Planet Mechanica

by Perry Rhodan

  "These two Terrans were on their way to the engine rooms!" blared the metallic voice of the robot. He held his deadly beam weapons aimed directly at Alkher and Nolinov.

  The two lieutenants waited in vain for a look or a signal from their chief. The man they had taken for Rhodan looked past them indifferently.

  Brazo also saw the Anti who stood in front of the Chief raise his hypno-gun and fire. Then the two lieutenants of the Solar Fleet went into deep hypnosis. They no longer were aware of what was happening to them. They felt nothing at all when, on an order from Rhobal, the robot picked them up and carried them out.

  The door hardly closed behind them when an important announcement came over the ship’s P.A. system. The fire in the machine rooms had been brought under control. The three main power plants could not be repaired with the equipment available on board. The head engineer did not attempt to gloss over the salient facts:

  "Transitions are still possible but I wouldn’t like to try more than one at the present time. Any overloads now could cause a complete breakdown of our system. Over and out!"

  The priests fell into an excited discussion of their situation. For some minutes they ignored Thomas Cardif until Rhobal composed himself and reminded them that they need not fear for their lives. "We can get away in Cardif’s space-jet at any time," he said.

  All of them nodded, satisfied, and quickly turned their interest back to their prisoner.

  Again the door opened and this time the two priests appeared having returned from their errand. The pale red time-field hovered in the air between them. In its interior could be seen the dark egg-shaped shadows of the cell activators.

  The fanatic faces of the Antis were momentarily transfixed by a rapture of awe and wonderment—but the wonderment swiftly transformed itself into greed! There before them, floating in an alien shell of energy, were 20 keys to eternal life!

  Even Rhobal’s voice trembled as he spoke. "Open that sphere, Cardif!" he demanded.

  Thomas Cardif leaned back comfortably in his chair. "Why me? Open it yourself, Rhobal!" He looked the priest straight in the eye.

  But during this sudden change of advantage he had failed to see Rhobal adjust the intensity setting of the hypno-gun. The tiny thumbwheel in the butt of the weapon was turned to a minimum charge. Without warning, Rhobal lifted it and fired directly at Cardif. The latter suddenly appeared to be in a trance.

  "Cardif!" the priest commanded. "Open the sphere!"

  The startled Antis heard Cardif comply: I will you to open!"

  But the faintly glowing sphere refused to open.

  What could the Antis know of the multiplex entity on Wanderer? All they knew was restricted to what Cardif had told them.

  "Cut it open!" suggested one of the priests. He was so worked up by now that he could hardly speak, so great was his anticipation.

  Someone aimed a disintegrator at the energy shell. The beam struck the upper pole of the sphere. Unharmed, the pale red ball hovered in the room as before, only gently swaying from the impact.

  "Try a shot from a thermo!" suggested another of the servants of Baalol.

  "No!" Rhobal contradicted him because he realized that the sphere would resist any attempt to open it by force. "Only the Terran can open it!"

  "But he just tried that!" argued another.

  "No he didn’t!" the high priest explained impatiently. "He is not himself as long as he’s in hypno-shock."

  Rhobal, was standing close to the hovering ball. His gaze was still fixed upon the still unobtainable cell activators. It cost him an almost superhuman effort of will to conceal his excitement from the others. Close before him dangled the promise of eternal life! The future was open to him! For him and 19 other servants of Baalol! They would become immortals like Gonozal VIII!

  The other priests began to complain and they criticized Rhobal for having used his hypno-gun on Cardif. Their desire for the cell activators was dissolving all consideration of rank; none cared at the moment whether Rhobal was their leader or not. They simply were not going to wait any longer for life eternal! They demanded to have the activators and they even began to shout threats at Rhobal.

  But the latter must have anticipated such a possibility. He took a swift look around him and then called out: "Robots!"

  The door of an adjoining room flew open to admit four combat robots. They took up positions on either side of the doorway and aimed their heavy weapons to the servants of Baalol.

  "They are programmed to my commands!" snarled Rhobal. "You will forfeit your life if you attempt anything against me!"

  Thomas Cardif had come out of his brief spell of hypnosis by now, and when he saw Rhobal’s trouble he laughed, obviously amused.

  Like a shot, Rhobal whirled and shouted at him: Open that sphere, Terran, or I’ll force you to do it!"

  "Those are big words, Rhobal with nothing behind them," Cardif retorted. He rose to his feet and shoved the Anti aside. Stepping over to the sphere he took hold of it and raised it above his head. "Go ahead, all of you! Feast your eyes on these cell activators which can give you the gift of eternal life! 20 of them are waiting here for you but you will never have them unless I give the mental order, of my own free will, for the sphere to open! They lie behind a barrier to our own time, gentlemen. Do you understand that? They are enclosed by a time field and that field will remain closed unless I feel like having it open up! Well, Rhobal, do you still dare to antagonize me with your threats?"

  He let go of the ball of energy and it remained suspended in the air. There was something peaceful and restful about the pale rose glow of the sphere but it had no effect on the highly excited Antis.

  With an exasperating casualness, Cardif went back and sat down in his chair. "Rhobal, are you ready to negotiate with me now or do you still think you can order me around?"

  "Negotiate!" exclaimed the other Antis. "Deal with him!"

  They were interrupted, however, by a loud announcement over the speaker: "Rhobal, a ship from the Solar Fleet is approaching our position!"

  More than two dozen Antis stiffened in sudden alarm and consternation. But the man who had usurped Perry Rhodan’s position in the Sol System did not rejoice—he cursed inwardly. He could guess the identity of the approaching ship: the Ironduke! And he knew that the appearance of the linear-drive spaceship had worsened his situation. Now the Antis would swing back to their old threat of handing him over to the Solar Fleet if he did not immediately surrender the activators to them.

  He looked up. Rhobal was standing directly in front of him. The Anti was grinning at him in triumph.

  "Well?" said the priest. He repeated the question with insistent emphasis. "Well, Cardif?"

  • • •

  While the Ironduke continued to hurtle through semispace toward its goal, its 3-D sensor optics had not only picked up a spaceship ahead but had also brought out its form and contours on the special viewer. Bell had been waiting for just such a revelation for the past half-hour. The three-dimensional sensor device had been his main hope.

  This superimposed tracking system worked on the basis of a para-stable, blanketing field compensator which screened the return echo from the effects of fifth-dimensional distortions. Since the 3-D beam expanded with distance and produced a spreading effect that was enhanced by the ship’s isolation field, it was possible to make observations from semispace and look into the 4-D continuum that lay directly ahead in the straight line of flight.

  "Antis!" grunted Bell decisively.

  Jefe Claudrin overheard him. "Sir, in six or seven minutes we’ll be alongside."

  Simultaneously the weird rumbling of the Kalup converter cut off. Claudrin had come out of linear drive because he didn’t want the Ironduke to race past the alien ship while in semispace. After a few seconds of transitional switchover the impulse engines roared to life. Thus dropped into the normal continuum the Ironduke was reduced to a mere nine-tenths the speed of light. Yet in present quarters this was still far too fast and ha
d to be braked. On the big flight panel the normal velocity readings began to drop rapidly.

  Claudrin must have also touched a few alarm buttons. The space-jet hangars were reporting their readiness for action. Then came: "Gun positions on standby!" This was from the Fire Control Central, normally headed by Brazo Alkher.

  The Com Room signaled that it was ready.

  Claudrin grabbed the microphone. "Transmit data to Fleet units, coordinates and so forth."

  "Yes sir!" the loudspeaker rattled. "We’ll have a confirmation in a few moments!"

  Meanwhile Bell had not taken his eyes from the 3-D sensor screen. The big cylindrical ship with its stubby bow and stern configuration was becoming more and more discernible. Being coupled in to the ship’s positronic computer, the tracking system had long since furnished the first range-coordinate data for calculation. From the moment of the Ironduke’s re-entry into normal space, the main computer had been bombarded with 180 changing variables per second but it was processing them all as though it were child’s play.

  In spite of a velocity that was still in the range of half the speed of light, their approach to the alien long-ship seemed to be imperceptible. Bell was just about to ask for an explanation of this when the C.O. at the positronic board made an announcement. "Enemy vessel is picking up speed!"

  Jefe Claudrin responded at once. Once more the impulse engines thundered to maximum power. The Ironduke’s spherical hull began to resonate. For some seconds no spoken word could be heard but then as quickly as the thundering had come it suddenly died away.

  "That ought to clip off a good minute of approach time!" muttered Claudrin.

  Bell shot him a question from his position by the hypersensor screen. "Jefe, when do we come into firing range?"

  "Alright, my good sir! bellowed Claudrin, aiming his ire at the computer section’s C.O. "Will you kindly give Mr. Bell the time factors? Lieutenant—you and I will have a talk when we get back to Terrania!"

  Normally an easy-going person, Jefe Claudrin was a stickler when it came to service performance. His threat concerning the talk with the positronics C.O. was not to be taken lightly.

  "Sir!" the lieutenant called to Bell. "Firing range in 330 to 340 seconds if the long-ship doesn’t go into transition first. In past 20 second enemy ship has gone into high acceleration!"

  Bell hadn’t required such precise data but he was already apprehensive that the other ship might get away from them. He could clearly see on the sensor screen that the vessel was leaping ahead at an amazing speed.

  Claudrin’s voice boomed out again: "Com Central: challenge to alien ship... heave to for inspection! Threaten them with firing action!"

  Mercant was standing beside Bell. The Solar Marshal only glanced occasionally at the viewscreen but more frequently at his watch. A hundred second had passed since the time-fix had been given.

  "100 seconds on your countdown, Mr. Bell..." He got no farther.

  The Com Room made a startling announcement: "Alien vessel Baa-Lo threatens to execute Perry Rhodan if our stop order is not retracted at once! This is an ultimatum and we’re 17 seconds into their countdown!"

  Bell was staring directly at the loudspeaker. "These Antis don’t give you a chance to think!... Com Room, this is Bell! Answer at once: stop order canceled. We agree to stay out of firing range. Ask for a parley!"

  Claudrin knew what he had to do. His fighter ship went into a course change as the retro-engines strongly braked the velocity. Under this sudden load the inertial absorbers set up a complaining howl in the depths of the ship. No man in the Control Central paid any heed to it. Not one superfluous word was spoken. Everyone was waiting for another announcement from the speaker, which was due in a matter of second.

  But those seconds became an eternity of waiting!

  Mercant’s eyes were still fixed on his chronometer. "100 second on their count... 105... now it’s..."

  The expected announcement came through: "Offer accepted. Ready for parley but Perry Rhodan’s life is forfeited if there is the slightest incident. Signed: Rhobal."

  "Rhobal!" exclaimed Bell. His brow gleamed with sweat. He would not forget that name till his dying day!

  • • •

  High priest Rhobal proved that the title he carried was not unjustified. When the Solar Fleet battleship’s presence was announced, he had taken amazingly swift and logical action. He had insisted on having Thomas Cardif next to him so that he could hear every decision he made.

  Rhobal realized that he must act within seconds if he and the other priests were not to be lost along with their damaged ship. For many decades it had been known in this part of the galaxy how effectively the Solar Fleet could strike when the situation called for it.

  But before the high priest turned his attention back to Cardif he alerted all priests on board, ordering each of them to put his personal forcefield behind the Baa-Lo’s defense screen so as to reinforce it. During their flight from Lepso it had been shown that not even the silo-thick battle beams of the super battleships could get through a screen that had been strengthened by their mental forces. Their only and greatest handicap at the moment was the heavy damage to their engines, which at the most could only deliver a single hypertransition.

  Wordlessly the high priest looked at the man who had been such a major key to their operations for so many years. As Edmond Hugher he had worked for them under a hypno-block and had dedicated his superior medical knowledge to their purposes over a period of almost five decades. Not least among his accomplishments had been the discovery of a certain hormone in the glandular systems of the so-called slime diggers of Lepso. This had turned out to be a time-limited but highly effective means of rejuvenation. However it also developed in the human body an addictive poison of very little toxicity.

  Thus offered as a rejuvenating liqueur, this cleverly camouflaged poison had come out under the name of Liquitiv on an intergalactic basis and millions of Terrans and Arkonides had become its victims.

  Now the two, Anti and Cardif, who had been partners for decades, faced each other as enemies: the extortioner and the extorted.

  Rhobal expressed it quite flatly to him: "Cardif, you have your life in your hands!"

  "What about the cell activators?" he blurted out. "Do they count for nothing?"

  "What value do they have in the present situation?" asked Rhobal. He pointed to the viewscreen. In the abysmal depths of the void was a sharp small point of fight: the Ironduke... waiting. The linear-drive ship had turned on all its searchlights, which was a signal to the Antis on the Baa-Lo that the Terran top command wished to parley.

  Cardif stood breathing heavily in helpless rage before the priest. It was costing him an almost superhuman effort not to lose control of himself.

  "Decide, Thomas Cardif! You have your life in your hands as well as all of our lives but I’ll give you the right to make a choice, once you have handed over the 20 cell activators!"

  The pale rose spherical time-field hovered in the air nearby.

  The ship’s Communication Center channeled an outside message directly to the local speaker. Bell’s voice was heard, stating his demand for a parley. Only the sound circuits were activated in the receiver system, the picture portion remaining blank. The fact that the viewscreen remained grey was another means of placing Cardif under pressure. He knew that Rhobal’s operator could cut in the video portion at any moment unexpectedly, if the situation warranted it, and a scene could he transmitted from the Baa-Lo to the men on the Ironduke which might make their Chief appear to be suspect.

  "Cardif, you heard what your First Deputy and possible successor, Reginald Bell, has just demanded. We wish to bring the negotiations to a conclusion quickly. Well, what is your position regarding my demand for the activators? If you refuse, then you and the servants of Baalol are doomed together. If you hand them over, then there’ll be nothing in your way as far as leaving this ship is concerned. But once you have gone, don’t forget that within three days the propos
al for an additional 300 Trader bases must be approved. If you fail there, then unfortunately we’ll have some other unpleasantries for you!"

  Again the speaker blared with a relayed message from outside. Again it was Bell who spoke: "Ahoy spaceship Baa-Lo! This is Reginald Bell, First Deputy Administrator! I must advise you that a strong Fleet formation is approaching our present position. Considering the large number of ships, mishaps are possible. In order to avoid such dangers, I suggest our negotiations begin immediately! Standing by for confirmation. Over and out!"

  There were three combat robots in the back of the room. Their sole object of surveillance was Thomas Cardif. The five other priests who were still present had calmed down in the meantime and had once more submitted to Rhobal’s autocratic authority.

  "I’ll open it!" cried Cardif, forcing himself to yield.

  "But don’t forget you have to show us how to adjust the activators to our individual frequencies!" Rhobal warned.

  Cardif clamped his jaws together and took a seat. The sphere drifted down to his lap and then he concentrated intensively on one thought: open!

  Instead of merely opening, the pale red time-field ceased to exist. It disappeared into nothingness, permitting the 20 egg-shaped devices to fall into his lap. The priest took 19 of them and shoved them into the copious pocket of his cloak. He handed the 20th one to Cardif. "Now show us how to set it for physical frequency!" Rhobal’s voice was adamant and self-assured.

  The eyes of Rhodan’s son were aflame with hatred yet he finally showed the high priest how simple it was to adjust any of the activators to the frequency of its wearer. Rhobal took the 20th activator from him and also placed it in his pocket.

  "You may hail the Ironduke and tell them you’re on your way, Cardif. However, don’t forget to order them to give us a clear transition run with no interference. And would you believe that it’s been a distinct pleasure to have you with us on board the Baa-Lo?"