Death's Demand Read online

  Perry Rhodan

  Posbis #114

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  DEATH'S DEMAND

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  1/ UNKNOWN ASSASSIN

  AN OMINOUS SILENCE

  The gay sounds of the huge celebration suddenly cut off. There was only the small chamber with its few but elegant furnishings, plus a brilliant demarcation between light and darkness-and of course the door behind him.

  The open door behind Admiral Thekus.

  In order to reach it, Thekus would have had to turn around. He knew he wouldn't make it. The single lamp in the room was set up so that it practically blinded him. He could make out what lay within its brilliant cone of light but that which lay beyond it was thrown into impenetrable darkness.

  However, the man who stood in that well of darkness could watch his every move. "We will tolerate no treason, Admiral!" hissed the unseen assailant.

  Thekus was not a man who would disavow his intentions. The stranger sounded as though he were well-informed. So now there wasn't much purpose in attempting any evasion. "You are the traitor," Thekus replied calmly. "You and the men behind you. I only want the best for the Empire."

  He sensed that his words were spoken almost virtually into a void. He would not be able to convince the man behind that sharp borderline of shadow. He had come here with a fixed purpose in mind and he would no doubt carry it out. No more words were spoken. Admiral Thekus waited. He had often tried to imagine how he would feel when this moment came. He had no fear. Actually it was a tremendously simple matter.

  Suddenly there was a dim reflection somewhere in the darkness. Thekus kept his eyes on it until it emerged partially into the light—the long, thin barrel of a weapon that raised up until it was pointed straight at him.

  The hissing voice was heard from no more. Thekus saw a needle-sharp beam of energy emerge from the muzzle. As if it were a separate phenomenon that did not concern him, he watched with fascination as the deadly ray neatly penetrated his chest. There was no pain. It all happened too quickly.

  And when he fell, his body was out of view of anyone in the outer great hall. No one could have noticed the incident.

  • • •

  Marshal Julian Tifflor, the top representative of the Solar Imperium in the Arkonide Empire, was of the opinion that it was a very successful celebration.

  That is, until he noticed the door along one wall of the great hall, which happened to be standing open for some unknown reason. Being close by he went to the doorway and looked inside. There he found everything in the small chamber just as Admiral Thekus had seen it one and a half hours before. The bright lamp was still stationed there so that it divided the room sharply between light and impenetrable shadow. The single exception was that when Thekus had entered here there wasn't a dead body lying on the floor.

  Marshal Tifflor recognized the Admiral at once. He had been one of the most important men in the Arkonide Imperium as well as a guest of honor at this evening's festival. Tifflor took a step back. Even when wearing his full-dress uniform for gala occasions he always carried a weapon on him. The small, blunt instrument was in his hand in a flash. His narrowed gaze sought to penetrate the darkness beyond the blinding light. It was an instinctive reaction since he had noted the wound on Thekus' chest and wondered if the murderer might still be in the room.

  Then he began to think logically. No one knew how long Thekus had been lying here. Julian recalled that the last time he had spoken to him had been about two hours ago. And even after he had noticed the open door it had taken him another three minutes before he could break away from a conversation with several of the guests. The murderer obviously wouldn't still be here. He had cleared out after delivering the assassin's blow.

  Dozens of thoughts raced simultaneously through his head. Only invited guests had appeared for the state function in the chambers of the Terran Embassy. Nobody could take part in the festivities without having first presented their invitations to the orderlies at the entrance, not even the murderer. Therefore he was one of the guests—or a member of the servant staff.

  For a brief moment Julian considered whether he should secure the building and have the guests searched for weapons but almost as quickly he rejected the idea. For two main reasons it was absurd: first of all the assassin could have gotten rid of his weapon long since—and if he had any brains he surely must have done so—and secondly, such a stringent measure would have angered the guests and caused diplomatic difficulties between Arkon and Terra.

  It wasn't worth it. A Terran ambassador had to protect the interests of his homeworld and not try to ease the task of the Arkonide police. But something had to be done. Admiral Thekus had been murdered in the Terran Embassy—a fact which could not be kept secret. Such apparent negligence would also do little for diplomatic relationships.

  Tifflor was standing next to Thekus' body. From that position he turned to look through the open doorway. All he could see was the blank south wall of the large hall beyond. No one had moved into that area since the banquet. Therefore, Thekus hadn't been discovered. He went back and closed the door. The festivities had reached a stage where the host's absence wouldn't be noticed for at least a few minutes.

  Julian's next act was to move the lamp so that the rest of the chamber was illuminated. Then he kneeled down and examined Thekus' wound. There was a two-cm circular spot on his chest where the expensive material of the uniform had been burned. The shot had gone directly into the heart, no doubt causing instant death. The weapon must have been a needle-ray gun, an electromagnetic generator device which was capable of concentrating its beam in a frequency range of five to 20 microns and with such intensity that it could slice through a steel plate one meter thick from a distance of 100 meters. It must have been a very brief shot—just a tip of the finger on the trigger—for otherwise the beam would have gone right through the victim and left its mark on the wall.

  Julian got up and walked over to the intercom on the wall opposite the door. When he turned it on, the alert face of an orderly appeared on the screen. The man stiffened visibly when he recognized the Marshal. Since Tifflor had the advantage of a good memory he knew by name every one of more than 1000 orderlies in the Terran diplomatic service on Arkon.

  "Brent, I have a fairly tough assignment for you," he began. As Brent only stared at him attentively, he continued. "How you carry it out I'll leave to your own imagination. Just now I'm located in room 237. Until further notice, nobody is to come in here—so pass that along."

  Brent appeared to be slightly confused. "Of course, sir," he said, confirming the order. "But that doesn't seem to be so very 'tough', as you say...

  Julian interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "Naturally not. And of course this room won't be closed to our most distinguished guest. On the contrary: I'd like to have the Imperator here in this room as fast as possible. Bring him here, whatever you have to do!"

  • • •

  His Highness, Gonozal VIII, Imperator of the Arkonide Stellar Imperium, appeared to be bewildered as he looked down at the dead man. Behind him the orderly Brent leaned against the closed door, waiting. Julian Tifflor watched the Imperator unobtrusively. He considered Gonozal VIII, formerly known as Atlan, to be his friend and patron here on Arkon. However that did not mean that the great man always advised him of his actions. Tifflor wanted to know if His Eminence might have had anything to do with the assassination of his highest-ranking admiral.

  But the horrified reaction of Gonozal VIII was genuine. For a few moments he couldn't utter a sound although his lips seemed to tremble in his effort to speak. Finally he kneeled down beside Thekus.

  "Who!" he finally cried out in anguish. "Who
could have done this?"

  "We don't know, Your Eminence," Tifflor answered without hesitation. "When I noticed that the door was open I came and found him lying here. So far I haven't taken any steps, other than to call Your Highness. I'd like to leave all further decisions to you, sir."

  The Imperator nodded absently as he got to his feet with a sigh. "We need a doctor here to determine the time of death," he decided.

  Julian had anticipated this. "Under the circumstances," he countered, "I wonder if I might make another suggestion."

  Gonozal VIII glanced at him in some surprise. "Yes...?"

  "A medical robot would be able to determine that better and faster than a regular physician."

  The Imperator thought for a few moments. He seemed to see the reasons hidden behind the argument and finally he brought his palms together in a sign of agreement. "You're right, Julian," he answered. "You have carte blanch. Please call in a medical robot!"

  • • •

  By the time the robot arrived, His Highness the Imperator had long since returned to the other guests. They had no doubt noticed his brief absence but in view of the good relationship existing between the Imperator and the Terran ambassador no one seemed to attribute anything unusual to the incident.

  The party proceeded as planned. More than 3000 guests were entertaining themselves immensely while the medirobot sought to determine the exact time of Admiral Thekus' death. He gave the time as being between 24:00 and 25:00 hours, which was much more exact than any organic physician would have been. Because it was now past midnight and Thekus had been dead for at least 4 hours. But this didn't help much because the question of the assassin and his motive still remained.

  The party ended eight hours after midnight. It was then that the last guest departed. Either this last one or one of those who left before him was the murderer of Admiral Thekus, Lord Admiral of the Arkonide spacefleet.

  2/ ENTER DIVISION 3

  The briefing was the usual kind.

  Maj. Ron Landry, Capt. Larry Randall, Sgt. Meech Hannigan and their civilian collaborator Lofty Patterson had been called into a meeting by Col. Nike Quinto to be informed about their next assignment. Actually there was no discussion. In his typically thorough manner he had been so detailed about the preparations that even the positronicomputer center of Terrania could not have found a flaw in them.

  Of course there was a reason for it. The positronic center had actually worked out the plans by itself. In cases of emergency, Col. Nike Quinto had his priorities. As chief of Division 3 of Intercosmic Social Welfare & Development, he could get unlimited machine time with the greatest positronic brain on Earth where one single hour of work time cost 2.5 million Solars.

  But everything went along as usual. Ron, Larry and Lofty went through their hypno-training session, which planted all necessary information in their brains. Meech ran through a number of magnetic tapes, which made him equally prepared.

  There was only one difference—but quite an important one. At the conclusion of the meeting, Nike Quinto made a short announcement: "Gentlemen, this mission has such wide-ranging galacto-political significance that I myself will take part in it."

  • • •

  The news of Admiral Thekus' death was released on the following day. Around noontime those of Julian Tifflor's five guests who had gotten up from their hygro-somatic beds found out that they had come within a hair of being eye-witnesses to a horrible murder. The official media of the government indulged in expressions of contempt and scorn for the assassin and his motives. In fact the language was so candid and strong that when Julian Tifflor heard the news broadcasts he suspected that the Arkonide Government was attempting to conceal something.

  As far as any judgment of the deed from a moral standpoint was concerned, the private news organs were notably conservative. On the other hand they developed several interesting theories which seemed to divide them into two major groups of opinion. According to one group of publications, Thekus had been a conspirator against the present government and had been put out of the way by one of its agents. But the opposing group contented that he had merely been in some sort of loose contact with revolutionaries and that they themselves must have killed him when he was finally identified as a loyal officer of the regime.

  All these reports kept Arkon in suspense during that day—but then came a new announcement. Terran scientists had found the secret of life! These were the precise words the news agencies employed in order to advise their listeners and readers of what was going on. It amounted to no more and no less than the fact that Terran doctors had declared themselves ready and able to bring Admiral Thekus back to life.

  But Arkonides were a skeptical audience by nature. The news agencies were accused of playing a hoax but they sought to vindicate themselves by bringing in direct reports from Terra, including an interview with responsible scientists and a series of pictures of the equipment that would be used for reviving the murdered admiral.

  It wasn't completely convincing. There was still a small element of doubt. But people were actually beginning to consider the possibility of reviving the Admiral. And particularly one group was concerned about it because the very idea of the Admiral's return from the dead was enough to give them a case of migraine.

  • • •

  Nike Quinto proved himself to be a clever tactician. After landing his heavy spherical ship on the largest spaceport of Arkon 1, which was the residential planet of the Arkon triple worlds, he began quite leisurely to unload the equipment he had brought along.

  A large crowd of reporters was present at the landing and during the ensuing activity of the unloading, most of them robots. Although the equipment had been carefully packed it required little imagination to recognize these devices as the same apparatus which had been viewed and discussed in the interviews with the Terran physicians.

  Finally a heavy transporter picked up the entire cargo and brought it to the government building, which was 800 km distant. Colonel Quinto and his men had long since driven away from the site. One got the impression that they weren't too much concerned about their obviously very expensive shipment of equipment.

  The so-called "government building" was actually an extensive complex of structures of all shapes and sizes. This center of government covered an area of about 2000 square km. However imposing this might seem to be, the wonder of it all was that the governmental core of an empire embracing millions of cubic light-years could be concentrated on such a relatively small piece of land.

  Thousands of years ago the Arkonide Imperators had lived and ruled inside this complex without having to worry too much about security measures. Who would have even entertained the thought in those days of ambushing the ruler of the Imperium! Since then, however, the situation had changed quite fundamentally. The centuries of decadence in which the Empire had continued to crumble, and the ensuing period of dominance by the robot Regent, who had stirred up such hatred among colonial races because of his soulless cruelty—all this had contributed to the fact that the rulership Gonozal VIII had assumed after deposing the Regent had become the most dangerous position the Imperium had to offer.

  So the security measures had also changed accordingly. Colonel Quinto and his companions passed through five visible control points and probably more than a dozen more that could not be seen, before they arrived at the heart of the government's capital. Meech Hannigan was equipped with special sensors which were sensitive to such detectors. Twice he registered X-ray sweeps of an intensity that would have been illegal on Terra.

  The glider car came to a stop in front of a massive stone building. A gleaming conveyor ramp led up to the wide portal, which seemed to be the sole entrance to the mighty structure. The car had stopped at the foot of the ramp and Nike Quinto had opened the door and gotten out before the automatic chauffeur announced that they had arrived at their destination.

  This wasn't Quinto's first time on Arkon. However, he seemed to be a typical tourist because of the wa
y he stood in front of the car and let his gaze wander from the impressive façade of the great building and across the trees and bushes of the well-planned grounds to the alien-looking buildings in the distance.

  Col. Quinto was a small man but what he lacked in height he made up for with corpulence. His perennially flushed face was topped by sparse yellow-brown hair that served inadequately to cover his head. Nike Quinto looked ill and disagreeable—an impression which he took pains to emphasize wherever possible.

  He wiped his forehead and sighed. "If it stays this hot around here," he complained in his peculiarly high-pitched voice, "my blood pressure's going to go up until I collapse from sheer heart failure."

  In the meantime Ron Landry had gotten out of the car, followed closely by Larry Randall, Lofty Patterson and Meech Hannigan.

  Ron made a secret face at the others when he heard Nike Quinto's remark. "It's fairly cool at night, sir," he commented. "Perhaps we should change our work habits."

  Quinto looked at him as though taking him seriously. "You mean—work nights and rest in the daytime... ?"

  Ron nodded innocently.

  "What kind of job do you think this is, Major?" Quinto snapped at him, apparently enraged. "We have a task to perform here, in fact an extremely important one. We're going to work day and night...until we've finished it!"

  • • •

  In many strange ways the vast building was much more impressive inside than out. The hallways and lift shafts were empty, just as if nobody worked here. Nike Quinto led the way and apparently knew exactly where he was going but as the Terrans glided soundlessly along on the floor conveyors they were amazed at the number and complexity of curves and turns and multiple-branching intersections. It seemed as if the Arkonides had planned this as one last measure of security. That is, any assassin intent upon taking the life of the Imperator or endangering the safety of the Empire had a good chance of becoming hopelessly lost.