Caller from Eternity

by Perry Rhodan

  Bell realized that he himself was bathed in sweat. He groaned aloud. "What's wrong with Perry? Doctor, for God's sake will you examine him?!"

  No one could be offended by Bell's outburst because everybody knew what close ties of friendship there were between him and Rhodan. However, the doctor snapped his satchel together and shook his head.

  "Sir-this isn't a case for me. Just look at the Chief's left arm if you will. Here... or here or here! Even here where there is no muscle the tissue is cramped and hard as stone-something I've never seen or heard of in medicine! So please don't ask me to examine him. Any diagnosis of mine would be shooting in the dark!"

  Bell himself investigated Cardif-Rhodan's strange physical condition. True, his left arm felt as hard as stone but he made another observation. "Does he have a fever? Or is this body heat an effect of the shot you gave him?"

  The doctor took hold of Rhodan's arm hastily and was obviously startled. He felt for the pulse and began a silent count. The longer he counted the more astonished he became. "Completely normal!" he exclaimed. "That contradicts the anesthetic effects! His pulse rate should be at least 25% less than normal-and in addition, this fever..."

  He dropped the arm and placed his hand on the Chief's forehead. It fairly glowed with heat. Opening his satchel again, the doctor brought out an Ara device for fever measurements and placed it on the patient's forehead. The instrument determined his bodily temperature within three seconds.

  "98..." The doctor fairly stammered as he read the indication. "That can't be right-the Administrator must have a temperature of at least 104!"

  He reached into his bag and pulled out a spare temperature indicator. When he made his measurement again he silently showed Bell the scale reading: again 98°!

  "I have to strip off some of his clothes," said the doctor, not knowing what else to do. "May I ask you people to leave the room? But please wait outside in case the Administrator needs you again."

  Bell stayed put. He would not be shut out and the doctor didn't try to argue with him.

  When Cardif-Rhodan had been stripped to his undershirt, Bell exclaimed, "What the devil is that?" A low protuberance was visible on his chest beneath the undershirt.

  At the moment Bell thought of every possibility except the truth. How could he have conceived of the presence here of an activator? Every 62 years he and Perry and their closest colleagues received their biological cell shower on Wanderer, which was quite sufficient to avoid any aging during that period.

  The doctor removed the undershirt and Cardif-Rhodan's chest lay bared before them. "What... what is that?" stammered the doctor, repeating Bell's question. He pointed to the metallic., egg-shaped device which was half-embedded in the Chiefs body.

  "Why that's... that's..." Bell didn't bring himself to say what it was. Now he was at a complete loss to understand anything. Perry Rhodan was wearing a cell activator!

  • • •

  They had brought the Chief's unconscious body into the clinic. The staff of doctors had insisted upon it. Three surgeons had just completed their examination of him but they refrained from revealing their findings. A team of six neurologists were applying contacts to him. Chief neurologist Meissner had just tested a reflex which in his opinion was unnatural. The part he had probed was too unresponsive.

  The neuro-recorder went into operation. This was an Ara device which was able to trace out and indicate the maze of nerve paths with amazing speed and precision. Neurologist Ginseng kept his eyes steadily on the Chief, noting that he was taking an over-saturation of trace pulses without reaction-which was also abnormal, even for one who was unconscious.

  More than 20 doctors shook their heads. Always before, the Chief had come through routine examinations as a top specimen of health, normal in every respect, but in this instance he was like a medical freak.

  Dr. Meissner stared incredulously at the visual recording of nerve patterns and groaned aloud: "What has happened to the Chief?!"

  Bell exploded. The anxiety he felt for his friend was intolerable. The bewildered expressions on the faces of the scientists were enough to drive him up the wall. He couldn't understand their technical jargon and he demanded an explanation.

  They made the mistake of trying to make him leave, as would have been their right in a normal situation-but this was far from normal. In this case the life of the First Administrator was at stake and Reginald Bell was his second-in-command.

  He bristled threateningly at Prof. Legrand. "Don't get pushy with me-I'm staying!" he growled. "Get out of my way or I'm liable not to be polite!"

  Prof. Manoli sought to rescue the situation. He apologized to Bell but Bell wasn't interested in apologies-he wanted to know why Chief Neurologist Meissner seemed to be losing his mind over the neuro-trace recorder.

  "I'm talking to you!" he yelled at the specialist "Don't give me any of your secret mumbo-jumbo-I want it in plain everyday English and I want it now!"

  Dr. Meissner complied. "Do you see these line tracings here, Mr. Bell?" he asked, pointing to the electronic graph of the neuro-recorder. "These are nerve channels. And this empty space you see here, in the shape of an egg, is the cell activator. As for what it all shows I can't understand it. I mean-as far as medical knowledge is concerned there is no explanation for what is visible here."

  "Let's have it, Doc! What's with the activator?"

  "Prepare yourself for a shock, Mr. Bell-and I mean, prepare for the worst! The Chief has undergone an unimaginable process of transformation. He suddenly possesses a nervous system that is unknown to normal men. All nerve channels have made an organic contact with the cell activator! That means just one thing: the activator may no longer be removed even by surgery! If such an operation were to be attempted, the Chief wouldn't live through it!"

  "But that thing's metal, Doc! How can metal make a bond with nerve cells? You can't possibly believe such nonsense!" Bell shouted, more agitated than before.

  "Whether I want to or not, Mr. Bell," the doctor replied adroitly, "I must believe what the neuro-recorder tells me. May I ask you to make room for my colleagues here so they can make sure I haven't made a false diagnosis?"

  The other doctors soon confirmed the chief neurologist's analysis. But they were also, unable to explain it. It was a riddle to them how completely alien nerve channels could materialize in Rhodan's body; it was a mystery how anything organic could form a connective bond with a metallic object; they were unable to say how the activator had become half-buried in Rhodan's chest; and they were also at a loss to explain what had caused the Chief's sudden attack of pain.

  But one man present might have given them all an explanation; he was the only one among them who was not a doctor: Reginald Bell! He was thinking of the multiple being on Wanderer. It must have thought this up. It was the only one capable of making such a thing come to pass. Bell was torn by mixed feelings. In spite of having a strange form of humor, so far the unimaginable entity had never operated contrary to the best interests of humanity. Now all of a sudden was It being unmasked as Perry Rhodan's deadly enemy? Bell felt that some puzzle pieces didn't fit together here-even that his thoughts could be based on false premises-but he failed to detect the source of the error.

  Prof. Manoli spoke up. "The Chief is coming to!"

  The neurologist worked feverishly to remove all their electrical contacts from his body. There were still three wires attached to his heart area when Cardif-Rhodan opened his eyes. At the same time he tried to rise up, looking about him in confusion. Bell stood behind the doctors and was silent for the moment.

  "What happened...?" Sudden fear made Cardif-Rhodan speechless. Involuntarily his hand had reached for the cell activator and he realized that it was half-embedded in his chest. It could no longer be removed.

  Fear would have turned to horror if he had not felt in that moment a new pulsation from the activator. He knew that the current flowing through his body was another dispensation of eternal life. And suddenly all his tension subsided
, at last bringing memory of what had happened. A lightning attack of indescribably intense pain had come close to driving him mad, until he received the hypo. Now he had regained consciousness in Terrania's neuro-surgical clinic.

  "I believe I can manage by myself, gentlemen..." His voice sounded completely normal. His appearance was improving from second to second. Against the protests of several doctors he raised himself up and looked down at the activator. Then he managed to look back at the doctors with a slightly amused expression on his face. "This situation certainly must have raised some questions in your minds, wouldn't you say? If it's any consolation to you, gentlemen, I don't have the answers to all of them myself."

  He did not suspect what effect his words had on Reginald Bell. The latter was secretly overjoyed because he was completely sure now that Perry had come through the worst of his condition and that he would soon be his old self again. He merely stepped forward without a word and handed him his clothes while grinning from ear to ear.

  "Thanks, Fatso," said the Chief. As he took the clothing he smiled in the genuine Rhodan manner and this strengthened the hope in Bell more than ever that the worst was over for his friend.

  In spite of Cardif-Rhodan's remarkable recovery, three of the doctors insisted on accompanying him when he left the clinic and they ordered him to his bed for a day or so. He pretended to yield to this demand unwillingly but secretly he was glad to have an excuse to take it easy for awhile. The mysterious attack he had been through had drained his reserves of strength. However, he was accustomed to being alone and he finally sent the doctors away along with Reginald Bell, whose face was beginning to get on his nerves.

  They had no sooner left him than the doctor in him came into action. In front of a mirror he observed the deep position the activator had taken in his chest. He could not understand how the device had been able to dig itself in like that and yet he was not worried about it. He believed that somehow he had been completely successful in passing some kind of test the entity on Wanderer had given him. Of course he had paid the price of terrible pain but now the reward seemed to be that It had caused the cell activator to anchor itself in its final and proper position so that he, Cardif, would never be able to lose it.

  Cardif-Rhodan went back to his bed. In the elated awareness of possessing eternal life, he finally fell asleep.

  • • •

  The disguised Springer freighter was actually one of the fastest transition-type ships available. It had left Earth and was racing now toward a sun that was listed in Arkonide star catalogs as 41-B-1847 ArqH. It was a small yellow sun, 33,218 light-years from Terra, encircled by only two planets. The outermost one was inhabited although it was not exactly a pleasure to live on Saos. In addition to a 1.3 gravity, the planet had a rotational rate of 214 hours. The unusually long day and night periods created twilight zones in which there were continuous storms, thus making life all the more difficult. As for the atmosphere, its oxygen content was relatively small in comparison to heavier quantities of nitrogen and carbon dioxide.

  The agent who had met Cardif-Rhodan at his bungalow in the early morning hours was now en route to Saos. He was burning with impatience to get back to the manufacturing base that was located on the inhospitable planet of perpetual storms. He had beamed one short pulse-burst signal ahead to announce his coming. He knew that the Antis, there beneath their invincible defense screens, were waiting with equal impatience to talk to him.

  While en route to Earth originally he had not imagined that he would be returning to his base with such a tremendously vital piece of information. The Solar Intelligence agents knew the name, Trakarat! The agent felt he knew how they might have come by it. On Utik, High Priest Kalal might have inadvertently betrayed his people during his death throes, his demise having been surrounded by very mysterious circumstances.

  For hours now the name of the planet Trakarat had weighed on the agent's mind. The whole disturbing matter pursued him like a phantom. Trakarat, their ultimate secret!

  "When do we land?" he demanded gruffly addressing the ship's commander.

  The latter was obviously subservient and anxious to please. "In just about three hours, Your Excellence!"

  "I don't have that much time, Mingo!" protested the highly empowered ambassador-agent. "Why did you cut the hypertransition so short? We should have come out much closer to Saos!"

  Mingo nodded obsequiously as he explained: "My Lord, please remember that Saos is surrounded by a wide meteor belt. I am responsible for your safety and would also like to enjoy many years yet in service to Baalol!"

  The agent narrowed his eyes at the commander. He had actually forgotten about the meteor zone but had no intention of admitting it. His gaze returned to the viewscreen. The left-hand portion of the screen was taken up by a great concentration of numberless suns. This was the core center of the Arkonide Imperium, star cluster M-13 in the constellation of Hercules. Against the deep blackness of the void it stood out in all its magnificent splendor. It was framed in a pale glow like mother-of-pearl, which made it appear to be larger than it was in actuality.

  For more than 20,000 years, cluster M-13 had been ruled by the Arkonides, descendants of the Akons in the Blue System. For 15,000 years their development in every field of endeavor had continued on a steeply upward curve. But then the processes of degeneration had begun and even Atlan himself had been unable to arrest the phenomenon.

  When the agent caught himself thinking about this he was surprised. Heretofore the fate of the Greater Imperium had been of little importance to him. As a member of a race which had produced the anti-mutants he knew only one goal: to help make the Baalol cult the dominant factor of power among all the intelligent races of the galaxy.

  The sight of star cluster M-13 had brought him a certain sense of regret. Unconsciously he had made a comparison between the personality of Gonozal VIII and that of the man who was called Perry Rhodan but who was actually his son. Even though the Imperator had shown his hostility to the anti-mutants, to the agent he towered far above Thomas Cardif, who justified every available means to destroy his father and strengthen his own position.

  After the fast courier ship had landed on Saos, the agent still carried these thoughts in his mind, plus the lingering impression of star cluster M-13 as he had viewed it on the screen. A short while later be was facing the servants of Baalol, who had been waiting so impatiently for him. He was immediately alerted to a strange atmosphere of unusual unrest among them.

  "I have spoken to Cardif," he announced but then he fell silent.

  He gazed about him at the others. There were five Antis present, only three of whom were permanently stationed on Saos. They were responsible for the manufacture of defense screen projectors. The agent didn't know the other two but by their clothing he knew that they must be important personages.

  "Has something happened here on Saos?" he asked apprehensively.

  The wizened little man who was the production chief shook his head. The agent's first uncontrolled thought was that Thomas Cardif was dead.

  "Cardif has suddenly become very ill," was the answer. "They've removed him to the neuro-surgical clinic in Terrania. At present we don't know his condition. Our contact there was probably apprehended in the middle of his hypercom message by Solar Intelligence. For hours now we haven't been able to communicate with our secret post in Terrania."

  The agent had to digest this for a moment. In his mind's eye he could still see the man who had so far managed to disguise himself in Rhodan's role of First Administrator. In the grey light of morning his features had revealed no sign of illness; on the contrary, Thomas Cardif had appeared to be in the vital prime of youth.

  The little Anti continued: "If this last intelligence we have received is valid, it is obvious that Cardif's sudden illness must be caused by the activator he is wearing."

  The agent started visibly at this announcement. The reaction was a violation of custom and etiquette among the anti-mutants but they forgave h
im wordlessly because they recalled that their own reactions had been much the same.

  This was not because they had taken Cardif's well being to heart but because as Perry Rhodan he was the most important piece in their game of empire. Thomas Cardif had to do what they required of him or they might as well abandon their lofty goals. By now they were all seated around a conference table and the agent had been served a stimulating beverage, which at the moment he was glad to sample.

  The same speaker went on. "Our brother, High Priest Rhobal, committed a grave error when he held Cardif prisoner on board the Baa-lo. He should have searched him more thoroughly, in which case he would have discovered the 21st cell activator. If Rhodan's son dies like our brother Kalal on the planet Utik, then everything we have accomplished so far will have been in vain."

  The agent nodded. He took another drink from his glass and set it down on the table. Without any preamble, he said: "Thomas Cardif mentioned the planet Trakarat to me."

  5 Antis sprang up in a common reaction of alarm. Almost simultaneously they exclaimed: "Trakarat?!"

  "That's right. He was telling me he suspected that all 20 cell activators would not achieve what was expected of them but in this connection he asked me: Is this a possibility they have still failed to recognize on Trakarat? He spoke of it like one who knew exactly what was to be found on the planet."

  "Perhaps Kalal!" gasped one of the Antis.

  "It must have been. No one else could have mentioned Trakarat, of that I'm certain."

  It took awhile for the servants of Baalol to calm themselves. The shock of this revelation had shaken them too deeply.

  "It was not this matter alone which brought me back here so swiftly," announced the agent, satisfied to see how attentively they were listening to him now. "There is something else of vital importance. We have to set up a false trail for Solar Intelligence to follow. If they give us time and we don't overplay our hand, then our two prisoners here might help us to convert Saos into the planet Trakarat!"