by K. H. Scheer
Rhodan saluted casually. He dropped the matter when he saw that his men had begun to relax again.
Ten minutes later the super-battleship set down for the second time on the surface of this artificial world. It landed on a circular site, measuring one and a hall miles in diameter, which was big enough to accommodate the Stardust, standing on its telescoped legs and rising to the imposing height of 2500 feet.
The mighty spaceship was overshadowed by a tower at the edge of the field which exceeded its height by more than 1500 feet. Looking slim and fragile, it pointed toward the energy dome which from this distance gave the appearance of a true, radiant blue sky with lovely little clouds.
The engines were shut off after the long flight. Outside everything looked quiet and serene. Neither animals nor humanoids could be seen.
The scene was still and peaceful but too lifeless for comfort. The faint, all-pervasive hum was easily disregarded. It seemed to be part and parcel of this world of technical wonders.
Rhodan remained a few more moments in his seat and scrutinized the surroundings. His optical instruments rendered a clear, colourful and brilliant picture.
The spacious plaza seemed to be the centre of an industrial city. What were probably the most important buildings had been erected here by the city planner.
Smooth and unbroken metal structures of bold design dotted the ground which also had a metallic sheen.
The preponderant architecture was manifested in domed buildings with cantilevered protrusions but there also were rectangular constructions and cylindrical shapes.
The overall effect was harmonious and well-balanced. Rhodan felt tired. He took off his radio helmet and replaced it with a cap. He sighed a little as he swivelled around in his chair.
The men were at their stations in the command centre. Not a word could be heard over the telecom.
"The end of a great journey," Rhodan said softly. "Somebody is awaiting us. I wonder if we’ll ever know who it is that lives longer than the sun. Well, Khrest, you have finally come to the fulfilment of your dreams. Let’s go outside, or are you still afraid?"
The Arkonide was decked out in the costume of his native world. His loose violet robe displayed the vivid symbols of the ruling Arkonide dynasty over his chest.
I’m ready, thank you," Khrest replied with dignified poise. "Aren’t you going to accompany me?"
Rhodan reluctantly got up from his seat. Tall, haggard and unshaved, in a slightly soiled uniform, he stood before the representative of a race to which mankind owed a great deal. This much was certain: if Khrest on his search for this artificial world had not crash-landed on the terrestrial Luna, mankind would most likely have had to wait a few more centuries for the beginning of space travel at speeds faster than light.
Rhodan was not one of those who would forget small or great favours. Slowly, he brushed his sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. With a mischievous look in his eyes, he growled:
"You boys look like a gang of highway robbers. When was the last time you cleaned up? I can’t remember having seen a neat shirt since we left Ferrol."
Bell wiped his hands on his pants in disgust.
"I preferred to keep my weapons clean," he grumbled. "When did we have time to take a bath during the constant turmoil?"
"You’re hardly a conspicuous exception, Reginald," Thora interjected sardonically. "Well-bred Arkonides always use deodorant micro-filters in the presence of underdeveloped barbarians."
Bell grew apoplectic with rage. Rhodan winked at the alluring woman and something began to happen to Thora which nobody had experienced before. She broke out in rollicking laughter.
Bell shut up in the middle of a word. His eyes seemed to popout of their sockets.
"This takes the cake," he moaned, defeated. "It’s unbelievable—the stuck-up damage can laugh!"
Rhodan gained the impression that Thora had just now freed herself of the haughty arrogance with which she was brought up. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and kept stroking his stubbly beard with the back of his hand. The cap with the emblem of the New Power sat cocked and crumpled on his head.
"Okay, break it up!" he declared. "Bell, summon the landing commando! Marshall, Pucky, you’re coming too. The other mutants will take the second car. Major Nyssen, take over the command of Stardust II during my absence. Don’t try to take off if anything unforeseen should happen. You’d never make it out to free space. The battle alert continues to be in effect. Stay on the ball and don’t get any hare-brained ideas! Any questions?"
Rhodan got no questions. Bell left with a furious look at Thora. Tall and erect, clothed in the immaculate snow-white uniform of a super-battleship commander, she took her place next to the scientific leader of her shipwrecked research expedition. Her violet cape was a sign that she also belonged to the ruling dynasty on Arkon.
Down at the bottom of the vessel the airlocks were opened up. Feet trotting over long gangways could be heard. The landing commando consisted of 20 selected men under Rhodan’s personal leadership.
* * * *
Bell, who was driving the first car, stopped suddenly. The three other multi-purpose vehicles did likewise.
Speechless, the men stared ahead from the opened top-hatches of their vehicles. The air was mild and pure and the atomic sun shone benignly.
However, it was something else again which made Reginald Bell swear loudly.
It’s rather unusual to serve a rotten tomato on a golden plate but it was much more unusual to see a grimy cowboy appear out of nowhere and begin to cavort wildly in front of the vehicles, all the time spitting on the ground.
Rhodan’s face broke out in a broad grin. It was about time they had a little fun. Of course, this was just another phantom created by the Unknown. There could not be any other possible explanation. Evidently, he relished the sight of the perplexed visitors from Earth and enjoyed driving them to despair.
Rhodan warily got out of the car. The westerner spat out again, exposing the blackened stumps of teeth in his puffed up face. He had his thumbs stuck in his ammunition belt and two heavy .45 calibre Colts dangling in his holsters. Clad in dirty leather pants and cowboy boots with big spurs, he was the typical personification of an outlaw from the Old West just as the men had seen them in the movies.
He seemed to have a sense of humour. Apparently, he believed that the crew of the spaceship could be thoroughly impressed by the characters of the Old West. In this he clearly succeeded. Rhodan alone reacted in a contrary manner.
He advanced toward the figure standing in his way with his feet planted wide apart. Bright-red hair sprouted from his openshirt collar.
Rhodan was startled when the hitherto expressionless face became animated.
"Hi, pardner," the individual rasped with a western dialect. "What are you up to? If you make a false move I’m going to pump you full of lead. Got it?"
Rhodan was taken aback. He silently watched the reckless desperado who spat again, this time hitting the tip of Rhodan’s shoe. Rhodan managed to control his annoyance.
Bell hollered something and Rhodan was flat on the ground. A blast roared from Bell’s impulse-beamer and enveloped the gunman in fiery flames. When the flash of fire was over, the gunslinger was still there, chuckling and taunting them spitefully:
"That’s what you think, man! I’m for real. It’s either you or me. I’ll be damned if I know what’s going on here but I’ve been told that I can’t be plugged by you except in my time. Do you understand that?"
Rhodan got up. His face remained impassive.
"Drive on!" he ordered curtly. Then he turned around.
Two shots rang out almost simultaneously. Something hit the metallic ground, barely missing Rhodan’s feet. The flattened bullets ricocheted and continued with a whistling sound.
Rhodan stopped in his tracks. Bell shot again, using the deadly disintegrator. The target just kept making faces.
"Only in my time," he repeated. "It’s you or me, brother. That’s what th
ey said. I’m a damn good shot. You’ve got to be pretty fast to beat me to the draw. I don’t mind telling you that you must head for that red gate over there but I’ve got the key in my pocket. If you can’t bamboozle me out of it within the next half hour, I can go back and you can go to hell. Those scoundrels have told me that I was already dead, laid low by some lousy sheriff. I wouldn’t doubt it! I’ve got two holes in my belly to prove it."
He tore his filthy shirt open. Rhodan felt weak in the knees when he observed the two bullet-sized holes with dried blood in the apparition. What in the world had he conjured up!
The mutants back in the vehicles were making contact with the stranger.
"He’s alive!" Marshall shouted excitedly. "Be careful, he’s really alive!"
Pucky stood up on his seat. He tried but was unable to move their opponent telekinetically since he was apparently well protected from any and all influences.
"We’ve reached an impasse," Khrest resignedly said in a muted tone. "This is the final test. It’s a living being. He emerged from another time plane and he is safe-guarded against all attacks."
Rhodan studied the spot where the shots had made their impact. It left little doubt that two leaded bullets had hit the hard metallic ground.
"Twenty minutes to go and your time will be up," the grubby stranger warned. "They told me that I’ll live again. Do you understand that, pardner?"
Rhodan hurried back to the vehicle. On his orders the vehicle started to race toward the red gate. It was a high, asymmetrically formed portal which was protected by a field of energy shimmering reddishly.
Bell pulled up to a sudden stop. When Rhodan got out of the car, the gunman appeared again.
"It’s no use," he scoffed. "You sure got a funny looking wagon there!"
Rhodan’s mutants tried all the tricks in their repertoire to no avail. They were up against an unassailable, super-natural power beyond their reach. Nothing helped, not even the fire from the disintegrator cannons. The gate did not budge.
The stranger was silent but they heard a hissing noise behind them. A blue-white ring of fire sprang up from the ground and surrounded the Stardust.
"Didn’t I tell you that you’ll burn in hell," snarled the grim miscreant out of the past. Now Rhodan was ready to believe in his existence. "Only three more minutes for you. You can’t touch me, pardner, it’s got to be done in my time."
The men from the landing commando held their ground in front of the unkempt gunslinger, while Rhodan slowly retreated to the leading vehicle. The stranger watched him suspiciously. Rhodan leaned against the open door and folder his hands behind his back.
"Only in your time, you mean?" Rhodan said icily.
Something could be glimpsed coming from behind Rhodan’s back, causing the stranger to make a fast draw. A sharp crack from a Colt shattered the quiet and black smoke billowed up. Simultaneously, the outcast spun about before falling to the ground.
In Rhodan’s hand glistened the gun found by Everson. The victim, gunned down under such baffling circumstances, vanished into thin air. A wailing sound like soft crying persisted for a short time, then everything was over.
The curtain of energy before the portal was obliterated and the ring of fire around the Stardust died down.
Breathing heavily, Rhodan leaned on the vehicle. The old weapon dangled from his trigger finger.
"There’s the key lying on the ground," Rhodan said impatiently. "What are you waiting for? That rascal was no fake. He collared him in the 19th century and surrounded him with an impenetrable energy screen. When he said that he is invulnerable except in his own time, I remembered the old gun which I had put on the seat next to me. Everson, if you hadn’t found that old shooting iron in the grass, who knows…!"
Rhodan, feeling exhausted, fell silent. The encounter with the awakened dead from the past had been nerve-wracking.
Seconds later the portal opened. An impulse from the key was sufficient to unlock it.
"Welcome, come in!" a deep voice intoned. This time it really sounded acoustic, not just a suggestion implanted in the subconscious mind.
"Hello, old friend," Rhodan greeted, waving his hand. "That interlude with the Colt wasn’t such a bad joke. The gentleman has a thrilling sense of humour."
Khrest was outraged by Rhodan’s banter. He looked anxiously around until the bellowing cascades of laughter broke out again. It was as if he wanted to set the whole artificial planet vibrating with his howling laughter.
Rhodan leaned his back against the wall. With a fixed smile on his face he surveyed the expansive hall behind the portal. They had reached their goal!
9/ CONFRONTATION WITH—IT!
It was not a human being. It was no organic being at all. Perhaps it had once had a body until it became tired of it in the course of millions of years and freed itself of the troublesome burden.
Hence, the one-time organism had developed into It. Nevertheless, it could be seen if it so decided.
"What is it?" Rhodan had asked.
John Marshall, the sensitive telepath, understood his boss despite the raucous laughter. Marshall had been listening for a long time to the unending laughter. Finally he conversed telepathically with Betty Toufry.
He or It was so exhilarated that the gales of laughter kept continuing. Something must have happened, or it was something Rhodan had said, which was a source of great amusement.
Finally, Marshall shouted into Rhodan’s ear:
"It is an interconnected entity, the living psyche of a supra-dimensional collective being, made up of billions of individual minds. You might think of it as an entire race having given up its material form in order to live on spiritually. We have here a voluntary denial of bodily existence after an inconceivably long span of life which the organism in its maten~ form in all probability had become unable to endure any longer. It is It! Regardless of whether it represents billions of dematerialised brains or only one: it is It."
Rhodan held his head with both hands. Marshall could not stifle a smile as he read his commander’s thought.
"I’m sane, I swear I’m sane!" Rhodan had shouted.
The laughter was suddenly stilled. It had become very quiet in the huge, high-domed hall which seemed to contain nothing but a few nondescript machines.
They stood about 20 yards from the entrance and looked into the empty space which was permeated by a vague pink light.
This changed immediately as a certain form spontaneously took shape. It occurred in the exact centre under the cupola.
A bright flash erupted from the ceiling. Moments later, undulating vapours formed high above the floor and became spirals which finally coalesced into a slowly rotating ball.
"Welcome," the same voice reverberated through the hall. "You might consider my appearance somewhat unusual. However by now you should have learned not to expect the ordinary from me."
A subdued laughter followed.
Perry Rhodan was momentarily seized by a feeling of loneliness. Khrest and Thora stood well ahead of the waiting men. Khrest’s face was turned upward toward where the voice came from.
Rhodan still leaned with both shoulders against the cold metal wall, thinking grimly:
"Get this confounded nonsense over with. I’ve got more important things to do than to prolong an old man’s life. How much longer will it take?"
"Please step a little closer!" the voice requested. Rhodan pushed his cap back. He looked with sleepless-red eyes at Khrest who moved solemnly forward.
"I’m green with envy," Bell whispered. "I wonder if it bestows the cell conservation on him?"
"Of course," Rhodan murmured wearily. "Why do you think we’ve been tested so rigorously? I can’t believe that it would go back on its word now. I’d really like to know two things: first, why it wants to give away its secret, and second, when I can get some sleep. That’s all."
"Step a little closer, please," the demand was repeated.
Unsure, Khrest looked around. He already stood cl
ose to the pulsating, flowing image in which Marshall believed he saw the amalgamation of multifarious and concentrated mind impulses of dematerialised intelligent beings.
Rhodan, tired of the whole affair, pointed forward with his thumb.
"Go on, go on!" he called irritatedly. "Or do you want me to carry you under the light?"
Khrest shuddered. He dared one more step. Then he uttered a loud scream as an invisible force hurled him back so that he helplessly fell against Thora.
"It wasn’t you I meant, Arkonide, I’m sorry to say," the voice was heard again. "I’ve already given your race a chance 20,000 years ago by your count. I cannot grant you, as the representative of a degenerated race, the secret of biological prolongation of life. The time you had has come to an end."
Khrest was still sobbing. Rhodan’s shoulders slowly jerked away from the wall as if in a spasm.
"Hey!" was all Bell could utter, whirling around. Rhodan looked into his wide-open eyes.
"Hello, old friend, why don’t you come closer?" someone said laughingly. "We already know each other, don’t we?"
Rhodan could feel his knees wobble. His face was white as chalk, contrasting sharply with the dark stubble of his beard.
"Step forward, sir!" Betty Toufry urged him. "You were meant, not the pathetic old man."
The men from the landing commando moved back deferentially. The utter disbelief in their faces was replaced by undisguised enthusiasm and admiration.
Only Rhodan failed to understand the ramifications.
"Just a minute," he mumbled lamely. "I assumed you…"
Rhodan felt himself lifted up gently and carried under the lighted sphere which descended until it was at the level of Rhodan’s face.
"Well, that’s what he looks like," mused the sombre voice. "An unostentatious, impetuous native from a small planet in a little solar system. Let me see now." He is thoughtful and a dreamer, free of self-indulgence and demanding self-discipline in others. He is idealistic and constructive. It is his desire to achieve greatness, but he doesn’t realize what it is. In order to fulfil his aim, he reaches for me. Hello, old friend!"