by Perry Rhodan
The door closed quietly behind the two men.
Rhodan greeted them with a brief nod and made a terse announcement: "Tiff, get in touch with Col. Freyt and have him get the Gazelle ready for launching. The crew will consist of Thora, Khrest, Pucky and myself. John Marshall is to try to get Admiral Zernif to come here; if necessary he's to use Ras Tschubai's help. During my absence Bell will be in charge of the Titan. That's all. We'll meet on the Gazelle in exactly two hours. Any questions?"
"I've got to stay behind?" murmured Bell greatly disappointed. "Why should I remain here where nothing is going to happen anyway."
"How can you be so sure of that, Reg?" Rhodan said in a serious tone. When I'm gone I must be absolutely sure I have a reliable commander aboard the Titan. I can't take any risks with a ship like her."
Bell was halfway convinced and no longer offered any argument. After all, Rhodan had entrusted him with their prize conquest.
• • •
Once back safely in their hidden headquarters, Zernif and his friends finally had an opportunity to take care of Rogal. The would-be assassin who had returned under such mysterious circumstances was obviously still under the influence of a severe shock. He kept staring blankly straight ahead and his tightly compressed lips remained sealed. He did not answer any questions.
They were all sitting around him trying in vain to coax some explanation from their mute friend. Had the attempted assassination been a complete failure? Or had he been able at least to fire a shot at the despot? Had he been caught before he had reached the Zarlt's bedchamber? Had he been betrayed?
With his eyes wide open Rogal continued staring directly at the bright light.
Admiral Zernif sighed. "It's senseless. We should let him rest for a few days perhaps. We'll soon enough find out if the plot miscarried or if the Zarlt was killed. Maybe the Strangers might give us some advice. Perry Rhodan has some peculiar people with him. We know some of them."
Suddenly the conspirators were startled by a noise coming from the middle of the room. Nobody could possibly have entered unnoticed. Their headquarters were located 30 feet below the ground, close to the city. Their safety precautions had never failed them before.
Their startled eyes beheld a sight which caused cold showers of fear to run down their spines: two human figures had materialized out of the void.
Zernif knew one of them. He called himself John Marshall. He was one of Rhodan's men. The very mysterious stranger who seemed to be on their side although he had so far not rendered any assistance to the rebels' cause. The second man was totally unfamiliar to Zernif. His almost black skin frightened them. Was he also part of Rhodan's entourage?
Zernif regained his composure. He moved his hand away from his weapon. "You—how did you get here?"
"With my friend's help. This is Ras Tschubai; he's a teleporter."
Zernif stood up. For awhile he forgot Rogal. The other rebels did not relax the constant vigilance to which they had owed their life so far.
"How did you find us?"
"That wasn't difficult for us, Zernif. We've come to ask for your help."
"My help? How could we possibly help you, you who are mightier than even the Zarlt?"
"You'll find out in due time. —Isn't that Rogal? What is the matter with him? He looks as if he were under a hypnotic command."
"We think it's the after-effect of a severe psychic shock. We must find out what happened to him."
Marshall's eyes narrowed to a fine slit. His first thought was that the Mooffs had succeeded in breaking through Rogal's natural defensive barrier. "How did this all come about?"
Zernif hesitated a moment. He had no idea that Marshall was already reading his thoughts and therefore knew what had happened. Then Zernif decided not to hold back the truth. With a few words he informed the Strangers of their attempt on the Zarlt's life.
"You mean last night," remarked Marshall. "Then you have failed in your plan. This very morning the Zarlt has issued new orders which quite openly are directed against us. Maybe he assumes that his guests are responsible for the incident. And this is the way that Rogal looked when he returned?" Marshall glanced over in the would-be assassin's direction. The man had not budged. He was still staring at the bright source of light. "May I examine him?"
This was of course only a pretext. Marshall simply wanted an opportunity to probe Rogal's thoughts undisturbed. Marshall was frightened when he encountered the strong defensive mental barrier which effectively barred Marshall's efforts to penetrate into Rogal's mind. Only André Noir, the hypno of the Mutant Corps, could help in this situation.
Marshall turned toward Ras Tschubai. "Can you transport me, Zernif and Regal simultaneously to the Titan?"
The teleporter shook his head negatively. "It's too risky. I suggest I bring you separately to the ship. That won't take much longer anyway."
"Okay," replied Marshall. Then he began to give a more detailed explanation to the assembled rebels as to why they had come to see them in their hide-away. Finally he added: "We'll take Rogal along with us and see what we can do for him."
Then Marshall pulled out a tiny radio set and handed it to Zernif. "This is for you. You can reach Rhodan with it any time. Stay tuned in for our messages. And now let's first take care of Rogal."
The men watched in silent awe how the dark-skinned Stranger vanished together with Rogal. Hardly 10 seconds had passed when Ras Tschubai rematerialized in the room to pick up Zernif. Marshall's turn came last.
The rest of the rebels remained behind, all silent. They kept their eyes fixed on the little box which gave off a faint humming sound. This was their last link with the outside world.
• • •
The teletransmitter Rhodan had obtained from the planet Wanderer was a miraculous affair. Matter of any kind—regardless whether atom bombs or human beings—could be transported within a fraction of a second via the fifth dimension to any place desired. There had never before existed a more perfect weapon throughout the entire universe. The most powerful protective energy screens with which the largest spacecraft might surround themselves proved to be useless when dematerialized bombs were teleported and detonated inside the ships.
Today, however, Rhodan used the transmitter for peaceful purposes: namely, to teleport the Gazelle far out into space so that nobody would be aware of this transaction. The Gazelle was a long-distance reconnaissance craft. In appearance it resembled a flying saucer with a diameter of 90 feet. Its range was 500 light-years. It was armed with energy-rich pulse-ray cannons of Arkonide origin.
Tiff announced that the Gazelle was ready for action.
Thora, Khrest, Marshall and Zernif had already come aboard. Rhodan was still waiting for Pucky, who was supposed to arrive at any moment now. Rhodan was talking to Col. Freyt, the commander of the Ganymede.
"If you and the Titan should be attacked, defend yourselves. The Ganymede will move out into deep space and await orders at the prearranged location. Nobody will be able to find you since your transition leap cannot be tracked by any space-warp sensor. Of course the situation is different as regards the Titan, so she'll remain where she is."
"Don't worry," Freyt reassured him, "I know how to take care of myself and so does Bell."
Rhodan was about to reply when Pucky suddenly materialized.
"Here I am!" chirped the little mouse-beaver quite unnecessarily since everyone could plainly see him. "I was busy attacking a whole transport of Mooffs. Tama was with me, of course. I sent Tama and Ras on their way again."
"We've been waiting for you," replied Rhodan. Then he turned to Col. Freyt and took leave of him: "See you later, Colonel."
Pucky followed Rhodan into the Gazelle. The long range reconnaissance craft stood in the Ganymede's hangar. The teletransmitter would hurl it three light-months out into space. Neither human eye nor most technically perfected instrument could register the transition.
All settled in their seats. The hatch closed automatically. The countdown t
o liftoff began. The ship started and at the same instant the transition took place.
Rhodan blinked his eyes as he came out of the transition syndrome. He was almost blinded by a sea of brightly glittering stars. Arkon was in the midst of the globular star cluster M-13, 34,000 light-years distant from Earth. The stars were crowded together, giving a totally different appearance to space than Rhodan was used to from the vicinity of his own solar system. There was hardly a dark spot to be found and the Milky Way grew dim against the radiant splendor of the myriad of suns.
Rhodan looked at his gauges. They were now three lims from the red giant sun Voga. The Zarlt was bound to assume they were still inside the Titan. Things would be different, of course, when they'd return again to Zalit.
A few brief manipulations and the hyper-radio set was warming up. Rhodan waited until the screens lit up. A crackling sound came from the loudspeaker as the sound system came on. They knew the robot brain's hypercom frequency. For the moment, though, there seemed to be hyper-radio silence.
"We should call the Brain," Thora suggested. Her initial hesitant attitude had now given way to never dreamt of energy and strength of purpose. "Then we'll find out how it will react."
Zernif, the former admiral of Zalit's spacefleet, seemed in a doubtful frame of mind.
"I really don't know what I'm supposed to do here. There's nothing I could tell the robot brain."
"Oh yes there is," protested Rhodan. "There are quite a few things which are of great interest to the Brain. You are our star witness and I'm convinced the Brain can distinguish lies from truth: and since it's not telepathic it accomplishes this, thanks to its logic circuits."
"It's actually a fascinating notion," Khrest entered the discussion, "to have a gigantic star empire ruled by a robot. So many changes have taken place these past 13 years after a period of 10,000 years when nothing of special importance happened. Sometimes I even have my doubts if this new form of government is indeed disadvantageous for Arkon."
Rhodan's eyebrows shot up. "Do you mean to say that you recognize the robot brain's reign—you, Khrest, a member of the deposed ruling clan?"
"Not exactly; all I wanted to say is that I prefer the Brain to Orcast XXI who in my opinion is nothing but a dreamer and an indolent hedonist."
"Well, if you put it that way I can see your point," admitted Rhodan who was busy now observing the large videoscreen that was crisscrossed by colored abstract patterns. This was accompanied by nonsensical noise fragments emanating from the loudspeakers. "I presume we're already receiving some transmissions from the Brain. They are encoded and not intended for us."
"Yes," confirmed Khrest, "the Brain is in constant communication with all the main worlds of the Empire. It's capable of carrying on thousands of simultaneous conversations."
"On the same wave band?" said Rhodan doubtfully.
Khrest nodded his head in affirmation.
Rhodan pondered for a few seconds then abruptly activated the transmitter. He took a deep breath and began to speak: "This is Perry Rhodan from Terra. I am calling the regent of the Arkonide Empire! Answer, please! This is urgent!"
Three times he repeated the message. Then he turned his attention again to the receiver and the videoscreen.
Thora and Khrest were staring spellbound at the continuing color pattern on the screen. Tiff, who mainly was busy making optical observations of the surrounding outer space, could feel the tense atmosphere charged with suspense in the command center. Zernif, on the other hand, was waiting patiently and resignedly for whatever might happen.
Only Pucky did not seem to share in the general excitement. He was sitting on one of the couches, his
eyes half-closed. He gave the impression of being almost asleep. But those who knew Pucky realized only too well that he was concentration personified.
Rhodan shook his head in despair. "The Brain must hear us," he said. "Why don't we get an answer?" Then he repeated his message once more and added: "I urgently request confirmation of receipt of our message. It is of vital importance to the continued existence of the Empire."
The colored pattern speeded up its rhythm. The howling noise from the loudspeaker grew even stronger. But that was all.
"At least some kind of a reaction," Rhodan murmured, still dissatisfied. "But I don't know what to make of it. How are we supposed to know the code the Brain uses in its transmission?"
"You might try explaining the situation to the Brain," Thora suggested. "Tell it that we are not familiar with the key. Request an uncoded text."
A good suggestion, thought Rhodan and he repeated his broadcast, emphasizing they were totally unfamiliar with the code.
Inside the command center the tension reached breaking point. The colored pattern on the videoscreen stopped moving. There was a sharp crackle in the loudspeaker, then the nonsensical sounds ceased. A cold, impersonal voice could be heard throughout the entire central. The voice spoke in the language of the Arkonides: "I have connected both our transmitters to a special channel where a coded message is not required. Nobody can listen in to this conversation. Will you start."
"Can you see me?" asked Rhodan.
A brief pause, then the stationary color pattern vanished from the screen. It soon reappeared, moved around and began to form a plastic image. This process was accompanied by the sound of the cold mechanical voice.
"I can see you the same as you presently will be able to see me. You are two and three quarters light-years—according to your count—distant from my location. Where is the stolen ship?"
Now the image on the screen was completed. Rhodan saw an outsize hall without any clues as to where it might be located. A gigantic hemisphere of glittering metal stood in the center of this room, which was otherwise empty. The hemisphere had an approximate diameter of 150 feet and most likely contained the robot brain. It was impossible to guess what lay underneath the hemisphere. The height of the structure was 25 feet.
Rhodan had waited many years for this moment when he would be face to face with the regent of the Arkonide Empire but not even in his wildest dreams had he imagined it would look like this–a metallic hemisphere.
Rhodan answered the question of the robot brain. "The stolen ship is waiting for me at a safe place, Regent. In case I fail to return, the ship would be forever lost to the Empire."
"It is not my intention to detain you here," came the Brain's icy retort. "The situation would be different if you had come in the stolen ship. What do you want?"
"To convince you that I am not your opponent."
"You will have great difficulty doing that," doubted the metal monster. Abruptly the Brain changed the topic of conversation. "I can see two Arkonides at your side. Are they Thora and Khrest, who received partial recognition from me?"
"That's correct, Regent," said Rhodan. "They formerly belonged to the ruling class of Arkon."
"The Zoltral clan represented no advantage to the Arkonide Empire," remarked the ice-cold voice. "Ever since I seized power some six years ago the Arkonide Empire has gone from strength to strength."
Rhodan was secretly astonished that the robot should experience something akin to pride. However, those who can feel pride are not averse to other stirrings. Perhaps the robot brain was even capable of emotions...?
"Nobody would doubt that," Rhodan replied. "But you must admit that the Zoltral clan is working far more effectively and stronger for the Empire than the Orcast clan would ever be capable of doing."
"This is exactly why I replaced Orcast," came the Brain's prompt reply. "He would have let the Empire go to rack and ruin."
"A final question, Regent, regarding the Empire: Why don't you acknowledge me as the Empire's friend? Do you believe I plan to harm the Empire? Didn't I bring back Thora and Khrest?"
The answer came immediately: "You are my greatest adversary, judging from a point of view of personal power. As far as the Empire is concerned you are my ally, until now, at least. You see, I am in a dilemma. Are you surprised that I
confess to that?"
"Yes," said Rhodan, "I'm surprised."
"I admit this conflict merely so that you can understand my mode of action. And now: why did you enter into communication with me?"
"I wanted to tell you where I am hiding the stolen ship."
A pause ensued for the first time Evidently the Brain needed some time to handle this bit of information and to envision all its potential outcomes. This procedure would have taken hours for a human being but it consumed barely 10 seconds for the Brain. Then came the reply: "Why?"
This was a clear indication it had been unable to find a satisfactory, logical answer.
No wonder, thought Rhodan to himself. Nobody could accomplish that feat.
"In order to prove to you that I am your friend, I christened the stolen ship the Titan and I consider it as a loan. You'll get it back whenever you want. Please note the following data for your information: the Titan is now at the spaceport of Tagnor, the capital of the planet Zalit in the Voga System, three light-months away from my present location."
"Impossible," came the prompt reply. "I would know it if this were the case."
Rhodan permitted himself a gentle smile resembling indulgence.
"Why would you have to know that? Which factor would guarantee this? Perhaps a factor by the name of Zarlt?"
"Correct. The Zarlt of Zalit is Vice-Imperator of the Empire. A ship of the Titan's dimensions would be noticed if it were in the spaceport of Tagnor. And the Zarlt would report this to me. I gave orders to hunt down this stolen ship. There is only one logical conclusion: you are lying! The Titan is hidden somewhere else."
"A false conclusion!" countered Rhodan. He seemed to enjoy this conversation. "You have neglected to consider that somebody else might be lying. Such as the Zarlt, for instance."
"Zarlt Elton is absolutely loyal to me."
"Quite possible," Rhodan admitted calmly. "But what good will that do you if Elton has been dead for quite a number of weeks?"
Another brief pause. Then: "Why was I not informed of his death?"