by Perry Rhodan
The Coordinator’s metallic voice sounded cold and hard: "An inspection of the security circuits has revealed that there is no reason for changing them!"
Atlan and Rhodan exchanged meaningful glances. Now Rhodan took over the conversation with the giant Brain. "Coordinator, three years ago your security section A-1 was not able to prevent the penetration of Akons into your screening terminal. That proves the present unsuitability of A-1."
Again the reply was glacial: "The penetration of Akons into the terminal chamber caused additional safety circuits to be activated, which are capable of averting similar dangers. Therefore manipulations of section A-1 are no longer necessary."
"Coordinator, we Terrans have information concerning an Akon time-converter. I am reminded also of the incident of three years ago when Arkon 3 was thrown 15,000 years into the past and the entire Imperium was crippled due to the failure of some of your most vital functions. In order to make any repetition of such an occurrence impossible, security section A-1 must be modernized!"
"Not even Imperator Gonozal VIII is permitted to enter section A-1. I am not able to override Rule 18 which my creators programmed into my logic circuits."
Rhodan and the Imperator suddenly held their breaths in amazement. Neither of them could recall ever having heard anything about a Rule 18. Until now they had always believed that in an extreme emergency the giant Brain could allow any and all of its sections or rooms to be entered.
"Coordinator," said Atlan, "what is this Rule 18? What does it actually say?"
The positronic intelligence answered without hesitation: "Security section A-1 shall be inaccessible to anyone."
Rhodan took over again. "Does A-1 have its own defense weapons?"
"The question is illogical, Rhodan. A-1 cannot be entered. Therefore armaments are unnecessary."
Atlan and Rhodan had too much experience with the giant Brain to be irritated by its answer. Rhodan drove home another question with deliberate hardness: "Coordinator, must I refer again to the Akon weapon? With the permission of the Imperator, I ask you is security section A-1 capable of counteracting the effects of a time-converter?"
Atlan spoke up immediately: "The question is authorized!"
The Brain’s voice rattled in the speaker. "A-1 lies behind a separate honeycomb screen."
This was another shock for Atlan and Rhodan. Was this all that the positronicon could say in response to the question? It was too much to believe.
Atlan took several deep breaths to compose himself and then said: "Coordinator, I demand to know whether or not A-1 is protected against the effects of an Akon time converter by virtue of its extra honeycomb screen."
"The answer to that is the fact that A-1 lies behind a separate honeycomb screen."
The two men realized that this question could only lead them in circles. It was useless to continue their conversation with the mammoth positronicon. Its refusal to allow a modernization of A-1 was based upon Rule 18, which it had received from its builders, and for that reason it could not even permit access by Atlan himself to its most vital section..
Rhodan cut the connection and the strange line patterns vanished from the viewscreen.
"What now, Perry?" asked Atlan despondently. "Here you’ve made all your preparations, even with a massive fleet and an army of scientists you’ve brought along, so that the Brain might be protected against misuse or destruction, and the positronic brute takes refuge behind some provision 18 that you or I never beard of before."
"My friend, if we walk away empty-handed, at least that’s how we came in. I just hope that my fears will never be realized—that one day we may be facing a reprogrammed and hostile robot Brain."
"Barbarian, are you still referring to the Akons and their time-converter?"
"Yes, because I’m afraid that the honeycomb screen is no protection against it. From a physical standpoint I just can’t see how such a screen can offer any resistance to attacks coming at it through Time. But what’s more disturbing is the fact that the Brain obviously isn’t able to recognize this danger. While we were talking to it I kept wondering if we were making some kind of error in logic or something but I can’t see where."
"Yet when you look at all this from the other side and you consider that the builders of the Brain didn’t provide it with the capability of extrapolating this problem, you can’t actually blame the positronicon. —What are you laughing about?"
"It’s the irony of it all. We’re dancing on a thin thread over a boiling crater and now we’ve gone so far as to close our eyes even to reality! Am I right, Atlan?"
The two men studied each other. Then the Arkonide nodded. "Quite right," he admitted. "But now I want to know what’s at the core of your uneasiness. Is it the Brain itself, Perry?"
"Yes."
"You mean, that it may turn against me? When did you start to fear this possibility?"
Rhodan leaned back in his chair. "The Brain’s obvious lack of logic gave me a jolt, Atlan. In fact, that part was frightening. We only uncovered this invalid logic flow by accident. And now I can see where we made an unforgivable mistake in our conversation with it. We have caused the robot to become suspicious of us. We should have known that A-1 is the biggest taboo you could mention to the Coordinator. Don’t you see? According to that thing’s mechanical logic, anybody who seeks to change security circuit A-1 automatically becomes an enemy of the Arkon Imperium!"
A yellowish fire gleamed in the Arkonide’s eyes. "In that case, wouldn’t the Brain have made an attempt by now to destroy me, Rhodan?" he asked irritably.
"I don’t say that the percent of its mistrust would be enough just now to drive it to that extreme. Our mistake was that we came up with the suggestion to modernize A-1. We should have manoeuvred the Brain into approaching us with its own request to update it according to the latest technology. If only we had known about that Rule 18!"
Atlan got up and began to pace back and forth in the cabin. Suddenly he came to a stop in front of Rhodan. "I guess one has to be an Arkonide not to lose his mind at the prospect of having a giant positronicon replace a ruling Imperator!"
"But Arkonides were capable of building such a monster. When they built it Atlan, they were sicker than they realized. That positronicon is the pathological outgrowth of a degenerated race! I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a secret circuit in the Brain that could change it back to the Regent in an instant—if its own logic convinced it that you were operating against the interests of the Empire and were endangering its existence.
Atlan laughed bitterly. "Perry, you have a fantastic talent for picturing me as a mere puppet of the Brain! An Imperator who is powerless to act and who must expect at any hour to be executed for high treason! By our ancient gods, Barbarian, the Arkonides who created the Brain must have been a suspicious lot! Again I say—dammit—is it worth lifting a finger for such a people!"
Rhodan calmly replied: "Certainly It on Wanderer would not have supplied us with cell activators so that we could give up at the first point in our development when everything is standing on the razor’s edge."
Involuntarily Atlan groped for the miracle device on his chest which had given him more than 10,000 years of life. His strained expression relaxed. "Barbarian, if we had had only one Terran for every ten Arkonides, the galaxy would have been ours thousands of years ago!" he blurted out. He was startled by Rhodan’s laughter. "It shall be ours, Atlan."
Just then the intercom fairly rattled with an alert signal. "Sir, the robot Brain is sending out an alarm. I’ll switch you over!"
Both men tensed. Although neither had ever lost their presence of mind in a thousand tight situations, they stared at each other helplessly. An alarm signal from the robot Brain? Could the Com Room officer of the Ironduke have made a mistake.
The viewscreen flamed to life with the familiar line pattern of the positronicon. The metallic voice rang out. The robot Brain was calling for help! It had detected alien intruders in section A-1.
"...Rule 18 not in effect because of critical emergency. Twenty persons will be allowed access to A-1! There are 8 men in there now. They have succeeded in penetrating the honeycomb screen. Security circuit A-1 is in danger!"
"We’re coming!" said Rhodan calmly as he got up. He didn’t wait to watch the line pattern disappear from the screen. He took a seat behind his desk and pressed a red button on his control panel. It activated alarms in every spaceship that was on the landing field in front of the great energy dome of the mammoth Brain. The ultra-modern auto-switching system in the Ironduke’s Com Room provided a simultaneous video connection with all ship commanders.
"Rhodan speaking! Marshall—alert your group. Rendezvous point: dome entrance to the Brain! To special detail of positronic techs—immediate action! All hands on standby. Orders will follow for final roster of commando team. Prof. Crane, do you read me?"
"Crane here, sir!" came a new voice from the speaker. "I read you!"
"Pick out 10 scientists—but I need men who can fight in an emergency.
"Understood, sir," returned Crane.
"The list of names must be in my hands in three minutes, Professor!"
"Three minutes, sir ... "
"Marshall!" called Rhodan.
The speaker crackled. It was a sign that the telepath, John Marshall, was already on his way and had just turned on his minicom. "Marshall here, sir!"
"I’ll want a total of 8 mutants on the mission, including yourself. Everything is at stake. Do you understand?"
"Understood, sir!" came the answer with military sharpness.
The air in front of Rhodan shimmered briefly as the mouse-beaver, Pucky, teleported into view. Normally given to playful tricks, he was now all business and only nodded curtly to Atlan. "Perry—you have any special orders for me?"
Rhodan looked up at him, deliberated swiftly, then shook his head negatively. It was as though he were giving Pucky a signal to be gone.
Rhodan called to the Com Room again. "Connect me with Terrania as fast as you can ... "
The answer was there: "Sir, Terrania standing by!"
"Contact with Reginald Bell!"
"Right away, sir! Only a few more seconds!" replied the Com Chief of the Ironduke.
But the few more seconds turned into a minute. Then the viewscreen revealed the faces of both Reginald Bell and Allan D. Mercant.
There was a slight gleam in Rhodan’s eyes as he reported to the two of them that the robot Brain was under attack. With telegraphic brevity he explained the altered situation on Arkon 3. "I presume the enemy has gotten into the A-1 section by using an Akon time-converter. If my suspicion is correct, we probably won’t be able to do anything against the time-field. But I am personally leading the relief expedition into the Brain. Over and out!"
4/ THE TIME INVADERS
5342 light-years from Arkon on the planet Trum, Joe Luklein arrived in the small settlement of Gilkar where one of Carba’s most important men was supposed to be located, according to indications from Solar Intelligence HQ.
For some time now Hoga had been suspected by Intelligence of being a member of the powerful Thekus group. He and his few collaborators on Trum had been under constant observation but so far the proof was lacking which could convict him of conspiracy against the Arkon Imperium.
Although Luklein had put in a request for several telepathic mutants he was forced to accept the fact that no mutants were presently available for this project since in the first place they were assigned to protecting the Imperator and in the second place they were being held in reserve for more important operations.
This is why it had been possible for Hoga to remain a suspect and yet pursue his subversive activities undisturbed. The fact that Solar Intelligence was now claiming that Hoga was one of the top figures in the Thekus combine was a matter of relative indifference to Luklein. Re sat in the shade outside the small restaurant and thought about his assignment as he watched a small aircar, engines softly humming, take off for the town.
He had come to Gilkar by the normal route although disguised so well that his friends would not have recognized him. He pensively stirred his cup while cautiously surveying his surroundings.
Although Gilkar was small its provincial atmosphere had attracted wealthy retired people who sought to live out their days there in their widely separated bungalows in purely Arkonide style. There were only four houses left at the edge of the small airport—which was the site of the old Gilkar, where a last vestige remained of the simple settlement it had once been.
Joe Luklein didn’t look up as a man sat down at his table without saying a word. He continued to stir his refreshment which by now had gotten quite cold. He suddenly had the feeling of being hemmed in on all sides. Pretending to grip his cup absently, he let his elbow slip off the table. The kafok, which was a coffee-like drink, splashed over and spilled onto the stranger’s clothes.
Acting somewhat confused, he offered an apology in Interkosmo. Now he was looking directly at the man opposite him, who suddenly sat back and looked angrily at his spoiled suit.
"Does this drink leave spots?" Luklein asked with concern.
"Naturally kafok leaves a stain! Couldn’t you be more careful?" retorted the stranger angrily.
"I didn’t know I had company—or did I miss the introduction, sir?"
The man was a Trumanian native, somewhere between 40 and 50 years of age. He was still very indignant.
"Can’t you speak without that thick accent?" he asked. "I can hardly follow you."
Luklein had the restraint to keep his innocently friendly tone. "I don’t speak Arkonide, sir, but can you tell me where in Gilkar I might find Loun Tatanoon, the famous doctor who studied with the Aras?" During this, he made every effort to speak as brokenly as possible.
Loun Tatanoon was not an invented figure. At his transfer point in Renl, as far as time permitted, Luklein had sought to pick up information and had heard that the famous Dr. Tatanoon, who had studied on Aralon, resided here.
"I am Tatanoon!" he heard the other exclaim.
Luklein did not conceal his surprise. He had not expected such a coincidence. He had to quickly scrabble together his medical knowledge in order to adjust to the situation, which was none to his liking. "Why, that’s wonderful!" he cried out, beaming.
To the consternation of the famous doctor he sought to clean off his saucer with his coat sleeve. While doing so he had the misfortune to knock the cup over and spill the rest of the kafok into Tatanoon’s lap. Although Luklein was pleased with this result he concealed it by acting the opposite. As Loun Tatanoon stomped away in high dudgeon, he managed to sound crestfallen and call out further apologies.
He knew he must have presented a pitiable figure and he looked about him on all sides with a helpless and dejected expression. But in the process he was able to see that two men at a table behind him got up and whispered something to a third man, after which they left. They disappeared between the slender trees nearby, which only offered shade because they were close together.
This development indicated to Luklein that the two men had been observing him, along with the third man who was still at his table. At the same time he recalled the warning from Solar Intelligence: highly dangerous assignment.
Suddenly the tavern owner was standing before him. Loun Tatanoon must have already told the proprietor about his terrible Interkosmo because the man spoke to him in this common galactic language. Luklein played his role to the hilt. According to his slang he appeared to be the type who had spent all his life on board the spacers and who only felt at his ease when among his own kind, whereas when on a planet he was miserable wherever he went. This was the impression Luklein tried to give and it seemed to be working.
"Of course I’ll pay for the damages," he said, appearing to be intimidated. "I didn’t mean to offend the famous doctor—in fact I was on my way to see him. I’ve gotten three days Trum-time of extra leave from the Pitzo Pit." It was an item that could be verified and
would be found to be valid.
"Tatanoon refuses to have anything to do with you. As recompense for his soiled clothing he demands payment of a hundred ... "
"A hundred?!" shouted Luklein. In his feigned agitation he thickened his accent so that it sounded like a thousand.
"The doctor is asking for a hundred, you thick-headed Springer, not a thousand!" The proprietor was now showing an uglier side and his clumsy guest cowered under the unfriendly reprimand.
"That’s a lot of money!" Luklein dared to protest, though meekly. He pulled out his sweat-stained purse and produced an Arkon hundred-note.
The owner snatched it from him and then held out his other hand. He practically snared at him. "Pay me for one kafok!"
Luklein complied and gave him the proper coin.
"And now there is no place for you here, Springer!" thundered the innkeeper. With an outstretched arm, he ordered him away.
But he couldn’t have done Joe Luklein a greater favor by making such a scene. The agent shuffled slowly away and did not turn around until he was-out of sight beyond a sharp bend in the road. Then he stopped in order to send out another tracer beep over his special minicom: duration, 2.8 seconds, as requested.
It was the 8th such signal since he had already been on the mission for 8 hours.
If the suspicion of Solar Intelligence was correct and Hoga was in one of these bungalows, then Joe Luklein was at his target point.
• • •
100 meters in front of the marker line of the deadly honeycomb screen, four Terran ground vehicles came to a stop. They were manned by 17 men and a mouse-beaver, all of whom were forced to wait now for the Chief and Imperator Gonozal VIII. John Marshall and Prof. Crane had selected this detail from a large group of mutants and scientists.
For the mutants the only thing special about the mission before them was that it involved the giant robot Brain, which had called for help and was apparently in a desperate emergency situation. otherwise the operation was no different than many thousands of other missions they had behind them.