Caller from Eternity

by Perry Rhodan

  He glanced at the clock. 3:18 a.m. Terra time. In a little over an hour, dawn would be breaking. During the night a certain man had arrived on Earth on one of the cylindrical long-ships-a Springer freighter belonging to one of their clans on Aralon, the world of the Galactic Medicos. This man brought him greetings from 'Fut-Gii' and he was to meet him at 4:30 a.m.

  When the first contact had come in he had faced a stranger on his viewscreen. He wouldn't have needed a minute's conversation with him to be reminded of the cue-word 'Fut-Gii'.

  Fut-Gii had been a relatively unimportant Springer. Today he might still be alive if he had not made the mistake of refusing to work for the Antis. Shortly after that, Fut-Gii had met with a 'fatal accident'. In other words: by order of the Antis.

  Thomas Cardif knew all the facts. For almost five decades he had worked for the Baalol followers as a famous doctor named Edmond Hugher. At the time he hadn't known who he really was. When the Baalol temple on Lepso had been under attack by the Solar Fleet, the anti-mutants had discovered his hypno-block and had released him from it.

  He had awakened from a dream of 58 years! He knew once more who he was, nor had he forgotten any of his experiences during the time he had been Edmond Hugher. His hatred for his father knew no bounds. He felt that he had been cheated out of the best years of his life and he did not forget also that Rhodan was supposed to have been responsible for Thora's death, the Arkonide princess who had been his mother.

  And now he seemed to be close to his final goal. Perry Rhodan had been swept aside and was a prisoner of the Antis, hidden somewhere in the distant star jungles. He, as Perry Rhodan, had acquired dictatorial powers in the past few weeks. How he had used those powers was demonstrated by the events of these past four days. The Arkon Imperium was close to collapse. The Solar Fleet was merely waiting for the right moment in which to take over the most strategic worlds of the Arkonide stellar empire.

  He was not worried over the fact that an agent of the Baalol priests had announced himself a few hours ago, using the code word Fut-Gii. He was backed up by enough convincing arguments to win over the most suspicious Anti to his side. Cardif opened a drawer in his desk which contained a small arsenal of weapons. He carefully selected two small shock-guns, checked their charges and then concealed them on his person.

  Shortly after that he announced to his night board: "I'll be gone for three hours."

  Using the antigrav lift he ascended to the landing pad on the roof. Here there were always three aircars standing at his disposal. The two robots guarding a total group of a dozen air vehicles probed for his brainwave patterns. They identified him as Perry Rhodan and then paid him no further attention.

  Thomas Cardif got into the fastest antigrav commuter available. The motor responded with a low hum. His flight panel began to light up with green indicator lamps. Then the all-clear signal blinked at him. The aircar was ready for flight.

  Cardif rose upward, deciding to dispense with the headlights. Leisurely gaining altitude he took a course straight to the West as the wide expanse of Terrania slipped back and away from him. He flew toward a region that had been one of the hottest areas of the Gobi Desert some 150 years ago. This was not an unknown route because he as well as the genuine Rhodan had flown it often. At the end of it lay a small bungalow which a grateful Springer clan member had given Rhodan 30 years ago. A Solar Fleet cruiser had saved the heavily damaged ship of the patriarch in a space emergency.

  In the grey dawn-light, Cardif set his craft down between the trees of a park in front of the bungalow. After shutting everything down, he left the ship and approached the wide-rambling terrace veranda without looking to his right or his left. In this lonely region he did not have to worry about his security. The extensive terrain was guarded by a detail of 30 combat robots who were attuned solely to his brainwave patterns and were highly programmed for defensive action.

  Being familiar with every landmark, he crossed the terrace, went into the bungalow and turned the first light on when he reached the den. He went to one wall that was clear, rolled it aside and faced a large switchboard. After he had readjusted a main control dial, a hidden viewscreen came into position and started to flicker.

  It was a tracking screen which provided a surveillance sweep of the airspace above the bungalow. The position indicator field was divided into quadrants. Cardif looked at his watch. If the anti-mutants agent was the punctual type, he should be seeing his aircar any minute now on the screen. In fact he had no sooner thought of this than a glowing green blip appeared in sector 2-east and moved slowly toward 5-west. Cardif switched on the short-range radio.

  "Yes?" as asked, by way of hailing the craft.

  "Fut-Gii!" came the code word out of the speaker.

  It was a signal to Cardif to deactivate the robots until after the visitor's ship had landed. This constituted no risk to him. The den was surrounded by a super-powerful defense screen. Also a closed-system TV installation enabled him to determine whether or not the agent was alone or if he had company with him.

  The antigrav hovercraft landed close beside his own aircar. The door swung back and a man stepped out. Cardif cut in his infrared optical system. The pickup camera near the terrace automatically focused on the ship and brought it into a telescopic close-up. The infrared revealed that it was empty. The Anti agent had come alone.

  Cardif nodded, satisfied, and switched off his surveillance gear. He let the wall roll back into place and then cut off the defense screen that surrounded the den. After that he calmly went out to meet the agent.

  The grey of morning was in the east. In this remote sector of the Gobi parkland, the bungalow lay in the twilight of dawn. Cardif met the agent on the terrace, greeted him curtly and offered him a seat. The man sat down, after which he produced an object from his pocket and placed it on the patio table in front of Cardif. "My credentials," he explained.

  It was a tiny pyramid, fashioned to represent a typical Baalol temple. Cardif shoved it back toward his guest. He now knew that they had not sent an ordinary ambassador but a man with full authority to negotiate. The tiny pyramid told him that much. Cardif knew the customs and practices of the Antis better than any other Terran.

  "High Priest Rhobal sends you his greetings, Cardif," began the agent, who had not introduced himself. "But all the servants of Baalol are angry with you. They mourn the death of High Priest Kalal on the planet Utik, who was practically worried into his grave by your cell activator."

  Cardif's irritating laugh caused the agent to become silent. "Tell the Antis and above all Rhobal that I am not responsible for Kalal's death! That the cell activator brought him death instead of eternal life is in my opinion the fault of Rhobal himself, because he forced me to hand the activators over to him. My secret agents have informed me how Kalal died. To hold me responsible for his death is ridiculous. I am not the invisible being on Wanderer who creates the cell activators. But it's my guess that anybody who can produce eternal life through such a device wouldn't have to stop there. By remote control, from Wanderer, It must have been able to alter the effect of the activators because they fell into unauthorized hands!"

  "Are you saying, then, that all activators have been altered, Cardif?"

  The man in the plain uniform of the Administrator answered coldly. "I am not the creature on Wanderer! I don't know for sure but in view of the nature of Kalal's death wouldn't logic indicate that the other 19 activators have also been changed? Is this a possibility they have still failed to recognize on Trakarat?"

  He ignored the other's barely perceptible startled reaction. Then, since the agent continued to remain silent, he continued. "You have come here with special powers to negotiate. In that case we can end the discussion concerning cell activators and..."

  Surprisingly, the agent interrupted. "I am instructed to advise you that the proposal of the Galactic Traders concerning another 300 commercial bases in the Solar Imperium must have immediate approval!"

  Cardif gave his guest a
pitying look. "The servants of Baalol must have a very limited political perspective. They seem to overlook the developments of the past four days in the Arkon Empire. The Greater Imperium is soon to be taken over by the Solar System! At such a historical moment am I supposed to manufacture internal political headaches by letting the Springers set up 300 more trading stations in addition to what they have here now? I don't intend to, and there's even less chance of forcing me to do it! Have the servants of Baalol forgotten that my advantage is theirs as well?"

  With some hesitation the agent replied: "We have reliable information that Imperator Gonozal VIII is going to make an alliance with the Blue System. The conditions are that he'll have to commit himself to place 1,000 of his most modern spaceships at the Akons' disposal. In return the Akons will furnish him hypno-trained officers for all Arkon ships."

  Swiftly, Cardif referred inwardly to the knowledge he had taken over from his father. From this he gleaned the fact that with the exception of the ships of their Energy Command the Blue System did not use space travel anymore. Instead of this they handled their traffic from world to world through thousands of super-powerful transmitter stations. Further, any such alliance between Akon and Arkon would inevitably have but one end result: at the conclusion of the treaty period the Imperium would become the Blue System's sovereign territory.

  Cardif asked casually: "What is Baalol's reaction to Atlan's idea of making a treaty with the mother race of the Arkonides?"

  "The Arkon Imperium is hostile to us, Cardif! Is that answer enough for you?"

  "No, it is not! It's totally undefined. I must know to what extent the Antis are prepared to back me up in my fight against Arkon."

  The other man suddenly stiffened. He stared incredulously at Perry Rhodan's likeness.

  "Well?" Cardif spoke as though aware of how available his time was. "Are you empowered to make binding agreements here-or are you not?"

  In some confusion the agent hurled an accusation: "And your order to attack the Baa-lo is supposed to be forgotten?"

  "Trivialities!" retorted Cardif with a wave of his hand. "What did Rhobal expect me to do-embrace him with joy when he ambushed me? If he's such a fool I've overestimated him! What does it matter that we both tried to trick each other? What's involved now is whether or not we can take over the Arkon Imperium in just a few days or not! The stronger I am the greater the advantage it is to us all!"

  "What binding assurances will the Solar Imperium give to us, Cardif?" asked the agent, now apparently turning greedy.

  The false Administrator laughed in his face. "Assurances?!" he repeated, and laughed again. "Perhaps you also mean signed and sealed? Listen, agent-whoever you are-I feel squeamish enough as it is in your extortionist hands, and now do you think I'm foolish enough to bind myself even more to the Antis? No, I hate you too much for that! Do I make myself clear?"

  "Cardif, are you unprepared to make any commitment at all?"

  "No. There will be no assurances! No deals! No promises! What do you want with them? Hasn't Rhobal always assured me that I'm a mere puppet in his hands? Fine! If that's true, then after I've taken over the Arkon Imperium doesn't that also give the Antis what they want?"

  "That's a mere play on words, Cardif!" retorted the agent angrily.

  "Thank you!" Cardif smirked at him. There was a bright gleam in his eyes. "Your words tell me that the Antis are a little more unsure of me than they pretend to be."

  "May I remind you of the two officers Brazo Alkher and Stant Nolinov, who were supposed to have advised us of your flight to Wanderer?" as the other. It was an obvious attempt to pull him into the blackmail trap again.

  Cardif gave him a look that was almost sympathetic. "You know, these days it seems that you Antis always pull your trump cards forward after they've long since ceased to mean anything. I believe I may assume by now that as of an hour or so ago all ships of the Solar Fleet have been advised by general hypercom bulletin that Lts. Alkher and Nolinov have been reinstated and that upon their return the First Administrator will give them a full apology! Well, agent, do we begin our negotiations now or do we have nothing more to say to each other?"

  The fully authorized ambassador of the Antis realized at this early morning hour that he was facing an ice-blooded Terran who knew how to take unscrupulous advantage of every possibility.

  "There's nothing to negotiate, Cardif." The agent had to struggle to speak these words with certainty. He was now convinced that the anti-mutants had completely failed to take the measure of Thomas Cardif. If he succeeded in taking over the Arkon Imperium, the day was not far off when he would be able to free himself from Baalol's influence.

  Cardif smiled faintly and rose to his feet. "If there is nothing to negotiate, agent, then I believe we may consider this discussion closed. May I ask that you return to your flier?"

  The other felt it necessary to warn him again. "Cardif, do not underestimate Baalol's power!"

  Rhodan's son answered gruffly: "Sorry-that won't even buy you a cup of coffee-not here, not anymore! Now will you please go?"

  The other suddenly had a change of mind. He recalled that Cardif had used the planetary name Trakarat. From all indications Rhodan's son did not suspect what was behind this name but at this moment the agent was evaluating Solar Intelligence correctly. He was convinced that the men under Solar Marshal Mercant would not give up their investigations until they knew where in the galaxy Trakarat was located. Solely for this reason he surprised Cardif with a parting statement:

  "Cardif, the Antis will not place any obstacle in the way of your attempt to take over the Arkon Imperium."

  With this the agent departed, leaving behind him a somewhat contemplative Thomas Cardif.

  3/ "IT" STRIKES THE HOUR

  50 days before, masquerading as Perry Rhodan, Thomas Cardif had received 21 cell activators from the multiplex being on Wanderer. Twenty of the devices were equipped with automatic adjustment for individual frequencies and these had fallen into the hands of Antis. Cardif's space-jet, flown by Alkher and Nolinov, had been ambushed by the cylindrical long-ship Baa-lo.

  Every day during those 50 days the community entity known as It had sent the same mental warning into his subconscious: Remove the cell activator, Perry Rhodan, or you will become too big and too powerful!

  All 50 times Thomas Cardif had misunderstood the invisible master of Wanderer, just as he had done today when receiving a not-so-stereotyped message: Perry Rhodan, you still have five minutes to take off the activator. I urgently advise you to do this and to beware of one thing: too much of greatness and power can have too great a price!

  Another thing different about the latest communication was that it was not followed as usual by Its mysterious laughter. The message had ended abruptly and now Cardif was alone with his activator which clung to his chest beneath his clothing.

  He was sorting through important dispatches from trans-galactic star cluster M-13. Solar Intelligence agents active there were unanimous in their reports concerning upheavals in the Arkon Imperium, including economic upsets and a sudden rash of political activity on the part of the Galactic Traders. The common denominator of all reports added up to one conclusion: Atlan's Imperium was heading toward an inevitable collapse.

  Cardif sat there looking at these results which he had achieved while wearing the simple uniform of the First Administrator-in one moment at a pinnacle of triumph but in the next...? He had just shoved the first stack of dispatches to one side when a lightning bolt of pain shot through his body.

  Although on Aralon under the name of Edmond Hugher he had become an outstanding physician, in this moment he had neither time nor the strength to diagnose his condition. He shot from his chair and fell writhing to the floor, shrieking in agony. The maddening pain was everywhere-in his head, his chest, his fingers, arms and legs-in every part of him! Cold sweat broke out of his pores. He thought he was going mad with pain. His cries were no longer human; a tortured creature lay there whining for help.r />
  Cardif-Rhodan was no longer aware of who came rushing in to his aid. He didn't know who lifted him up and placed him on the couch. He did not hear the emergency call going out for the leading doctors in Terrania. All he could do was to turn and toss in his torment.

  Then the doctor arrived...

  "Give him an injection!" exclaimed Reginald Bell. In his highly agitated state he was demanding action-fast

  The doctor at first refused to give the Chief an injection without examining him. But Cardif-Rhodan didn't give him a chance in his violent reactions. Rivers of sweat ran down his body; his eyes rolled upward wildly.

  "I can't stand seeing a man like that!" Bell shouted at the doctor. "What's holding you up? Give him a shot-something to knock him out!"

  4 strong hands pinned down Cardif-Rhodan's left arm. His sleeve was rolled up high. The doctor aimed at his arm muscle with a pressurized hypodermic. At the first hiss of the needle, the Administrator writhed in a new paroxysm of pain and the anesthetic spurted into the air.

  "Can't take any more! I can't...!" These were the Chief's first words. For a period of five seconds he lay still while Bell raged at the doctor for not taking advantage of the lull with his hypodermic.

  Then Cardif arched again and yelled in pain, threatening to fall off the couch. The doctor made a second attempt. About three-fourths of the hypo reached its mark inside the muscle tissue. In the midst of an outcry the Chief seemed to collapse. He straightened out, turned half on his side and then suddenly appeared to fall asleep.