by Perry Rhodan
"How do you like their gall, Thora?" Deringhouse asked sarcastically.
"Robots!" she replied dismissing it.
"THE Robot!" Deringhouse contradicted. "The Mammoth Brain. And if anyone in the Great Empire
knows how Terrans react to a restriction of their freedom, that 'lovable' Regent ought to know!"
Despite their situation's uncertainty Thora laughed. Her health had worsened again. "Deringhouse... although I am a member of the Zoltral dynasty and was born on Arkon 1... the Robot Regent is in my eyes the same monster as in yours. Maybe I don't challenge him with the same energetic determination as you Terrans despite the fact that lately I have to remind myself frequently that I'm not a child of Earth."
She was suddenly interrupted by the astrogator Merck. "General, we're deviating from our course. At Psi we're off 0.57 degrees. I've never seen such a discrepancy in robot navigation."
"0.57 degrees," Deringhouse repeated. "This is still in the Arkon system, Merck. For which planet could we be heading on this course?"
Thora listened attentively. As the former commander of a big space exploration ship she was an expert in such matters.
Merck grimaced. "The system has 27 planets. It's difficult to make an instant prediction. We better wait about half an hour."
Deringhouse was anxious to avoid any risk with Thora aboard. For this reason alone he instructed the radio officer: "Radio our present position to the closest relay station and advise them of the deviation from our course that has been forced on us. Details will follow."
Relay stations were those Terranian spaceships which were positioned according to a carefully devised plan at certain places in the Galaxy for the purpose of maintaining radio contact with Rhodan's agents. The messages they picked up were relayed to the next station and so on in an intricate pattern until they finally reached Terra. This complicated but safe procedure served to keep Terra's location a secret.
"Further course deflection on coordinate Chi, General, 1.18 degrees. We appear to be moving in the direction of Mutral!"
The light cruiser Burma was a compact sphere of machinery and its crew of 150 men was above the average of other ships. They were highly qualified people and more than two dozen of them who held the lowest rank aboard the Burma were among the best experts of Terra in their particular fields.
"Merck, you know your colleagues who must be alerted. I'll know for sure in 10 minutes." Then he turned to Pasgin and asked quickly: "How much longer?" His question referred the time it would take to reach Arkon 3.
"Five to six hours if we maintain our velocity 0.89 speol, General."
Deringhouse switched to the radio room again. "Did you listen in?"
"Yes, General!" was the brief answer.
"Hold back message to relay station. Get it off the moment precise evaluation has been received!"
Then Deringhouse glanced again at Thora, who had sat down in a chair. The confident poise she had shown heretofore was now gone. The orders issued by the general in response to the divergent course on the coordinates Psi and Chi had made her apprehensive. "I just don't have the same old drive anymore," she said in a resigned tone.
They heard the hatch to the Command Center roll back. For the first time since the Burma had taken off from Earth the girl esper Ishy Matsu entered the Command Center. Without Thora becoming aware of it, Deringhouse passed on his thoughts about his serious concern for Thora to her. His mind was open to read for Ishy.
Ishy gave him a sign with her hand and Deringhouse turned to Thora again. You must've overdone it a little, Thora. Why don't you take a rest till... till we know where we're going to land." He had decided at the last moment to tell her the truth since it was impossible to deceive an experienced spaceship commander like Thora in this respect.
She thanked him with a girlish smile and didn't seem to be surprised to see Ishy stand at her side although she declined her help when she got up.
Did she feel the gaze of the men when she rose? Why did her face show such an unhealthy red color? Was it the inner excitement or the physical exertion?
Leaning gently on the arm of the pretty Japanese girl, she left the Command Center. As soon as the hatch door was closed behind her, Deringhouse exploded in his roughest tone: "Gentlemen, if you dare once more to stare at Thora with your misplaced pity, I'll give you a piece of my mind you won't forget! Thora is incurably ill and she knows it. But she doesn't want to be reminded of it by your probing eyes. I hope we understand each other!"
He sat down before the huge panoramic observation screen of the Burma, which showed the five heavy Arkonide cruisers escorting them as sharp points standing out from the background of the glittering stellar cluster.
"Object approaching!" the officer on duty at the structure-sensor called. "Echo from two ships, probably Titan class, heading from yellow in our direction near speed of light. Distance 1.43 light-minutes."
Now the communications center came in: "Intercepted exchange of scrambled and condensed communications on hyper-frequency of Regent. Now..."
At this moment the voice of the radio officer was replaced by the Robot Regent himself: "...force to land on Mutral. To be restrained from starting again!"
The message from the gigantic positronic Brain was ended. Thanks to a miniaturized device built by the Swoons, which analyzed the scrambling impulse and condensing pattern instantaneously, they had been able to listen in to the call from the Arkonide positronicon.
The emergence of the two gigantic spaceships was only of secondary interest to the men in the Command Center. Their eyes turned to Deringhouse, who sat calmly in his chair watching the big panoramic screen. He seemed unable to take his eyes off the spectacular display of fiery suns. But now he narrowed his gaze.
Two points appeared. Two closer points swung out left and right; they were the two heavy cruisers forming the tail of the escort which now made room for the gigantic spaceships roaring in almost as fast as light.
"They're gaining on us!... They still keep coming! Distance less than 4,000 kilometers... 2,000! 1,000! Now manoeuvring to fall in line with the super-battleships. Slowly braking! 600 kilometers... 300!" And then came the final announcement with a hint of relief in the voice: "Flanking manoeuvre completed. Ships took up position in yellow 80 kilometers aft!"
"Routine," was the only comment Deringhouse made.
The fairly young crew of the Burma still had to gather much experience. There were more than 5000 Arkonide monitoring stations which made it impossible to slip through unnoticed, and furthermore the Regent insisted on escorting each arrival vessel for reasons of sheer self-preservation. That Deringhouse didn't volunteer any commentary on the conversation with the robot Brain they had intercepted was simply the result of his inability to take countermeasures at the moment and not a sign of a careless attitude.
The amplifier clicked and the communication center reported that the message had been transmitted in code to the relay station Sigma 82.
Deringhouse leaned back in his chair and said jovially: "Gentlemen, we'll soon be sighting Mutral but I don't think I'll like it any better than Pluto."
It was plain enough to what he alluded. As the 27th and last planet of the Arkon system Mutral's icy climate resembled Pluto's inhospitable environment. Since the advent of Arkonide space travel, Mutral had served as a planetary citadel and in its 15,000-year history had crushed many an attempt at invasion from the Galactic space at the fringe of the planetary system. What the formerly bold Arkonides had built there seemed to last for all eternity.
Due to his thorough hypno-training it was unnecessary for Conrad Deringhouse to consult the reference data on Mutral. He doubted no longer that the Burma would be compelled to land there and his main concern hinged on the fact that the robot Brain had declared its willingness to negotiate and why it had picked Mutral as the place for the planned deal.
Now the robot commander called once more from one of the five heavy cruisers, repeating his demand without asking questions.<
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Deringhouse left the decision to Joe Pasgin, and the First Officer of the Burma responded in the same manner as the general who had denied the demand before. "Report your data. We refuse to let robots pilot our ship! How many more times do we have to explain this to you?"
Pasgin's last question was a waste of breath. The lifeless robot commander simply replied: "Data will be provided immediately."
The computer brain of the Burma converted all measurements without delay into Terranian values and graduations and the light cruiser followed the instructions for the course, so that all of a sudden the planet Mutral appeared on the observation screen.
Situated too far from the sun of Arkon to nourish life with its light, Mutral was nothing but a rugged and desolate world of ice whose 8,000-meter-high mountains were also buried under the deadly cold armor. Grey, almost black, only faintly reflecting the light from the M-13 suns, the globe hovered like an eerie menace in space.
"What a pleasant welcome this is!" Pasgin exclaimed. He was glad to leave the chore of safely landing on this icy hell to Hendrik Olavson.
The navigational data kept coming in without interruption and finally they picked up the radio beam of Mutral which simplified the approach.
The shock absorbers of the light cruiser began to hum as the Burma reduced its speed. Not once did its slowdown exceed the deceleration potential of the escorting Arkonide ships. Sometimes it even lagged behind and threatened to collide with the protective screens of the Arkonide cruisers due to its apparently inadequate ability to retard its velocity.
With a grin Deringhouse admonished the youthful Olavson to cut out his antics. It was his last chuckle on this flight to the Arkon system.
The Burma now entered the landing lane at an altitude of 4,000 kilometers above the interplanetary fortress of Mutral. The five heavy cruisers escorting their ship banked away but the two remaining super-battleships followed close behind.
Out of scientific interest Deringhouse had focused his magnifying instruments on the open muzzles of the Arkonide impulse and disintegrator cannons and it was plain to see that these two 'escort ships' were also ready for combat.
It was clear that the entire planet was in a state of readiness for defense and that the automatic tracking stations of the fortress followed each movement of the Burma.
For some reason the memory of the garbled message from the agent on Aralon kept constantly cropping up in Deringhouse's mind. Despite his efforts Deringhouse was unable to shake off the thought of the four truncated words it contained.
At a height of 10,000 meters above the surface of the planet, Olavson let the ship drop straight down and brought the antigrav field into play after it had plunged 8,000 meters, balancing the forces again.
A low rumble reverberated through the ship as the telescopic support legs slid out and the Terranian ship floated down, led to its landing by the guide beam. Thus the spot where they had to touch the ground was strictly determined. The two Arkonide vessels of the Imperium class which continued to 'accompany' them, followed them like a double shadow.
Suddenly enormously bright searchlights flared up. Their glaring light exposed an area of 10 square kilometers and revealed what a bizarre and hostile world the outer planet of the Arkon system was.
The illumination also showed the crew of the Burma that the numerous dark dots in the glittering ice were by no, means dirty spots but the open muzzles of several hundred artillery pieces. The light cruiser of the Solar Spacefleet had landed smack in the central sector of the interplanetary fortress Mutral. The robot Regent couldn't have picked a more secure place.
"Protective shield to remain activated!" Deringhouse ordered.
The situation remained unchanged for more than 10 hours. Calls to the robot Brain found no echo. The mammoth positronicon took its time but Deringhouse's patience was not inexhaustible. After 10 hours it had reached its limit.
While Thora still rested in her cabin in an oblivious state under the influence of a sleeping pill, Gen. Deringhouse entered the radio room and took a seat in front of the hypercom picture screen. Then he turned to the technician and ordered: "Put me on the hyper-frequency of the Brain! I'm going to call that Regent and..." He didn't finish his sentence but the expression on his face made the rest clear.
The connection with Arkon 3 was established but the Brain failed to stir. The confusing, flickering lines which signaled the arrangement of the radio contact failed to appear notwithstanding the fact that Rhodan's agents of the Solar Intelligence Service had conducted extremely perilous investigations and determined that every call on the frequency of the robot Brain did indeed get through automatically.
"Regent!" Deringhouse said into the mike, "I've landed my ship on Mutral but not without first reporting this fact to Perry Rhodan. It should be very detrimental to our upcoming discussions
"Wait!"
This totally unexpected answer startled the tough general but the surprise didn't affect his presence of mind the slightest. He replied just as curtly: "But not another 10 hours, Regent!"
There was no answer and he waved the radio technician to switch off the hypercom.
When the general entered the Command Center he found his entire staff at their posts. Ever since the Burma had landed 10 hours earlier the ship had been in a state of alarm.
The impulse propulsion system was kept running at idling speed. Although it used up energy, the knowledge of being ready to start instantly was reassuring. The energy feeding the powerful engines in the circular bulge around the Burma had only to be stepped up by the flick of a switch to make the ship shoot out into the universe like a flash of lightning. This was the superior feature of the little ship and its team knew that Arkon had nothing to compare with it. That a few hundred cannons were aimed at their vessel bothered them very little as they had hundreds of small but extremely effective interference devices aboard to jam the delicate tracking instruments of the Arkonide impulse, thermo and disintegrator cannons.
"There's a call for you, General!" the radio officer announced and put it through. The picture of an Arkonide who looked condescendingly at Deringhouse appeared on the screen.
"Taa-Rell, Chief Commander of Mutral, Terran!" he introduced himself in the most refined Arkonide language. "I expect your visit. Please come at once before I look at the next simultan-play!"
Conrad Deringhouse didn't lose his composure. He knew these Arkonides who had no longer anything in common with their adventurous predecessors. They had become biologically unstable and as a result of their decline considered it the purpose of their lives to devote themselves without inhibitions to leisure and inertia, shying away from all responsibilities. Totally depraved, they looked down on other beings as creatures of a lower class and let them feel it.
The puffy face of the Arkonide with a cynical smile around his effeminate lips remained motionlessly on the screen and Deringhouse studied it intently. This seemed to annoy the Arkonide and in contrast to the characteristic indifference displayed by his race he declared in a miffed tone: "Terran, do I have to tell you again who I am?"
The general sat unperturbed in front of the camera. "Arkonide," Deringhouse replied, feeling somewhat indulgent, "what do you have to brag about if you are the commander of this chunk of ice? I'm a general of the Solar Spacefleet and my commander is Perry Rhodan!"
For a moment it looked as if the Arkonide had been prodded out of his lethargy but then all he could do was to utter with contempt: "Rhodan... who's he?"
Deringhouse didn't get a chance to answer him. The bloated face disappeared from the screen to make room for a robot. "GD-78-P-45623, sir!" the machine stated. "It is my duty as commander of the robot units on Mutral to warn you against any attempt to leave. The 'Great Coordinator' has given orders to keep you on the planet Mutral. We've taken appropriate measures to prevent you from starting, by force if necessary."
The connection broke off and the screen went dark. Deringhouse looked at his officers. "I believe this has cla
rified our situation. However I can't see any immediate danger. We'll have to wait 'til the 'Great Coordinator' is ready to bargain with us."
When the door opened, Deringhouse expected to see Thora enter; instead the exquisite Ishy Matsu came in and caused him to feel concern. He looked at her sharply, almost imperatively.
"General, during the past hour I've been receiving an increasing number of ominous impulses. Is it possible that the Aras are haunting this icy world?"
Her question alarmed Deringhouse considerably. The garbled message from our Aralon agent, he thought. The menace made him shudder but he merely said to the mutant: "Ishy, please come with me!"
They went to his cabin and sat down to talk.
"What kind of dangerous impulses did you get, Ishy? You must keep in mind that Rhodan assigned you to protect Thora." Deringhouse opened a barrage of questions but Ishy remained steadfast.
"What I've picked up was full of threats. I was unable to read the thought-impulses clearly and I couldn't find them again... as if the mass of the planet Mutral had shifted between me and the others. I can't explain it, General."
The intercom interrupted them with a report from the Communication Center. "The robot Brain was carrying on a conversation with somebody on Mutral. Unfortunately our interceptor failed to identify the other party in this case. There were only three short impulses transmitted from Arkon."
Deringhouse had to think of the suspicion the mutant girl had voiced earlier. "Do you know which station was involved on this planet?"
Without hesitating the radio officer replied: "The antipode station, General. Do you wish to know the exact location?"
"No, thank you!"
The speaker was silent again and Deringhouse exchanged glances with the young girl.
"I can no longer allow Thora to involve herself in this mission under any circumstances," the general decided.
But the telepath objected heatedly: "If you do that you'll have to carry Thora back to Earth in a coffin. She'll never survive such a disappointment. Do you realize that it is your fault, General, if Thora feels ill and looks old again?"