Power's Price

by Perry Rhodan

  "Try it, Gatru!" Cokaze warned. "Dare to do it and in a week you can shut your factories down. No Springer will buy any more spacers from you! Don't forget that you are dependent upon us but we are not dependent on you! And getting into a fight with you—why, that would be worth the Terran to me! Put him on ice! Eliminate him! Do what you can't help doing!"

  In the small room, 145 kilometers below the surface of Archetz, there was suddenly silence. Everyone was listening to what Cokaze had to say to Gatru. The old clan chief looked around in astonishment; everyone was staring at him. That brought a mocking smile to his lips. Yes, listen well to this!

  "Gatru had the Terran dragged out! I didn't agree with that! And why not?"

  "Because the Terran was the only one who recognized the important thing about Enre's report: Terra's direct contact with the Robot Brain on Arkon 3 without any communication with this... this Atlan!"

  "Don't you understand yet what that means for us? This Perry Rhodan is the second Imperator of the Arkonide Empire! He who can make use of the power and the knowledge of the giant positronicon is somewhat stronger than we are... or do we Springers want to sit on a burning pile of rubble, saying triumphantly: this is the new Springer Imperium? Can't we think of something else besides suggesting an attack on Arkon with all our spaceships? What would come of that? A pile of rubble! And the only one who could have shown us other ways which would lead us to our goal more safely and less bloodily—we've just had him dragged out of the room!"

  "One more thing."

  "Take care that someday Perry Rhodan doesn't knock on the door here and we can do nothing more than put our hands up and surrender!"

  Enre, who had been listening entranced to the old clan chiefs words, cursed the moment in which he had been pulled out of his sleep by Olgall to devote himself to an undecipherable transmission.

  He had imagined that the men who pulled all the strings of the revolution would form a brain trust of clever minds working in harmony but now he had to admit without reservation that quite the opposite was true.

  Only one patriarch impressed him: Cokaze!

  And he was just then leaving the small chamber.

  • • •

  With the help of his co-workers, Dr. Orge Olundson had sifted the most important information out of the comprehensive report concerning the unimportant Soltenite people and put it together to form a general, rounded picture. But one point still made him uncomfortable.

  There it was; the fact came from the giant positronicon: the Soltenites are a race of liars!

  Dr. Orge Olundson looked at his watch in concern. It was high time to send the report to the Chief. Hesitantly, he signed his name to it, the last person to do so.

  "A race of liars..." he said as he wrote, shaking his head. "If that's so—which I still can't quite believe—then I hope the Chief isn't seeking the Soltenites out to make friends of them. A race of liars... unbelievable!"

  • • •

  The ethnologists' report was the last thing to come in to Perry Rhodan. It was the first thing the Administrator picked up.

  In the second paragraph, first sentence, it read: The Soltenites are a race of liars.

  Perry Rhodan read the sentence twice. "Reggie, come here and read this!"

  Reginald Bell bent unsuspectingly forward. Perry's finger indicated the line. "This is certainly a bad joke," Bell commented. "Who did the report come from? From the ethnologists? I'll call them up. I'll give this Olundson a piece of my mind!"

  Bell was angry, a frame of mind in which he was often to be seen. Grumbling, cursing, expressing himself sloppily—with him that was a daily routine. He was already reaching for the intercom to call Dr. Olundson when Rhodan suggested: "Let's look quickly at the other reports. Perhaps they'll explain this unbelievable statement."

  But 10 minutes before the scheduled conference with the mutants, Dr. Olundson entered Perry Rhodan's workroom for the first time in his life. Bell had summoned him in his most thunderous voice.

  "My dear Dr. Olundson," Bell began, "aren't we a comedian today! Do you think we have time to waste with rotten jokes? The Soltenites are a race Of LIARS!?!"

  Bell had not spoken so loud even during the debate with the members of the Parliament of the Solar Imperium when he and Rhodan had been reproached.

  Dr. Orge Olundson gave, a visible start, swallowed, then, quite unexpectedly, came toward Reginald Bell. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Bell!" He held out three strips of tape in a pointed gesture.

  "What am I to do with them?" demanded Bell.

  "Read them... and then shout!"

  At that moment Bell realized he had gone too far. "Who was shouting, Doc? Perhaps I was speaking more clearly than usual but..." And then came his gasping for breath, and after that, rather plaintively: "Perry, it's true! The Soltenites are liars! Read this!"

  While Rhodan familiarized himself with the content of the printed tape, Bell looked at the ethnologist as though seeking help. Suddenly he laid his hand on his shoulder. "No hard feelings, eh, Doc? I have to apologize..."

  The ethnologist hastily interrupted. "For what? I would have been willing to pay a higher price for the knowledge that Terra's demigods are still human after all, Mr. Bell!"

  Rhodan looked up, too. "Demigods?' asked Bell.

  "Yes, because you don't age any. Haven't you ever considered that you might seem uncanny to the masses? People take you for demigods, so to speak."

  "Doctor..." Rhodan's eyes were fixed in earnest on him. "We have to thank you because you've brought to our attention something that we haven't realized. Demigods! Us!" He laughed but it was not a laugh of amusement. "Demigods live a life of ease and comfort but in these last few years Mr. Bell and I have had a total of one weeks worth of vacation time. And, Doctor, in your opinion are demigods so moderate?"

  He did not want to hear an answer. He stepped before the ethnologist and pressed his hand. "We are grateful for your sharing that bit of knowledge with us but nevertheless that does not free you from your task of explaining to us why the Soltenites are supposed to be a race of liars."

  "Sir, if I could answer that, I would feel much better. I don't know. In our information there was only the word Liars and in the Arkonide information it was expressed in a sentence: The Soltenites are a race of liars. But why this is supposed to be so isn't given anywhere."

  When Dr. Olundson left them, Rhodan and Bell still had a few minutes until the conference.

  The overfed second-in-command had something on his mind. He paced back and forth in front of Rhodan's desk. Suddenly he stopped in front of his friend, took a deep breath and asked: "Perry, have you been able to remember yet what gave you the idea about the Soltenites?"

  At that moment, Perry read his thoughts.

  "What? You're having me watched?" he exclaimed.

  "For some hours now, Perry! And you will be under surveillance for as long as it takes you to remember what gave you the Soltenite ideal Perry, we understand each other, right?"

  "I understand your words very well but I don't understand why you've done this behind my back!"

  Perry's grey eyes looked penetratingly at his friend. "You've used an ugly expression, Perry! Bell sat down casually in front of Rhodan but his loose posture did not disguise the seriousness of the situation. "What I arranged several hours ago, after consultation with Mercant, I did for you and notagainst you!"

  "Do I seem suspicious to you, Reggie?"

  "Yes! Or can you answer my question now?"

  "No."

  "Then nothing's changed."

  "What if I order that the surveillance on me be ceased at once?" Bell smiled weakly.

  "You would never do that, Perry. As Administrator, of course..." He shrugged and let the rest of the sentence remain unsaid.

  "Good! But something else has occurred to me. I'll conduct the conference with the Mutant Corps by myself. You go call the Positronicon on Arkon 3 again and inquire about the reason for the Soltenites being called a race of liars. If t
he Brain can't give any information about it, then contact Atlan. I need the information by 06:00 hours tomorrow morning, Standard Time."

  "Not much time, if Atlan has to get his bored intelligence service going on the matter. I'm curious to see what kind of results will come out of this."

  "I'm more than a little disturbed, Reggie, because this claim about the Soltenites is monstrous. Press Atlan for the answer and explain to him that I have to know by the time we take off!"

  Bell left and made his way to the big hypercom transmitter, stopping off in Allan D. Mercant's office in mid-trip. "Mercant, he knows already!" exclaimed Bell as he stormed into the Chief of Solar Defense’s workroom. The Solar Marshal looked up in surprise.

  "Already? And how did Perry take it?"

  "Coldly, Mercant! More coldly than he's ever been to me before!" By the way, did you know that the Soltenites are a race of liars?" Bell was already standing at the door. "What are they supposed to be?" With a feeling of satisfaction, Reginald Bell proved that even an Allan D. Mercant could be disconcerted.

  "Close your mouth, Mercant! As it happens, I can't give you the answer to that until I call the computer on Arkon 3, and if it doesn't know, until I get hold of his Eminence, Atlan the Imperator!"

  "Stop, Reggie! Stay here!" Mercant called to him as he was about to go. "I want a report, if you please!"

  "Is it that serious?" Now it was Bell's turn to be astonished, for when the Defense Chief himself got involved in something, it usually turned out to be much more complex and much less pleasant than had been thought. Mercant had what would be called an 'instinct for intrigue'.

  Bell explained and Mercant listened silently. When Bell came to the end, the Solar Marshal stood up. "I'm coming along."

  In the hyper-frequency control room of the great transmitter, Bell first saw to it that he and Mercant were alone. Soon the negative-message went out over the Brain's wavelength with the question: Why are the Soltenites supposed to be liars?Request justification. Signed Rhodan.

  Mercant noticed Bell's smirk. "Why are you laughing, Reggie?"

  I was just picturing the Springers listening in, Mercant. They'll be tearing their hair out over our transmission. I'd love to hear the curses of these space gypsies, because—"

  "Isn't your own supply of curses large enough already?" Mercant interrupted. "What does the expression 'Trobbel' mean, anyway?"

  "Good lord, where did you hear that word?" asked Bell in surprise.

  "From whom? From Pucky! Yesterday!" the meter-tall mouse-beaver was scolding a Mutant Corps member and in conclusion called him a Trobbel. What does it mean?"

  "The little guy's been reading my mind again!" Bell said dryly.

  "That should often make good reading for Pucky," answered Mercant with more than one meaning, "but

  I still don't understand..."

  "Finally! The answer from Arkon 3 is here, Mercant! With incredible eagerness Bell fell upon it, pulled out the printed tape containing the gigantic Brain's answer and went with it to a small device that was not connected with the general transmission station equipment.

  The small box into which the tape disappeared made a positive out of the received negative while at the same time destroying the negative tape bit by bit in the translation process.

  "Nothin'!" said Bell.

  "That's putting it plainly enough!" mocked Mercant.

  The giant Brain had answered that it could not furnish any reasons as to why the Soltenites were supposed to be a race of liars. "Now Atlan has to get into the act!"

  Once the tape for the brief impulse was ready, the small, encapsulated device made a negative.

  Mercant looked on. Suddenly he said: "This idea should be obvious to anyone who understands anything about hypercommunications, Bell!"

  Bell also had great abilities, only he seldom made a point of using them. And in the area of hypercommunications, he was a first class specialist.

  The negative in hand, he looked sympathetically at Mercant. "Solar Marshal," and with his hand he made a motion that took in everything, "there isn't anything here which is over my head—but this blasted box, which one of our engineers put together, is a total mystery to me! Even the expression Hypercom Negative is completely wrong, just as wrong and misleading as if I were to say... uh,black when I meant round, for example. Do you understand me?"

  "For God's sake, Reggie, send that short impulse off already! I don't want to hear anything more about it. What I want to know is the meaning of the word Trobbel."

  "Then I'll have to explain some things about Negative Hypercom Procedure beforehand. OK, Mercant?"

  "You blackmailer, Reggie!" answered Mercant with a slight grin. "But I'll find out what the word means anyway..."

  "And I'll wring Pucky's neck if I'm blamed because of him!" Reginald Bell promised as he sent the query to Atlan.

  "Wait," was Atlan's answer. "I'll have to make inquiries. Signed: Gonozal VIII."

  "Well," sighed Bell in resignation, "at the rate those Arkonide sleepyheads move, we'll have to wait a long time!"

  4/ DANGEROUS MISSION

  The infernal howling of the impulse engines of the Drusus increased the further the super battleship left the Earth behind and the faster the ship shot into space.

  The flagship of the Solar Fleet had taken off into special action:Commando Operation Solten, it was called.

  John Marshall, the best telepath in the Mutant Corps and at the same time the leader of that one-of-a-kind squad, went to see Reginald Bell.

  "Come in, Marshall," Bell told him, bringing forth a champagne glass. "We have a few minutes before transition, lees toast..."

  "What?" asked John Marshall, stroking his dark hair.

  "Let's say to the Soltenites—the liars!" Bell exclaimed, revealing with that that the cardinal question of why the Soltenites were supposed to be liars had still not been answered.

  "Or to Pucky, Mr. Bell?" asked the mutant.

  An alarm went off in Bell's mind. Marshall seldom changed the subject of a discussion without a reason. "What's he been up to this time, John?"

  "The mouse-beaver was the one who gave the Chief the idea about the Soltenites!"

  Bell suddenly went off like a bomb. "Oh no! Oh no!" he groaned. "Oh, Pucky, you're lucky you aren't here right now!" he said, staring into his glass. "Him!And I had Perry spied on and then had to live through the worst minute in my life. I had to let myself tell him that I would work behind his back... and all that because of that flop-eared carrot-chomper! Does the Chief know about it yet?"

  "Not yet. I'll tell him after the transition."

  "Not necessary. I'll gladly take care of that for you, John. Now, quick... Cheers!"

  Thirty seconds later, the ship went into transition. All persons aboard the ship felt that stabbing pain that followed every dematerialization. The whispering and rustling of fifth dimensional hyperspace broke into the interior of the giant sphere and...

  Groaning, Reginald Bell rubbed his neck, which was where he always felt the pain of transition most strongly. John Marshall cautiously straightened up from his limp position and took a loud and deep breath. His exhalation was accompanied by a sigh of relief.

  "Oh, that blasted mouse-beaver, that little imp!"

  The fact that they had just put 34,000 light-years behind them in nulltime meant nothing to the two men. They had already experienced it a thousand times, just like they had experienced the pain of dematerialization and rematerialization a thousand times before. It was a part of their life. Much more important to them was the prank that the mouse-beaver had pulled on the Chief.

  "But there's a hitch in all this, Marshall," said Bell, cocking his head. "I'm not going to accuse the oversized mouse of boundless stupidity without learning more. Up to now he's always avoided mixing it up with Perry or pulling his bad jokes on him. Do you know anything more, John?"

  "No more than what I've told you. I was on the way here when I saw Pucky scooting across the deck. Almost unconsciously I tune
d in on his thoughts and overheard what he was thinking just then: Perry, how can I tell you that I was the one who gave you the idea about the Soltenites? And then Pucky must have noticed that someone was listening in on his thoughts because he suddenly disappeared in a teleportation spring. That's all."

  Wordlessly Bell filled both glasses again. He sealed the bottle, pushed his glass to the side and shook his head. "Marshall, I didn't think that there was anyone on Earth who knew anything about the Soltenites—even that there was such a race—three days ago. That's why. I wonder how Pucky could have known of that small race in the Arkonide Imperium and where he found out about it? And then, to make the story all the crazier, these Soltenites are supposed to be a race of liars."

  At that moment, Perry Rhodan called via the ship's internal communications system. He saw that John Marshall was with Bell. "I'd like to speak with both of you, Reggie."

  A few minutes later, they entered Rhodan's cabin. By chance, Bell's glance fell on the couch where Pucky was making himself most comfortable.

  At the same time, anger flared up in Reginald Bell's eyes. The air over the couch had shimmered and Pucky had disappeared from Rhodan's cabin.

  "What th—where's Pucky gone to?" asked Rhodan in astonishment, looking at the empty couch.

  That was Bell's cue.

  The alarm sounded in the Drusus.

  Pucky was being sought! He was ordered to report at once to the First Administrator. Again and again the loudspeakers repeated the order.

  "You've been tattling to the boss about me!" said a voice from the couch as Pucky crouched there once again, looking like a wilted flower, and concealed his incisor tooth. His mouse eyes found no peace. Rhodan's silence must have seemed uncanny to him. Now the mouse-beaver certainly did not dare use his telepathic abilities to read Perry's thoughts. "And giving the alarm just on my account, Chief... Am I really so necessary to this conference?"

  Rhodan was silent. But his grey eyes said enough.

  "Well, then..." Pucky crawled down from the couch and tried to stand before Rhodan at attention. Then he chirped: "It wasn't my idea. I got it from that Springer gypsy... uh, Patriarch Cokaze..."