Fortress of the Six Moons

by Perry Rhodan

  "Oh Lord, I hope the chief is coming soon," groaned André. "I can't keep them back much longer. They insist on helping us."

  "Five more minutes. Chaktor must get away safely. Ishy is waking up. If she..."

  Marshall stopped talking. Holding his breath, he watched the slender Japanese girl. She moved her hand slightly, but only once. Then she remembered that a so severely injured person would lie very quietly on the ground.

  No, Ishy Matsu made no more mistakes.

  The face of a native appeared on the small visiscreen of the Ferronian set. This time Chaktor was wearing the gray uniform of the fleet again.

  His answers came in a low voice, concise and accurate. Rhodan was alone in his cabin with all control instruments turned off while talking to his distant collaborator.

  "The Thort is deeply disturbed," he said very softly. "He ordered an investigation. Watch out that you don't get caught."

  "Are your people all right?" inquired Chaktor nervously.

  "Of course, everything's just fine. They've done a very good job. Nobody got hurt. Do you have the reel with the information?"

  "Yes, it's already been evaluated but I kept it in my possession. Now I'm one of the leaders of the resistance group.

  "Excellent. That's just what I wanted. Plan C goes into effect today. I'll give orders to start right away. Will you please go to the camp now? What's the name of the fellow there?"

  "Chren-Tork. He was appointed for some time as a replacement for the commander of the Topidian spacefleet. Obviously a very important man. Our soldiers captured him as he attempted to escape."

  "That's the man we need. Is he smart? Can he think logically?"

  "Certainly. These people are practically made of pure logic. They don't know the meaning of the word 'emotion.'"

  "So much the better. Please see to it that he'll find out about the ambush against my people. Slip him some photographs of the alleged corpses. He has to form his own opinion. Don't talk too much. This always makes it obvious. Be sure to make him subtly believe that you belong to the resistance movement. After you've done that, please bring this Topide in for my interrogation."

  "I'll have to overcome great difficulties. The prisoners are subject to a scientific investigation commission."

  Rhodan's impatient wave of the hand became discernible on the screen of the other set.

  "I'll take care of that with the Thort. I'll arrange with him that you'll be assigned to take the prisoner to me. I'll demand to see him on board my ship. Any other questions?"

  Chaktor gave a negative answer and Rhodan added some final comments:

  "We're getting down to business now. Don't lose your nerve at the last moment, and trust me. You have to keep in mind that my trading base is preferable to a Topide invasion from space. You know that your own spacefleet is inadequate. You're simply not up to the technology and power available to these monsters."

  Chaktor had experienced the truth of these remarks with his own body.

  "I'll switch off now. Wait for the orders which the Thort will give you today. All security precautions for you will be provided by me according to plan C. Thank you."

  Rhodan cut off the connection. The Ferronian micro-set was again hidden in the safe. Seconds later he received the report from the officer on duty. Then Bell's face appeared on a picture screen.

  "S-7 ready for takeoff."

  Rhodan arrived by way of the elevator in the central axis at the hangars for the auxiliary ships. The S-7 stood ready to start in front of the big airlocks.

  Fifteen men - standing at attention - had lined up before the bottom hatch of the auxiliary ship. Major Nyssen looked fit and well-rested; so did his men.

  Nyssen saluted sharply and made a clipped report. Rhodan held a short review.

  "Nyssen, I depend on you. Your ship has a range limit of about five hundred light-years. Make your transition leap into interstellar space exactly according to the computed coordinates. Use the full power of your radio transmitter. The key to the code is known. Don't let anything induce you to send an uncoded message. That would be too obvious. You'll return immediately after you've sent the message via hyperwave."

  Nyssen saluted. There was a trace of a smile around his thin lips.

  "Let's hope for the best. When my message is monitored and the point of origin fixed, our chances for success will be excellent."

  "You'll be heard, you can bet on that. That's just what the other side is waiting for. We'll do them a favor and let them detect the "galactic position" by carelessly broadcasting directional transmission waves. Now get going!"

  Rhodan watched the ejection maneuver through the airlock, which wasn't difficult at all because the pressure in the battleship was the same as on the outside in the Ferrol atmosphere.

  The huge S-7 was pushed out by a magnetic forcefield along energy tracks and, once outside, fully automatic antigrav generators placed the ship immediately in a weightless state.

  Seconds later, the pulse-drive engines of the auxiliary ship began to roar. It shot up into the morning sky with breathtaking speed. When the last rumbling noise had died down, the S-7 was far out of sight.

  The Ferronian radio control stations verified the launching of an Arkonide spaceship of which they'd been previously advised. That was all there was to it. These flights were daily occurrences and this special mission didn't draw any attention.

  Captain Klein was waiting in the control center.

  "A conference has been called in an hour at the Red Palace," he reported. "The request came through this minute."

  "Okay. Please confirm. Any news from the Ferrol Security Force?"

  "They're feverishly trying to apprehend the "assassins." The government is assailing the ruthless opposition. The trade treaty is in the bag."

  "Two birds with one stone." Rhodan laughed happily. "Thora, please set up the simultaneous translator. I expect visitors."

  She raised her eyebrows as she questioned: "Visitors? Ferrons?"

  "No, other people. Are you sure that high-ranking Topidian spacefleet officers are fluent in Interkosmo?"

  "Definitely. The Topides are governing the Orion-Delta system, which is part of the Great Imperium."

  "Was part," corrected Rhodan dryly. "These fellows gained the upper hand long ago, and you let them get away with it. Don't you realize where this must lead? The Topides will gobble up the outlying planet sectors and will strengthen their economic and political power structure, so they'll rank among the first-class powers. What measures is your wonderful Arkon taking to counteract this menace?"

  Thora remained silent. Khrest, the scientist, lowered his head before he replied softly:

  "We've lost the initiative of the human race. You know that."

  "I had to remind you of it again. But you must realize you can have confidence in me, Khrest. Time is running out. You must have strong and dependable friends. We're in the same boat. You're not interested in having a reptilian race nibble away your disintegrating empire. This nibbling will soon become a voracious appetite. May I ask you to follow my instructions in the future?"

  5/ TRICKING A TOPIDE

  The Arkonide combat robots weren't endowed with ambition. Feelings and inhibitions were as foreign to them as they were inherent in thinking, organic beings. By contrast the robots functioned by means of a carefully programmed positronic "brain" where everything had been unalterably predetermined, which was of importance for the four-armed robot specialists.

  Thus, it happened that the multi-jointed arm mechanisms instantly assumed their firing position as the individual sector of the positronic brain registered the first nonhuman impulses. Bell frowned. A quick glance from Marshall informed him that the individual he sought was getting closer.

  A Ferronian guard saluted. They walked past him, crossed the next corridor and stepped down to the round hall with the "cages." Bell stood still. A pungent odor offended his nostrils. If nothing else had proved the difference, this almost painful smell sufficed. />
  "Nobody should use invectives for truly intelligent beings. It's not their fault if they have different bodies. But this stench...!"

  Bell swallowed hard and said no more. Cautiously he stepped to the railing of the circular walkway.

  The sprawling prison was located on the smaller of the two Ferrol moons. It was a dead, completely sterile world from which an escape was impossible without elaborate technical equipment. The Ferrons had refused to house these prisoners, captured in the countless battles and skirmishes of the last war, on their own world.

  However, the real reason for stationing these prisoners was noted with mixed feelings. by Perry Rhodan Evidently, bio-medical experts were conducted on the premises. There wasn't much information leaking out and the Thort permitted no discussion of this topic.

  Bell looked around the circular hall. These intelligent descendants of reptiles were crowded into cells resembling cages, which were secured by heavy locks and an electrically charged grid.

  Deafening mewling and whistling erupted from the cages. Strong, dark brown bodies jumped against the high fences.

  "Feeding time," called out the camp commandant in a stentorian voice.

  Marshall cleared his throat. His tanned face looked very impressive under the white wig. His forehead, having been changed by application of plastic and cosmetics, looked much higher, so that the telepath took on the appearance of a genuine Arkonide. Bell resented Marshall's stiff and dignified attitude.

  Bell remembered Rhodan's ribbing, that he could never personify an Arkonide. So he pretended to be a commander of one of the countries in the Arkon colonies.

  "Do you think it's right to treat prisoners in this manner?" demanded Marshall harshly.

  The prison commandant looked at him without understanding. The idea was beyond the comprehension of a Ferron. Chaktor gave out a warning sound and made an imploring gesture so that the mutant dropped the matter. The feeding in the cages below continued. It was an ugly and depressing sight for humans.

  The combat robot kept its weapon arms in a lowered position. Close by, at an even level with the round walkway, was a row of single cells which were better furnished and even had sanitary facilities. Signs written in the Ferronian language indicated who was locked up behind the cage doors. High-ranking Topidian officers who'd been captured one way or another were incarcerated in these single cells.

  Bell prudently went closer. A dark-brown figure leaped up from a rough bench. The individual who was wearing strange insignia attached to a dark uniform stood without moving but poised to strike at the first sign of danger. The big glittering round eyes in his fiat-squashed and hairless skull were watching intensely. The small body of about average human height had two arms and two legs. The uncovered parts of his body revealed the scaly nature of his skin. His hands were divided into six digits. The apparently very long and narrow feet were encased in footwear resembling boots.

  This creature affected Bell and Marshall like an oppressive nightmare, however he was endowed with superior intelligence. There couldn't be the slightest doubt about it, that mankind, at its present stage of development, would've been hopelessly lost in an unexpected assault by this weird offspring of nature.

  Bell turned pale. Wordlessly, the representatives of two utterly divergent developments of life regarded each other with curiosity.

  John Marshall, too, was greatly disturbed. Clearly, almost too clearly, did he receive the thoughts from the alien's mind. It was filled with fear and panic. Marshall divined that the Ferrons had indeed conducted atrocious experiments with the Topides. This dangerous looking descendant of reptiles from a solar system eight hundred and fifteen light-years away was overwhelmed by fearful emotions.

  "The name is Chren-Tork. High-ranking staff officer. A so-called 'Tubtor,' which is the equivalent of a battle cruiser commander," explained the Ferronian camp commandant.

  Bell stopped in front of the bars. The slender torso of the prisoner flexed for a jump. Only Marshall recognized that this was merely an instinctive gesture of defense. Bell looked different from the blue-skinned Ferrons and the Topide felt a vague danger.

  Chren-Tork was alarmed. His big eyes took everything in. As officer of the Topide navy staff he was fully aware who was responsible for the terrible defeat. At least he realized that the sturdy, squat man wasn't one of the Arkonides. They had hair and more elongated torsos. Just the same, Bell appeared to be a threat.

  John Marshall suddenly stepped into view, which caused Chren-Tork to retreat in frightful haste and with scared whistling to the farthest corner of his cell. Marshall advanced a few more steps.

  Now Chren-Tork knew whom he was dealing with. This was a member of the Great Imperium against which the Topides had rebelled in bloody wars. There was no sense in pretending anymore. The envoy of the planet Arkon wasn't impressed by his, Chren-Tork's, menacing appearance. The two races had known each other for thousands of years.

  With his thoroughly pragmatic logic Chren-Tork knew that he was inferior to the Arkonides in every respect and not solely as far as their gigantic spaceships were concerned.

  "Chren-Tork, Tubtor of the Three Sun Realm," Marshall began coldly in fluent Interkosmo. He'd learned this interstellar Esperanto, common throughout the galaxy, through the hypno-training method of the Arkonides.

  "Is that who you are? Answer me. I know perfectly well that you understand and speak Interkosmo."

  The answer sounded shall and high. Even though the tone of his voice was like whistling, his reply was clear and well-reasoned. He was an intelligent being.

  "Why do you ask this? It's quite obvious."

  "You're coming with me. My commander wishes to interrogate you on board his ship."

  Chren-Tork was afraid that his last hour had come. His muscular body sagged again.

  "I'm a prisoner of these primitives here. You have no right...!"

  "Of course I do," interrupted Marshall stiffly. "You're under the jurisdiction of the Great Imperium. Open up!"

  This order was addressed to the prison commandant. Chren-Tork suddenly looked down the barrel of a deadly weapon. He recognized the Arkonide disintegrator.

  "This weapon works quietly and very unobtrusively," remarked Bell with a smirk on his lips. He, too, had learned Interkosmo in a language training course.

  "Come on out," motioned Bell. "By the way, I come from that world which you got mixed up with the main planet of this space sector."

  Bell laughed derisively. The game was on. Marshall registered the instantaneous attention shown by the Topide. He left little doubt that the Topide staff already had misgivings and had begun to suspect that a small error in their calculations of the target area had occurred. They had, therefore, attacked the wrong people.

  Chren-Tork came out to the walkway. He was not actually walking, it was more like a supple movement of his body as he advanced. Bell moistened his dry lips. He caught Marshall's wink and knew that the Topide had fallen for the ruse.

  At the landing field Chaktor certified the transfer of the important prisoner. The bureaucracy on Ferrol even surpassed the red tape on Earth and made it look trivial by comparison. It took ages before the prisoner was allowed to cross the transparent passage into the hatch of the little spaceship.

  Minutes later they took off. The alien prisoner cowered on a folded-down seat in front. The robot guard was watching him with pointed weapon.

  The small moon was quickly left behind by the Ferronian commuter ship. Bell observed for a few minutes the display of light emitted by the first-rate quantum engine. Then he turned apprehensively to Marshall.

  "Did he really bite? The guy gives me the creeps."

  "That's over for me. He's afraid and that does it. Watch out, Chaktor's making his play."

  When the Topide heard the whispered words of the Ferron who was casually passing by, he regained his calm. If he could have smiled, he would have done it now.

  Of course, Chren-Tork was informed about the Ferronian resistance movemen
t. The people of the opposition group had seen to that in the prison camp on the satellite.

  He followed the Ferronian officer with glistening eyes. However, he couldn't hear the low voice of the vigilant telepath: "Okay, they made the first contact. He believes that Chaktor is hostile to the Arkonides."

  Bell flopped down on his seat. A little later the air of the planet Ferrol was noisily rushing by the hull. The sensor antenna on the upper dome of the battle-ship became activated. Rhodan was already given a report before the commuter ship had begun to make its landing.

  "They'll soon be here." Khrest was worried. "I hope you don't think that you can fool an intelligent and shrewd Topide with mere assertions and faked documents. I know these people. They have no feelings. Any actions based on emotions mustn't be expected. If I, for instance, would feel that it's better to leave the Vega system and to go where there's more of a chance, I'd do so, but the Topides, never. You'll have to come up with a smarter trick, Perry."

  "Wait and see," said Rhodan soothingly. "So far, our operation's running smoothly."

  "You're a barbarian after all," Thora shot back, looking very angry. You're working with very unconventional methods; primitive methods, I should say."

  Rhodan's face showed his famed bland yet meaningful smile.

  "Very primitive," he confirmed cryptically. "Nobody'd expect this from an Arkonide. Didn't you just claim that these fellows can only think logically? By virtue of this ability they must recognize that my little game is on the level."

  Thora's jaw fell open.

  Khrest expressed his surprise. "A bold theory," he interjected hastily. "Are you sure? You're no Arkonide!"

  "Why do you think I got these wigs? A Topide won't know the difference. For them an Arkonide is very tall and very slim. He has smooth skin, white hair on his head and small, reddish eyes. I'm going to look exactly like that. Any more objections?"

  Khrest was confused and didn't answer. Rhodan's reasoning had begun to weaken his mental resistance.

  Minutes later the ship touched down and Bell announced himself over the radio.