by Perry Rhodan
Suddenly I sensed my physical weakness. I felt sick. The outlines of the temple building began to blur before my vision.
When I came to my senses I found myself lying on a stretcher. The ship's surgeon from the California was just removing a pressure hypodermic from my neck.
"Parastimulus, sir," he said quietly. "I guess you know what's going on. That was the first attack of debility. Your actual age is starting to come into evidence."
"How long will that shot last me?" I asked, somewhat composed. I felt strong again.
"Normally eight to ten hours. In your case, slightly less since you have become accustomed to the continuous stimuli of your activator. Clinically speaking you are a dangerously sick man."
"Thanks very much," I growled at him. "Unfortunately there's nothing I can do about it."
The doctor laughed, which seemed to me a warped sense of humor.
I glanced at my watch: 52 hours and 14 minutes had passed since the theft of the activator.
Rhodan bent down close to me but I surprised him by raising up. I sat rigidly on the stretcher and looked around. My physical strength seemed to have returned to me completely. The parastimulus shot was really quite effective.
"He's going to go bandanas!" said somebody with a chirping high voice. Pucky sat down beside me. The stretcher rack was just at the right level for him. I almost wanted to laugh. Sometimes the mouse-beaver was priceless.
"Alright, Perry," I told Rhodan, "let's not hold off any longer. I only have eight hours left. Either I risk everything or nothing."
"Attack?" he queried curtly.
"Yes, and with everything we've got. I hereby declare a state of emergency on Arkon 2. The necessary orders will be given to the Regent at once. We can sit here doing nothing or we can take action—one way or the other. I have nothing more to lose."
Rhodan hesitated. "This Segno Kaata character will probably meet any battle threat with a counter-threat to destroy the activator. Practically speaking, he has our hands tied."
"We'll see about that! Maybe these so-called Antis can neutralize your mutants but I'd like to see what they can do against the nuclear hurricanes that my portable robot guns can dish out to them! Their super capacities will be of little use to them then!"
My life was on the line. The high priest had me in his hands. Yet he might still be fooled. If I could succeed in making him think that I still had a spare activator, everything would work out. But if he saw through the deception—and our present manoeuvre gave him enough of a clue for it—then I was as good as dead.
I raised my left arm, ready to contact the Brain. But then Pucky stood up and his delicate hands grasped my wrist.
"Don't do it yet," said the little fellow in an unusually gentle tone of voice. His big hound-dog eyes gleamed faithfully in the starlight. "Atlan, let me try first. I'm the best teleporter in the Corps. Wait until I've made a jump. If I get into that temple the high priest will be done for!"
"No, little one, not this time," I replied in equally gentle tones. "You heard what your colleagues said. Those are the Antis! You'll run into a disaster. Before I have to go, I'm not about to lose another friend. And if I go, well—I've lived long enough in violation of the laws of Nature. I resorted to trickery in order to swindle a few extra millenniums of time. Now the end has come. But don't you jump now—you hear me?"
The mouse-beaver snuggled closer to me. "Friend? Did you say friend?" he chirped softly.
"Of course," I nodded, somewhat embarrassed.
Pucky turned and took up a battle stance before Rhodan's tall figure. It was ludicrously funny to see the little fellow standing there with his small arms akimbo.
"I'm going, Chief. Please don't try to stop me or I'll disobey the order. I have a chance."
Rhodan hesitated slightly before he finally nodded. "Alright, then give it a try. The latest signal tracings indicate that the activator is in the tallest of those conical towers. It's in the upper third section. You be careful now, OK?"
"Shall I go along?" asked Tako Kakuta from the background. He was our second transporter.
"Nothing doing, I'm going solo!" cried the mouse-beaver vehemently. In his small hand was the specially designed weapon he carried a deadly needle beamer.
In a moment the intelligent inhabitant of the planet Vagabond went into his concentration. Then he teleported with such speed that he hardly produced the usual shimmering effect of dematerialization.
We waited breathlessly. Then a fearful screaming caused us to turn around.
Almost 100 meters away to one side and far short of his mark, Pucky had suddenly become visible again but he was no longer himself. An expanded version of Pucky who looked 10 times his size came reeling toward us like some bellowing monster. His proportions kept changing continuously with sometimes the head widening grotesquely or the arms growing longer, until finally the thickened lower torso seemed to shrink and collapse.
His cry was not a shout of battle but one of terrible pain. The 30-foot giant came stumbling toward us pleading for help. His now bristling fur seemed to glow with an inner light of its own. It crackled with small. Lightning and muffled thundering that broke the stillness around us.
By the time we started toward him he had started to become smaller. The weird effect appeared to be fading rapidly and yet when we reached him he still was 15 feet tall. The process of shrinking was still accompanied by stretching and distortions but the glow of his fur was diminishing. He finally lay unconscious before us and the doctors and other mutants rushed in to take care of him. We stood there by his twitching body until Rhodan spoke out in brittle tones.
"Atlan, what can be done now? My mutants have failed. Glord! I never figured on running into these Antis! We didn't even know there were such monsters in existence!"
Allan D. Mercant had kept a cool head about him. He waited for John Marshall's report which advised us that during Pucky's jump the dematerialized substance of his body had been violently rejected by an unknown force and consequently during rematerialization his bodily atoms and the molecular groupings had not immediately reassembled in a proper matrix. This had been the reason for the distortion phenomena we had witnessed until a stabilization had occurred.
Having a clear picture of the situation, Mercant spoke up. "That was the last trump card and it's been lost. Make your attack, Atlan! As Imperator of this empire the authority is yours. I can't take the responsibility. It is you who must give the orders."
"Do you have any further suggestions?" I asked, feeling strangely self-composed.
"Yes sir. I urgently advise you to maintain your calm and reason. There's nothing to be gained by losing our heads now. We still have one possibility. Open your main fire against the outer walls and also put a few of the buildings under fire—but only the ones that do not contain the activator according to our tracer. Give them a demonstration of your power and will, even though some might take it as an act of desperation. I have to assume that in spite of his supernatural faculties this high priest is still, a living being who values his life. Use the attack to force him into a communication. Negotiate with him! He can't be absolutely sure if you have a duplicate or not. Maybe he'll even believe that you're bluffing. Nevertheless, in the back of his subconscious there may remain a shred of doubt. Once you have him in radio contact, half the battle is won. Bargain with him—his life for the activator!"
Mercant did seem to have a built-in computer in his head instead of a brain. Could he ever be wrong? It almost seemed as if he had never possessed this human characteristic.
Five minutes later my robot-guided tanks rolled into position. They were the heaviest units of the Arkonide space landing forces. I again made contact with the Regent, who at my request took over the direct command.
Fifty-two hours and 48 minutes after the theft of my activator, the impulse cannons began to thunder. Night turned into day as white-hot shock waves forced us to seek cover.
I had the mobile armored equipment move in closer.
The massive enclosure walls were ripped apart. Molten remains swirled into the night sky, impelled by the blast of destruction. The next bombardment destroyed three temple buildings, ripping them to their foundations. But only after the fifth building collapsed under fire and the air had become unbearably hot did I receive the anxiously awaited signal from the commanding officer of the mobile com station.
I could see the young officer as he raised an arm and waved it strenuously. I immediately ordered a cessation of firing and went over to his vehicle.
"A certain Segno Kaata wishes to speak with you, sir," said the lieutenant. "Over here, please—screen #3. Kaata is precisely on our voice-video frequency."
Rhodan gave me a challenging pat on the shoulder. His face was tense. He personally removed the disfiguring bioplastic padding from my nose and cheeks, thus restoring my natural facial characteristics. Mercant relieved me of the dark-haired wig. I brushed back my long, white-blond hair and reached for the imperial shoulder cape which we had had the foresight to bring along. It served to conceal my Terranian uniform to the waistline.
And so I stepped before the pickup lenses of the view camera. On the screen was the lean and wrinkled face of a white-haired Arkonide whose reddish eyes were clearly visible. He wore the loose white robes of a scientist which displayed symbols, however, that I had never seen before. I forced myself to be calm. This was the crucial moment.
• • •
The high priest laughed. It was an unusual laugh in that one heard it but didn't see it. The wizened face with the very shrewd eyes had not moved a muscle.
"I do not believe Your Eminence," he declared in a deep, well-modulated voice. "The attack proves you are dependent upon the device you seek. All right, why should I deny it any longer? I have it in my possession!"
"You mean you can't deny it," I said coldly. "You've overlooked the fact that it could be traced by sensor equipment. By now the traitors in the Crystal Palace have been taken into custody. We have unraveled this plot quite thoroughly. You made just two mistakes, Segno Kaata."
"In the first place you took the word of somebody who only knew part of the facts and in the second place you underestimated me. Or did you assume that I would stand for such an effrontery? The treason of the Terranian, Thomas Cardif, is immaterial to me. As far as I am concerned he can tell anyone he pleases about the importance of my cell activator. I always have a reserve duplicate available."
"Is that a fact?" he sneered.
I had to get a tight grip on myself in order not to make any mistakes now. "Whether you believe it or not—who cares?" I retorted.
"Then why do you place my temple under attack, Your Eminence?"
"To force you to relinquish the device you have stolen, of course. Why should I subject myself to the difficulties of having another duplicate made?"
These were the most precarious words so far in a discussion with a man who was not normal in the ordinary sense. Naturally I had to do something to get to the core of the issue. I had to demand the return of the device, cost what it might. As anticipated, he immediately made his thrust.
"Oh, then this loss will cause you difficulties?" asked the high priest with an impudent pretense at courtesy. "In that case you wouldn't dare to destroy the main temple building because then you would destroy the apparatus."
I prepared to use my last recourse. No other choice was available to me now. Either he would have to declare himself willing to hand over the activator in return for some assurance of amnesty or he'd have to take the risk of flight in order to save himself from the final onslaught. He had probably weighed these alternatives but would wait until the last moment before destroying the activator.
I smiled scornfully and looked at my watch. "Are you counting on the supposed 60-hour time allowance?"
"Precisely, Your Eminence!" he replied calmly. He seemed not to have a nerve in his body. Then he hastily added: "If you are still able to negotiate with me at the expiration of exactly 65 hours you will convince me that you have a replacement device. In that case I shall surrender the original in order—as you say!—to spare you the aforementioned difficulties. Since such action appears to be of importance to you, then in return I demand a personal absolvement from all charges."
"And your priests?"
"They are innocent. They had nothing to do with this."
"Except for one person whose surrender I demand."
After a short pause he said: "Agreed."
I had played out my last hand. This seemingly cold-blooded schemer knew the alternatives and probabilities very well. I was backed into a corner, having no choice but to reject the proposal. If I had really possessed a duplicate, I could have accepted.
I forced another smile to my lips. With deliberate care I looked at my watch again. "In 15 minutes I will open fire. Of course you realize that all subterranean dungeons and passages will be destroyed, so they will offer you none of the security you were apparently depending on. If prior to that time you declare yourself ready to surrender the stolen device to me, then I shall let you go free—after you've received a psycho-conversion treatment. That's all that can save your life now. If you do not signal your surrender in time you will be consumed in the atomic fire. That is all. I only give people of your kind but a single chance!"
With that I cut the connection. Weary and inwardly drained, I turned around to Mercant. The little man nodded approvingly.
"Good, sir, very good! Your offer was especially credible when you made the condition about the psycho-conversion treatment. Had you just offered him unconditional freedom it would have brought down the whole house of cards. So now let's wait."
Wait. For me it was the beginning of my most desperate period of waiting. How would the high priest react? Would he be convinced that I really had a spare device? Would he consider it logical that I was merely trying to avoid the difficulties of making another duplicate? Question upon question crowded in upon me. Without any doubt I knew I was in the weaker of the two positions.
Rhodan informed me that the fleet flagship Drusus had landed at the Torgona spaceport with further backup troops. The cruiser Togo was still out in orbit.
The seconds became eternities while the high priest remained silent.
Allan D. Mercant's face was grim. Finally he came over to me. "This Segno Kaata is a shrewd one. I've figured out why he personally carried out the robbery or why he was at least there personally to supervise the operation. He is quite aware of his anti-mutant faculties. Since it is also known, sir, that you were once a Fleet Admiral and nephew of the Imperator at that time, and as such you were privileged to have your extra-brain activated, it was to be assumed that you might have since developed telepathic or other paranormal capabilities. This is why the Antis were used in the robbery."
"I understand, Mercant."
"It was unusual, however, that John Marshall claimed he had been awakened by thought impulses. It would have been impossible for him to have been aware of the Antis. This indicates that other normal people were involved in the action. I'll look into that when this emergency is over."
"As a precaution I'll have to give you some special authorizations," I said with an effort.
"That's not necessary, Atlan! Let's wait till the high priest makes his decision. He's too smart to destroy the activator on blind impulse alone. Probably he wants to see if you really decide to open fire. If you do so, however, his wavering convictions will become still more uncertain. Your claim that you have a duplicate device is not at all unbelievable. He will probably weigh the pros and cons. In my opinion, at the last moment he'll make a final condition to be set free without the brainwashing treatment. And that will depend upon whether or not he will accept your promise as valid."
"Can he escape?"
Rhodan had been listening in silence but now he pointed to the assembled mass. of troops. "Against a force like that? Surely he can see us on his viewscreen. Besides, he should know by now that all space is swarming with warships. He'd ha
ve to seek some other way out."
These were also my thoughts but none of us knew then what was to come. If we had been more informed about the Antis we might have taken other precautions.
In no case would I have expected what this uncanny fiend dared to do a short time later.
7/ PUCKY MEETS THE ANTI-FORCE
The 15 minutes passed without result. Segno Kaata had not been heard from. It was then I began to suspect that even a man of the stature of the Solar Chief of Intelligence could be mistaken. For some minutes now he had been avoiding my questioning gaze. Mercant seemed to know that just this once he may have come close but missed.
I was thinking of accepting the 65-hour request, considering that then my robot double could be presented to the high priest. The special automaton had already been brought to the location and was on hand in case of need. Undoubtedly I might fool Kaata with it but what might have happened to me during the excess five hours? I could last the 60 hours without notable signs of deterioration although now I could already feel the disturbance in my bodily cells.
No, I could not comply with the Baalol's proposition. It would definitely be fatal to me.
I entered the control room of the spacejet with Perry Rhodan and the double-headed mutant, Ivan Goratschin. Measuring some 35 meters in diameter, the disc-shaped interplanetary spacecraft was one of the latest examples of Terranian manufacture. It could be flown and controlled by a single person. Also, it was equipped with a new device that enabled one to make a precision tracking of any hypertransition undertaken by another spaceship.
We were alone. Fastened to the horseshoe-shaped control console before us was the cell frequency sensor. The sharp beeping notes were an indication that my activator was still in the temple. The sensor's pickup was flawless.
The radio intercoms were operating. I was in contact with all command posts. The robot units of the Brain could be reached on channel seven. Moments before, Allan D. Mercant had retreated, apparently unable to stand my increasing desperation.