Enterprise Stardust

by Karl H Scheer

  “Sir, you need our help,” Rhodan repeated. “Let me fetch our physician. Something must be done.”

  “In time. First, listen to me. I do not believe that you can help me. Though we may resemble one another in appearance, I should nevertheless have a basically different body chemistry. Our organic structures may also vary. At any rate, in the judgment of the Imperium, you have met the basic requirements. You are intelligent and, in your behaviour, recall the lives of our ancestors. and you have successfully applied the newly discovered source of energy toward constructive goals. I refer, of course, to atomic power. Thus far, you have still not committed the cardinal error of using nuclear power in order to bring about the extinction of a major proportion of your species. I am, as I have said, one of the leading scientists in the service of the Imperium. I am also one of the few whose motivation and strength of will still remain strong. Are you surprised at Thora’s position?”

  Bell glanced uneasily at the other aliens. They lay unmoving, as before, while they watched the peculiar programs flickering across their video screens. The kaleidoscope of geometrical designs seemed to have changed but little, but now a torrent of sparkling sounds could be heard.

  “Is that the reason?” Rhodan asked. “Degeneration?”

  “Your conclusions are correct. My race would be several million years old, in your reckoning of time. Once we were even as yourselves—hardy, inquisitive, adventurous. Then a few thousand years ago, we noticed the onset of progressive decay. The galactic empire was splintered, subject races rose up against our might, and the great Imperium, which had endured for millennia, was shaken to its foundations. Unlike other alien intelligence in the universe, we were rulers known for our benevolence. Now, it is all at an end. The Imperium is in decline. We are struggling for dominance, but to no avail. Dozens of highly evolved races clash in devastating wars conducted throughout the galaxy. But you would not know this. Your solar system lies far removed from these events, in an insignificant branch of the Milky Way.”

  “And what,” interjected Reg, “are you doing about all this?”

  The old man spoke sadly. “Nothing. Nothing any more. We have weakened and surrendered out will. Yet I am, like Thora, born into the ruling dynasty on Arkon. Ah, yes. Arkon is a world nearly 3,700 light-years from Earth.”

  Rhodan had turned pale. The magnitude of the figure struck him like a hammer blow. “That means you’ve mastered faster-than-light space travel!”

  “Certainly. It has been thus for hundreds of your centuries. We knew Earth some thousand years ago, at the time of our last visit. It was during that period when degeneration began to set in among the Arkonides. Exploratory flights ceased, and our spacecraft remained inoperative at their bases. A view widely held is that one cannot escape the laws of nature. Still, we are planning and dreaming, and in our minds we have laid the theoretical foundations for the renaissance of empire. However, this is where our efforts end. We lack the energy and application necessary to realize our design. We are beginning to overlook things of immense importance. With each day, the empire declines more and more. The ruling class on Arkon itself has fallen into decay. We seek only beauty and a peaceful life and indulge ourselves with the luxury of passive pleasures. We are resigning, we are yielding. We are spent with age. We have simply been used up, and …” Khrest stared at them. “And heretofore we have found no race with the promise and potential that once was ours. You would seem to he the exception. You see why I have upgraded you. It is not only my right but my duty.”

  Once again, the scientist in Rhodan awakened. There were limitless questions to be answered and mysteries to be solved. “You say you’ve been here for four months. Why haven’t you taken off again?”

  Khrest nodded slowly. His glance grew more intense and searching.

  “That could only be the question of a creature who takes inexhaustible energy to be his birthright. You would not ask if you could see life through our eyes. Why have we not done this? Our engines failed us, forcing us to resort to an emergency landing on your moon. We are no longer occupied with the problem of our ship’s upkeep. There is only minor damage, but we do not have the spare parts with us. We simply did not think of it. That is why we are stranded here. We wait and wait, and nothing happens. My illness prevents me from doing the necessary work myself. We are in urgent need of certain fluidic micromodules. I do not believe they can be found in your world.”

  “Then we’ll make ‘em!” interjected Bell. “Show us how it’s done, and we’ll get them for you. Don’t underestimate us, sir. We’ll put the best brains on Earth to work on the problem. If necessary, we’ll pluck the stars out of the skies, if only you tell us what’s needed. There are colossal industries back home. We can do anything. I said anything!”

  Khrest was aroused by these optimistic words. “I believe you,” he whispered excitedly. “You must now convince Thora. The women of our race have been less affected than the males by our general debilitation. Therefore, many of our important positions are held by women. This has been happening for centuries. Prior to that, women knew only the duties of the household. Thora will prove shrewd in any bargain, I assure you. You are the right man for the task, Major Rhodan. She is afraid of you, which I find quite remarkable.”

  Rhodan gulped. So that was it. Bell was grinning. Nevertheless, the situation had not become any clearer.

  “You should not be surprised that I am able to converse in terms you understand,” Khrest continued. “It has always been my business to negotiate with the inhabitants of other worlds. I easily adapt myself to the conceptual perspectives of alien races. That is why we were not surprised by your appearance. In fact, we always count on such a possibility as a matter of course. You are solemn, sorely vexed, overwhelmed. You did not know that you were not alone in the universe. I could cite many similar instances. The sudden arrival of superior beings always comes as a shock. You have already overcome that shock, I see.

  “What are those people over there doing?” inquired Rhodan. The strange music had changed once more and now resembled an urgent whispering.

  Khrest turned his head painfully. “They are engaged in the usual simulator game. It has contributed much to the collapse of will and spirit among my people. Billions of Arkonides stand vigil by those screens daily while games are created by different masters of the medium. Highly complex. It is the audio-visual representation of elements in the subjective psyche. My people would waste their lives in this fashion. The situation is gradually worsening. For example, there are only fifty persons on board. Rarely do I get to see them, but when I do, they are seated, trance-like, before the fictif screens. Our degeneration is not to be found in the realm of normal attitudes or ethics but rather in a total relaxation and surrender of will. We have become indifferent to everything. For us, nothing remains exciting, nothing stimulating. Nothing evokes any response in us. The work of a new fictif artist takes precedence over all else. They are preoccupied, you see, with experiencing the latest creation as quickly as possible. I suppose we have always been too peaceful, too cited. We seldom engaged in war. We were able to conquer the galaxy through the mere fact of our superior science and technology. No one dared defy us, in war or in revolt. No, it would not be a colonial system, as you use the word. It should not be regarded as such. The attending circumstances were—and are—not so simple. It will not be possible for you to understand this in a matter of moments.”

  “So they’ve just let you lie here and suffer and weaken for four months—is that what they did?” Speaking these words, Rhodan was uncommonly emotional. “Without doing anything whatsoever, without even making any attempt to find a remedy! It should have been simplicity itself for your people.”

  “It would have been simple if only someone were willing to apply himself to the task. The medical supplies aboard ship are ordinarily quite sufficient, but I have contracted an illness unknown in our world. Numerous tests and analyses will be necessary. These may require time, effort and inten
sive work, however, and will therefore not be done. Among the crew are important artists who are constantly creating new fictif works. Our robot crew is attending to the maintenance of the ship. Your emergency landing, Major Rhodan, was also supervised by the automatons. Intricate safety circuits—you might say ‘safety valves’-were involved. Upon learning that we were not permitted to communicate with you, the positronic brain took action accordingly. It was very simple.”

  “Very simple,” muttered Rhodan. He was appalled. “You regard, as ‘elementary things that are to us almost beyond imagination. By the way, what do you mean by positronic? We have our own electronic brains, computers, but a positron has an extremely fleeting existence.”

  Khrest laughed. His expression suggested the tolerance with which an adult might view the antics of a two year old. Bell bit his tongue to keep a curse from escaping his lips.

  “You’ll understand, one day. We are simply unable to take off again. May I ask for your help?”

  In an instant, Rhodan once more became the commander of the Stardust and, not least of all, a human being. Gone was his boundless astonishment. He was thinking again with the steely precision of a machine.

  “Sir, I how from our latest intelligence reports that the outbreak of war between the Western world and the Eastern bloc is almost inevitable. Neither can I explain in only a few words, why this war can be avoided with only the very greatest effort. As the causes, conflicting ideologies are at the bottom of it. You may not be aware of this, sir, but that’s the way it is on Earth. Now I have a simple question for you—”

  Khrest sighed deeply. “The ‘simple’ question,” he repeated. “So you say. I have not heard such a phrase since my youth. We no longer ask such questions, I’m afraid. Please, tell me—what is it that you want?”

  “Do you have at your disposal means powerful enough to prevent a disastrous confrontation with nuclear weapons? If so, what do you have.”

  “What manner of nuclear weapons?” asked Khrest with interest.

  “Two kinds, sir. Nuclear reaction by means of fission and fusion.”

  “Ah, yes. We are familiar with the primitive technique of fission. Fission processes may be counteracted by a complete absorption of the free neutrons. In the absence of neutrons, as you call these particles, it is impossible.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. We know that too. But we have nothing by which to achieve that effect. And what is it, then, with the fusion weapons, the hydrogen bombs?”

  “Also an obsolete procedure, which we have long since abandoned. The antineutron screen is not effective in the case of nuclear fusion.”

  “Indeed. But as yet, sir, we know of only the so called hot modes of reaction. That means that thermonuclear fission must be used to bring the hydrogen loads to reaction in our heavier bombs. If the fissionable material serving as detonator malfunctions, it will never go so far us the fusion of light nuclei. Am I not correct?”

  “You are a scientist? Very good. Provided you are still, as you say, working with the more primitive technique of fission, I can assure you of a total failure of these weapons. We need but a small device for that.”

  Rhodan trembled. “For the whole Earth?” be asked.

  “After all, it is only a small planet. Do not forget that we are emissaries of a galactic empire. We will succeed.”

  Rhodan swallowed hard. He did not dare look into Bell’s wide open eyes. The catalog of all these technical miracles was making him dizzy. The alien spoke of these Earth shaking machines in the same way us a boy back home would speak of last week’s football game.

  “Then it would make sense to take you to Earth and have you undergo the proper diagnosis and treatment there. But first you must be examined by Dr. Manoli. He’ll be able to find out what is really wrong with you. As a diagnostician, he has no peer. Could you perhaps supply him with information on the nature of your physiology and metabolism? I assume he’ll find this necessary.”

  “I’m driving off in the tank,” Bell declared, now restless. “Good Lord! If I don’t get back in time, Fletcher’s going to blast off without us! Then all hell will break loose.”

  “You need not drive to your vessel,” whispered Khrest. “Speak to Thora. You do not know of what we are capable, Major Rhodan.”

  Mentally, Rhodan readily agreed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Captain Clark G. Fletcher was trembling convulsively. He had completely gone to pieces as he stood looking around in the dome of the gigantic alien spacecraft. What Rhodan and Bell had swallowed, he would have to digest gradually, in small doses.

  Thora fixed him with her iron gaze. Dr. Eric Manoli had long since disappeared. He had pounced upon Khrest with all the mercurial enthusiasm of the explorer, in the true sense of the word. There were still others in the command centre. Khrest had described them as being among the more active members of his race, but they offered a pathetic sight.

  Rhodan suspected that they were longing with every fibre of the minimal will to watch the next fictif program. Though wearing the uniform of the “Great Empire,” they seemed to think only of their simulator screens.

  This, then, was a portrait of the descendants of a once mighty stellar race. One could hardly imagine that, once upon a time, beyond memory of man or mother Earth, their ancestors had founded a galactic federation reaching across a broad path of the universe. Khrest had assured them that the Arkonide expansion had taken place with a minimum of conflict. Rhodan, however, had his doubts on that score.

  He could not conceive of how such a colonization could have occurred, save by blood, sweat and tears. Still, that was long since past. He stood before what were very nearly the last remains of this once great people whose technological and scientific heritage now lay gathering dust. Just the thought of the so-called rescue operation made Rhodan’s head swim.

  Thora had been alone in the command centre, surrounded with the most astonishing array of mechanisms. Rhodan had not counted the robots, although in the final analysis, it was they who had done the job.

  Fletcher had almost lost his mind when the Stardust was seized by a “mysterious force.” He shuddered at the thought of it.

  “It was horrible,” he had declared with a gurgle. “The solitude had already become almost unbearable. Eric and I took turns standing guard. We were always anticipating the sudden appearance of an Asiatic scout probe. But more than that, we were worrying about you and the message you were supposed to send. Then, all of a sudden, there was this jolt. Something lifted the ship off the ground, as though it were little more than a feather. Panic stricken, I pushed the ignition button. I shifted from autopilot into manual control, full speed ahead; but it was no use! On the contrary, the reactor suddenly stopped working, and we were left without any power at all. So the Stardust was carried over the craters at maddening speeds. An instant later, we got a look at the giant sphere. They landed us so gently that we hardly knew it. I was overjoyed when I saw Reg’s face. You haven’t got any more surprises in store for us, have you?”

  Thora had then interjected a brief explanation of the phenomenon. It had been “merely” a rather ordinary transport field for the movement of solid bodies. It was quite common on Arkon.

  She had chosen her words carefully, but she had been unable to hide their sting. She had still not forgotten. It would probably be a great while before she could forgive them. For her, Homo sapiens was, as before, a primitive creature with whom one might collaborate only in view of the crisis at band. This alone she had been able to accept, nothing else.

  They stood in a small anteroom, awaiting Dr. Manoli. He had been given enough visual material to provide him with some idea of the Arkonide anatomy, inside and out. In any event, Rhodan was certain of this much—he had tackled a problem unique and extraordinary in the history of medicine. Many questions would arise. It was too much to ask of any doctor in the world, that he be able to treat a wholly alien organism with no more than intuition to go on. Such could be a branch of learning in its
own right, quite apart from any estimation of damages that might ensue from medication and therapy.

  It would simply have to be a game of chance, played with high odds, with the alien’s life at stake. No one could say how he would react to the terrestrial medications.

  Nevertheless, Dr. Manoli was a man worthy of the highest esteem. One could trust implicitly in his verdict. If immediate help was not forthcoming, then the best minds on Earth would just have to be consulted. Rhodan was prepared to set all the pharmaceutical industries of the world on their heels, working at breakneck speed, if this were necessary. This stranger must be saved, no matter how; and the devil take the hindmost.

  Dr. Manoli had already been gone for about ten hours. Lacking his medical background, none of the others could help him. Thora grew restless. She seemed to divine that she was standing on the threshold of a decisive turning point in her life. The ambivalence of her position on the chances for man’s development was still more oppressive.

  Rhodan observed her worriedly. She made every effort to conceal her anxiety beneath biting sarcasm and haughty condescension. At the same time, she felt that this tall man with the twinkle in his eyes was seeing right through her.

  It would have been so much simpler for Thora if these alien intelligences had not so much resembled the people of her own race. That confused her and depressed her, all unconsciously. It presented her with a most distressing situation. She could have dealt very easily with creatures of monstrous appearance, but here . . . ! She felt the obstinacy of Rhodan’s will. He wanted to be recognized. He also wanted to be regarded as a fellow rational being, as an equal! So casually had he permitted himself the liberty of comparing himself to her, the Arkonide!