by Perry Rhodan
Morgan glanced up at Webster. "What do you want?"
"Mr. Yakamura would like to talk to you."
Morgan seemed surprised. "Why, of course. Isn't he coming here?"
The same instant Morgan felt like a fool; he could have bitten off his tongue. How could he be sure that this man had really been sent by Yakamura?
Webster felt relieved at hearing this information and seized the opportunity that had been so thoughtlessly presented to him. "No, he can't come here, unfortunately. But he would like you to meet him at his hotel."
Morgan did not reply. He just stared at Webster, who grew impatient.
"Mr. Yakamura seemed to be in a great hurry when he sent me over here to ask you to come to his hotel. He has to leave Pittsburgh by tonight, sooner than he thought."
"Oh, that's it." Morgan seemed to accept this explanation He motioned to the waitress and paid his bill Webster walked out with him.
"My car is parked right here in front. It will be quicker this way.
"No, thank you," Morgan declined cautiously. I'd rather walk over to the Atlantic, it's so close."
But in the meantime Webster managed to pin him against Vale's car at the curb. Unnoticed by the passersby, Webster had pulled his gun and pushed it against Morgan's ribs.
"Do as I tell you!" he ordered. With a fast glance he noticed that Vale had accosted Yakamura and was busy talking to him.
"Open the car door and get in!" ordered Webster.
Morgan obeyed. He had no choice with the cold steel of Webster's gun barrel punctuating his words.
Webster sat down next to Morgan. Vale was still busy with the Japanese. Webster ground his teeth impatiently. Vale was doing too good a job delaying Yakamura. Webster rolled down the window and whistled to Vale. Vale tried to leave, but with a stubbornness that exasperated Webster, the Japanese stayed glued to Vale. Cold sweat covered Webster's forehead. Finally Webster heard Vale's words. "Have fun, sir. I'm sorry, but I absolutely have to leave now."
Vale ran over to the driver's side of the car. But Yakamura, who could not be deterred by such brusk leave-taking, approached the car from the curb and peered in. He had discovered Morgan before Vale managed to start the engine. As the motor started, Webster snapped, "Get going!"
But before Vale had a chance to obey this command, Yakamura said in a strangely compelling voice through the half-opened window, "Hold it! I want to come along with you!"
Webster hesitated, unsure of himself.
"You can be reached at AN 2-3551, if I am not mistaken," continued the Japanese.
Webster nodded impulsively..
"Then you'd better take me along. I would not like anything to happen to this young man here. I can make sure of his loyalty in a much more effective way!"
"Okay. Get in, sir!"
Yakamura opened the front door and sat down next to Vale.
"Where did you want to go to?" the Japanese asked Webster.
"Just the nearest way out of town--"
"That suits me fine," remarked Yakamura agreeably. "Go ahead!"
Vale drove off. Soon he reached the freeway that led of the city. Soon after that Vale left the freeway and drove onto a sparsely traveled side road leading into fields. About a mile from the freeway he stopped the car.
"Not yet" ordered Yakamura. "Drive on a bit farther."
Vale looked at the Japanese and then at Webster. Webster shrugged helplessly.
Vale started the car again and drove for another two miles.
"Stop here!" commanded Yakamura. "That will do." Then he turned around to Morgan, in the back seat, and said, "Get out of the car!"
Morgan complied at once. He got out of the Ford slammed the door and then walked off, as if in deep thought, toward the freeway.
"Hey, hold it!" protested Webster. "That's not what I was given orders to-"
"Don't get excited!" Yakamura smiled gently. "You'll see in just a moment what I plan to do."
Yakamura looked at Vale. "Would you mind driving on a bit farther from the freeway and then turning around to go back where we came from?"
Vale shook his head and took off. Webster peered through the rear window, nonplussed by Morgan's strange actions. Morgan had set out on his way back to the main road without even once looking back at the car driving off in the opposite direction.
Vale continued on for another mile, then made a U-turn and drove back. In the meantime it had started raining.
Ten minutes later they spotted Morgan. Yakamura suggested, "Stop the car when you see him trying to hitch a ride!"
Morgan, In the meantime, had taken refuge from the rain under a tree by the wayside. He had pulled his jacket halfway over his head to protect himself from sudden downpour He was frantically waving his thumb toward the freeway. Vale braked and came to a full stop just in front of Morgan. Morgan came running from under the protective tree and quickly opened the door. "Heavens!" he panted, and let himself fall into the seat next to the utterly amazed Webster. "I was out here trying to catch a thief and I thought I was hot on his trail, when that rainstorm came on of a sudden. Would you please be so kind as to give me a ride back into town?"
The Japanese smiled obligingly at him. "Why, of course. Did you have any success with your chase?"
"No. I seem to have lost his trail when I came onto this side road here."
He continued with his story about a thief he had pursued. He rattled on and on, with the most minute details. Yakamura listened attentively, and Webster and Vale began to understand slowly with growing horror that Morgan had lost any memory of what had really happened to him.
And that was not all! Morgan had fabricated an artificial memory and would therefore never remember a Japanese by the name of Yakamura whose trail he had so hotly pursued.
Yakamura ordered Morgan to be let off at the outskirts of the city. Webster, who had finally got over his initial shock, stared asking all kinds of questions. But Yakamura did not answer. Instead he requested, "Stop at the nearest phone booth. I want to call AN 2-3551."
The Preparations leading up to the arranged meeting gave it the character of a mysterious plot. Webster insisted that the Japanese should be blindfolded while he was being driven to the meeting place. Tako did not resist. He went along with their game.
He did not even endeavor to memorize the various bends in the road. There was not the slightest doubt In his mind that these business negotiations would be concluded most successfully and that he would return unharmed. He was most pleased that the Morgan affair had wound up so easily. How fortunate for him that chance had been on his side, saving him a lot of time consuming trouble.
At last they reached their destination, and the long walk through halls, up and down staircase and around corners came to an end. The blind fold was removed from Tako's eyes. He found a fairly well lit but not tastefully furnished room.
Several men standing around a large table looked him over curiously. They seemed to fit in with the style of the furniture.
"Good evening, gentlemen!" Tako said in the most friendly manner. The men began to grin. "Good evening!" one of them replied. His face seemed familiar. His picture was frequently in the newspapers. Tako remembered the rumor that Stan Brabham's word meant more in the steelworkers' union than that of the big boss.
Tako was not very surprised by what he saw. He had expected something of the kind.
"Let's sit down here!" Brabham suggested cordially, and pulled over a chair for Tako.
"And let's start right away with business, Mr. Brabham," added Tako. Brabham looked startled. "How come you know my name?"
"From the papers," replied Tako curtly. "Anyhow, what does it really matter? Let's come to the point-do you want to help me?"
Brabham answered with a brief nod.
"Why?" continued Tako.
"First of all because of the money and, more important still, because we sympathize with the Third Power."
Tako did not manage to hide his surprise. "Why? And how did you find out?"<
br />
"We have our people everywhere, and they know how to keep their eyes and ears open," explained Brabham with a wide grin. "We also have friends working at Ferroplastics, Limited, for instance. To make a long story somebody got wind of the whole thing, and we were smart enough to figure out what it all added up to."
Tako looked straight into Brabham's eyes. "What will you be able to do for us?" he inquired.
Brabham was fiddling with a pencil stub and doodling on a piece of paper in front of him on the table. "We can get you about anything you want," he remarked calmly. "This is no exaggeration, either."
Tako fully believed him. He had heard about the tremendous influence wielded by the American trade unions.
"What will be your price?"
"Five percent gross," stated Brabham without blinking an eyelid. That was quite a lot. Still, it was far less than Tako had expected to have to pay. "Why aren't you charging more for your services?"
"That's all we need," replied Brabham. "And besides, I have already told you how much we admire you. You have every chance to become a third world power Indeed. We, the workers, don't want to be left out and wait passively when we see such a chance to bring about final peace on Earth."
"But do you realize that you are working against the laws of your own country?"
Brabham shrugged with deliberation. "This particular law is nonsense. Everyone will come to that conviction in a few more years."
Tako thought for a moment before he shot off his first question. "Can you get us some magnetic bottles with a volume of 1,000 cubic yards each?"
Brabham turned to the man next to him. "Jeff, how about it?"
"No problem," affirmed Jeff. "We'll get them for you."
Brabham turned again to Tako. "You have heard it yourself. How many magnetic bottles will you need?"
"Five."
"When?"
"As soon its possible."
"Jeff, how long will it take you?"
"Four to five weeks."
"In five weeks, will that do?"
"Okay with us."
"Anything else you need?"
"That will be all for the time being, Mr. Brabham. I don't want to play all my cards before I have seen positive proof that you can really deliver what you promise. I hope you understand my being cautious."
Brabham laughed out loud and slapped his hand on the table. "I understand. But we will Convince you that we mean business."
"I will leave it up to you how you go about seeing that no one finds out who placed the order," Tako said.
"Don't you worry," Brabham reassured him. "We are not interested in risking our own necks, either."
After discussing the terms of delivery, Tako left the meeting with shining eyes, very satisfied with what he had accomplished. Back at the hotel, he paid his bill, and he left Pittsburgh early the next morning.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rarely had Perry Rhodan felt such gratitude toward anyone as he did now for Khrest. For the Arkonide scientist had made sure not to be around when Rhodan regained consciousness after the hypno-schooling session. Only Rhodan's friend Bell was present. As soon as Bell awoke he sat up and turned his back to Rhodan; then he leaned forward and supported his head in his hands, as if its weight had suddenly become more than he could bear. An hour went by without a word being spoken. Rhodan stared inside his brain and saw an endless cave in which he could perceive everything clearly. In the cave was stored all types of information, innumerable items of specialized superior knowledge. All he needed to do was to formulate any wish in his mind, and instantaneously he would have the solution to it, if it was something of a mathematical or scientific nature.
He tried to estimate the extent of the cavern which was his brain. But he was incapable of perceiving any limit to it. It seemed infinite, and as far as he managed to peer into it he never encountered any wall; there was always still another path leading farther on.
He looked up. His glance fell on the telecom. He felt absolutely convinced that Thora was observing him on the other end in her own cabin. She was surely studying his reaction upon awakening. He did not want to give her the satisfaction of seeing him brood over the newly found insights that the superior, Arkonide treasure of knowledge was giving him.
He got up. Bell was annoyed and grumbled about the noise Rhodan was making. Perry walked along the corridor until he came to the open door leading into Khrest's room. Khrest was sitting in a jointed chair staring at the telecom screen in Thora's cabin.
Upon hearing Rhodan entering, Khrest turned his head. "Well?" he asked, and smiled with a trace of concern.
"Oh, nothing." Rhodan shook his head. "I have found a mistake."
Khrest straightened up with a shock. "A mistake?"
"Yes. The solution of the problem seems to be of a fairly recent date. I suppose that your people were too phlegmatic to look at everything properly."
Khrest appeared to wince. Rhodan winked an eye toward the telecom, to make Khrest understand that his words were really for Thora's ears.
"Very interesting, indeed!" whispered Khrest. And what kind of mistake have you detected?"
"The problem of reproducing hyper-flight routes-do you remember--" Rhodan asked as nonchalantly as be could. "The differential equation on which it is based is unstable and cannot be solved according to formula. The differential equation is one of the seventh order. But you were using a numerical approximation of the thirteenth order. That means that It is by several degrees more unstable than even the differential equation itself. In the field of nonstability small deviations grow to big mistakes.
"Even in our own mathematics here on Earth there are approximately solutions of the seventh order for such basic equations," continued Rhodan.
"Shall I tell you why this mistake was made on Arkon?"
Khrest could say nothing in reply.
"The reason is that the approximation method used is conveniently easy to apply," roared Rhodan harshly, "and because these methods are made to order for your automatic calculating machines, as I have discovered from another source of information now stored in my brain. Your scientists' inertia made them neglect to examine the basic equation for its stability, and only that same inertia caused them to employ the usual procedure."
Rhodan's voice now assumed a severely sarcastic note. "And this same inertia permits a considerable number of mistakes in the result and as a consequence uses an immense amount of energy to reproduce a once used hyper-flight route."
"Do you realize"—and now Rhodan's words came with the impact of repeated hammer blows— "That one-tenth of the calculated energy used would be sufficient!"
Rhodan felt pain as he observed how Khrest reacted. Khrest collapsed into his chair, sat bent over, muttering fragments of sentences, shaking his head in desperation.
Rhodan avoided looking at the telecom screen. He knew that Thora was observing him and could understand him. This farce was really intended for her benefit rather than for Khrest. The mistake did exist, but the way he had brought up the subject was aimed at her. Rhodan would have loved to be able to see her face.
Slowly Khrest regained his composure. Rhodan smiled at him reassuringly to help him regain his equilibrium.
"I really had not intended to discuss this mistake with you, Khrest. I came here to thank you for everything you have done for us. You can't imagine how much we are in your debt, how appreciative we are."
Khrest saw through Rhodan's attempt to cheer him up. He started to smile but managed only to produce a rather painful grimace. "Please don't, Rhodan," he murmured feebly. "You are not the one who should be grateful. It is just the other way around-we ourselves must thank the fate that let the paths of our two races cross."
Khrest leaned forward again. "Do you know that no one has ever dared to absorb the knowledge of ten levels of developmental steps at one time? Do you realize how long I had to observe you before I was sure you could risk this jump without endangering your mind?"
Khrest breathed dee
ply. Then he continued, "I had expected you would need several days to recover from the tremendous shock of the ten level schooling. And what do you do? You get off the couch, and hardly has the transmitter been disconnected before you come to me and tell me, 'This is where you fools made a mistake!'"
Khrest's voice grew loud and strong. "Do you realize what that means?"
Anyone could guess the answer. Khrest sank back again into his chair, breathing with effort.
The loud clatter of hurried steps became audible rushing down the corridor approaching Khrest's room. At the same time Rhodan could hear Bell mumbling something to himself. Now the stocky figure of Rhodan's redheaded friend appeared in the door.
"Listen Perry!" he said earnestly. "They have made a mistake - you know that, don't you? When they tried to reproduce mathematically a hyper-flight they applied a differential equation of the seventh order. And in addition..."
Rhodan burst out laughing, startling Khrest. It looked as if Rhodan's uncontrollable peals of laughter were painful for Khrest to hear. But then Khrest overcame his feelings of hurt and mustered a quiet, resigned, smile and an occasional chuckle at the grotesque situation.
An hour later the vessel left its orbital spin around Earth and set course for the moon. Rhodan had taken over the guidance system, applying the newfound information he had obtained during the hypno-indoctrnation. Reginald Bell flew as co-pilot. Khrest sat in the background, staring straight ahead. From time to time Rhodan turned around to check up on him. It seemed odd how long it took for a person of such mental magnitude to find his emotional balance again.
Thora did not come to the command center until the vessel was already heading straight for the moon. Rhodan did not bother to turn around as she entered. He heard her say, "This ship has an automatic guidance system. You are wasting your time, Rhodan!"
It was intended to sound sarcastic, but she was furious to note how poorly she succeeded.
Bell had turned around. "We are familiar with the workings of the Arkonide automatic guidance systems," he countered calmly. "One of them made quite a mess of fighting off an attack by three hydrogen helium rockets from Earth didn't it, Thora?"