by Perry Rhodan
Zerft gave him the OK, not being anxious himself to get back into the smoke-filled room again. He left
the house together with Liszog and they sat on the ground to wait for Golath, who came back after a few minutes.
"Well?" Zerft asked and got up.
Golath was pensive as he reported: "It really was a machine. A special machine."
Liszog cocked his head. Maybe he had succeeded in doing a good service to his companions after all."
Zerft asked dubiously: "A special machine? For what?"
"For chopping up food," Golath explained.
Liszog was deflated and Zerft gave him a nasty look. "We have to go back to the Kaszill," Golath said calmly. "We must get some equipment and Liszog's wounds have to be bandaged, too."
For a change Zerft raised no objections. He walked first without a word and Liszog followed, downcast.
• • •
Khrest was in the unenviable position of a man who watched a strange show taking place before his eyes in which he played the main role but was unable to change the events. In the meantime the Arkonide had realized that the machine was not set as an ingenious trap for him. In his haste he had triggered the mechanism by accident but he was still baffled by the purpose of the device. The spirals and wires which dangled over his face seemed to search for something the old man apparently lacked. The robot machine would desist only after it carried out its task and Khrest had no idea what it was.
He saw only one other possibility of terminating the efforts of the machine but it could mean the termination of his life as well: the return of the men with the trunks!
Khrest expected to see one of the hulking bodies appear in the open hatch at any moment with a thermo-beamer in his hands. The scientist was unable to use physical force to free himself from his desperate situation. His strength had ebbed too much to break the metal clamps holding him down on the bench. His only hope was that the robot machine would stop its operation when it proved to be futile. There was no other way out of his dilemma that had any semblance of logic.
Bzzzzzzzzzt continued the nerve-wracking noise emanating from the contrivance. The rod spiraled down over the nose of the Arkonide, squirted a fluid and retreated. Then it was followed by the quivering wires which probed the contours of his face and the cycle was repeated.
Khrest kept worrying about the safety of the spacejet. Perhaps the aliens had already managed to force their way into the little ship. He was burdened by a feeling of guilt when he thought of the promise he had given Perry Rhodan. How could he keep it in his frustrating situation?
Khrest was not afraid of death. He was a seasoned veteran who rationally weighed his chance's and acted accordingly. He had come to this planet to live out his declining days in peace and solitude. Now he faced death even sooner than he expected but it would be far from peaceful.
Once more he strained his weak body to the utmost in a futile effort to break his bonds. The thought that he was in danger of losing the spacejet gave him extraordinary strength. He tensed the muscles of his arms and tried to raise his back. But to no avail.
Give up! he reasoned. Save your strength!
Khrest smiled although he was exhausted by his desperate effort. "Save my strength?" he exclaimed. "For what?"
There was only silence around him except for the buzzing of the confounded contraption which persisted in wagging its tentacles before his eyes and spraying the malodorous liquid in his face.
Soon it would be getting dark and Khrest wondered whether the trunk-men would return to their ship before nightfall. It did not require much imagination to picture the dismal consequences of their appearance.
The capacity of the machine was bound to be limited. It was likely to cease functioning when it was exhausted. Was there a possibility to increase its speed of operation and thereby end it sooner? No robot had enough energy reserves to go on forever. Khrest reviewed his knowledge of cybernetic science. The programming by an intelligent mind determined the basic principle of each machine, even the most simple one. Each robot was assigned a task which it had to perform. A working robot was no more than information converted into action.
His analysis of the unfamiliar machine had to be determined by the inevitable results of that theory. The reaction of the machine was triggered by the command of its data of information but it was unable to differentiate between a conscious and deliberate impulse or an accidental interference with its system as happened to be the case with Khrest. The robot had only two phases. It was either at rest or it did its work. There could be no middle ground between these extremes.
It was painfully obvious to Khrest at which phase the robot functioned when it attacked him. However there had to be a surefire method to escape the diabolical apparatus by simply switching it off. But how could Khrest find out what to do if he did not even know what he had done to set off this instrument of torture?
Bzzzzzzzzzzt, the machine whirred monotonously and the Arkonide began to resent it as a personal sneer. After another hour spent in discomfort, Khrest almost wished the aliens would come back. His face was sopping wet and his hair soaked. His eyes burned and the parts of his body touching the straps were sore. His feet protruding over the bench felt like lumps of lead.
You mustn't give up now! he kept admonishing himself. You have to be mentally alert when you confront the aliens!
"Confront? My foot!" Khrest whispered sarcastically. Why didn't he give in to Rhodan when he urged him to retire in the high mountains of Terra? He could have found serenity on Arkon too. Atlan, who had wrested the power from the Robot Regent, would have seen to that. He wanted to shake his head but the pad restricting his forehead prevented him from moving. He no longer regarded Arkon as his home and he would not have felt at ease in the old world. In the course of years he had become more and more alienated from the Great Imperium. His activities were devoted to the support of the Earthlings. He felt little sympathy for the degenerated Arkonides and had lost his sense of loyalty to his people. After Thora, Rhodan's wife, had died her tragic death, he had cut the last ties to his place of birth. The negative genetic effect of the Arkonide heritage on Thomas Cardif, Thora's and Perry's son, had finally caused him to turn away from Arkon.
He was startled by a noise. When he shifted his eyes he could barely see the open hatch. Were his three opponents returning? Khrest ignored the labors of the machine. What mattered now was to detect the slightest advantage if it presented itself.
The old Arkonide fixed his gaze steadfastly in the direction from where the enemy would approach. Whatever happened he wanted to do everything in his power to save the spacejet. First he heard a rustling and shuffling sound, then stomping footsteps. Khrest maintained a cool determination despite his weakened condition. His fate was probably already sealed, yet he was not afraid. Though he was endowed with great courage it was his age that had diminished his fear of death.
The thuds came closer. The liquid dripping over Khrest's cheeks made him sneeze and close his eyes. When he opened them again, they stood before him, three stout figures with trunks, as tall as Khrest but twice as broad. They paused silently and motionlessly at the hatch and scrutinized him with big green eyes.
"Hello," Khrest rasped.
• • •
When they passed through the airlock Golath had a strange feeling of being watched. He shook his trunk sharply. Zerft stood still and held Liszog back.
"What's the matter?" Zerft asked.
Golath didn't bother to answer. He had followed the broad-shouldered Zerft on their march and his wrath had grown steadily until it reached climactic proportions. "It's nothing," he finally said with pronounced disgust.
Zerft raised his arms and Golath saw that his trunk stiffened. Their eyes crossed in a blaze of hostility.
Liszog stepped between them, holding his injured hand. "Why don't we go on?" he complained. "My hand hurts and it must be dressed."
Zerft relented a little and Golath blunted the challenge, sway
ing his trunk. Zerft turned around and walked off without a word, leading the way to the control room through the main corridor. When they reached the hatch, Zerft suddenly stopped in his tracks. Golath and Liszog rushed to his side.
Golath was so perplexed he forgot to breathe. A stranger lay on the trunk cleaner! Not a Unither—an Arkonide!
The machine tried in vain to find the trunk of the short-nosed man. The three Unithers were completely stupefied until the stranger croaked something in a thin voice. It was a signal for Golath to step to the trunk-cleaner. Liszog gasped in horror. Zerft pushed Golath aside and drew his thermo-beamer out of the holster. "An Arkonide!" he shouted, his face distorted in hate, as he aimed his weapon at the defenseless man at their feet.
4/ SECOND THOUGHTS
Terrania had one of its rare rainy days. Its houses were shrouded in grey silhouettes. The parks and promenades were deserted. All people remained in their homes or visited places of amusement indoors.
Perry Rhodan gazed absentmindedly at the pattern of raindrops the wet weather had splashed on his large windows. Finally he turned away from the window and went to his desk.
Reginald Bell, relaxing in a comfortable chair, smiled at his friend. He knew the tall lanky man too well not to be aware of his emotions. "You are worried, Perry," he said. It was more an observation than a question. "There is nothing to be concerned about at the moment. Pucky is busy building a new home on Mars for his rescued breed and everybody else is taking care of daily routines more or less." Then he added glumly: "Including both of us."
"You call it routine," Rhodan corrected his friend quietly. "I call it painstaking attention to details and sifting through accumulations of papers. It won't be long before we will have to test the linear propulsion system of the Druufs in action. Then you will have more work than you like."
Bell made a futile attempt to put his red hair bristles in shape by smoothing them with his hand. He might as well have tried to comb a cactus. "It will be at least 50 years before we can install the new system in the first spaceship. By then," he stroked an imaginary beard, "I'll probably be collecting my pension."
"Does that mean that you don't care to take the cell shower treatment next time?" Rhodan inquired in a mocking tone.
Bell gave him a sour look.
"Besides there is other work we have to do," the Administrator continued. "We must fortify our positions. Atlan is busy with his own problems and he won't be able to help us when we need him."
Bell grinned smugly. "I believe the admiral bit off more of the cosmos than he can chew."
"I appreciate your penchant for loose metaphors but I would be grateful if you could express your opinions in a manner which would enable normal men to partake of your peculiar insights." Rhodan glanced expectantly at his friend.
Grand Marshall Reginald Bell, Deputy Administrator of the Solar Imperium, rose in a rather lax manner from his chair and went to the stellar charts at the wall. He made a sweeping gesture across a map and said: "Atlan's Great Imperium! It will collapse unless he is willing to accept our active support. His race has degenerated so much that he can do nothing with his people."
"You forget the ship of sleepers," Rhodan reminded him. "Those Arkonides are not degenerated."
Bell snapped his fingers. "How much effect would they have over these tremendous distances? No, our friend will never make it without our assistance. It is only a question of time before he will appeal to us to send Terrans to the Great Imperium in order to breathe new life into his tired establishment and give it some luster."
Rhodan went back to the window. "I wonder how Khrest is getting along?" he said abruptly.
"Aha," Bell exclaimed, "that's what's been ailing you all this time. You worry about the old man."
Rhodan nodded. "We shouldn't have left him alone. It was irresponsible."
"You shouldn't think so," Bell replied. "I believe a man like Khrest is entitled to choose his way of dying and the Arkonide preferred to wait for his death alone."
"His strength was already at a low ebb," Perry Rhodan pointed out. "How can he help himself if something unforeseen happens?"
"Keep in mind that he has two robots for protection," Bell countered. "One of them has been programmed to send a radio message to Terrania if the slightest irregularity occurs. Not even Khrest knows about this precaution. Let him have his well-earned rest."
A few days later Bell would have liked to eat his words. But the two men dropped the subject for the time being.
5/ "THERE'S ONLY ONE WAY TO DEAL WITH AN ARKONIDE!"
It was believed the reflexes of Unithers were considerably slower than those of Earthlings. Due to their bulky physique their movements seemed slow and cumbersome to human eyes. But the speed with which Zerft had pulled out his beamer to shoot Khrest contradicted these assumptions.
But Golath was just as swift. He instantly lashed out Zerft's out with his trunk, curled it around Zerft's hand and pulled it aside. Zerft lost his balance and reeled back. He trumpeted his rage and tried to tear himself away.
"You mustn't kill him!" Golath shouted.
However the rabid Zerft refused to listen. He threw the mass of his 400 pound body against Golath, who was forced to release his grip on Zerft's arm to parry the thrust. The two brown Unithers rammed each other with the force of giants. Liszog wailed and implored them to stop their fight while the prisoner watched the battle in silence.
Zerft's gun clattered to the floor and Golath managed to kick it out of range. Zerft wound his trunk around Golath's head and began to twist it, making him close his eyes and groan under the painful pressure. His hands clamped Zerft's chest in a vice. The room reverberated from the noise of their violent clash. Golath knew that the other one had terrific strength but had underestimated his brute power nevertheless. He would take his last breath in a few more seconds unless he succeeded in breaking the murderous grip. Golath hooked his leg into Zerft's knee and tried to pull him down but Zerft stood like a rock. Golath was in the throes of despair. Zerft's trunk was clamped around his neck and cut off the circulation of his blood. The lack of blood and air robbed Golath of his ability to think clearly and made him feel dizzy. He made fierce attempts to free himself from the arms Zerft held around his waist. Zerft counteracted by leaning back. Golath abruptly lunged forward, forcing Zerft to take a step back. He stumbled and Golath kept pushing instinctively. They crashed to the floor, both trumpeting furiously. The contest grew more and more savage and Zerft had all the advantages.
Liszog felt compelled to make a decision. The fear that Golath might be killed goaded him into taking action. He knew that Zerft would never be in a position to get the ship of the Arkonide started and take it back to Unith. Thus the young Unither raised the barrel of his thermo-beamer. He hesitated for a moment, staring at the ponderous opponents rolling on the floor. "Stop it!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "If you don't break it up at once, I'll start shooting."
The interlocked bodies at his feet ceased their combat and jumped up, gasping for air.
"What's this nonsense?" Zerft screamed menacingly. "Put that gun down!"
Liszog's hand trembled and he had trouble looking into the eye of the older man but he kept his weapon pointed at Zerft and Golath. "Throw your thermo-beamer over to me, Golath!" he demanded.
Golath sneered but complied and tossed his weapon at Liszog's feet. "Now we've got a new leader," he taunted Zerft.
The young exile kicked the gun away before he spoke again. His injured hand had stopped bleeding. The stranger attentively observed the scene without uttering a sound.
"I'm putting Golath back in charge again," Liszog announced.
Zerft exploded in a curse. Only the threat of the gun kept him from hurling himself at Liszog. His eyes glowered, full of hate.
"Very good," Golath exclaimed with satisfaction. "Give me my weapon, boy."
"No," replied Liszog, shaking his trunk firmly.
Golath looked at him in astonishment and new respect
. "I can do nothing without a weapon," he said. "I can't order Zerft to do anything unless I can back it up with a gun."
"I know," Liszog admitted. "I'll give it to you later. First, I have to take care of something else."
"What's that?" Golath muttered. Liszog pointed his trunk at the Arkonide. "I'm going to kill him," he explained.
Zerft jumped on Golath's back and clutched his arms around him. Golath could feel his hot breath puffing down his neck. "Go ahead, boy!" Zerft yelled ferociously. "I won't let Golath bungle that job again."
Liszog went to the trunk-cleaner and switched it off as the prisoner followed him with his eyes without revealing the slightest emotion. The Arkonide was released.
"Shoot him and we'll never see Unith again," Golath said in a calm voice.
Zerft gave him a vicious jab. "Shut up!" he snarled. The old man had been constrained for such a long time that he apparently was too weak to get up by himself. Liszog stared at him, pondering what to do.
"Wait a minute, Liszog!" Golath exclaimed hastily. "This Arkonide is the owner of the little spaceship. He knows how to deactivate the protective screen. If you kill him he won't be able to tell us how he does it."
Liszog looked doubtfully at the other two. Zerft growled angrily but released his grip on Golath. "He won't volunteer the information," Liszog said sceptically. "As you can see, he's very old and old men are not afraid of death. We have no way of forcing him to tell us how we can get into his ship."
Although he had not put it in so many words it was clear that Liszog had already given up his intention of shooting the prisoner. Golath bent down to pick up his own and Zerft's weapon. "He will show us the way to enter his ship himself," Golath contended. His trunk swayed slowly and his eyes brightened happily.
"You see, Liszog, he's out of his mind," Zerft sniped.
Golath ignored his remark. "We are going to lock up the Arkonide but we will give him a chance to escape during the night," Golath proposed.
"Are you crazy?" Zerft shouted beside himself. "You want to let him get away?"