Rhodan, the old peace apostle. He'll probably turn directly to the Ruling Council by hypercom. Then he really will run into a brick wall. Of course, they'll have to allow him to come in by teleporter if he asks to, otherwise it would be too much of a snub of a high state visitor. But he won't be able to get to the two arks parked in stationary orbit over Xolyar. They've been declared a state secret, so they're off-limits to him. Looks like it's time to put on the war paint."
Aykalie, who had offered to apply her grandfather's make-up for him, reached for the powder puff. Since the Seventh Fleet was stationed at Xolyar to watch over the arks, he didn't spend his off-duty hours on board his flagship but in his hunting lodge in the game-rich hill country of Dror-Wedonka.
The broadcast began. The house Syntron activated the tri-vid screen, which took up the entire rear wall of the lounge. Dahilm Drschat, the show's host, was greeted by the studio audience with euphoric enthusiasm. As usual, he began with a few jokes about ethnic minorities, mainly descendents of the Terrans or their allies.
"What does a Plephosian say when he sees a banana peel on the sidewalk a meter in front of him? 'Oh no, I'm about to fall flat on my face!'"
[Laughter, applause.]
"And an Ertrusian? 'Hey, who didn't finish his dinner?'"
[Laughter, louder applause.]
"And a
Swoon? 'My dear lady, are you busy tonight?'"
[Laughter, roaring applause, brief snatch of music played by the live orchestra.]
The humor, of course, was based on the facts that a) Bananas were well-known throughout much of the Galaxy because of Terran exports, and b) A Swoon was an intelligent alien life-form that conceivably could mistake a banana for a female of its species.
After finishing the obligatory jokes, Drschat proceeded to give a commentary on current events. As before, the arks were Topic Number One.
"I mean, the whole thing does have one bright side," the tall, gangly comedian said, waving his arms in his trademark fashion as though the entire studio was filled with mosquitoes. "Now our highly esteemed military can't complain any more about their starships getting too old and out of date, and urgently needing to be replaced with new ones. As you can see, if you just take good care of them, the things'll last 50,000 years or more!"
[Laughter, somewhat hesitant applause.]
"Hey, relax! I don't have anything against the Space Fleet. I love the Space Fleet. Some of my best friends are in the Space Fleet. They say the off-duty action in some of those dark cabins on a super-battleship beats anything you can find in any of the hottest clubs in Veehraátoru's pleasure quarter—and that's without getting into what our lady soldiers are up to in their quarters!"
[Scattered but all the heartier laughter. Camera pans to a group of grinning male cadets holding up a pink banner: "Make Love and War!")
Mechtan grimaced.
"Stop that!" Aykalie exclaimed. "It'll make your make-up spotty, and then on screen you'll look like you have a contagious disease. Say, are you really sure you want to go on?"
"Certainly. Drum up a lot of support from the population this way. Besides, the guy's really funny, don't you think?"
She was saved having to answer because the Syntron put a call through, turning off the tri-vid sound in the process. It was the show's producer, asking if the Admiral was ready, and announcing that his entrance was in three minutes.
Meanwhile, Dahilm Drschat had whipped his audience into such a frenzy that he could get it to howl with delight just by tugging on his earlobe.
"Yes, folks," he said, "everybody's talking about the ark people. We're negotiating to get one or two on the show, but it's not possible at the moment because they're in quarantine. I don't want to say they're a little behind the times, but they'll only be allowed out once they've learned how to eat with a knife and fork."
[Laughter, whistles, shouts of "Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!"]
"Everybody's talking about the ark people, but we're going to talk with people who talk with them every day. Ladies and gentlemen, here are the spokesman for the scientific care and study team, Jars tan Aburrir, and that most exceedingly charismatic discoverer of the star arks, Space Admiral Mechtan tan Taklir!"
Mechtan stepped through the teleporter and appeared on the studio stage in the same instant. Meanwhile, Jars materialized next to him. They greeted each other and the show's host, then took their seats at a table constructed to resemble a starship's command console.
"Ma-Yidari tan Aburrir, you came directly from high orbit over Xolyar to us. How do things look from up there, what's happening on board the arks, and what's the mood like?"
"First, extremely dark, which is normal everywhere in space; second, not much; and third, it varies." With that, Jars immediately had the laughers on his side,
Aykalie was happy for him. He was a good man, even if he truly blossomed only within the context of his scientific activities. But he allowed her as much freedom as he demanded for himself, and so, since they were apart most of the time, that way they lived together very happily.
"Seriously, the crew of the ACHATI UMA is adapting considerably better to the abrupt end of its long journey than that of the NETHACK ACHTON. The reason for this is that, due to the more favorable conditions on board their ship, they have diverged significantly less in terms of civilization from an enlightened, secularized worldview."
Jars was visibly getting caught up in the spirit of things; his gray eyes flashed, his pitch-black, shoulder-length mane made wave motions with each movement of his head, giving him the appearance of being slightly carried away. The video director reinforced the effect by turning on blue overhead spotlights and occasionally digitally slowing the facial expressions. That the synchronization of word and picture was lost that way seemed to bother him very little. He was apparently of the opinion that practically no one was listening to the overblown scientific babble.
"With the people on the ACHATI UMA, we have already reached the point of providing them with partial information about the history of the Galaxy since their exodus, along with the most significant varieties of contemporary Akonian culture," Jars continued. "In measured doses and with interdisciplinary academic coordination, of course."
"In other words, you're only letting them see the best," said Drschat. "Like this show."
[Loud laughter and applause.]
"I'm afraid that would only set those poor people back another few hundred thousand years," Mechtan said grimly.
The audience went wild. The director took the opportunity to switch to a series of commercials.
Aykalie wasn't certain if Jars understood why her grandfather was glad to take him along on such occasions, and in that respect even preferred him to his acknowledged favorite Achab ta Mentec. For one thing, the Admiral could drape himself in the scientific knowledge of his colleague, and for another, the rough and ready soldier who spoke in a simple, clear, and often ribald manner looked that much better to the audience in contrast to the academically long-winded theoretician.
He's using him as the fool in order to gain sympathy as the straight man, Aykalie thought, referring to an ancient Lemurian theater tradition. And this strategy works. The Fleet Command should carpet his broad chest with medals. With these appearances he's getting positive publicity among the younger viewers, especially the ones critical of the military. That couldn't be achieved with image-improvement advertising campaigns no matter how expensive.
After avatars, models, and impoverished semi-celebrities had spent several minutes touting the advantages of new shaped energy furniture programs, hypno-training for embryos, and sanitary napkins with built-in micro-teleporters that instantly dematerialized any discharges, the show continued with a short musical interlude. That was followed by a somewhat amusing vid-clip in which Dahilm Drschat played an ark-inhabitant who wandered into an Akonian S&M bordello by mistake.
After that, the discussion turned to the effects of the arks' discovery on the Akonians' self-image. "I mean, isn't the whole thing kind of a culture shock for us, too?" the host asked. "It jerks us off our high horse, doesn't it? Hey, who's laughing because I said 'jerk off'?"
[Camera pans to the cadets, who are making simulated gestures best left undescribed.]
"All joking aside," Drschat continued, "we consider ourselves the immediate descendants and only legitimate heirs of the ancient Lemurians. And now something like younger relatives appear who are much closer to our forefathers, just a few generations apart. Twenty, twenty-five at most, if my colleagues in the script department have accurately researched something for once."
[View behind the scenes of the studio where some bleary-eyed, undernourished-seeming people make obscene gestures at the camera.]
"Doesn't that shake our collective self-confidence, Jars?"
"Of course, Dahilm. The jokes that you and your gag writers have come up with on this subject are a direct expression of that uncertainty. Like that line about 'learning to eat with a knife and fork.' Something like that goes over well because it diminishes the Lemurian descendants in the arks, degrades them, makes them look ridiculous, so they don't have to be taken seriously any more. And not only that ... "
"That was Jars tan Aburrir, ladies and gentlemen! Takhan Mechtan tan Taklir, your Seventh Fleet has set up a cordon around the arks. Who is being protected here—the Lemurians from us, or us fro
m them?"
"Mainly both sides from people like you," Aykalie's grandfather growled. After the frenetic applause and cheering of the studio audience died down, he added matter-of-factly: "We are only doing our duty. We are making sure everything runs smoothly and as it should. Internally as well as externally. If we hadn't brought the arks back to the home system as quickly as possible, there would have certainly been explosive diplomatic complications. This way it's clear that Akon is in charge for the time being. Of course, we have declared our readiness to provide our brother peoples ... " He twisted the corners of his mouth slightly, inserting an artificial pause that was just long enough for the audience to answer with mocking laughter. " ... That is, the Terrans, Arkonides, and, once they catch wind of it, the Tefrodians, with our study team's results in due course. We are not giving them any reason to feel insulted. Perhaps in a few weeks or months we will even lend them this or that ark inhabitant if they ask nicely."
"That sounds like a new source of income for the imperial treasury," Dahilm Drschat interjected with a wink. "'Arkies for Rent.' Five thousand Galaxes per hour, reduced weekend rates ... " The studio band then played the opening notes of a current hit with the refrain, "Since I don't know where you went, my empty heart is now for rent."
[Rhythmic clapping, much cheering.]
"In any event, the danger of an intergalactic conflict was averted thanks to our quick measures. And that, after all, is what we of the Space Fleet are here for."