Exodus to the Stars

by Andreas Brandhorst

  "I'm just as curious as you are," Rhodan said.

  "All right." Brodbeck nodded to Huang. "Let's try it with the first module."

  Lee's fingers glided across the holographic controls and the glowing hyperweb started moving once more. Like a hand with dozens of colored fingers, it felt for the first data storage module and the information that the Lemurians had entered into it over the course of six centuries of dilated time—the oldest data was objectively 56,000 years old.

  Rhodan's hands flew to his temples as a sudden pain stabbed through him—someone seemed to be trying to drive a dagger into his brain. But after a second or two, the hot pain changed to a strange mental itching, as though a feather stroked every single thought and every single feeling. He scratched his head out of pure reflex.

  "Perry?" Sharita asked. She still stood next to him, but her voice had grown faint, as though it came from a distance. Other sounds forced their way into the background, sounds that did not originate in the technical section of the PALENQUE.

  Rhodan wanted to reply, but was unable to open his mouth or to move his tongue and lips. A terrible thought struck him—Is my Cell Activator defective?—but it immediately faded away and lost itself in the gray mist of a forgetfulness that overwhelmed the here and now. He was aware of sinking to the floor, but that did not matter. It was part of a world that remained around him as he fell through a stream of images that seemed completely strange and at the same time strangely familiar. Images whose details he at first did not understand and yet became solid. Something pulled his thoughts like rubber bands, and as they were torn apart, something else took their place.

  Sharita Coho looked down at Perry Rhodan. He lay on a diagnostic couch in the PALENQUE's med-station, connected to a medical Syntron that monitored his biofunctions. The ship's physician, Dr. Hyman Mahal, had just examined him.

  "How is he doing, Doctor?"

  "Pulse and respiration have stabilized," Dr. Mahal said. "The same for his metabolic functions. He's ... sleeping."

  "That doesn't look like normal sleep to me. What about his Cell Activator?"

  "Everything's all right as far as I can determine."

  "But you aren't entirely sure?"

  "I've never had an Activator-carrier as one of my patients, Sharita."

  The commander noticed Rhodan's eyes moving beneath his closed lids. The rest of his body remained completely motionless, but his eyes showed hectic activity.

  Sharita gestured to him. "What does that mean?"

  "He's dreaming."

  Sharita turned to Brodbeck. "Have the data storage modules been disconnected from the scanner?"

  "Yes, but there's still a mental connection between him and the data storage unit."

  "Hmmm ... " Sharita considered whether she should get in touch with Terra and request help. After all, this concerned the Terran Resident. "Is his condition life-threatening?"

  "No," Mahal replied, pointing to the readouts on the diagnostic couch. "As I said, his condition is stable. If it goes on much longer, Rhodan will have to be artificially nourished, but his life is definitely not threatened."

  Sharita thought of the precarious balance with Jere von Baloy and the Akonians of the LAS-TOOR that continued despite the dangers that had been overcome in the previous few days. How would they react if they received hypercom signals that came from the PALENQUE and were being transmitted to the Earth? Wouldn't they feel something was going on behind their backs, and suspect the Terrans were requesting reinforcement?

  "We'll wait for the time being," Sharita finally decided, looking once more at the rigid face with hyperactive eyes beneath their closed lids. "Perhaps he'll wake up on his own."

  She raised her head when a voice sounded from the intercom loudspeaker. "Sharita?"

  "I hear you, Alemaheyu."

  "There's a new arrival in the Ichest System. He just made contact with us."

  "Who is it?"

  "Icho Tolot."

  4

  Icho Tolot

  The spherical black starship dropped back into normal space two light-minutes above the target system's ecliptic. At its controls sat a monster with a peaceful heart. He was three and a half meters tall and his shoulders were two and a half meters wide. He had four arms and black hair, and three red eyes glowed in his hemispherical head.

  Icho Tolot immediately began scanning the area of space surrounding his ship to acquire an impression of the current situation. A biopositronic interface connected him with his ship's scanners and sensors. The incoming hyperdetector data was not only received by the on-board Syntron, but also by the Halutian's overbrain, which immediately processed and evaluated the information.

  Something had led Perry Rhodan to call him here to this remote star system with an urgent message. Icho Tolot was frustrated that he did not know any of the details, but it was undoubtedly an important matter and he considered it best to be prepared for anything. Immediately upon reentering the normal space-time continuum, his spacecraft enveloped itself in a Paratron shield, and the Syntron held the Paratron projectors ready along with the ship's guns. If it came to an attack, Icho Tolot was well-protected, and within a few seconds he could defend himself in a highly effective manner.

  But Perry Rhodan had not spoken of an imminent danger in his brief message, so the Halutian was not surprised when there was no attack. Icho Tolot looked at the readings on the instruments, and his regular brain took in the first results of the data analyses performed by the overbrain. There was a large red sun with eleven planets, three of them—numbers four through six—in the ecosphere, and an extended asteroid belt between the seventh and eighth planets.

  Two starships were in the vicinity of the fifth planet. Configuration and energy patterns enabled an immediate identification: one ship was Terran, the other Akonian. There was no apparent hostility between them.

  Did Perry Rhodan's hypercom call have something to do with the Akonians?

  Icho Tolot's overbrain concerned itself with that question while it continued to absorb scanning data, process it, and compare the results of this evaluation with the results of the on-board Syntron's analysis. It was an automatic procedure, long routine for the Halutian, and his regular brain used the opportunity for more emotional considerations. Perry Rhodan's voice echoed from his memory, a voice that Tolot knew well and whose nuances he could interpret. Something in that voice hinted at amazement and excitement, along with a certain tension. Something had happened in this planetary system that had greatly astonished Rhodan.

  The readings of the instruments in front of Tolot changed and new scanning data reached his overbrain. He reacted immediately and touched several control fields. A diagram appeared on the main screen: a schematic depiction of the star system with the asteroid belt, expanding as he approached, in the center. The scanners showed several energy signatures: four came from the Terran ship's crawlers, while a fifth and considerably weaker one originated from a capsule that moved between the debris of a primitive and, in terms of energy, largely dead spaceship.

  But that was not all. Out in space, in the cold night between the numerous lifeless wanderers in the asteroid belt, yet another form of activity was in progress.

  The Halutian's overbrain came to the same conclusion only a fraction of a second after the on-board Syntron, as the regular brain proudly realized: Teleporter.

  Three red eyes watched as the signatures of the four crawlers disappeared from the field on the main screen, along with the pattern of discharge spikes from the teleportation energy. A few seconds later, the capsule also disappeared.

  The Halutian ship's highly sensitive scanning systems registered the echo of an energy pulse from the depths of the asteroid belt, and the on-board Syntron immediately calculated appropriate course vectors.

  Icho Tolot leaned forward, switched on the hypercom, and sent the Terran ship an identification signal. At the same time, his overbrain gave the Syntron a command: the ship accelerated and approached the asteroid belt fro
m "above." Its defensive and offensive readiness level remained unchanged.

  A human face appeared on the communication screen: its skin was dark and its hair bushy and curly. "I am Alemaheyu Kossa, communications officer of the PALENQUE. Greetings, Icho Tolot."

  "I greet you, too," the Halutian replied. It sounded like the rumbling of a threateningly nearby thunderstorm. "My friend Perry Rhodan sent me a message calling me here. He said he had something important to tell me."

  "I'll inform the commander. Please have a little patience."

  Icho Tolot gestured in confirmation with one of his four arms while the other three operated the controls in front of him. The pulse echo of the teleporter energy grew increasingly faint and finally vanished entirely, but the hyperdetector had determined its origin point: an asteroid with a diameter of 1259 kilometers.

  The curly-haired man disappeared from the dialogue screen and a few seconds later Icho Tolot saw a woman with short black hair, striking dark, almond-shaped eyes, and prominent cheekbones.

  "I am Sharita Coho, commander of the PALENQUE. Welcome to the Ichest System. I know that Perry Rhodan sent you a message."

  "I left at once." Icho Tolot waited, and when the commander did not respond, he asked, "Can I speak with Rhodanos?"

  "I'm sorry," the Terran woman replied. "There was an incident on board. Perry Rhodan is in some kind of coma."

  Concern dominated the regular brain's thoughts as the overbrain evaluated the changed situation. "Is his life in danger?"

  "No. He seems to be caught up in a dream. Apparently his mind is somehow merged with portions of the data storage unit that came from the wreck of a Lemurian generation ship."

  The overbrain added this information to a complex mathematical analysis model and attempted to make connections between still unknown factors using initial extrapolations.

  "Immediately after my arrival," Tolot rumbled, "I registered energy signatures in the asteroid belt. Four of your crawlers and a capsule that apparently came from a piece of wreckage from the generation ship. Teleporter fields have shifted the crawlers as well as the capsule. I am flying to the place where the fields were generated."

  For one or two seconds, Sharita Coho stared at him in surprise, then leaned to the side and spoke with a member of her crew. Tolot only understood some of what was said, but suspected that the commander was verifying his statements. Perry Rhodan's message to him, the discovery of a Lemurian generation ship, and the presence of Akonians, not to mention teleporter fields that had transferred four crawlers and a Lemurian capsule somewhere else—all that had aroused the Halutian's interest.

  "You're right," Sharita said after a few moments. "The crawlers really have vanished. We've lost contact with them."

  "Their rematerialization seems to be taking place on or in an asteroid." Tolot sent the coordinates. "I will attempt to find out more there."

  "Please don't undertake anything entirely on your own," the commander of the PALENQUE said. "Wait until the LAS-TOOR has joined you."

  "Do you refer to the Akonian ship?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you working together with the Akonians?"

  Sharita sighed softly. "It's a long story."

  "And time is pressing, is it not?" Icho Tolot let out a laugh that was abrupt, loud, and thundering, which made Sharita wince as though in pain.

  Then the communication screen went dark.

  Dozens of readouts in front of the Halutian shared the fate of the hypercom display. The overbrain registered this event with analytical attentiveness and began at once with new calculations while the regular brain was still trying to absorb an astonishing fact: important systems on the ship had failed. And that was impossible because Halutian technology always functioned with absolute reliability.

  Unless some manipulating force was affecting it.

  The overbrain sent the ship's Syntron a command to activate the Paratron shield. Nothing happened. The biopositronic interface no longer functioned.

  The green glow of the HO shield flickered and disappeared. Alien energy felt its way to the Halutian starship, found a path inside and slipped through the ship's systems ...

  The Syntron began an emergency shutdown of all system components that still functioned in order to prevent damage. Within a few seconds, the ship lost its entire offensive and defensive potential. Surprise prevented the regular brain from making decisions, but the overbrain reacted with cool Syntronic logic and allowed Icho Tolot to extend a six-fingered hand to the engine controls. It was imperative to get out of the danger zone as fast as possible.

  The hand did not have a chance to reach the controls.

  Something froze Icho Tolot as the last humming voices of his ship went silent. Darkness suddenly surrounded the Halutian, which hardly affected his perception since the three red eyes were sensitive to infra-red. The overbrain continued its analyses and evaluations of the situation and determined that not all of the ship's systems were non-functioning. Energy was still being generated and a portion of it was still being used for the artificial gravity. The rest underwent a conversion by the alien influence that transformed it into its tool.

  There was a tingling deep inside Icho Tolot, and the experience of many thousands of years knew how to interpret that sensation: the ship was being pulled into a hyperdimensional vortex.

  The Halutian tried to break free of his paralysis, and when he did not succeed even though both brains were concentrating on the task, he then attempted to change his body's molecular structure.

  These efforts caused something completely unexpected.

  The hardening of his body that made him virtually unassailable and invulnerable did not occur. Instead, the tingling of the hyperdimensional suction was joined by a burning that was horrifyingly familiar, a legacy of the past that the Halutians had long had under control. The feeling resembled the beginning of an urge purge, but there was more behind it. Much more. That was the urge to destroy without restraint, to smash everything that came within reach, to trample everything that got in his way. And the stronger that urge became, the more his paralysis weakened.

  Icho Tolot understood what was coming. He could not resist the burning much longer, and when it finally overwhelmed him, he would start his rampage of destructive madness on board his own ship.

  5

  Jorgal

  The Youngest Ones of the Group whimpered—the maintenance capsule was definitely not their familiar surroundings—and fear caused some of them to change. Tanira took care of them and also tried to calm the fearful Hilaila. Darhel crouched by the capsule's brain, the device that held knowledge like a living head. During the flight he had tried to take in at least a portion of that knowledge so his head would become even heavier.

  Jorgal noticed none of this. While he sang along with the songs in the capsule's machines, he also dreamed the dream of the Mother of Machines.

  The dream had accompanied him for his entire long—or short; he did not quite know—life. In it, he wandered tall and light-footed through a great world of machines, larger than that which lay behind him and his companions, and everywhere could be heard the most wonderful songs. Thousands of melodies wove themselves into each other and formed a symphonic network, and in the center of that web waited the Mother of Machines. She was not like a hungry insect hoping for prey, but like a new Group that offered final, ultimate security, in which it was always safe and warm. A place where not only mind and soul found peace, but also where the Uncertainties of the body vanished. The Mother of Machines sang the most beautiful of all songs, with the most complex and elegant harmonies, and Jorgal knew that he would be happy there forever. The joy that waited with her for him was even greater than that which Memerek's large green eyes promised.

  He firmly believed that the Mother of Machines was more than just a wish. He had tried on occasion to search in the Ship for her, but limits had been set on his freedom of movement there. The Normals of the Group had limited the Community's contacts with the othe
r Normals to a minimum. Before the Collision, the melodies of the machines had been extremely beautiful and he missed them very much, but those in the machine world lured him with a much greater magic.

  And then he saw her at the end of a corridor lined by singing machines: the Mother of Machines he had sought and who had been awaiting him. She revealed herself to him in the form of a woman, a projection of the songs, wrapped in a white robe that billowed here and there even though the air in the corridor was not moving—no wind blew here. Hair that was white as well reached far down her shoulders, and her blue eyes promised all that Jorgal had ever hoped for. He ran towards her—his third leg not hindering him as it normally would—with a joy in his heart that gave him a new melody and his life a meaning.

  But when he had almost reached the woman, the Mother of Machines, her eyes changed—they grew larger and turned green ...

  "Jorgal?" Memerek asked and looked at him from the green eyes that dominated her face. He saw the white down on her skin, white like the robe and hair of the Mother of Machines. "Something's happening."

  He sensed it as soon as he awoke. The songs of the capsule grew softer even though his third leg still connected him with them. Their singing changed into the faint whispering that had made him feel so sad in the Ship.

  The Youngest Ones whimpered more loudly—or perhaps the whimpering only seemed louder to Jorgal because the song of the machines had faded. Memerek crawled to the others in order to help Tanira soothe the Group children.

  Darhel pushed himself closer and tilted the large globe of his head towards Jorgel. "Our energy reserves are running out," he said in a low voice, "and we still haven't reached the section of wreckage with functioning environmental systems."

  The seriousness in Darhel's voice made Jorgal uneasy. Often he spoke like that to him as if his head was heavy with knowledge, even though it actually felt quite light and contained many empty places. With his half-crippled hand, Darhel pointed to the window.