by Perry Rhodan
While Henderson was still talking to the officer a cargo truck approached the area. The driver squatted behind the wheel with a poker-faced expression. When he pulled to a stop the officer signaled him with a wave of the hand and pointed to the waiting troops.
Henderson turned to look at his own outfit and his subordinate officers. Emery felt the stir of unrest about him.
"Attention!" shouted Henderson. Berker cleared his throat meaningfully and Emery gave him a warning look. "Sergeant!"
Emery stepped forward while maintaining the outward calm of the professional soldier whom nothing could phase. "Sir?"
"Take some men and distribute the weapons!"
"Very good, sir!" snapped Emery in his most efficient tone. Henderson turned on his heel and walked away. The sergeant beckoned to three of the men standing nearby.
"We have to roll back the tarp," grumbled the driver. "Got big orders to keep these weapons out of sight as long as possible." With Emery's help he unfastened the straps and pulled back the synthetic covering. Which gave Emery his first glimpse of the weapons.
"What's the matter?" asked the driver. "You got a gut ache or something?"
The sergeant was standing there in a trance with his mouth open as he stared into the freight bed of the truck. "But-that's not possible!" he blurted out finally.
The driver looked at him curiously while the other men shrugged their shoulders in bewilderment."Maybe you're seeing something I'm not?" asked the driver warily.
Emery had to blink his eyes several times and he rubbed his forehead. Finally he pointed to the weapons. "Are you sure they mean these weapons?" he asked testily. "Isn't there some mistake?"
The driver practically gave him a lecture in which he assured him emphatically that there was no mistake. He told the nonplussed sergeant that each of the 5,000 men was to receive such a weapon as these.
"You haven't seen anything yet," the man concluded. "Get a load of the ammunition!"
And this was the final shock. in addition to the old-fashioned automatic rifles he received a load of plastic cartridge clips whose explosive charges were supposed to be non-magnetic.
If Emery had not known that Jefe Claudrin was their spaceship commander he would have sworn somebody was sending them out on a cosmic rabbit hunt. So these venerable old weapons had to have some kind of special purpose after all.
About an hour later Henderson's outfit boarded the Ironduke. And John Emery, who had spent years trying to locate an old automatic rifle, had to swallow the fact that more than 5,000 men on board were similarly equipped! It was a moral defeat. He decided that as soon as he got back he'd get rid of all of his loot.
• • •
Pucky tested the seat he was going to use and looked at Bell with an expression of dissatisfaction. "As I've said before," he squeaked, "the Ironduke is the most uncomfortable ship in the Solar Fleet. Any respectable mouse-beaver has the right to expect comfortable seating arrangements. In this respect this ship is a plan catastrophe. It's almost like self-mutilation to squat on a thing like that!"
"These seats weren't designed for sleeping," Bell retorted. "If they don't suit your fancy you can always stand-or float around next to the ceiling."The mouse-beaver pretended to be startled by this and he bared his incisor tooth to reveal his indignation. "Now your true colors are showing at last," he chided. "While you treacherously play on my affections for you, here you are thinking up new atrocities."
"The tragic fate of a mouse-beaver without his pillow!" sighed Bell sarcastically.
John Marshall joined the conversation. "The trip won't be too long," he said. "Rhodan and Claudrin figure it'll take about 18 hours."
Pucky waddled over to his seat and sat down peevishly, remarking that comfort wasn't a matter of duration. They were all in the Control Central of the Ironduke. Rhodan and Claudrin had not appeared yet although it was known that the Epsalian was already on board.
John Marshall and the other mutants who were present had already had some bad experiences with the Antis. In spite of their paranormal powers they were powerless in comparison to the priests of Baalol. The Antis' form of mutation had given them complete protection against any kind of mental attack. Thus the Solar Imperium's ultimate weapon, the Mutant Corps, was in this case practically condemned to a state of helplessness.
Nevertheless, even on this mission Rhodan did not wish to dispense with the most capable of his mutants. In other respects they were able to be of invaluable service. Pucky, who possessed a number of paranormal faculties, was undoubtedly the strongest trump card in the pack. He was capable of telepathy, telekinesis and teleportation. Aside from Ras Tschubai, who was a close second, Pucky was by far the best teleporter among the mutants.
"Eighteen hours," the mouse-beaver complained. "I get sick when I think of what I'll have to put up with on this ship in the meantime!" He opened his mouth in his most heckling manner and his incisor gleamed like a white needle.
"I've heard tell that there's not a single carrot on board the Ironduke," said Bell cheerfully. "Perry said that there's only room for important items."
Pucky's button-bright eyes opened wide. "Not a single carrot?" he groaned in disbelief.
Bell's affirmative nod was obvious enough but his grin was one of outright triumph.
"Then it's a good thing that I took some precautions," remarked Pucky with mocking undertones.There was a mysterious look in his eye and Bell had an unmistakable feeling that something had just turned the tables on him. Nevertheless he couldn't resist smiling back and asking a question:
"Precautions?"
Pucky leaned back comfortably in his seat, which he had only just condemned as being unsuitable for him. "Of course," he chirped. "I took the liberty of stashing a few personal things in your rufflebag."
Now it was Bell's turn to be nonplussed. "Personal things?" he repeated.
"Carrots, old buddy," the mouse-beaver told him.
"But my bag was stuffed to the brim!" objected Bell.
Pucky nodded. "That's why I had to get rid of a few items that seemed to me were un-"
He did not get to finish the sentence. Jefe Claudrin stepped into the Control Central and spoke in a voice that rattled the glass in every panel instrument.
"Gentlemen, let's get this show on the road!"The staff officers made their appearance behind him. Claudrin set up communications with the various crew sections of his ship.
John Emery also heard the thundering voice of the Epsalian. He stared pensively at the automatic rifle that was leaning against the bulkhead nearby. Henderson, who was seated farther up ahead, was nervously tapping his fingers on the seat rest.
The Ironduke took off exactly 14 minutes later. Rhodan and Claudrin turned out to be correct when they had estimated 18 hours for the flight time, using linear drive. But something else had gone wrong: the small yellow sun, around which Okul should have been circling, was not where it had been expected to be. The coordinates furnished by Dr. Nearman apparently contained a factor of error.
Because there, where Okul was supposed to be-was nothing...
8/ HIDDEN GAME
The water was shallow and swampy-looking. In the oppressive heat it steamed and bubbled. Along the shoreline stretched the jungle, a colorful world of trees, flowers, lianas, ferns and other vegetation. The roots of fallen trees towered above the moist morass.
But there was other life on this world-intelligent life. Of course the intelligences were from other planets but they were here. The sky was a flaming yellow. It could only be seen from this vantage point because within the jungle itself the heavens were obscured by the foliage.
The man in the open boat was pushing it along with rhythmic thrusts of a pole against the bottom of the swamp. He did not seem to be the type who would have come to this place on a mere whim or a lark. With powerful strokes he shoved the craft onward. He was simply but neatly clothed. The way he looked over the landscape ahead was an indication that he was familiar with the terrain. He was ta
ll and lean to the point of thinness. Above his aquiline nose were two grey eyes that were almost too close together. His face reflected a suggestion of aristocracy.
In fact his was the face of the Earth's First Administrator: it was that of Perry Rhodan! His physique and carriage and movements all appeared to have been borrowed from Rhodan. But the man was not Rhodan. He called himself Thomas Cardif and he was the son of the famous Terran. In a very special way his life had been, equally as adventurous and eventful as that of his father.
But there was one difference: Perry Rhodan fought for Earth. Thomas Cardif fought against it.
Cardif's Arkonide blood prevented him from aging as swiftly as normal Terrans. At present he was the image of his father in every respect. It was simply an impossibility to detect any outward difference between the two.
Cardif skilfully worked his way between outcroppings of stumps and roots and steered the boat toward the bank. A cacophony of birdsong came from the jungle. Millions of insects hummed above the surface of the water, hovering in thick clouds that rose and fell to some mysterious cadence. Cardif headed for a sandy spot on the beach.
A small aircraft similar to a helicopter was already waiting for him there. A scornful smile touched Cardif's lips. Even at this distance he gave the impression of being sinister and mysterious. In his hand was a strangely designed weapon.
Outwardly the man seemed to be a genuine Arkonide but he was not. He was a priest of Baalol-an Anti. It was presumed that the Antis were descendants of several early waves of the Arkonide emigration era who had mutated on a paranormal level.
Cardif reached the small natural harbor and jumped out of the boat. He anchored it and walked slowly over to the aircraft. The Anti lowered his weapon. In his dark eyes there was no sign of emotion.
"Do you think these excursions are wise?" he asked Cardif. "If you fall out of the boat you are lost. Even these weapons won't be able to help you then."
"In my life I've undertaken more dangerous things," said Cardif.
"We could have crossed the bog in the aircar also," retorted the priest.
Cardif regarded the aircar disdainfully. He pointed toward the water. "There's only one way to track down those animals," he declared. "You ought to know that, Hekta-Paalat."
Paalat seemed to be more sullen than before. If there were any friendship between him and the Terran they both concealed it very well. Nevertheless Cardif was not perturbed by the other's remarks.
"We are in the process of constructing another boat," the Anti reminded him. "If you had waited a few more days this amateurish and primitive craft would have been unnecessary and you would not have to take any risks."
There was a strange gleam in Cardif's eyes. "Wait," he murmured bitterly. "I've waited long enough. Now I'm on my way again. Besides, I've always suggested that the animals should be bred in breeder tanks. That would save all the trouble of having to hunt them down all the time."
The Anti listened in annoyance. "So far every attempt to keep them alive in captivity has turned out to be hopeless. They only wasted away for several months until they died on our hands. Before we can determine the reason for it, the tank-breeding process is useless."
Rhodan's son climbed into the aircraft and the priest followed him. The almost unbearable heat was making them sweat.
"The Earth cannot be conquered with slowness and waiting," grumbled Cardif. "We have to attack in a number of places simultaneously, with the same methods as before."
For the first time the trace of a smile was visible in the features of Hekta-Paalat. "There are various methods of overcoming an enemy," he said. "The fastest means are not necessarily the best ones. Your impatience stems from hate of your father. Impatience and hate are feelings and emotions which make a man become irrational."
Cardif's tone was contemptuous. "The unknown hidden power, way in the background-your race has played this role so long that you'll never get out of it. It is important to know how to strike at the decisive moment. You've done pretty well on my advice so far in your fight against Arkon and Terra. Do you call that irrationality? In fact, the contrary is true. I am presently your highest trump card in your hidden game. You have on your side the son of the mightiest man in the Solar Imperium."
"Of course only in a strategic sense," retorted Hekta-Paalat sarcastically.
Without comment, Cardif started the engine. With hardly a sound the aircar rose from the ground. Cardif was accustomed to being met with the scorn and sarcasm of others. He had seldom been on the side of righteousness but even the unrighteous he had worked with failed to understand that he was out to destroy his own father. They capitalized on his feelings and brainwork for their own purposes but they took no heed of his own basic motivation. They respected him only as an intelligent and capable collaborator.
9/ LOST: ONE PLANET
If one were to suspend a sack of dried peas over an open area and then rip open the bottom of it so that all of the peas spilled out, they would create a fairly chaotic pattern on the ground below. There would be only a few in many places and haphazard concentrations of them in as many other locations. But at the center point of impact there would inevitably be a heavy conglomeration of them, to such an extent that it would be difficult to distinguish one pea from another.
A stellar galaxy presents a similar pattern. The closer one comes to the core of it the greater the concentration of stars. Distances between the suns become shorter. The tremendous voids separating solar systems out on the edges of the Milky Way are here contracted considerably. Our own galaxy is comprised of approximately 100 billion individual stars-an incomprehensible number. And yet it is only one of many. Its form is that of a disc which has a major axis diameter of some 80,000 light-years and a thickness of 'only' 16,000 light-years.
The maze of stars that could be seen by observers in the Control Central of the Ironduke was far more concentrated than what they had been accustomed to seeing on the panob screens while traversing more familiar regions along the outer arms of the Milky Way. Here at the core were billions of stars-in fact, the massive majority that made up the mass of the galaxy. Many millions of them were small yellow stars.
According to Dr. Nearman's information, Okul was supposed to be circling one of them. But when the Ironduke emerged from the zone of semispace it was soon determined that the coordinates given by the biologist had not been very exact.
Perry Rhodan's lips were tightly compressed as he stared at the observation screens. Reginald Bell and Jefe Claudrin were standing next to him. The crew in the Control Central watched the three men in silence. Following their disappointment a mood of depression had set in. Each of them knew enough about galactic navigation to realize that the chances of finding Okul now were extremely unlikely.
"It looks as though we've made a flight for nothing," remarked Claudrin finally. He was realist enough to face the facts and state them flatly. His great head turned toward Rhodan. "What do you think about it, sir?"
Each of the light points and discs on the viewscreen was a sun. The whole panorama had the appearance of a carpet of pearls. In the face of such a hopeless spectacle, apparently there was nothing Rhodan could do but agree with the Ironduke's commander.
But Rhodan was also a realist. His brand of realism told him that they had to find Okul if they were ever going to have any starting point at all for counteracting the criminal activities of the Antis. Billions of people placed their faith in their leading representatives. There was a world government, ministers and other officials, but the men of Terra identified Rhodan with this government-in both success and failure.
Rhodan looked at his questioner. He nodded toward the panob screens. "We shall make the search!"The silence in the room became more profound. But it was only for a moment. Then the men began to stir with new motivation. Rhodan's words had lifted them from their mood of hopelessness. If the Administrator was ordering a continuation of the search, then he must have a reason for believing that it could succeed.
Pucky, who had remained silent longer than was his custom, now raised his voice in a tone of complaint: "Does that mean we're still going to be stuck for awhile in this crate?"
"I think," said Bell insidiously, "that this search won't take very long at all, come to think of it."
"Is that so?" squeaked the mouse-beaver sceptically. "What brings you to such a naive conclusion?"
"We have somebody with a long nose on board," replied Bell.
The mouse-beaver felt of his remarkable proboscis wonderingly. More quickly than he cared to, he had to realize that Bell actually meant him. "You know it's a psychological fact that people with knobby noses are always torn with jealousy when they see one like this."
A wave of laughter rang out through the Control Central. Their recent disappointment had been forgotten.
"Let's get to work," ordered Rhodan. "Since it's senseless to move around out here without any plan of action, well set up a definite system to go by. We don't know what margin of error is involved in Dr. Nearman's coordinates. Logically we'll start the search with the nearest stars-but we'll use our present position as a center point in a spherical search zone."
Rhodan knew that from the center point of the sphere there would be a countless number of courses to fly to reach the various suns involved but since many of them possessed planets in every such case an investigation would be necessary.
Claudrin was already busy giving out orders. Within a few minutes the first target star had been selected. Further calculations were made while the Ironduke raced toward its goal at many times the speed of light. In the various crew quarters the general mood was still at low ebb. There was still nothing definite known about their mission. All the grapevine had told them was that they were making a move against the Antis. Even before the Ironduke had reached the first star the elite commando troops had already found out that the planet they were looking for had not been found.
"One thing I'd like to find out," said Hans Berker, "is why Rhodan doesn't call for help from the Fleet. If we had a couple hundred ships beating the bushes around here we'd make a lot more headway."