The Atom Hell of Grautier Read online

  IS THE CHIEF DEAD?

  A DARK AGE seems to have begun for mankind with the death of Perry Rhodan's beloved Arkonide wife Thora.

  Is Rhodan himself dead?

  The fear spreads like wildfire as 500,000 men wait in vain for a command from their Chief.

  Discovering that the positronic Robot Brain on Arkon is, even beyond the menace of the Druufs, in actuality the greatest danger to Earth, the Solar Administrator has ordered the entire massed might of the Terranian Spacefleet to stand in readiness for a blitzkrieg aimed at destroying the threat of the non-human ruler of Arkon.

  But Perry Rhodan is on the secret base on Grautier when that planet dies–and Rhodan with it?—in

  Perry Rhodan

  Atlan And Arkon #71

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  The Atom Hell of Grautier

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  1/ SURPRISE ATTACK

  The moment the Rigel came out of transition, Paul Brackett saw fleeting green flashes flit across the oscillograph screen. Brackett was still wracked by the pain of the hypertransition but he knew at once what the flashes meant.

  The Rigel, battle cruiser of the Terran Fleet, was on its way back to the fleet base on the planet Grautier. In the vicinity of the overlapping zone where the timeplanes of the Druuf Universe and the Einstein Universe met, the Rigel had discharged supplies for the secret base on the planet Hades in the Druuf system, transporting them by means of the matter transmitter. The operation had required several hours, hours in which fully half the 800-man crew was kept busy keeping a watch out for the ships of the Arkonide blockade fleet. Arkon was maintaining a constant patrol around the overlapping zone, throwing back the Druufs each time they attempted to cross-over into the Einstein Universe. The Terran fleet base was unknown to the Arkonides and for the time being it was Terra's chief concern to keep it that way. That meant that Earth ships had to make use of every possible security measure for traffic between Grautier and the overlapping zone, which was only a few light-years away and at the same time the theater of operations for the Arkonide blockade fleet, so that the Arkonides would not learn where the base was.

  That had succeeded in the past weeks—a masterpiece of the tactics of throwing the hounds off the trail, as everyone had to admit. However, Paul Brackett was convinced the catastrophe was now beginning.

  The flashes had crossed the screen of the oscillograph towards the right and disappeared. The entire incident had not lasted any longer than two or two and a half seconds. But the Robot Regent on Arkon had its spies listening everywhere, and with the close attention they paid to every unexpected or unexplained signal, an even briefer one would not have escaped them.

  Paul Brackett's oscillograph was connected to the Rigel’s frequency damper, which prevented the energy radiated by the ship's hyper-engines at the beginning and ending of each transition from being discharged into space. Instead the energy was absorbed within the ship.

  If the damper had functioned flawlessly, Paul Brackett would not have been able to see green flashes. Since he had seen them, the damper was not operating properly. The residue of energy from the transition had been released into space and at that moment, somewhere within a range of at most five light-years, an Arkonide tracking specialist was occupied with interpreting the strange signals. As a consequence of its 5th dimensional structure, the wave field of the energy discharge radiated at an immeasurably high speed.

  There was no doubt about it. In a few minutes at most, the Arkonides would know what to make of the signals; Two minutes later they would have fixed the point in space from which the signals came.

  That point was Myrtha, central star of the Grautier system, only 20 Astronomical Units away; once the Arkonides had determined that much, they would know where to look further.

  Brackett gave the alarm. The howling of sirens filled the ship, penetrating even the most remote corners. Conversations died away. Crewmen got moving and hastily slid into their places.

  Brackett picked up the intercom microphone and explained to the crew what had happened At the same time, the communications officer sent a brief report to Grautier.

  "It can mean anything ," Brackett concluded, "up to and including the appearance of an Arkonide battlefleet of 10,000 ships sent to Grautier to destroy the base there."

  The mass takeoff was well under way. One ship after another raised itself from the ground and shot with roaring engines into the blue sky, the mighty colossi of the super-battleships lifting off and flying as lightly and gracefully as the shining spheres of the light cruisers.

  The Terran Fleet was on its way from Grautier to Arkon, on its way to demonstrate in no uncertain terms what Terrans thought of allies who thought only of their own advantage.

  This was a red letter day for Perry Rhodan, this 23d of October, 2043. The combined power of Terra was winding up for the pitch against Arkon; the Earth was preparing to show the galactic powers what role it intended to play from here on in.

  Under the command of Gen. Deringhouse, the units of the fleet assembled at a point far from all traveled space routes, about 500 light-years from Grautier. Only 23 ships remained on Grautier itself, along with the minimum number of men necessary to maintain the operation of the base, for a few vessels were still out in space either on the way to or returning from the overlapping zone from which the base in the Druuf Universe, on the planet Hades, was being transmitted supplies.

  The Rigel, for example, was still out in space.

  Besides the base personnel, four important men were also left behind on Grautier. They had a number of important affairs to attend to and would join the waiting fleet later, shorty before the moment the attack on Arkon was to begin. Those men were Perry Rhodan; Atlan, the Arkonide; Reginald Bell; and the mutant Fellmer Lloyd.

  In a deep bunker away from the area of the base proper, they were occupied with calculating the final details of the action against the Arkonide Robot Regent with the help of a large positronicon.

  They began with the work shortly after 1100 hours, Terranian Time.

  At 1134 hours, a battle cruiser named. Rigel commanded by Maj. Paul Brackett had finished its task in the overlapping zone and, observing all security measures, was on its return flight to Grautier.

  The four men on Grautier had divided the work among themselves and labored with the utmost concentration of men who wanted to complete their work as quickly and as thoroughly, as possible.

  The first interim report came from Reginald Bell. In front of him lay a sheet of computer printout paper, covered from top to bottom with letters and numbers, he read it through carefully, then cleared his throat.

  "We have to put off Zero Hour for at least four hours," he said. He continued to stare at the sheet of paper, not looking around. However, he was certain that the others had interrupted their work to look up at him.

  "Too many alternate possibilities?" asked Rhodan.

  "Right," Bell answered. "The computer came up with 2,433 different branch possibilities. Each branch divides in the middle into five subpossibilities, which partly come together again towards the end." Then he looked up and continued. "All this information has yet to be programmed into the ships' cybernetic sections. We could certainly put the program itself together in half an hour but it would take us longer to distribute it among all the ships."

  Perry Rhodan had turned his seat and now sat with his back to the programming counter. On his right was Atlan, who sat with his left elbow against the counter top, supporting his head in his left hand. The Arkonide looked thoughtfully at Reginald Bell.

  "I suggest we delete all branch possibilities and their sub-branches with less than 0.4 p
robability," said Atlan. Rhodan smiled faintly. "I see the Admiral is renouncing his usual caution and is declaring himself ready for taking simplified steps," he said mockingly; but there was no mirth in it.

  Atlan turned his head. "You know we can't delay the Zero Hour as long as we might like. The Regent has ships everywhere. It'll know the score as soon as it discovers an assembling of Terran ships and after that it'll be too late for us."

  Rhodan nodded. "I know that. But if I eliminate all branch possibilities with less than 0.4 probability, I'll be taking an enormous risk. 0.4 is not a little when you consider that a figure of 1.0 makes a certainty out of the possibility."

  Atlan shrugged his shoulders.

  "Let's take a clear look at this for once," suggested Reginald Bell. "The probability calculator of the positronicon has found all together about 5,000 stem possibilities—in other words, 5,000 different ways in which the Regent might conceivably react to our attack. All these 5,000 together have a probability of 0.98—which means that whatever the Regent does will most likely be one of those 5,000 possibilities. The remaining 0.02 left from an absolute 1.00 is divided into 10,000 more possibilities which the computer does not list in detail because they are too unlikely. We've discarded all stem possibilities with a probability of less than 0.06. That reduces the number of stems to 17.

  "Let's say that one of the stem possibilities is that the Regent will react to our attack by removing the blockade fleet. Then we'll have more than 10,000 ships on our backs inside of a few minutes. This stem possibility has a probability of 0.13, so it's one of those we have to take into consideration."

  "Now we come to the branch possibilities. One of these is that the Regent will order the blockade fleet to form a defense ring around Arkon 3 instead of attacking us. We're prepared for that too. This branch possibility has the probability of 0.44, so it lays above the boundary Atlan set. It's just as probable that the Regent will have the fleet attack us. There remains a probability of 0.12 for some other branch possibility, if not several. For example, the blockade fleet might land on Arkon 2, take important materiel on board, perhaps even dismantled pieces of the Regent itself under certain circumstances, and then fly off thumbing its nose at us. According to Atlan's suggestion, we'd have to ignore this branch,possibility." He sighed and rubbed his hand over the stubble of his hair. "I don't think we can afford to do that."

  "I agree," said Rhodan earnestly. "The idea is good but the suggestion itself is too sweeping, ignoring as it does important possibilities. We'll eliminate all branch possibilities of less than 0.1. How many branches are left now?"

  Bell figured. "Thirty-five," he answered.

  "That's enough. If we do the same to the sub-branches how many of those are left?"

  "Forty-one."

  This time the calculation lasted somewhat longer.

  "0.937."

  Perry Rhodan struck the counter top, making a slapping sound with his hand. "That'll satisfy us," he decided, "even if you take in account the fact the Regent will make every effort to calculate the least likely reaction possible."

  "Fine," agreed Bell. "Then we don't have anything more to do than to make up a master program. One for each unit?"

  "Two," said Rhodan.

  Atlan and Arkonide had not changed his position. Chin cupped in hand, he stared reflectively into space. "Don't you agree, Admiral?" asked Perry Rhodan as he turned his seat around.

  Atlan shook his head, which could mean 'No' just as much as it could mean the question had not been properly stated. "The thing is risky," he murmured. "I wish I could prove it to you, Perry, but right now I don't know where the snag in this is." He looked up. "I mean, we needed a few more months yet. Are you quite certain that it wasn't your bitterness over Thora's death that drove you into this plane?"

  Rhodan had a ready answer on his lips. Then he considered for a bit and replied only somewhat later. "Not quite certain, Arkonide," he admitted, shaking his head. "Perhaps Thora's death really is my motivation for this. But so what? Haven't we thought every little thing over 100 or 1000 times? Haven't we made our plans as carefully as possible? Haven't the positronicons flawlessly calculated that under the given circumstances the chances of our assault succeeding are more than 90%? Does it really matter what the actual motivation was?"

  Atlan shrugged. "I think it does matter. Plans someone devises while in a state of excitement generally have an error somewhere. And naturally the existence of an error does not depend on whether you see it or not."

  "The positronicon would have discovered it," said Rhodan. He felt oddly disturbed that Atlan did not fully concur with his plans. There had been almost no differences of opinion between them since they began to work together. This was their first major disagreement. Rhodan briefly reviewed in his mind all the reasons that had led him to the conclusion that now was a favorable moment for the attack on Arkon. He could find no errors and since the positronicon had not found any either, he decided that Atlan was simply a pessimist. The fact that Arkon was his home, even though under the regency of a powerful robot, might have had something to do with it. When one's homeland is involved, sentiment is always a considerable factor, but the Terran Fleet naturally was not troubled by any such sentiment.

  Perry Rhodan glanced at the chronometer.

  It was now 1133 hours.

  • • •

  The ships could not be seen on the panoramic vidscreens but on the luminous dark green surface of the radarscope they showed up as radiant points in a fine-meshed, symmetrical net.

  Gen. Deringhouse looked at the image reflectively, almost in awe. Thousands of ships had assembled here, ready to teach the Robot Regent some respect for its Terran 'ally'.

  A gigantic fleet—by Earthly standards. The more Deringhouse looked at the image, the more he felt he could sense physically the immensity of the power contained within the ships. He already knew how much power was there, of course, and was well aware that if used irresponsibly, the total energy commanded by the entire fleet would be enough to shatter and utterly destroy an entire solar system.

  Well, at its heart, even the Arkonide realm was only a solar system. Ringed by a series of strong fortresses, true, but still only a single system. The difficulty was, he thought, penetrating the system as deeply and as quickly as possible. If they succeeded in that, then the Regent had lost the war before it had even begun.

  The strike will succeed, Deringhouse thought. We'll be on top of Arkon while the Robot Brain is still occupied by the Druuf problem. And thereafter the situation in the Galaxy will be different. We will be able to move around freely and we won't have to depend on elaborate ruses to keep the location of the Earth and our important bases a secret.

  We should have done this a long time ago, he decided as his musing continued. We know that from a technical standpoint the Regent has not advanced any in the last 70 years. We are superior to the Regent in quality, and so that quantity alone does not decide the issue, we must be able to bargain from a position of strength.

  He knew that the responsible officers did not think any differently than he. The attack on Arkon had been pending for two years and in the past few months the men had found their impatience difficult to bear. When the order to start had come, the entire fleet had given out a yell of enthusiasm.

  Deringhouse looked again at the radar screen: 500,000 men were feverishly awaiting their chance to show what they were made of.

  Arkon, watch out!

  At 1136 hours Terrania Time, the flagship radar station picked up an impulse originating from the transition of an unknown spaceship 500 light-years away. Gen. Deringhouse was informed of it but he paid the matter no especial attention. The Arkonide blockade fleet was waiting 500 light-years away for the Druufs to attempt another intrusion. One of the Arkonide ships had probably made a short transition and thus given off the brief impulse.

  It was nothing to worry about.

  • • •

  Paul Brackett had been instructed to leave the G
rautier system as fast as he could. The base commander on Grautier had come to this decision without alerting Perry Rhodan but it was clear that in this case Rhodan could not have made any other choice. The Arkonides must not discover Grautier. That was assured only if the Rigel left the system again and did not speed directly towards the base.

  Maj. Brackett started into transition once more within a few minutes. He knew that his frequency damper was out of order and that the Arkonides would be able to detect the second transition as well. He hoped it would confuse them, even though that was basically a rather suicidal hope. Confusing the Arkonides meant drawing them after the Rigel, and only the dragon-headed, scaly-skinned god of the old Topides knew what they would do with a single Terran ship when they found it.

  The transition put the Rigel almost exactly 30 light-years away from Grautier in a direction that led neither to Earth nor the assembly point of the warfleet under Gen. Deringhouse.

  The men stood ready by the ships energy guns. Brackett had let it be known that if attacked, the Rigel would defend itself against even the most overwhelming odds.

  But they were not attacked. The Arkonides did not come.

  What came were the clearly evident impulses of at least 1000 transitions following one another in rapid succession 30 light-years away.

  There could be no doubt about what that meant. Paul Brackett felt his mouth go dry.

  • • •

  The intercom sounded. Perry Rhodan looked at the chronometer. 1134 hours. On the small vidscreen, Lt.-Col. Judson's face betrayed more than he could have explained with 100 words. Judson's eyes were wide with fear and small shining beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. "Alarm, sir!" he gasped. "An Arkonide fleet is attacking the base! We still have—" Perry Rhodan interrupted him. He reacted like a machine. No sign of surprise, terror or fear could be seen in his expression. He understood the situation in a fraction of a second. All he lacked was knowledge of how it had come about. "How did it happen?" he asked tersely.