To Arkon!

by Perry Rhodan

  Novall made a slight movement that could have been a hint of a bow. As a matter of fact, there was a gesture of respect and courtesy in Arkonide etiquette that did resemble the Earthly bow to a strong degree.

  But the Naat's voice still sounded indifferent, even careless, when he said: "Tzaro- I'm sorry but I can't fulfill your request. I've been instructed to bring you to Naat. The appropriate authorities on Arkon are informed of the presence of two Arkonides on board your ship."

  "And how are you taking us to Naat?"

  "Tractor-beam," answered Novaal simply.

  Rhodan considered for only a quarter of a second. Then he nodded in agreement. "Ep. At the moment. I don't have any objections. Certainly what you have to do is important. But I'm warning you - if it becomes clear that you have something shady up your sleeve, then I'll make you along with your ship disappear!"

  It could not be seen if the threat made any impression on the Naat. He agreed - "Epon!" - and broke off the conversation.

  Thora did not even allow Perry time to turn around. "Why didn't you demand that we be brought to Arkon at once? Why did you agree to his conditions so readily? Why didn't you threaten him? Why ..."

  "Why should I have?" Rhodan interrupted brusquely. "Should I risk all our lives needlessly?"

  "Needlessly? I want to go to Arkon, not Naat!"

  "So do the rest of us. But apparently our presence is not desired on Arkon at this time."

  "What do I care about that?" Thora raged on. "I am a Khasurn and no klavaka djenvorbix Naat is going to tell me what to do!"

  But Rhodan's look was so compelling that the fervor in her eyes sagged in mid-sentence and she stared at the tall man fearfully.

  "Why don't you want to understand," he asked, at once gentle, pointed and soothing, "that 13 Terran years have gone by since you last saw Arkon? Why don't you want to understand that a great deal can happen in 13 years and that in the case of Arkon, a great deal apparently has happened. I don't want to wound your pride but isn't it possible that the Zoltral family is no longer as highly regarded as it was at the time you left Arkon?"

  Thora dropped her eyes. She stood motionless for awhile; the Rhodan nodded encouragingly to Khrest and the white-haired Arkonide led the woman to a seat. Rhodan returned to his own seat and in clipped words informed the crew of what had occurred. He maintained Gunpost 1 as the single occupied post and enjoined the men to maximum vigilance.

  By the time Novaal seemed to have applied his tractor-beam in the right position and with the right effect. The instruments indicated a moderate speed of travel although the output of the Ganymede's generators had not changed. Rhodan watched the operation attentively. After some minutes, however, he was certain that the giant Novaal was a careful man and that if the Naat continued in such a cautious manner, nothing would happen to the Ganymede while it was caught in the tractor-beam.

  Rhodan seemed to be the only person aboard, though who was content with the way things were going. The displeasure of the control room officers with their commander's appeasement tactics could be read on their faces. The only one who could risk voicing an opinion was Reginald Bell. Sighing, he said: "Who would have thought it? We dreamed of a triumphal parade but in reality we're being towed like an old jalopy!"

  3/ TRAPPED ON NAAT

  Novaal took several hours to accelerate the linked ships to a velocity calculated to make them arrive at Naat in 10 more hours.

  Thora had left the Command Center and retreated to her cabin. Khrest, who had been at her side and calmed her down, returned as soon as he convinced himself that it was safe to leave her alone.

  Ever since Rhodan had conducted the conversation with Novaal, the Arkonide scientist seemed to have snapped out of his dejected mood and his spirit was buoyed up again. Apparently the multitude of secrets surrounding Arkon had exceeded his capacity for feelings of distress and had begun to stimulate his scientific interest. "You know," Khrest said to Rhodan, who sat at his control panel carefully checking his instruments, "there's one thing in particular that has struck me as rather strange."

  He spoke English. Rhodan took a reading and quickly jotted it down on a scrap of paper. Then he turned to Khrest. "What's that, please?"

  "Novaal used the word 'reekha' to describe his rank, or 'leader' in your language. There was no such rank in my time. The actual commanding officer in charge of a battleship was called 'hasathor', meaning admiral, or more commonly 'vercayhor', the Commander. A Leader is a person who could be the chief of a ground station ... but aboard a spaceship?" Khrest shook his head.

  "Can you draw any conclusions from it?" Rhodan asked.

  Khrest spread out his hands. "I can make a guess. Novaal, the so-called leader, is perhaps subordinated to a higher ranking officer aboard the battleship, someone who has as yet not put in an appearance.

  Rhodan looked skeptical and inquired: "I don't know if this is really the proper explanation for it. Wouldn't it make more sense to conclude that the power of the government has been usurped by a new ruler who has decreed new names for the old designations?"

  Khrest was stunned. "For heaven's sake! A revolt? Aren't you going too far?"

  He was interrupted by the telecom. A monotonous voice said: "Positronic Sector to Commander. The answer to your question is affirmative, sir. Probability 89.5%."

  Rhodan wrinkled his brow. "The answer to my ..." he murmured dubiously. "Oh yes! The question whether the Arkonide battleship formations consisted of units under the control of robots! I almost forgot. Than you!"

  He paused and looked at Khrest. "What do you think of it?" he demanded. "The positronic brain is convinced that the Arkonide vessels which blasted the fleet of the Motuners to smithereens were robots."

  Khrest had already perked up his ears when he heard the word 'positronic.' "Robots?" he exclaimed in astonishment. "Of course there are many robot ships. They are not very difficult to build. But the battle against the Motuners was found 46 light-years away from Arkon. To steer ships by remote control from such a distance they'd have to be equipped with much better guidance mechanism than I know." He shook his head. "No, I'm afraid the positronic brain is in error."

  Rhodan shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it computed the probability for a different solution 10 to 10.5%," Rhodan replied with an enigmatic smile and got up. "Let's make a test," he said loud enough for everybody in the room to hear. "It concerns the Imperium battleship which has us in tow and its commander."

  His listeners looked astonished.

  "What's the output of the tractor-beam?" Rhodan inquired.

  Bell glanced at the dial of the gauge before him. "20 million megawatts."

  Rhodan returned to his seat. "We're going to accelerate in the reverse direction for one-thousandth of a second," he announced. "What we want to know is how the Imperium ship reacts to it. I require a graphic record with chronological notations. Keep in mind that we've got no intention of getting away from the fellow."

  He sat down and fastened his shoulder belts. "X minus five minutes," he said tersely.

  Nobody knew what it was all about and all nerves were on edge in the Command Center.

  An acceleration period of one-thousandth of a second's duration was something which could not be manually regulated by Rhodan. He programmed the least possible accelerating interval and fed it into the automatic pilot, setting it for the desired time. A breathless silence reigned in the Command Center All eyes were fastened on Rhodan's stern, calm face.

  The experiment itself was anything but a great revelation. Nothing happened except that the control lamps of the engines flashed so quickly that the eye barely registered it. The acceleration thrust was absorbed by the neutralizers and nothing was changed of the distance between the Ganymede and the tractor ship.

  Rhodan released his safety belts. "Bring me the transcript of the measuring instruments," he demanded with barely concealed excitement. The instrument whirred and emitted plastic strips with colored graphs made by the scribers. Rhodan collected t
hem on his console and sorted them out. "Distance between the ships?" he asked in the middle of it.

  "4380 feet between centers of gravity."

  Rhodan marked several of the plastic strips and put the others aside as Khrest and Bell stood behind him looking over his shoulder.

  "Here," Rhodan pointed out, "is the acceleration impulse we've emitted. The time scale has been expanded so that 10 inches correspond to one-thousandth of a second. Now let's take a look at what the tractor did. Up to here it operated at 20 million megawatts. At this point, 9 micro-seconds after the start of our impulse, that is 9-millionths of a second, the tractor output abruptly jumps to 50 million megawatts. Do you see? These are the first 20 million plus 38 million to compensate for our 38 million megawatts. There the tractor output reverts again to its former value - again 9 microseconds after the end of our impulse. Does that make it clear?"

  Reginald Bell was little impressed whereas Khrest grasped the meaning of the experiment instantaneously. Bell muttered wryly, "It's clear, alright. But what are you trying to say?"

  Rhodan looked at him gravely and tapped on the measuring strips. "Nine microseconds is exactly the time a light beam travels from the Ganymede to the tractor ship and back again. It means that the manoeuvre could not be reduced. Therefore the conclusion is inevitable that at least the technical conduct of the Arkonide ship is in the hands of a robot."

  Bell gulped and stared at Rhodan with wide eyes. "That ... that monster," he gasped, "is a ..."

  "Not Novaal," Rhodan corrected him. "But it goes to show that whoever has the say so on board the tractor ship must be a robot."

  He left Bell standing with his mouth agape and turned smilingly to Khrest. "Perhaps you'll now judge the opinion of the positronic brain with a little less skepticism. It's beginning to look as if somebody on Arkon has had enough of his decadent, indolent countrymen and manned the battleships with robots and soldiers from the colonies in their stead."

  • • •

  Novaal himself didn't seem to have noticed the incident. At any rate he said nothing about it. This was one more clue for Rhodan that his assumption was correct.

  During the next 10 hours the pair of ships moved close enough to Naat, the fifth world of the system, that the planet increased from a point of light on the observation screen of the Ganymede to a shining disk, then turned from a disk into a yellow-stained globe into which both ships were about to plunge.

  Rhodan's feelings had been stirred by a certain excitement which he tried to conceal from the others for fear of appearing too childish or hopelessly romantic. He was thrilled by the thought of setting foot for the first time on a world belonging to the Arkonide stellar system proper. Here he was on the threshold of the Great Empire, the heart of the mightiest realm in the history of the Galaxy as far as the memory of intelligent beings reached back in the past.

  Although he was only approaching the fifth planet, Naat, a dusty world inhabited by ape-like people with an extra eye, he now was no more than a few astronomic units away from the innermost heart-chamber of Arkon. Rhodan was in a state of great expectations as if he were about to enter the outer court of an imposing palace shrouded in mysteries and he couldn't help thinking that it was a sentimental, child-like attitude. For these very reasons he preferred to keep his feelings to himself.

  He saw that his men betrayed different emotions. With furrowed brows and unconcealed aversion they studied the picture of a dusty desert stretched at their feet where a storm of considerable magnitude raised dense yellow-red clouds of swirling dust. There was scarcely a building in sight. The tractor ship first had to perform a navigational manoeuvre before the first signs of civilized habitations appeared on the observation screens of the Ganymede .

  A city rose into view, yellow and grey as the rest of the planet. Hemispheric houses, some with towers protruding from the top, stood in rows after rows forming drab streets, straight as an arrow, between them - a sign of a civilization which had grown too rapidly. A huge landing field surrounded by the usual buildings for space traffic control was spread outside the city.

  At the opposite end they discerned a corner of green land. Undamaged by the dust and the storm, the fresh colors of a park brightened the optical screens. Rhodan guessed that it was the place where the Arkonides lived who had come to Naat to maintain the authority of the Great Empire.

  Novaal - or rather the robot who was in charge of the vessel - steered the Ganymede to a safe landing. The sensitive instruments of the ship didn't register the slightest irregularity as the tremendous torpedo was finally firmly placed on its support columns under the rear fins and stood vertically on the field.

  The neutralizers counteracted without any difficulty whatsoever the terrific gravity of the planet and Earth-like conditions prevailed throughout the Ganymede .

  Rhodan took his eyes off the observation screen. "Here we are!" he said with resignation.

  • • •

  Hours passed and nothing happened. At first Rhodan continuously watched the panoramic screen, waiting for somebody to show some interest in the alien ship. The telecom and hypercom receivers were constantly tuned in for the expected message.

  However nobody came and the telecom remained silent except for a few distant communications which

  didn't concern the Ganymede . Rhodan finally assigned regular monitors to the observation screens and audio receivers and went to sleep after instructing his aides to wake him up as soon as any new development occurred.

  He slept undisturbed if not very well. Six hours later he got up again and found everything exactly the way he had left it - the picture screen empty and the receiver dead. Somebody had put the Ganymede on a virtually empty spaceport and forgotten about it. However there was someone else aboard the Terranian ship who was far from reconciled with the present circumstances and had waited for hours to tell her complaints to the responsible person. Thora. When she found Rhodan she was close to tears. "Why don't we do something," she swallowed helplessly with big, imploring eyes.

  "Like what?" Rhodan asked gently.

  "Start up again, broadcast a message, fire a warning shot - what do I know? - anything!"

  Rhodan turned around to Col. Freyt, the Commander of the Ganymede, who sat before the pilot control panel. "Try to call the tractor ship over there on the telecom, Freyt!"

  Freyt adjusted the directional antenna in an effort to contact the ship. He had to repeat his call five times before he received an answer and Novaal's face appeared on the videoscreen. Freyt got up and made room for Rhodan. "Why is it that nobody pays attention to us?" Rhodan inquired.

  "I don't know," Novaal replied. "What did you expect?"

  The question made Rhodan laugh. "I'd like to know why I'm here and how long it'll take."

  "You're here on orders of the Arkonide Administration," Novaal explained.

  "That's no reason," Rhodan retorted sharply. "At least not for me."

  "You better call Sergh," Novaal advised him.

  "Who's Sergh?"

  "He's the Arkonide Administrator of Naat."

  "Will he answer via telecom?"

  "If he doesn't you're out of luck because I don't know the frequency of his office."

  "Oh well," Rhodan murmured. "Thank you!"

  He ended the conversation and turned to Thora. "Do you know anybody by the name of Sergh?"

  Thora shook her head. Rhodan rotated the antenna in the direction of the green spot they had seen beyond the spaceport shortly before they landed. He broadened the range of his transceiver to minimize a failure of communication. Then he spoke into the mike: "The Commander of the shipGanymede wishes to speak to the Administrator Sergh."

  He repeated the call at regular intervals. After he had done so 38 times without getting the slightest response from him, he shouted angrily: "The Commander of the shipGanymede wishes to speak to the Administrator Sergh and if that jerk doesn't answer at once the Ganymede will decide to leave this planet without waiting for that Arkonide slo
wpoke!"

  However the Administrator was apparently so occupied with other business that he failed to respond to this gross insult. Rhodan switched off the telecom and addressed his officers. "Prepare for take off! Freyt, instruct the crew! I'll take care of the programming."

  The ship sprang to life. The men rushed to their posts and 10 minutes later the Ganymede was ready to be launched as soon as Rhodan finished his blastoff programme.

  The fruitless attempt to contact the Administrator and the effrontery he had been dealt by having been kept waiting for many hours on the spaceport where he had no intention of landing in the first place, raised Rhodan's hackles. He acted on the spur of the moment without giving consideration to what might happen if the ship took off against the expressed will of the Arkonides.

  The gun turrets were manned and as long as the spaceport remained as empty as it was, the Ganymede had a good chance of leaving the inhospitable planet behind.

  "Attention! All systems go!" Rhodan commanded.

  Control lamps lit up and machines began to hum throughout the ship. A warning signal started to whistle. Rhodan increased the energy of the engines. Other warning instruments joined the alarm and the sound of the machinery changed. It rose to a whining crescendo, stopped for a fraction of a second and returned with a howl as Rhodan shifted to maximum output.

  Rhodan kept all aggregates running at full capacity for a whole minute. They screeched and roared as if attempting to move an entire world. The Ganymede didn't budge from the spot.

  Rhodan furiously slammed down the aggregate switch with his fist. "Stop!" he shouted. "Get me the data on the force-field holding us back!"

  The officer in charge of the launching operations reported at once. "Variable magnitude, sir! Energy level exceeds thrust of our engines by 50% at any time."

  Rhodan lowered his head.

  You've been a fool, he thought dejectedly. The Arkonides didn't bring you here to let you fly away a few hours later. How could you believe they didn't have the means of holding you back? You and your beautiful ship!