Project Earthsave
Page 1
Perry Rhodan
The Third Power #38
Project Earthsave
Long ago, the Peacelord of the Universe had prevented the robot battleships of Arkon from converting Talamon the Mounder's fighter craft into a gas cloud. In doing so, he sowed the seeds of his own destruction, for 200 ships of the Mounder fleet are ready once again, armed, and ready to attack. And the most dreaded of the Galactic Traders, the Springers, have devised a scheme so hideous that for Perry Rhodan and the New Power annihilation seems a certainty. This is the stirring story of–
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PROJECT: EARTHSAVE
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1/ THE ROBOT REGENT DECIDES
THE WITCHES CAULDRON of the Arkonide Empire—the planet Aralon—was not ready to admit defeat. The 4th world revolving around the small yellowish sun Kesnar—30 light-years from Arkon—this home of the Aras was not inclined to abandon a business cynosure craftily developed over thousands of years. A catastrophe of planetary proportions might conceivably alter the course of generations. But not a meddling Earthling!
Or so the Aras thought. But the Earthling in question was not just any son of Terra, he was the leader of the New Power. The Administrator for Earth.
He was Perry Rhodan.
The Aras, acknowledged geniuses in all fields of medicine, were as stubborn and tenacious as the Galactic Traders. For, in fact, they were galactic traders. They sold their miracle medicaments at exorbitant prices at the same time they went to great pains to insure that no permanent cure was effected, that diseases did not entirely disappear from any planet. In short, they were ruthless profiteers.
But for the first time the Aras were confronted with an 'ailment' that threatened their unsavory medical machinations. If not radically checked, financial ruin would be the inevitable result of this 'infection'.
This 'infection' had a name.
It was Perry Rhodan.
The Peacelord had inflicted on the scurrilous physicians the first defeat they had ever known since inaugurating their millennia-old medical racket.
Chief Inspector Gegul, responsible for Aralon security, was startled out of his thoughts as Arga Tasla, his female assistant, entered his office soundlessly on cat's feet and silently presented him with a dispatch:
"HYPERSENSOR TRACKING: TIME 8:75:03.1. TRACKPOINT 105 TRIANGULATED FROM 103 & 106. ARKON DESTINATION FOR FLEET TRANSITING FROM 13.64 DEGREES AT
8:75:03.1 HOURS, PERRY RHODAN COMMANDING."
Gegul's voice shook. Whether he exclaimed "Aargh!" or "Arga!" it was difficult to determine for he did not look up while scowling at the name on the dispatch: Perry Rhodan.
Caught in the doorway, Arga replied: "Yes?"
"Get me Ma-elz and Bro-nud! I want to see those good-for-nothings up here in 10 minutes!"
They were there in 9. After entering the chief's office, they stood waiting respectfully till recognized.
"Sit down, sit down!" Gegul growled at them, indicating chairs with a careless gesture, and they eased their tall frames onto the seats. The Chief Inspector came directly to the point. "Rhodan has made a hypertransit to Arkon. For the moment we're out of immediate danger. But we found out the hard way that he works hand in glove with the Regent! Now what's our situation? Not one shipload of patients can be found on Aralon! And I prophesy to you here and now that this catastrophe will spread to the limits of the Galaxy if we don't succeed in destroying this Rhodan!"
"But we don't have any fighting spaceships," interjected Ma-elz hastily.
"Nor do we need any!" shouted Gegul.
"You mean—germ warfare?" stammered Bro-nud.
Ma-elz, thinking he was ahead of the game, proudly asked: "What virus will we use?"
Gegul sneered disgustedly at his underlings. "Can't you ask anything else? All either of you do is babble worn-out ideas. Why is it nobody can come up with one sensible notion? Why!"
Embarrassed by their apparent Ineptitude, Ma-elz and Bro-nud did not oblige their boss arriving at the right answer. At this moment, both would have paid much for an inkling of what the Chief Inspector had in mind.
After a few seconds of fruitless waiting, Gegul said, "Naturally, no one can see the most obvious and simple."
Sunning himself in the magnificence of his own ingenuity, he was overbearing in the role he now played as the super shrewd but lenient Chief. He leaned forward and beckoned Ma-elz and Bro-nud to him, holding further words until they stood before him at his desk. "Gentlemen," he began, "this is my plan..." And Ma-elz and Bro-nud listened breathlessly.
Chief Inspector Gegul's plan was in fact ingenious.
Indeed, the downfall of Perry Rhodan now seemed to be inevitable, as well as the downfall of the planet of his origin!
• • •
Talamon the Mounder gave a friendly smile to the Galactic Traders' courier. The man had arrived half an hour before on his flagship, "just to sound out Talamon's opinion."
The Mounders were the warriors among the Galactic Traders. If the Springers didn't happen to come to terms with a certain planet, and if this world preferred not to be completely enslaved, then the Mounders would take care of the matter—in return for a handsome fee.
They had differentiated themselves long ago from the Springers because their home world was a planet of extraordinary gravity. This gravitational pull had placed its mark upon them physically: the ordinary Mounder weighed a thousand pounds, was 7 feet tall and about 5 feet wide—which produced a strange effect but a figure that was in no sense of the word deformed.
Next to the government ships of the Empire, the Mounders possessed the best space fighter craft. Similar to the Springers, they also lived in clans. The courier for the Galactic Traders had come to probe the Clan Chief Talamon.
Talamon's clan was quite impressive. He had over 200 fighter ships at his disposal. That Talamon still possessed them and was still alive was something he had Perry Rhodan to thank for.
And the courier asked him, what did he make of Perry Rhodan?
"A great deal!" answered Talamon without deliberation, yet he maintained his best poker face.
This answer the courier had least expected. He appeared to be shocked. Talamon grinned at him goodnaturedly and with a trace of pity.
"But, Talamon, that cannot be your true attitude!"
Then Talamon moved his 13 hundred pounds of live weight with an agility which none might have thought him capable of. His poker face disappeared; instead he was now menacing and his deep bass voice bellowed at the courier so that it resounded within the confines of the cabin: "What do you want me to do, consider Perry Rhodan as just a passing meteor—a little falling star? Do you know that your question is an impertinence? Have you forgotten already how Perry Rhodan leashed the Arkonide robot fleet to come thundering through space at us? I, Talamon, was at the brink of destruction with my entire fleet! Do you take that for nothing, courier? And whoever can equal what Perry Rhodan has done—is he to be considered a nothing?"
The courier recoiled like a singed worm. Talamon observed this and ignored it. He let the fellow simmer a bit. He was going to have to come clean and confess why no expense and effort had been spared to seek him, Talamon, personally at a distance of 2000 light-years from Arkon. He might have done so more cheaply by use of hyperspace communication.
"Alright, courier—what do you want? Out with it! What am I supposed to do? And what are the Springers ready to pay for it?"
"I come from Siptar," said the courier.
"Will that one never die?" growled Talamon, intimating that Siptar was the oldest of the clan chieftains among the Springers.
"Before that I was with Vontran, Talamon. Siptar and Vontran
have lost many supporters and kinsmen on Goszul's Planet..."
"So?" The squarishly built, green-skinned Talamon grinned and waited.
"There is a persistent rumor concerning the bomb explosion on Goszul's Planet during the great gathering of the clans. It is said that this Perry Rhodan had a finger in it..."
Talamon's unrestrained laughter silenced the courier. Tears ran down the green-hued cheeks of the Mounder. The longer Talamon laughed, the more disconcerted the courier became—and irritated, until finally he lost his temper and shouted: "What's there to laugh about?"
Abruptly, Talamon calmed down. "True," he conceded to the courier, "this is no laughing matter. The catastrophe on Goszul's Planet has been a terrible thing but to try to link Perry Rhodan to it... Look, courier, I'll put it to you this way: Before when you asked me what I made of Perry Rhodan—how much importance, in other words, did I attach to him—I said 'very much'. That didn't sit very well with you; but like it or not, there is no other answer. Perry Rhodan is a factor that all of us must reckon with."
"Then you brought in your rumor and I laughed. Do you have any idea of why I laughed? Because with your stupid rumor you unconsciously admitted that the Springers attach a great deal of importance to Perry Rhodan. Now, does it make sense?"
"Then we are in accord," replied the courier with an eel-like elusiveness.
Talamon stared at him in amazement. Then, emphatically, he said, "Young man, let's be out with it, once and for all, or I'll have to demonstrate what it means for me to become unpleasant! The fact is, you've come here to pit me against Perry Rhodan. Yes or no?"
"Yes."
"The first straight answer but an interesting one. Well, courier, I suggest you just lay the whole thing out for old Talamon and I will listen..."
• • •
The Titan and the Ganymede made a thundering emergence back into the normal Cosmos from hyperspace. The robot brain on Arkon with its supersensitive hypersensor tracking system undoubtedly detected them at once because Rhodan had deliberately sought out a 'quiet' sector of Star Cluster M-13 as the end point of his hyper transition course.
All hands began to recover from the shock of the transition. As always, the first to shake off the after effects were Perry Rhodan and his friend Reginald Bell. Before them, as revealed by the gigantic circular video screen gallery of the Titan, the myriad suns of this cluster system sparkled with indescribable splendor. This glistening and shining and streaming of all colors and nuances of stellar light was in itself a most magnificent signboard for the great Empire of the Arkonides.
"If only they weren't such dumbbells!" sighed Bell.
"Be careful, Fatso!" Perry called to him in low tones.
Behind them stood the Arkonide Khrest, and a little farther off Thora, refined, shrewd and temperamental Arkonide woman—both of them of the highest social level of the stellar empire whose suns now gleamed before them.
Bell was an honest fellow and a daredevil. He turned to Thora with a grin on his wide face. "Any objections?" he asked her.
With imperious composure, she replied, "It's about time, Bell, you think of something new."
Bell only grunted and turned to Perry. "Aren't you going to put in a call to that old Bucket of Bolts," he asked, "so that you can request a leave of absence?"
To refer to the giant robot brain on Arkon as a 'bucket of bolts' was more than just irreverent, yet the two Arkonides did not in any way reveal that they resented Perry Rhodan's second-in-command for having used the expression.
Pucky sat at one side of Bell. He murmured lightly: "Okay—so 'bucket of bolts', is it? My friend, you seem to have all the delicate sensitivity of a bull rhinoceros!"
Hearty laughter resounded through the Control Center of the Titan. Pucky the mouse-beaver, the telepath and many other entities in one, had baptized his squarishly built friend Reginald Bell with the name of 'bull rhinoceros'. It fit so well that several of the men in the more than 30-man crew in the room were laughing with tears in their eyes. And this was joined by the bell-like tones of Thora's laughter. Even Khrest, unable to suppress his amusement, held a hand over his mouth to cover his smile. Perry Rhodan shook with inner mirth
"You rotten little mouse!" Bell yelled above the laughter and made a grab for Pucky.
But he grasped at thin air. As swift as lightning, the mouse-beaver had removed himself by means of his usual teleportation. Pucky landed in Thora's arms. Into the sudden stillness following Bell's shriek came the mouse-beaver's lisping question: "Thora, are you petting me because you approve of the new name I gave him—bull rhinoceros?"
Regrettably, this little human episode was abruptly throttled by a sharp announcement over the speaker from Com-Control Center: "Robot Fleet OGG-06 is requesting the Code-for-the-Day."
Which catapulted everyone back into stark reality.
Rhodan merely nodded by way of response. But his nod was visible on the videoscreens of the
Com-Control Center. The Titan, the most gigantic spherical spaceship in the galaxy, having a diameter of approximately one-mile, transmitted its Code-for-the-Day.
The clear signal was returned by Arkon's robot fleet OGG-06. Having been identified as a ship of the Empire, the Titan was allowed to pass. The robot ships accompanied it and the Ganymede at 0.8 the speed of light toward the outer space ramparts of the defense belt which surrounded Arkon I, II & III, an orbiting network of floating battle stations which constituted an impregnable stellar fortress.
The Titan was a masterpiece of Arkonide spaceship engineering. Deep within the massive sphere was heard the roaring and deep-throated bellowing and humming of giant converters, transformers, magnetic field generators and apparatuses and machines of unimaginable dimensions and sophistication. The mandatory personnel strength was 1500 men, in order to make of the Titan the most powerful, battle-ready and dangerous warship in the Milky Way.
The hyperspace transceiver equipment was warmed up and ready.
A point of development had arrived, which Perry Rhodan wished to discuss with the robot brain on Arkon. After transmission of the recognition signal, the robot Regent confirmed its reception. Incapable of any human emotion, and reacting only to cold, factual logic, the giant positronic brain waited.
Even Perry Rhodan who was preparing to conquer the universe for the Earth, did not presume to keep the 5000 square-mile Brain waiting. He knew his limitations! And again this was a trait that elevated him from the common run of men.
Rhodan submitted his report—short, sure and precise. In the process, he did not say everything, but what he did say had to carry the stamp of factuality for the cold logic of the giant positronic brain.
No counter-question was received. Only a whisper of static emerged from the hypercom speakers. The robot Regent waited. The report had been thoroughly taken apart, broken down, checked out, researched, investigated, evaluated and confirmed—revealing that the communication had not yet been concluded.
After a short pause, Rhodan continued: "I am asking for permission to return to Earth with the Titan. It was demonstrated in our recent encounter with the Mounder fleet of Talamon that I can't get by with a standard crew complement of 1500 men. We Earthmen cannot be expected to have the same level of intelligence quotient that has been normal to the Arkonides, even though a small percentage of the Titan's crew has demonstrated above average ability. In order to raise this space vessel to the power factor that is commensurate with its design and construction, it is absolutely necessary to increase the personnel complement level. On Terra I will find the necessary help. I ask that you check the logic of my request."
The hypercom speakers were silent for 3 minutes. Then came the robot brain's answer. "Leave of absence is granted!" boomed the speakers.
The Titan cut the connection. Perry Rhodan turned his head to look at Bell.
The latter grinned with satisfaction. "Well, you tricked the old bucket of bolts pretty good!" he enthused. "If it only knew" He stopped, staring at Perry questioning
ly. "Aren't you glad that you put it over?"
"No! In spite of the answer, we haven't anything to be overjoyed about, Bell."
Rhodan's words rang soberly through the Control Central. Bell gazed at his friend reflectively. Perry was correct in his statement. There was really no basis for a celebration. Like a silent specter conjured up by the recent Aras incident, Terra itself came once more into the focal point. The Aras also were Galactic Traders and the Galactic Traders were and still remained one of the Earth's most threatening dangers.
Topthor the Mounder knew the location of the Solar System; the mammoth brain on Arkon did not know it! Within Star Cluster M-13 alone were several thousand Springer ships, each one a fortress in its own right. And what did Earth have to match against this power?
Nothing!
It was Perry Rhodan's strong point that he did not overestimate himself. And it was his greatest concern that very shortly the Springers might fly a massive attack against Terra, the 'Planet of Unrest', and turn it into a sun, leaving it to die in atomic fire.
For this reason he wanted to fly back to Earth along with the Ganymede. His representation to the robot brain to the effect that the Titan was not adequately manned was a flimsy cover-up from the start. The great automation was too shrewd to be fooled in such a primitive manner. Rhodan knew that the Brain was looking for any opportunity to discover the exact coordinates of Earth, by means of a hypertransition of the Titan and the Ganymede. What the robot brain did not know and could not know was the fact that both the Titan and the Ganymede were equipped with hypersensor compensators, developed by the Galactic Traders, which made any tracking of a transition jump impossible.
Bell attempted to dispel the mood of apprehension. He said angrily, "So let's get with it and do what we have to, so those star gypsies won't be celebrating either! Want me to set up the first transition, Perry?"
Perry Rhodan nodded his head.