The Psycho-Duel

by Perry Rhodan

  He came to a stop and listened. A dried elder bush blew against his legs and held there a moment before rolling onward. Somewhere be heard a sound as if a rotted board had snapped under someone’s weight. His foot encountered a rock which be picked up and weighed thoughtfully in his hand. Then he raised it in a wide swing and threw it onto the roof of Tastat’s house. The sound of the impact startled him but in that instant a beam of fire flashed from a building on the other side. He dropped to the ground to avoid being seen in the brilliant glare. The darkness returned abruptly and be sprang up with a sense of triumph while bringing his weapon into position. He aimed carefully, taking into consideration that Carba would be changing his position immediately after realizing he had been taken in by a trick. Atlan’s shot flamed out toward the house across the street, causing it to stand out in almost painful brilliance. In that moment he saw the figure of Carba crouched down near a chimney with his weapon poised.

  Both of them fired at each other simultaneously. A cascade of lightnings was discharged from the 2

  positions. Atlan felt a bolt of searing heat just graze his back while at the same time he heard a cry followed by a muffled fall. He plunged to the ground and rolled. in the dirt to extinguish the fire that had started on the back of his cape.

  Carba raised his short-barreled weapon and fired but the shot was poorly aimed and only kicked up dirt in Atlan’s vicinity. Atlan paused long enough to get off the first shot from his own weapon. He saw the beam strike Carba in the right shoulder, knocking him backwards. While falling, the agent fired again,hitting the door of the government house and causing the front door to burst into flames. Carba’s weapon was considerably more powerful than Atlan’s small beamer. Probably one direct hit might have killed Atlan.

  Rolling on the ground. Carba still fired while Atlan ran in a zig-zag pattern toward him. The man’s stubborn battle in spite of his serious wound was cause for concern to Atlan. He also kept up an answering fire but the agent kept writhing and turning, his face in a wild grimace of pain, while Atlan’s shots still only kicked up the dust around him.

  "Stop it!" yelled Sowan from up the street. "Please stop!" It distracted Atlan for the fraction of a second but that’s when Carba hit him. He was knocked off his feet. Strangely he felt nothing when he struck the ground. He lay there motionlessly and only felt the wind blowing across him. Carba crawled to him on his knees. There was a trace of sadness in his pain-twisted face.

  "Now you’ll not take me to that ship of yours," whispered Atlan. "Not anymore" A faint smile touched Carba’s lips. "I’m afraid that neither one of us will even get out of the town." Sowan came up to them and watched them silently.

  "Go to the ship, lad," ordered Atlan.

  Young Dolanty shook his head. "I’ll wait," he said despondently. He sat down beside them and listened to the blustering wind that drove the sand before it into the deserted town.

  5/ THE REGENT’S DECISION

  Awakening came so abruptly that Atlan’s subconscious mind still clung desperately to the unreal events that the mento-helmet had been projecting and it was only with an effort that he adjusted himself to his true environment. For some seconds his mind was torn between the 2 experiences, unable to decide which realm of existence he should recognize as the real one. Gradually, however, his reason returned along with his recollection as the weight of the helmet became perceptible. He raised his head and then closed his eyes as he felt the dull pain in his neck. Yet he was overcome with relief because it was clear to him now that it had all been nothing but a dream and neither the colony nor Sowan Dolanty had ever really existed. The duel had ended and it was still not certain as to who had emerged the winner.

  He could hear Carba taking off his helmet in the adjacent niche and he followed the rebel’s example. His hands trembled as the contacts on him began to be released.

  The mechanical voice of the Regent was heard. "The duel has not led to any definite conclusion. Each contender did his best in the pseudo-world to carry out his task. Carba proceeded in a more direct manner than Atlan, who was inclined to ally himself with others. Of course certain conclusions may be drawn from this but no final decision can be made until both candidates have answered a few questions."

  "I’m ready," Atlan heard his opponent say.

  The great positronicon continued. "It is apparent that Carba’s pretension to the throne is largely based on his dissatisfaction with the affairs of state under the incumbent Imperator. What arguments do you offer in this regard, Carba?"

  Carba laughed sarcastically. "I only want to keep the Greater Imperium from falling into the hands of the Terrans, with whom Gonozal VIII maintains such a conspicuously friendly relationship. I have proofs that the Imperator has placed both knowledge and power at the disposal of these people, who sooner or later will use it against us."

  "What do you say to this, Imperator?" asked the Regent.

  "I’d like to remind you of my friendly relationship with Perry Rhodan, First Administrator of the Solar Imperium," said Atlan hopefully. "This man has often been helpful to us already in dangerous circumstances."

  "Only so that he can receive the same favors through the back door," accused Carba. "Do you think, Imperator, that the Terran has acted out of pure unselfishness? Oh no—his motives were otherwise. Your blind faith has in no wise been justified, Gonozal." He seemed to consider something else for a moment before he continued. "Regent, I request that you search your memory banks for the whereabouts of the following persons: Testol of Amarat, Lischer Amson, Delent Omaris and Halto Teschner. These 4 men were active as agents of the Greater Imperium in the planetary system of Otalka. Their work was successful because no uprisings were ever reported from Otalka." Atlan of course knew what the young Arkonide was trying to do. He remembered only too well what had happened to these 4 officers. "It’s unnecessary for the Regent to switch to his data registers," he said. "I’ll tell him what happened to these 4 persons."

  "Your frankness is remarkable," called Carba sarcastically. Atlan ignored the interjection. Their contest had reached a critical point It was futile to try to convince the Regent with arguments which his totally antiquated security circuits would never be able to accept. There was also no possibility of explaining his friendship with Rhodan, much less the mentality of the Terrans, to a purely logical brain. In this case feelings and sentiment were completely incidental. It was much more important to prove to the giant positronic entity in logical form that the measures taken by himself had been absolutely correct. This would have been a quite simple matter if it had been possible earlier to reprogram section A-1 so that it could respond to present-day conditions. In. this respect Carba and his supporters were a step ahead because they had worked on A-1 and rigged it so that the Regent would evaluate the situation from a point of reference that had been valid more than 5000 years ago.

  Atlan could only try to bridge over this tremendous span of time and find a middle path that might seem logical to the Regent. "These 4 men were removed from their posts on my orders," he reported. "Their places were taken over by Terran liaison officers.

  The voice from the loudspeaker remained unchanged. "Was there a reason for this exchange?"

  "Yes," answered Atlan. "The Terrans are our allies. If they are going to stand by us in every respect they need a total overview. They must be able to assess the situation of the Greater Imperium in its entirety—not just in fragments and pieces. It’s senseless to just give them an occasional chance to help us. In that case they’d just be probing around without proper knowledge and they’d do more harm than good."

  "If that is so," said Carba, "then for good or bad Arkonides should be put to use inside the Terran Imperium so that we, too, may gain an overview of the situation of our allies." Atlan realized too late that he had made a mistake in logic which Carba was able to put to his own use.

  "That is correct," said the Brain. "Is there an equivalent number of Arkonides in the Solar Imperium?"

  "Naturally no
t," said Atlan "We need every good man for ourselves. The only thing we had to offer to the Terrans were the robotships and in the meantime even those have been withdrawn from their fleet formations."

  "So it’s obvious," said Carba, "that we’re dealing with a one-sided infiltration. Arkonides are removed, in spite of good work, and are replaced here by Terrans. I must remind the Regent that this is a dangerous race of people with whom we have already had trouble in the past."

  "Carba," Atlan interjected, "do you believe that an Imperium can be maintained only with decadent people and soulless robots? Do you actually think that a people can exist when they’re ruled by a robot that only responds to commands that were programmed into it many generations ago?" He knew that with these words he only played further into Carba’s hands but now it didn’t matter. If he was already defeated he wanted this super-inflated member of the House of Minterol to know what was really involved. It made no difference at all which of them came to power or what the Regent might think of either one. Only one thing was of importance: billions of Arkonides had to be rescued from decadence, from wars and from economic disintegration.

  "I don’t believe that anything need be added to that," said Carba, now assured of victory. "This man does not intend to remain loyal to the Imperium. He’d much rather grope for his goals with foolish treaty agreements and his vague concepts of friendship. He has no clear policy that would serve all Arkonides in general."

  "That is the death knell of the Greater Imperium !" said Atlan with an inward shudder.

  "Never!" said the rebel emphatically. "It’s the first phase of a new beginning for practical decisions. It will not be long before the Imperium will be free of these Terran parasites. We’ll drive them out of this part of the galaxy and take over their ridiculous little system."

  "Your banner is bloody before you’ve even unfurled it," said Atlan. "Whoever follows you will be stained by this blood, Carba. That’s what your name will be remembered for when you come to the end of this senseless campaign."

  "The decision has been made," announced the Regent. "I shall now issue a general announcement." Atlan stared at the mento-helmet before him on the console. He had never been happy with his task as Imperator but it seemed incredible to him that he should be ousted in this manner. He leaned back in his chair and waited for the vast positronicon to announce the name of the victor over the loudspeakers.

  • • •

  Dr. Riebsam looked at his watch and shook his head.

  Rhodan was able to guess his thoughts. "It’s been more than 4 hours now, Doc."

  "I suppose our Akon friends over there in their ship are also starting to get edgy," said Riebsam with a smile. "Maybe they don’t know anything more about this duel than we do."

  "It could last for days," Marshall reminded them. "So far nothing suspicious has happened. I’m sure Atlan will be able to advise us as to how it comes out."

  Rhodan was not reassured by the words from his Mutant Corps chief. Thousands of Arkonide robotships were orbiting Arkon 3, ready to fend off any attack by the small Terran squadron. In an emergency it might even be difficult to get out without losses.

  What had been Atlan’s reason for not mentioning the possibility of this duel? Why had he restricted himself to his vague intimations about it? Did he know that he didn’t have a chance to win? Of course it would have been typical of him not to burden his friends with the facts where danger to himself was concerned.

  However Rhodan brooded over the matter he saw no way of giving his old friend support in this situation. A mutant attack would be futile since the Regent could block them from entering his inner sections.

  Suddenly a thought came to him. It could not be presumed that the Akons knew more about the progress of the duel than he did. They were no doubt in an equal state of suspense. In that flat-poled ship that had landed only a few hundred meters from the Ironduke, they must be occupied with the same problem. Rhodan considered his idea. It could not be said with certainty that the intelligent Akons would be taken in by the plan but it would be no great loss if it failed.

  The Administrator turned to Krefenbac. "Major, try to establish contact with the Akon ship. I want to talk to Sansaro."

  Krefenbac bent over the normal telecom panel. The Akons would naturally be watching for any radio signals. Rhodan had also given his men instructions to keep a careful radio watch and to trace every impulse. Above all it was vital to know if the Regent was making contact with the Akons. One did not have to be clairvoyant to bet that Sansaro was maintaining a similar surveillance of the Terran ship.

  "Got him, sir!" announced the major in his phlegmatic way. The screen brightened and Rhodan waited until Sansaro’s face became clearly visible. The Akon was as calm and inscrutable as ever. Rhodan smiled easily, attempting to give him the impression that he was completely at his ease.

  "How do you feel about the outcome of the duel?" he asked. He pretended to be in possession of information which had also been given to Sansaro.

  The Akon observed him for a moment in silence while Rhodan also remained without expression. "It came as no surprise," he said finally. "I knew that Carba would win." Either this Sansaro was the cleverest actor in the Blue System or he was telling the truth. Rhodan replied calmly: "I had hoped you wouldn’t try to cover up your defeat with such a clumsy answer."

  Sansaro laughed like a merchant who had just taken in an extra profit. "Let’s not try to fool one another," he suggested. "You underestimate my intelligence. Do you seriously believe that you could start to make us panic? Neither you nor I know what’s happening down below." Rhodan nodded appreciatively. "I regret that we’re not fighting on the same side," he said frankly.

  "Nonetheless I want to remind you of the possibility that the Regent could be playing his own game. He may have lured Carba and the Imperator inside under the pretext of a mandatory duel arrangement—only so he could capture both of them."

  The Akon frowned suspiciously. He and Rhodan could understand each other on a certain level because in a sense they both had the same goal, to exert a greater influence upon the Greater Imperium. In spite of being enemies an unexpressed accord had developed between them.

  However Sansaro did not seem ready to soften his unyielding manner in favor of a vague supposition. "I can’t go along with your theory," he said. "Your motives just now can all be governed, more or less, by your wish to terminate the duel."

  "It would be difficult to prove to you that the opposite is true. However, I recommend that you think over what I have said."

  Sansaro did not appear to be impressed. On the contrary, if any emotion was to be detected in his inflexible features it might have been one of secret triumph. Rhodan made a sign to Krefenbac and the major cut off the connection.

  "He didn’t fall for it," commented Jefe Claudrin angrily.

  "Who knows?" answered Rhodan. "Perhaps he will. The longer the duel continues the more uncertain they’ll become on board the Akon ship."

  "What can we do in the meantime?" asked Pucky hopefully.

  Rhodan looked thoughtfully at the familiar faces around him. "Wait," he said. "Just wait..."

  • • •

  "There can be no doubt that under the rulership of Imperator Gonozal VIII the influence of the Terrans within the Greater Imperium has been continuously on the increase. The incumbent Imperator has aided and abetted this process. There have been many cases in which Arkonides performing services effectively have had to give up their posts in favor of Terrans. This is incompatible with Imperial security. There is no doubt that Carba of the House of Minterol is mentally qualified to be installed as Imperator. In order to protect the Imperium against further influences which might deliver it ultimately into the hands of an alien race, and after due reference to all pertinent areas of information in its memory banks, security circuit A-1 has decided that the incumbent Imperator Gonozal VIII is to be removed from his post, effective immediately. All rights and powers thereto pertaining are revoke
d and withdrawn as of this moment."

  Without the slightest sign of emotion, Atlan sat in the chair and listened to the expressionless voice on the loud-speaker which in this moment was degrading him to the status of an ordinary Arkonide with no special privileges. The significance of this decision was beyond calculation. It was entirely possible that from this moment in time the fall of the Arkonide Imperium could no longer be prevented. Also if Carba’s desired course was pursued, the Solar Imperium would come under attack. The Brain continued. "Carba of the distinguished House of Minterol will be confirmed as the new Imperator with all rights and powers. On the other hand, security circuit A-1 is henceforth and forever unresponsive to the commands of Gonozal VIII. The defence screen surrounding the Regent is henceforth open solely to Carba. The Regent expects that Carba will immediately exploit every possibility to drive off and otherwise control the Terran race, which has become dangerous because of its independent development."

  Atlan heard Carba get up and slowly approach him. He lifted his head as 2 hands came to rest on his shoulders. "Go, old man," said Carba.

  Atlan stood up and looked into the eyes of the new Imperator of Arkon. They had a feverish gleam in them. Atlan knew that this man had been condemned to death. His extremely augmented intelligence was too unnatural by far—much more than his brain could handle over any length of time.

  "I wish you luck, Carba," he said, "You’re going to need it."

  "Luck is an uncertain concept," retorted Carba with irony. "So far I’ve always relied on the faculties of the mind."

  "Which ones?" asked Atlan. "The ones you were born with or those you just recently acquired?" For a moment it looked as if Carba was about to attack his demoted antagonist but he controlled himself. "Your mockery will gain you nothing," he said between his teeth. "You are an outcast. Go to your Terran friends because there is no place for you here on Arkon 3!"