Fortress of the Six Moons

by Perry Rhodan

  "You can depend on me, sir. Any instructions?"

  "You'll attack according to plan. Use your regular service weapons."

  Chaktor cringed and clenched his fist involuntarily.

  "Sir, they're absolutely deadly! Do you deliberately want to sacrifice your men?"

  "We intend to do something about your thermo-ray guns. Don't get excited. You'll have to get into action. It's very important that you spread the news of the incident as much as possible. Don't assume that you can convince the Topide fleet commander with halfway measures. We're bound to fail unless we coordinate all details with perfect precision. Furthermore, we'll have to proceed in a strictly logical manner and remain within the limits of credibility."

  "Somebody's coming," interjected Marshall. "A patrol. They're going into the tavern."

  "Hurry up," whispered Chaktor. "Shall I report to you after the incident? I was present every day. The arguments have been heard as well as your speech."

  "Very well. That's all I wanted. It's enough for today, Chaktor. Can you go back safely?"

  Seconds later, his thick-set form had disappeared. Rhodan watched him, motionless.

  "Each word spoken here will save us a casualty," he stressed. "John, what was going on in his mind?"

  "No problem there. He meant everything he said.... That patrol's coming this way again!"

  Rhodan didn't waste any time. The micro-atompiles of their Arkonide protective suits began to buzz and surround them with antigrav-field which lifted them off the ground. Moments later three barely visible bodies flew over the low, flat-roofed buildings.

  Far back, the radiant energy dome of Stardust II filled the horizon. As the hurricane began to break out in all its fury, a small inlet in the energy structure field was opened for their admittance.

  Khrest was waiting for Rhodan at the bottom hatch. The face of the Arkonide scientist was serious and he was in a taciturn mood.

  As Rhodan took off his cloak he exposed the special Arkonide suit he was wearing underneath. Reginald Bell sounded off in an exceedingly sarcastic tone of voice:

  "You've missed a very interesting conversation, Khrest. I'd like to know why we have a battleship of the Imperium class in fighting trim. If it were up to me..."

  "It's not up to you," countered Rhodan. "Khrest, have you examined the documents I gave you?"

  The Arkonide nodded without speaking.

  "And...?"

  "The calculations of the transition coordinates are correct, as well as all other additional data about the solar system in question. This star indeed has planets."

  "Please make a record of all this information on micro-tape. Use one of the regular automatic reels. It shouldn't only look genuine but it must be genuine. Thank you!"

  "You're playing with fire," cried a feminine voice. Thora had suddenly appeared. Her platinum hair became fluorescent in the dazzling light of the mighty defense screen.

  Rhodan turned his head. When he saw Thora's fascinating flashing eyes, he restrained a smile.

  "Mankind's played with fire since the beginning of history. Your ancestors, too, knew how to take chances. That's how they attained their power. Thora, can I count on you?"

  She looked at him for a long time. Finally she nodded quietly, then added reflectively:

  "It looks as if you're really interested in saving the lives of your men. You're taking a great risk."

  Rhodan didn't care to answer. The two Arkonides had made up their minds to play ball, and that was a relief to him.

  "Tell the three mutants to report to me immediately," Rhodan instructed Bell. "I'll be in my cabin. Thereafter, we'll hold a briefing in the officers" mess."

  Bell was perplexed as he watched his chief enter the bottom hatch.

  The three of them arrived together - two men and a young, slender girl with light-yellow skin.

  André Noir, the plump, pleasant Frenchman, was born in Japan. Whereas Ishy Matsu was a true daughter of her country, André had only acquired a few of the customs and mores. He was a very important member of the Mutant Corps assembled by Rhodan.

  André was a so-called "hypno." After he'd graduated from the training camp on Venus, he was capable of imposing his will on anybody.

  John Marshall was the third of the trio. He was to take over the telepathic surveillance with the assistance of the Japanese girl.

  Ishy Matsu felt a chill when Captain Klein entered the room. All the other leading men of the New Power were also attending the meeting.

  Klein, now in charge of fire control on board the battleship and an expert on alien weapons, had already finished his preparations. His face was blackened; the hairline on his forehead was slightly singed.

  As he entered, a pungent smell of burned synthetic fibers began to pervade the room. He was carrying three badly damaged uniforms - the pastel green uniforms which Rhodan had introduced for the forces of the New Power.

  Two of them had ugly holes with burned edges at chest level. The third one looked as if it had been accidentally dropped into an active atomic pile. Half of the upper part was torn away. The synthetic material was charred and blistered.

  Rhodan came closer. He carefully examined the uniforms laid out on the table. On his lips was a smile but no amusement.

  "Beautiful, Klein. Good work. Does this look like the real thing?"

  The captain swallowed hard. He looked around with great indignation.

  "Sir, if somebody had been inside these uniforms, you'd have three very dead bodies here. The little holes were made by genuine Ferronian ultra-rayguns. These weapons operate with needle-sharp thermo-pulses on the principle of ultra-high light reinforcement. We'll all familiar with these, I believe."

  "And what's that?" Bell wanted to know. Klein grinned a little.

  "The big hole? This is a blast from one of the more refined products of the Arkonides. I set the focus on grade three. In spite of minimal energy release the material boiled. If this looks phony, I'll-"

  "Okay, very good," interrupted Rhodan. Then he turned to the girl whose special talents had been the result of radioactivity following atomic explosions and nuclear tests after World War II. She'd turned pale.

  "Ishy, I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you to wear this horrible uniform. Doctor Haggard will prepare your skin so that it'll resemble severe burns. He'll do the same with the manly chests of Marshall and André Noir. Don't you get pale, André!"

  "Am I?" gasped the stout man, staring at the uniforms.

  "Ishy, our plan is so timed that it must be followed to the second. You'll "flee" the ship in a Ferronian air-glider. John and André will "pursue" you in a similar craft. You'll all carry Arkonide micro-reactors under your clothing, which will enclose you in individual defense screens. You can be sure that not a single ray will get through to you."

  "We hope!" Marshall mumbled with a frightened look which amused Bell a great deal. Until now it was always Marshall who never lost his nerve.

  "You, John, will shoot at the "escaping" spy with your Arkonide weapon. Take aim at the heart but be careful to use the lowest energy release. We want to be on the safe side. Ishy Matsu will be shot by you at the exact moment she leaves the air-glider. Thereafter, you and André will be attacked and shot down by insurgents from the Ferronian resistance movement. As you fall down, you'll have to set off the little smoke grenades so that the hit is visible and realistic. You're going to be carried off so quickly that nobody can examine you closely. That'll be all. You won't have anything else to do. Any questions? Anybody?"

  Rhodan looked around slowly. He was unwilling to tolerate the most minute error.

  "And what is the purpose of this exercise?" inquired Doctor Haggard.

  "I'll tell you later, Doc. I need unimpeachable and fully public evidence that three members of my crew have been shot. John, you have the tallest and thinnest figure. Therefore, you'll represent an Arkonide. Manoli will stick one of these white-haired wigs on your head. I want to emphasize that it must be made clear to the Fer
ronian public that in this incident not only two men of the auxiliary force have been killed but also a real Arkonide. We'll see you all in two hours. The two air-gliders are already waiting outside. Doctor Haggard, please go to work on the skin burn makeup. In the mean-time, the protective screen reactors will be made ready by Khrest."

  The meeting was ended without any superfluous questions. Rhodan's daring game with a whole planetary system at stake had begun with the painstaking precision of a missile launching.

  The briefing of the officers and crewmen took place a little later. The men were given their instructions but nobody understood clearly what the military objective was. Rhodan concluded his remarks with inspiration:

  ... It serves to protect your lives and to prevent, if possible, any damage to our valuable spaceships. of course, you know that the invading Topides have to be eliminated from the Vega system. I'll endeavor that this undertaking won't lead to unnecessary bloodshed. Man's intellect is his most precious possession and it should be applied with compassion. Thank you!"

  That was all the assembled team had been told. No wonder the wildest rumors were flying in the numerous departments of Stardust II within minutes.

  Meanwhile the medical department of the battleship was bustling with activity. Artificially grown pieces of skin were removed from biochemical cultures and seared. Then these artificial skin membranes were glued to the perfectly healthy skins of the, three mutants getting ready for action. Marshall didn't feel very well. He felt like jumping out of his skin.

  4/ TIME IS RUNNING OUT

  Two hours before - by Terrestrial time standards - the tremendous Vega had risen above the horizon like a ball of fire.

  Because Ferronian time standards were too complicated, they'd agreed to use the wavering shadow of a towering landmark for their timing.

  Chaktor, dressed in the ample, loose-flowing garments of a dock worker, was watching the narrow shadow cast by the antenna on top of the remote control tower.

  The spaceport was far to the east of him. There was very little traffic where Chaktor was standing. The wide ride-walk was almost empty under the burning giant sun.

  His twenty men were strategically distributed under good covers. The colossal warehouses holding supplies for spaceships offered a reasonable pretext for the presence of a few men who were standing around talking to each other. Heavy trucks were loaded automatically and were driven to the spaceport where the merchant fleet had been put back into service.

  The shadow was getting close to the selected post of the fence surrounding the installations. The agreed time had been set for the exact moment when the shadow touched the post.

  Chaktor kept an eye on the two air-gliders stationed nearby which were to bring him and his men to safety.

  Chaktor heard a clicking signal from the micro-radio which he carried under his wide cape. He answered it softly without lowering his head. Ferronian sounds poured forth from the tiny speaker. Chaktor tasted the saline saliva collecting in his mouth. The biochemistry of the Ferrons didn't permit any perspiration through skin pores.

  The voice sounded firm, but demanding and threatening.

  "We're waiting. You must follow your orders. The vehicles are ready. Can you see anything yet?"

  Chaktor knew that he couldn't afford to make a false move. It was the chief of the resistance movement himself. Nobody knew his name but it was no secret that he was placed highly in the Thort's entourage.

  "Nothing yet," replied the spacefleet officer. "I'm sure that she'll get here soon. My retreat has to be secured under any circumstances."

  "We're prepared for all eventualities. Good luck!"

  With that the short conversation was over. Chaktor looked at his men, who knew that he didn't really belong to the opposition group. This was also a source of potential danger. They'd have to vanish later without a trace.

  He observed the wandering shadow again. Just as the line touched the post, a small flashing point came into view in the distance. Chaktor's posture stiffened. His men gripped the hidden service weapons. Pretending indifference, Chaktor walked past another group of dock workers, keeping his face turned away. They were coming! Now was the time to find out how well or how badly Rhodan had planned this action.

  Chaktor was an outstanding destroyer commander. Practically nothing could upset him, provided he was out in space. Here, on the planet's firm ground, he felt insecure and restricted. His sharp eyes were tracking the rapidly growing object. Then came the shrill howling of the engines in the form of repeated breaking of sound-waves,

  Chaktor quickened his step. Farther ahead, next to the wide street, was an open, uncluttered space where the machine was supposed to touch down.

  The smooth glider came in like a shot. A young woman in torn uniform and a badly burned face was at the unusual controls.

  Ishy Matsu knew that it was a daring venture and that the slightest mistake would result in destruction and death.

  She hastily grabbed the hand-sized nuclear reactor built by the Arkonides. It had been running for a few minutes. The energy field it had created was barely visible, but a keen observer would've noticed the faint glimmering. Thus, she was hoping that there was no such observer present.

  It was a game with unknown and, therefore, unpredictable factors. Her face was bathed in sweat as she forced the Ferronian glider down in a steep curve. The towering warehouses came into view. Operating the energy controls with foot pedals and shifting the forward brake-jets to a full counter-thrust, she noticed on the rear view observation screen the approach of a screaming object. She was gripped by panic fear.

  If John Marshall landed a little too fast behind her, or if he shot a bit too early, the whole plan, carefully calculated to the finest details, would fall apart.

  She screamed loud and shrill as her glider touched down much too hard on the ground. Overwhelmed by her subconscious reflexes, she turned on the full power of the four bottom jets.

  The machine rebounded from the ground, shot up a few yards and reeled into the air until it came to rest after another bone-shaking jolt.

  Ishy Matsu's numb, limp body was hanging in the safety straps of the pilot seat. It took a few seconds until she became aware of the sudden silence. Only some slight crackling noises of the strained materials could be heard in the small cabin of the four-seater.

  Still dazed, she sensed the thought impulses of the Ferrons rushing around outside. Naturally, the crash-landing had attracted people who weren't a part of the plan.

  Seconds later she received Chaktor's characteristic waves. He was in utter panic.

  Moaning, she scrambled out of her seat and kicked out the broken door of her cabin. Once outside, she saw Ferrons running around and also some cowering with their hands on weapons, ready to shoot.

  Chaktor was shouting something she couldn't understand because of the noise made by all the onlookers. Yet she sensed that a dangerous situation had developed.

  More falling than climbing down, she reached the ground. At the same instant, the engine of an identical glider roared above her. In contrast to her landing, it touched down perfectly, quick and straining the limits of the materials, but skilful and with masterful control. It wasn't the first time Marshall had flown one of these machines.

  Ishy began to run. Streaks of light were flashing around her through the shimmering air in the heat of Ferro. Screaming in horror, the dock workers retreated before the rayguns of those twenty who'd jumped into action.

  Chaktor had reacted with lightning-fast speed. It had to be avoided under all circumstances that innocent people with a desire to help got hurt in the process.

  Thus his men fired carefully-aimed warning shots. Ishy had regained her composure. As she stumbled, according to plan, and held up the clearly visible plastic container in her hand, Marshall opened the hatch of the second glider.

  He grasped the complicated situation at once. Without a sound he pulled up the heavy Arkonide weapon.

  The almost inaudible hissin
g of the Ferronian ultra-rayguns was drowned out in the deep thunder of the pulse-energy blasters. Air molecules displaced by its force were glowing along the trajectory. Ishy saw the blue-violet, infernally hot energy beam racing toward her.

  She didn't have to fake her piercing scream. As the beam struck her body like a flaming claw and whirled her around with its impact, in spite of the effective protection of the defense screen, she resembled a burning torch.

  Ishy fell to the ground, where she remained still and quiet. She'd controlled herself up to the last moment but now she cracked under the tension.

  Chaktor fired with cool determination. Before Marshall could aim his weapon again, he fell almost simultaneously with André Noir. The last shot from the hypno-mutant's weapon had turned the half-destroyed glider into a melted mass of junk.

  More than fifty of the onlookers, fleeing in panic, had observed the Ferron in the loose cape pick up the container which was thrown away with a last effort by the stranger.

  After a few more warning shots, Chaktor's men jumped into the waiting machines. They gunned their engines and leaped into the air; and three motionless bodies were lying near a glowing mass of molten metal on the grounds of the warehouse depots.

  Marshall's body was steaming. Out of the corners of his eyes he looked at the curled up body of the girl lying at a short distance. André was stretched out close to him.

  "Set off your smoke grenade, man!" Marshall whispered, then, as smoke screened them: "Okay, that's better. How's Ishy?"

  "Unconscious," replied André. "Keep your left foot still. I hope there was nothing wrong with her energy screen."

  "Nonsense. Watch out - people are coming. Force them to stay away from us till the chief arrives. That's all we need now."

  André's uncanny hypnotic force began to take effect. The Ferrons who came running to their aid stopped in their tracks. Some of them returned while others remained undecided.

  "Well done," whispered Marshall. "You can do it. You've learned something, fatty. How does it feel to be a corpse?"

  André swore under his breath. Something exploded in the wrecked glider which was burning up and radiating a lot of heat.