by Perry Rhodan
Perry Rhodan
The Third Power #21
The Cosmic Decoy
...And the hotspot is Venus.
Perry and the fugitive Arkonide woman, Thora, are on the planet of peril, a hot-house of horror, menaced not only by the unnatural monstrosities of the natural Venusian habitat but by deadly invaders from Earth. And the positronic brain, not programmed for certain unforeseen emergencies, has sealed off the planet!
An impenetrable envelope surrounds Venus!
Can Reginald Bell penetrate the barrier via the 5th dimension? If not, Rhodan must rely on his own resources to protect himself from man and monster alike, else perish in a primeval jungle far from his Mother World. This is the stirring story of–
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THE COSMIC DECOY
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1/ A Shadow Without Substance
THE MOON was his doom and he was racing toward it at an angle of 45° and a speed of 6000 miles a second.
He was cadet Julian Tifflor of the Space Academy.
They called such wild, seemingly insane manoeuvres "tactical training."They were so reckless that they made even the experienced pilots of the Space Force Commandos sweat.
They demanded all or nothing. They were, in a way, merciless, but when it was all over they became wonderful friends with a ready smile on their lips.
They were the training instructors of the Space Academy—the men who already many times before had left the Solar system in the service of the New Power to protect mankind far out in cosmic space.
They never indulged in sentimental feelings when it came to making men in their own image out of raw recruits. The New Power's astronauts had to be the best.
Cadet Julian Tifflor had matter-of-factly been given the order to take command of a fast spaceship destroyer as part of his final exam.
For the purposes of his test he was instructed to consider the towering peak of a rugged Lunar mountain as a "hostile unit of a battlecruiser" which he was unable to evade due to his own excessive momentum.
In the course of the order's execution it was left solely up to him whether to miss the rocky cliffs by a hair on his flight or to deceive himself with the wishful thought that the massive obstacle would somehow miraculously turn into a soft cloud.
Julian Tifflor, 20 years old, with a gentle and pleasant disposition and ire not easily aroused, indeed gave the impression that he innocently believed this rugged 10,000-foot-high peak would actually disintegrate into a harmless cloud. His own disintegration seemed a much more logical and imminent outcome.
Sergeant Rous, the battle-tested pilot who had faced death a thousand times under terrifying conditions in the Vega sector, screamed in horror for the first time in his life as cadet Julian Tifflor roared with a velocity of 6000 miles per second toward the looming mountains.
This was the moment when Sergeant Rous was reminded of his "witty" remark that a "smart guy" would simply fly through the mountaintop. It was also the moment when Sergeant Rous swore by all he held sacred that he hadn't meant it literally, particularly not at such a lethal speed.
Even if the destroyer had had dual controls it would have been utterly useless for him to intervene. But for the final test no training ships with dc's were used. The flight instructor no longer had any means of supracontrol.
The Lunar peak leapt 6000 miles closer with every passing second. Cadet Tifflor was racing to his doom on the surface of the moon.
"You're mad—!" It was all Sergeant Rous was able to cry out for at that moment the impulse cannon mounted in Tifflor's ship erupted and drowned him out.
Rous felt the violent shaking of his sleek three-seater craft. It was the violent vibration from the discharge of the tremendous power in the form of a violet thermobeam—hot as the core of the sun—flashing from the cannon's muzzle through the protective shield.
Julian Tifflor—Tiff for short—fired from a distance of 18,000 feet with the aid of the automatic microsensor. This was within the normal range for battles in space. The thermo-shot was almost as fast as light and it gave Tiff about three seconds to decide on his next action.
These few seconds became eternities for Sergeant Rous. The heavy impulse cannon kept roared without interruption and the destroyer didn't slow down a bit.
Rous yelled once more but the worst was already over. The vaporized matter flamed up in the mechano-gravitational shock absorption field of the destroyer. Before they could hear the screeching noise of the displaced particles, the machine already soared in a terrific deflecting curve out into the void, leaving behind a white-hot bubbling crater where the craggy peak had stood before.
The low-pitched roaring of the Arkonide energy weapon ceased. Only the powerful thundering of the impulse drive engines could still be heard.
Julian Tifflor's forehead was bathed in little beads of sweat. His voice sounded somewhat scratchy as he reported: "Order carried out, Sergeant." The "enemy unit" had to be destroyed as evasive action was no longer possible.
Rous wiped his cheeks with a fleeting gesture. With narrowed eyes he studied the lean but soft face of the cadet who was just beginning to relax his tension. It took a little while till Tiffs brown eyes showed their usual dreamy look. Moments ago they had been dark and cold and unfathomable.
"Do you always take your orders so literally?" Rous inquired with menacing mildness.
Tiff swallowed hard. Now he wasn't so sure of himself. "Yes, Sergeant," he replied with a swift glance to the back where Cadet Eberhardt was sitting in the place of the navigator.
Eberhardt's broad face resembled a washed out splotch of paint. "Boy, oh boy!" he gasped. "I could see myself already as a cloud of gas. I..."
"Your opinions are irrelevant, Cadet Eberhardt," Rous barked. "O.K. Now you take over the machine. Change places!"
Tiff had a wan smile on his lips. He very seldom broke out in a hearty laugh like the other cadets of the Space Academy did in their frequent exuberant moods. Awkwardly he wiggled out of the pilot seat and pushed himself back. Klaus Eberhardt suddenly began to perspire again. Now it was his turn! Tifflor squinted at Rous' fingers as he reached with his usual nervewracking fuss for his little "black book." It was only a regular pocket calendar but whatever was recorded there meant success or failure for the candidates of the Space Academy. Sergeant Rous remained still. Neither Tifflor nor Eberhardt could sense that the Sergeant was torn inside by conflicting feelings.
"What a nightmare," Rous kept thinking; "What a nightmare from hell!" At this point Tifflor was overcome by a wave of respect and boundless admiration. Sergeant Rous, the skilled and death-defying space pilot, became stiff as a pillar of salt and Eberhardt uttered a shrill squeal.
The telecom clicked and the lean rugged face of a man appeared on the picture screen of the ultra-fast transceiver. "Rous, is that you?" the voice reverberated loudly in the narrow cabin.
Rous found his tongue again. It was the Chief himself. What could have caused Perry Rhodan to call the little destroyer? Rous reported his presence and the man they recognized on the observation screen nodded quickly. "Thank you, I know. Come back at once and report to me. Is Cadet Julian Tifflor with you?"
This time Rous started to bite his lips. The cadet caught his look full of dark threats. Rous affirmed the question.
"Cadet Tifflor will have to report to me at 11 o'clock standard time. You'll come a few minutes earlier, Sergeant. Is that clear?"
This was typical of Rhodan, the man who had transformed the planet Earth into a galactic power of the first rank in the course of only 11 years.
"Yes, sir!" Rous stuttered in a turmoil. His eyes were bulging slightly.
"I beg your pardon, sir!
You said, I shall send Cadet Tifflor to you? To the palace?"
There was a hardly noticeable twinkle in Perry Rhodan's eyes. He seemed to be a little amused. "Yes, in the palace or, as you can also call it, my government office. By the way, was your test manoeuvre very risky? Who piloted the craft?"
"That same Tifflor, sir," Rous murmured with dry lips.
"Oh, is that so? Very good. That will be all." The picture screen was dim again. Only a hum in the loudspeaker remained. Sergeant Rous turned very slowly around in his seat. His dark eyes looked cold as ice. He had lost his sense of humor.
"Tifflor! What sort of mischief have you been up to? Out with it! You better start talking fast! What reason could the Chief. possibly have to summon a lowly cadet like you to the government office? What's going on here?"
Tiff felt his eyes get moist and the palms of his hands became dry. "I don't have the slightest idea, sergeant. Honest!"
"We'll see, fella. Heaven help you if you've ruined my test group with some stupidity. There'll be a miserable end for you at the Space Academy. Eberhardt, head for the Gobi airport and make it quick!"
A glistening flash plunged with undiminished speed toward the clearly visible crescent of the planet Earth. For the destroyer with the speed of light the trip to the moon was only a short hop. It was a fleeting moment, nothing more. Cadet Julian Tifflor had a lump in his throat. All he could think of was why in the world the Chief wanted to see him personally. What would the students of the Space Academy have to say about it? He shuddered when he thought about their derisive remarks or their pity. Obviously, something must have gone awry. A fledgling astronaut wasn't called to the inner sanctum unless there was a serious reason. Tifflor saw sombre clouds moving on the horizon of his imagination.
• • •
The tall man switched off the telecom. Pensively, Perry Rhodan, the Head of the New Power, gazed at the darkened screen.
"That boy will be close to a nervous breakdown," growled a sonorous voice. "You didn't have to clobber him with the news here and now. You should have picked a better occasion."
Rhodan lifted his head. Reginald Bell, his trusty friend, companion in countless adventures and Defense Minister of the New Power, looked puny and insignificant in the huge room. His mouth looked grim. He stared with dismay at his chief. Bell was one of those men who appeared implacable in the presence of the cadets. Yet when he talked about them he revealed the proverbial heart of gold.
Rhodan smiled faintly. It was apparent that he had looked once more right through the stocky, broad-shouldered man.
"Tifflor is a man without nerves," Rhodan said quietly. "We know him from the action against the Mutant Master. He operated like a smart tactician. I have to put him to work again although it'll be hard on him."
Reggy Bell took a deep, loud breath. Sharp lines stood out on his broad face.
"I agree, but only if you let him know what is involved."
Rhodan frowned and got up slowly from behind the tremendous table that more resembled a complicated switch console than a writing desk. The eyes of the two men met as they confronted each other.
"Let's riot kid ourselves," Rhodan stressed. "The only time he's allowed to know all about his mission is when its over."
"You're pulling him out in the middle of his final exam."
"If he accomplishes his assigned task I'll be happy to sign his diploma."
Bell let his shoulders drop. He glanced with a vacant look at the numerous monitoring screens in the workroom. Here was the nerve center of the New Power. He said haltingly: "Naturally you aren't very happy about the disappearance of three units from our space fleet."
Rhodan showed his famous and notorious smile. It was too mild to be convincing.
"You guessed it! Somebody we don't know is beginning to take an interest in us. The very thing I've tried to prevent for years has happened—the discovery of Terra and the Solar system by unknown intelligent beings. No arguments, please! It's already been proven that we're not dealing with the Mindsnatchers."
Bell was thinking about those peculiar individuals that had to be repulsed shortly after the establishment of the New Power. This time it looked more serious.
The big auxiliary ship K1 of the Good Hope class was reported missing, as well as two brand new spaceship destroyers of the zero series. These facts alone were sufficient reasons for Rhodan to spring into action.
Strangers had very suddenly appeared and quickly vanished again. It was beyond doubt that they must have been well informed about Terra and its inhabitants, too.
Rhodan's radio monitoring service had intercepted some mysterious short signals transmitted in the supralight range. The efforts at decoding had not made them comprehensible. Apparently the mixed groups of symbols were put together for different concepts in an arbitrary manner.
Rhodan had come to the firm conclusion that alien agents were operating on Earth. Despite deployment of the very efficient mutants from the special corps, it had not been feasible to track down a single one of these spies by telepathic methods. It seemed like a jinxed situation. A shadow without substance had spread out over the Earth, a shadow that could neither be seen nor touched and its existence only suspected.
Rhodan walked slowly over to the nearest videophone. He dialed and Dr. Haggard appeared on the screen. Haggard was in charge of the world-famous Gobi Clinic where Arkonide medical science was applied as a general rule.
"Our man will be here in two hours," Rhodan said tersely. "Did Professor Karner already leave on his flight?"
"About three hours ago. I'll follow in 10 minutes. We'll get it done."
Rhodan without another word waved to the camera and cut off the connection.
"Have you decided to take the risk?" Bell inquired anxiously. "It's going to be tough, I think. You ought to ask him first whether he agrees with it."
"If the slightest inkling of the facts are imbedded in his memory, he'll be more endangered, not less. We're playing with cosmic stakes, old friend."
Bell flipped his cap on and stalked noisily toward the armored hatch of the control center. "I guess you don't care to consider my opinion," he grumbled. "O.K., go and play the game your way. I still think it's a crazy idea. Attack is always the best defense."
"Whom do you want to attack and where?" Rhodan inquired with a calm voice.
Bell bit his lips before he left the room, swearing under his breath.
This was the root of the problem. What was there to attack, if there was no tangible adversary?
On this day Rhodan moved the lever—after careful consideration of all available data—to set in motion an action of vital significance in the far reaches of the cosmos. Its ultimate effect couldn't be predicted by anyone except Rhodan himself. The hour was destined to be designated as one of the most important in the history of mankind, even though, at this time, there was no way of knowing that the chronicle would be written. The Earthlings were still weak and their science and technical knowledge inferior. But they possessed other qualities of which only very few other intelligent beings could boast: a, tremendous urge for action, undaunted courage and a burning thirst for knowledge.
Rhodan reckoned with all of this and his hopes were not unjustified.
10/ The Egg That Laid An Egg
Tiff was brought back on board the K7 with the intention of enticing him to engage in conversations with his friends that would divulge some information. Of course the cadets had noticed long ago that the videophones were recording everything and that virtually no place on the ship was safe from surveillance.
"How stupid!" Mildred Orsons exclaimed with a vibrant look full of ridicule when Tifflor finally returned.
Orlgans had gone into the orbit he had announced earlier. Since one hour his ship Orla XI had been freely circling around a big planet about whose position the Earthlings knew practically nothing. They had merely been told by one of the numerous guards that this double star system had four planets with highly eccentric trajectories.
A few of the observation screens were left in operation so that the celestial bodies were plainly visible. But at the moment this was of secondary importance to the crew of the K7.
Major Deringhouse, Sergeant Rous and the Space Academy students had used the time during Tiff's absence to plot their strategy.
When Tifflor entered the large mess hall he could feel the tenseness in the air. The deliberately dull and meaningless conversation was so unusual that Tiffs curiosity was aroused.
He was asked to relate his story while they looked furtively at the dark videoscreens. This was enough to tip Tifflor off. A special team of the traders was listening in on every word.
Tiff gave his report in the same boring way until an incident occurred. Hifield was just the man to provoke a brawl. It was unbelievable how he flew into a rage and started to punch a husky man of the regular crew. It was no clean fight but it served the purpose.
It took only seconds for the long barrels of the thermoguns to appear in the opened hatch and the bulky figures of the guards behind the weapons. As soon as they had assured themselves that no revolt had been started they were satisfied.
Shouting with enthusiasm they egged the two fighters on with the result that Hifield's left eyebrow was laid open by a straight right from his brawny opponent.
Tiff was pulled behind another group of cheering onlookers. Deringhouse nodded quickly with urging eyes so that Tiff cooperated at once as Mildred threw herself into his arms amid tears and began to decry the folly of men. "Be careful, they're listening," she whispered. "Felice and I aren't closely watched. We're allowed to walk around in the ship. I was able to filch a microbomb from the ammunition store room at Airlock 3 without anybody noticing it. Take it and hide it before Hifield is knocked to the floor."
Tiff turned pale. He didn't know what to do first, help the distraught girl or conceal the micro atom bomb. Finally he decided to take care of the atom bomb since it was positively incapable of slapping his face or punishing with devastating looks.