by Perry Rhodan
"Yes, Reg, if you don't mind." Rhodan examined the two lines on the transmitter closely. "These letters are identical with the type we found in the earlier messages. Therefore they must be characters of one and the same language. The language of the immortals. We encountered this same sentence at the very beginning of the trail we have been pursuing. It stands to reason: the transmitter must be the continuation of that trail"
"Sentence? What sentence?" Bell was puzzled.
"This language consists of pictorial symbols, geometrical signs and strange characters. Besides, it is composed in a complicated code, which can be interpreted only by the positronic brain."
"And what is that sentence?" Bell kept insisting.
Rhodan smiled. "'You will find the light, if your mind corresponds to that of the highest order.' I had the feeling that we would find this message somewhere around here. Now we know for sure that we are on the right track, that will eventually lead us to that light."
Bell kept staring at the strange symbols. "If our mind corresponds to that of the highest order. "But does it really, Perry?"
"At least we can be positive that this is the case of the positronic robot's mind!" Rhodan concluded with emphasis.
Moon 12C held no surprises, neither did 13A. Groll was rather curious as he directed the small fighter plane away from the 13th planet and with increasing speed toward its outer, second moon.
The satellite's diameter was less than that of Mars and its gravitation almost 1G. This fact seemed rather unusual. Lossosher suggested that this could be explained only if heavy elements composed the interior of the moon. The atmosphere was breathable and not too thin. Lossosher checked his notes from previous exploratory flights, which told that the climate was rough and cold, but passable.
This moon is really a world, an inhabitable planet, thought Groll. He wondered why the Ferrons had not colonized it. When he expressed his thoughts in a question to the Ferronian scientist, the latter declared: "The climate on 13B is tolerable as far as you are concerned. Our population density is far too small for us to need colonies. And particularly not on such an inhospitable world as moon 13B. It's too cold for us. You see, it is nothing extraordinary that we seem to ignore planets or moons that could be developed as colonies. Perhaps later on if our own planet becomes too small for our needs..."
The 13th planet diminish in size while the outer moon began to loom increasingly larger. The shimmering envelope of its atmosphere, illuminated by weak light from the far distant Vega sun, stood out clearly against the darkness of space. Moon 13B would have been considered a planet back home in their own solar system, thought Groll with envy. A far better world than Mars-if Lossosher had not exaggerated in his data about this satellite. And the heavy interior might indicate that a future mining enterprise might prove profitable.
There were no cloud formations to obstruct the view on the small world's surface. Here too, Groll realized with resignation, were neither oceans nor lakes. That means little water, he thought, feeling disappointed. But at least several smaller rivers in the wide plains. They emptied in deeper lying basins and then oozed away in the ground. This resulted in extensive green that seemed to invite potential settlers.
"Didn't the Ferrons send some expeditions to this world?" Groll wondered aloud. "There must be life on such a world."
"Nature is generous," Lossosher replied. "Many worlds may exist somewhere in the universe, that are only waiting to be discovered by intelligent races. These worlds developed only vegetation, but no sentient, intelligent beings. We do have reports about this moon, of course, but none speaks of the existence of present or past life. However, I believe these observations were not too thorough. I would doubt that anyone ever actually landed on 13B."
"How careless," remarked Groll. "Or maybe, it is rather due to the immense size of your system which contains so many inhabitable worlds. Our own solar system has only two planets in addition to our own which are suitable for settlements."
"Your system is very far from Vega, isn't it?" Lossosher asked off-handedly. But Groll had not forgot. not Rhodan's instructions.
"Whether far or near, what difference does it make?"
The Ferron pretended not to have noticed how his pilot evaded answering his question. The day would come when he would find out where these strangers originated from. Now he suddenly pointed, downward.
"You see that mountain range? Try to fly along it at a low altitude. If the immortals left some sign for us, then it must be only at some spot that is easily detected and visible from far away. A mountain top would be the ideal place."
That seemed sensible, and Groll descended lower still, flying above the green plain in the direction of the mountain range.
There were no trees, only tall grass with occasional rocky shelves jutting out. A shallow river serpentined with a thousand little ramifications through a maze of tiny islands. It was a primeval landscape, only the animals were missing. The land lay there lonely, as if waiting for some life to come.
Now the grass was lower and increasingly sparse. Soon there were only occasional tufts on the rocky ground. The character of the landscape changed. It became dry and sterile. Nothing, but bare rock, gently rising higher and higher.
Groll Pulled the machine higher up, paralleling the rise of the ground, which kept looming up steeper and steeper, without any irregularities along its surface.
Lossosher was glued to the window of the plane. He observed attentively every detail of the terrain, searching for traces he was not sure even existed or what they might look like. For all he knew they might be chasing phantoms.
The slope kept climbing steeply, then suddenly ceased. Groll saw in amazement an even plain stretching to the far horizon. This high plateau was like a different world that had nothing in common with the flat lowlands they had left behind. Its altitude was nearly 6,000 feet. There was no water, no vegetation. It was a dead, hostile land. If ever there had existed a civilization on this moon, then certainly not up here on this plateau.
Lossosher seemingly paid no attention to this obvious fact. "Pull up a bit higher for a better overall view," he suggested to his pilot. "Watch out for any unusual features."
"Do you really think these immortals placed some signposts for us down there? That's absurd."
"What is regarded as normal by strangers frequently seems absurd to us," argued the scientist. "The same way, of course, the other way round. We must bear this in mind, for those who live longer than the sun certainly must have taken this into account too. What's the reading on your gravometer?"
Groll was startled by Lossosher's last remark. He looked at the instrument panel and tried to concentrate on this abrupt change of topic.
"There must undoubtedly be heavy elements below. But they might be just naturally occurring in this arrangement. Or do you assume this could be attributed to some subterranean installations of the unknown race?"
"Who knows?" Lossosher said with an air of mystery. "Wouldn't that be a nice surprise if we could find the entrance to their abode?"
Incorrigible optimist, thought Groll, and cursed this crazy task he had been ordered to carry out. It really could have been fun otherwise, if he had not had to accompany this Ferronian scientist. He could have enjoyed exploring this little world below. He would have landed on the grassy plain, then searched for small animals, or examined the water from the river for protozoa with his microscope and--
"Look at that group of isolated rocks over there!" Lossosher's request interrupted Groll's pleasant day-dreams. "Touch down close by."
Groll said nothing. He simply began the landing maneuver. He banked and circled low above the irregularly scattered rocks. Then he set the machine gently down next to the largest rock. The terrain looked wild and rugged. Not a trace of life or vegetation.
"The atmosphere is alright for us here. You can accompany me, if you like."
Groll did not accept the invitation. He waited until the scientist had left the plane and disappeared
in the maze of rocks. Then he took a light hand raygun from the weapon shelf, checked it briefly, then put the gun in his belt. He stepped from the plane. After all, he wanted to profit from the occasion to go exploring the area a bit on his own.
He closed the exit door setting the lock for a new combination known to him alone. This way he made sure that nobody could enter the fighter plane without automatically blocking the driving gear.
The air was cool and fresh but seemed to contain insufficient oxygen, for Groll had to breathe rapidly. Like back home on some mountain 12,000 feet high, he thought. Well, that should not present too much of a difficulty for him in his explorations.
Slowly he tried to follow behind Lossosher, who had been lost from view among the rocks. The terrain was vast and not easy to survey. How absurd to insist on searching here of all places for the remnants of some lost civilization! The ground was smooth and even, except for an occasional boulder which jutted out against the bluish-green sky like rounded-off cones.
Groll was wondering how these odd formations might have come about. After all, there was no water present. Storms would occur only seldom and then not at all violent. Surely this world must have looked quite different in the past. He tried to explain this odd landscape.
The silence around him seemed uncanny. The only sound audible was Groll's footsteps, multiplied by the echo thrown back from the surrounding rock walls. Somewhere, he could not quite determine where, he could hear other footsteps-those of Lossosher.
All of a sudden, he stopped and listened closely. He heard now only Lossosher's steps, but rather indistinct and confusing. The sound came from his right, from his left, from behind him and from the front. Just as if a whole army were marching through the pillars of the rock cones. The echo was reflected from the walls over and over again until it finally reached an exit from this echo chamber in an upward direction.
But the pilot's well-trained ear could very well distinguish between the original the footsteps and their echo. It was not easy to do, but not impossible. Groll's hand wandered automatically over to his belt feeling for his gun. The cool metal felt reassuring. There were other steps besides those of the Ferronian scientist-slow, cautiously groping, creeping steps.
Groll and Lossosher were not alone on this world.
3/ THE LURKING DANGER
They had called it a day and no longer pursued their attempt to return the matter transmitter to proper working order. Khrest had thoroughly examined the transmitter and found out that the connections had been deliberately broken in some places. There were some faulty installations that would cause short circuits.
"This is our first task, which we must solve before we can continue with our other experiments," Khrest summed up the situation. Then he added: "Fortunately we have in our possession the construction plans for the transmitter. With the help of our positronic brain we will obtain a circuit diagram. Let's hope that one of our properly programmed worker robots will be able to correct the faulty installations that the unknowns seem to have put here on purpose."
Rhodan judged it best to go along with Khrest's suggestions. They had left one of the mutants behind in the vault to keep guard over the matter transmitter. The neutralizing generator remained switched on for they certainly did not wish to risk that the crypt might disappear again into the secrecy of time.
Rhodan spent half the night in the center which housed the big Arkonide positronic brain, that was a little brother of the gigantic positronic installation on Venus, where it had been left behind by the ruling race of the universe. This had been during the era when Atlantis existed on Earth. Rhodan fed his questions nonstop into the positronic brain, which spat out formula after formula in reply. Rhodan compared the answers. The simul-translators gave instructions over the loudspeakers.
Rhodan kept up a dialogue with the positronic brain as if it were a living being. He put his questions to it and the brain in return supplied the desired information. Seen from a positronic point of view the brain was certainly alive, and in any case it was far more intelligent than any of the organic life forms in the universe.
Rhodan did not stop until the simplified diagram of connections was in his hands and the positronic brain had confirmed most of the conjectures he had formed about the game of riddle-solving the immortals had thought up. Finally Rhodan felt satisfied. He felt certain he was on the track of the greatest mystery of the universe. He would not rest until he unraveled it.
The next morning Khrest conditioned one of the worker robots who specialized in positronics. His synthetic thought processes were readjusted on a five-dimensional basis. Then the robot received its instructions by being connected directly to the big positronic brain in the Stardust. It took 10 minutes for the robot which had been fashioned after an Arkonide model to become the most perfect constructor of matter transmitters of the present time. It would be a simple task for it to repair any defective transmitter. Including those that had been put out of commission on purpose, using the most refined ruses.
Rhodan waited until afternoon before he returned to Thorta. He had hoped to receive some news from Sgt. Groll but no communication had arrived from the fighter plane. There was no reason to be unduly concerned about this silence. Lossosher might be so involved in his search that he might forget to make an intermediary report. Or the silence could mean that the two men had not yet found a trace of the lost race of the immortals.
The Thort's bodyguards could hardly conceal their astonishment when Rhodan, Khrest, Bell and the worker robot stepped out of the official transmitter inside the Red Palace. The Ferrons had never before seen such a perfect metallic imitation of man.
Down below in the vault nothing had changed. The robot set to work immediately under the supervision of his masters. Within a few minutes he had exposed the inner workings of the transmitter. The confusion of electronic miniaturized instruments and plastic conduits might have discouraged Rhodan under normal circumstances. But here he knew that the limitless knowledge of the positronic brain was standing behind him in the shape of the worker robot. Rhodan remained calm and confident.
"I hope he'll make it, Perry." Bell sounded not too convinced. But Rhodan waved him off with an impatient gesture of his hand. Bell withdrew into the background, slightly unhappy. Khrest, however, watched intently, a confident smile playing around his lips while the worker robot kept up a steady pace removing the faulty connections and replacing them with new ones. The long minutes grew into an hour which seemed to last an eternity to the men.
Finally the robot closed the magnetic snap lid over the interior working mechanism of the transmitter and announced in a monotone: "The transmitter is again ready for use."
Rhodan breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced at Bell, rewarded the exiting robot with a friendly slap on his bare metallic shoulder, then inquired of Khrest: "When?"
"This is what I have been asking myself the whole time, Perry. Probably tomorrow. We must first carefully work out the composition of the group that will go on this hazardous mission. Who knows, we might land inside another transmitter, whose receiving mechanism functions perfectly alright while its sending installations have been tampered with, just like this one here. I insist on taking along the repair robot, Also a physician. Dr. Haggard would be the ideal person for this. And in addition to him, the two mutants Sloane and Marshall." Rhodan agreed to Khrest's suggestion. "With such a group we can face any difficulty that we may encounter. This leap into the unknown will lead us to the next task. I am confident we will be able to solve it."
Khrest kept his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. After a few moments of silent meditation, he looked at Rhodan. "I still have some doubts about the whole enterprise, Perry. I feel it is presumptuous on our part to attempt to delve into the secrets of a great race."
"We are not guilty of any indiscretion, Khrest. After all, they deliberately planted that trail for us to follow."
"That's just a hypothesis, Perry. We don't know this to be a fact. To my mind we
are risking our lives if we try playing their games."
"Quite the contrary, Khrest-and the positronic brain is of the same opinion. Do you really believe it makes more sense to look for the lost planet of eternal life at random anywhere in the universe?"
"Sometimes I am convinced it would be better to give up this search as a lost cause. It is hopeless."
Bell had been fretting in the background. It was hard for him to listen passively to this discussion. Now he gathered up sufficient courage, especially since he knew that Perry Rhodan shared his point of view in this matter, and remarked in a chiding tone: "Khrest, I can't understand such an attitude. Who would give up the chance to gain eternal life? Don't you see, immortality is the prize that the unknown race is holding out for us if we solve the great riddle?"
"You are just assuming all this, my friend," Khrest said gently. "I admit even our original expedition from Arkon was based on nothing but assumptions and ancient reports. The planet of eternal life is supposed to exist, but that was 10,000 years ago."
"Excellent!" said Rhodan. "This is the evidence that our theories must be right. We already have absolute proof that an alien race stayed in this system some 10,000 years ago. And according to their own statements this race 'lives longer than the sun.' This is the same as being immortal in human eyes. It stands to reason this race must be identical with the one which lived on your planet of eternal life. Thus we have the beginning of the trail. And to follow this trail is the actual original task of your own research expedition, Khrest."
The Arkonide was still hesitating. "Of course you are right there, Perry. Forgive me for expressing my doubts, for presenting such spurious arguments. You are too fast for me, Perry; you make such rapid decisions. The Arkonides will think fast, but act slowly..."
"So slow that your galactic empire goes to wrack and ruin!" interrupted Bell, brutally.
Khrest no longer smiled but his eyes were full of gentle forbearance. "Well, then, tomorrow, if this will suit you. I am happy that we have finally come to an agreement. Let's go and get a good night's rest!"