Prisoner of Time Read online

  Perry Rhodan

  Atlan And Arkon #56

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  Prisoner of Time

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  1/ MENACE OF THE TIME FRONT

  "SPACE AND TIME-we seem to have conquered them both."

  "And yet we must not forget that, just 100 years ago, the idea of flying to the Moon ranked as sheerest fantasy in the mind of the average person. The feat was considered a science fiction fairy tale less than 30 years before the reality of lunar landing and the beginning of the stormy space development that brought us where we are in this year 2041.

  "Thanks to the help of the Arkonides, leaps through hyperspace to stars thousands of light-years distant are no longer an impossibility. Space has been conquered and, with it, time as well. Or at least, so we believed until recently."

  The speaker paused for emphasis and fixed his gaze, each in turn, on the six men who sat opposite him on the long table. In their eyes be could read tense expectancy, excitement to learn the details of the mission as yet unknown to them. Perry Rhodan knew that he could count on these men and that they would unflinchingly attempt their mission even if it seemed absolutely impossible.

  Next to Rhodan sat two other men. On his right, Reginald Bell, who had forced himself into much too small a seat for his physique. Nevertheless, he was at ease. His red hair bristles lay flat, evidencing that Rhodan's right-hand man was currently in a mood of rare serenity, for once in his life having nothing to be angry about. He looked about with friendly, clear blue eyes.

  On Rhodan's left sat Atlan the Immortal. In his timeless eyes shimmered quiet pensiveness, as though he was searching his centuries-long memory for something that would answer all questions. But he had not found it yet.

  "As you all know, we had unfortunately deceived ourselves," Rhodan continued, leaning forward almost imperceptibly in order to better grip and hold the eyes of the six men. "True, we mastered Space and Time in our own continuum of existence-but we forgot that there can be other planes. Indeed, we forgot that these planes could meet. And just that has occurred."

  A rustling passed through his listeners; he waited till it subsided, then continued: "We are confronted by two time planes in the process of colliding. Clearly, such an event will not take place without unprecedented effects on both sides. Imagine our universe as a plane, somewhat like the thick disc of a galaxy. The time plane of the aliens looks similar but stands perpendicular in relation to us and moves slowly towards us. The aliens' plane is cutting through ours. Where that happens, all organic life disappears; becomes invisible in other words. Entire worlds are being stripped of their populations in this manner and it is no wonder the Robot Brain, the Regent of Arkon, has called on us for help and freely given us an equal partnership. Arkon and the Solar Imperium now stand together before a common enemy, which is bent on depopulating the entire galaxy."

  Atlan moved slightly. Catching Rhodan's questioning look, he murmured: "Your men have found out that different time relations are in effect in the aliens' plane, right? Relative to us, time passes more slowly for them. Could that be the key?"

  "The key-to what?"

  Atlan shook his head slowly. "Don't ask me yet, Rhodan. I will speak only when I see my suspicions confirmed. I would like to give only one hint, however: your scientists have determined that time passes 72,000 times more slowly on the aliens' plane. That means that for them, only a few months have gone by since I arrived on Earth."

  Rhodan looked inquiringly at Atlan. The immortal had been on Earth for more than 10,000 years. What connection was he trying to make? Atlan gave no answer. Not yet.

  Rhodan turned again to the six men. "Marcel Rous and Fellmer Lloyd have succeeded in constructing a device that will enable one to penetrate the other time plane without any change in his own rate of time. In other words, he who enters the aliens' world will live and function just as he did before but will find that for his surroundings time moves 72000 times more slowly. We have named the device the Lens Field Generator and constructed the first experimental model. It will be installed in a Gazelle, whose generators will of course have to be accordingly augmented in supplying power. Besides the Lens Field Generator we have a second resource at our disposal: we can now positronically predict-with some degree of certainty-where the approaching time plane will next intersect ours. We suspect that the boundaries of the two planes are irregular and overlap in various places. We must find out if our suspicion is justified. You, gentlemen, will attempt to find out."

  The six men looked at each other. Rhodan saw no terror in their eyes, only a happy surprise. All of those men had risked their lives for Rhodan and the Earth before. In the previous decades they had often found themselves having to fight against a living and very real enemy to defend the Earth. But this time the enemy was separated from them by a wall of time. However, the wall had holes.

  "Lt. Rous will be leader of the expedition," Rhodan continued. "He is the only one among you who already has had some contact with the enemy. I am assigning the mutant Andr? Noir to the expedition, since he is a hypno and thus able to force the aliens to his will if necessary. I consider that of utmost importance, as we may be able to bring a prisoner back into our own time plane. Others taking part in the expedition are: Fritz Steiner, physicist and chemist; Ivan Ragov, biologist, zoologist and doctor; Fred Harras, technician and qualified mechanic; and finally, our Afroterranian meteorologist and metallurgist, Josua. Everyone knows each other, I'm sure. Liftoff is tomorrow with one of our heavy cruisers, which will take you to the star system in question. That will he all you need to know for now: I have no wish to spoil a night's leave in Terrania by weighing your minds down with the details. Are there any questions?"

  Lt. Marcel Rous, a small, dark, nimble Frenchman, shook his head. He knew that there could be no questions for whatever was not known now would be revealed soon enough the next day. The other five men remained quiet as well.

  Rhodan nodded, content, as though he had expected nothing else. "Thank you, gentlemen. We'll see you at about 10 tomorrow morning, half an hour before liftoff. Lt. Rous, please remain here: the others may go. And if I may give you a last piece of advice, don't get to bed too late. I don't know if you'll have time to sleep on the other time plane."

  The hypno, Noir, grinned as he went out the door. The other four men did not reveal their feelings and simply left the room. Nights in Terrania were short. They wanted to take advantage of their last one and of course they hoped that it would not be their very last night ever.

  Rhodan waited until the door shut then turned to Rous. "There won't be enough time tomorrow morning for discussing all the details so I had to ask you to remain here. You, as leader of the expedition, must be informed of what will happen tomorrow and what you will have to do in case the experiment is not successful. And that is unfortunately quite possible. Don't forget that the Lens Field Generator has yet to be tested. It was constructed along the lines of the available calculations and we can only hope there wasn't a mistake in them somewhere. Our positronic calculations indicate that the next overlapping will take place in the system of the star Morag, and within the week at that. You are to remain in the immediate vicinity until then and witness the attack. You know the risk: there can be no return from the other time plane without the field generator. If you are overtaken without it, you'll be lost, for you will exist at a rate 72000 times slower than normal. Before you can even make a move for your freedom, months or years will have gone by. Never forget that a second of our time means 20 years on the other plane."

  Atlan nodded slowly but said nothing.

  Even Bell was quiet. He was rather happy that he would not have to take part in t
he expedition. When there was a tangible enemy to be dealt with, Bell was always on hand; but invisible, timeless creatures from another plane of existence...? Thanks, but no thanks.

  "Please listen carefully," Rhodan continued, looking unwaveringly at Rous. "I'm going to give you some information that, depending on the circumstances, could mean the difference between life and death for you..."

  • • •

  The sun was listed in the star catalog under the name Morag, a yellowish-white star of virtually the same spectral type as Sol. The sun's second planet was the size of Earth, possessed a breathable oxygen atmosphere and had a somewhat heavier gravity than Earth's. Its slightly lesser distance from its sun meant a hotter and drier climate than Earth's, although a goodly portion of its surface was covered by oceans. The areas along the coasts certainly had no need to complain of lack of rain: the vast jungles were proof of that.

  Morag's second planet was named Tats-Tor and had been settled by Arkonides just 3000 years before. The discovery of rare and valuable ores made Tats-Tor an important trading center for the ships of the Imperium. The freight-laden spacers of many races landed on and took off from the huge concrete field of the spaceport at Akonar, capital of Tats-Tor. The streets of the city swarmed with the bizarre creatures that an inexhaustible nature had brought forth on the various worlds of the galaxy.

  The actual masters of Tats-Tor were the New Arkonides, as they called themselves.

  And not without justification, as Marcel Rous was soon to find out. Outwardly they were indistinguishable from the proud and arrogant Arkonides living on the three worlds of Arkon, where the mightiest positronic brain in the universe ruled an interstellar empire. They were not only proud but incredibly conceited about their ancestry and they treated the members of other races with insulting condescension. For the sake of trade in the valuable goods to be found on Tats-Tor, one put up with it.

  The Terra-class heavy cruiser materialized two light-hours from Tats-Tor and released a Gazelle. The small scout did not have the usual spherical shape but rather resembled a flattened discus 35 meters in diameter.

  Hardly had the Gazelle reached a safe distance and set course for the still-distant planet when the

  Terra dematerialized again.

  It simply disappeared and left not only empty space but the feeling of boundless loneliness as well.

  At least that was what Lt. Rous believed he felt, looking at the suddenly black video screen. The emptiness was broken only by the sparks of stars that gave life to hundreds of planets.

  Zero hour. Now they were alone, left to their own resources. If the worst happened, no one would be able to help them.

  And Rhodan had said that the worst would happen with 100% certainty within a week, Earth time.

  Rous sighed and corrected the course with optical help. To win time he decided not to make a transition. Time for what? To prepare for a meeting with the New Arkonides, who would not have the friendliest or most pleasant characters?

  "Nonsense!" he said aloud to himself.

  Noir, coming just then out of the communications room, looked up. "What's nonsense? Certainly not our expedition?"

  "Where do you get that idea, Andr?? On the contrary-I think our expedition is absolutely necessary, even despite the huge risk we'll be stranded in time. No, I was thinking only of the New Arkonides. They aren't going to be congenial companions at all."

  "We've taken care of other beings before," said the hypno confidently. "If the New Arkonides aren't friendly, I'll make them friendly."

  "Individually you can," said Rous, "but you can't bring the inhabitants of an entire planet under your influence. Let's wait and hear what the Arkonide settlers have to say about the forthcoming alien attack. Then we'll know what we can do and what we can't.

  "Where are you planning to land?"

  "On the field at Akonar, the capital. The planetary Administrator lives there and we have to bring him Rhodan's message. If anyone can help us on our mission, he can."

  Fritz Steiner came into the control central and heard the last few words. In his somewhat exaggerated and blustering manner, he said: "What do you mean, support? If those boys don't want us, they can just

  be gobbled up by time for all I care. After all, we have our LFG."

  Rous raised his eyebrows. "Our-what?"

  Steiner laughed boomingly. "Our LFG! That's my abbreviation for the Lens Field Generator."

  "Very clever," said Rous sarcastically, angry with himself for not having guessed the meaning of the

  abbreviation on his own. "And are you really convinced that the generator will function?"

  "Aren't you?" asked Steiner. "It was constructed according to your data. Are you suddenly having doubts?"

  "Not at all. I'm only being cautious, Steiner. The slightest error and we're lost."

  "No one knows how it really looks behind the time barrier," Steiner emphasized, oddly calm. "The other plane must offer the same conditions essential to life as ours. If we can get over there, we ought to be able to get back. Have I made myself clear?"

  "A man without hope is a man without a future," said Rous in agreement. "Yes, you've made yourself clear. Our views are more or less identical."

  Two hours after the argument they landed at the spaceport of Akonar. They had been contacted by ground control and given the exact landing coordinates. Ground control did not seem to be interested in who they were-in any event, they had not been asked what their home planet was. The logical conclusion was that on Tats-Tor a brisk and, above all, peaceful traffic was the order of the day.

  Rous had Steiner remain in the control central and follow them by way of the radio receiver. The lieutenant wanted to go with Noir and search out the Administrator to warn him of the threatening danger. The transmitter built into a ring on Rous' finger would keep Steiner constantly informed of what was said. If something unforeseen were to happen, he could intervene as necessary.

  It was part of the atmosphere of an interstellar spaceport that no one concerned himself with the business of someone else. Rous and Noir wore improved Arkonide battlesuits under their spacesuits. They could make themselves invisible in case of danger, or fly or even project an energy field around themselves. The main thing was that their battlesuits would enable them to make a fast escape in case of a surprise attack by the invisible aliens.

  An unmanned robot vehicle brought them into the city and dropped them off in front of the Administrator's palace. It had been enough just to tell the robot driver where they wanted to go.

  Now, however, they ran across the first checkpoint.

  The Administrator's palace stood just on the circular border of an area including the spaceport and the business quarter. Inside the zone there were no checkpoints and no barriers of any sort. Anyone could land his ship at the spaceport and move around as at will within the city without being asked his name or the name of his home planet. Only when he wanted to leave the closed-off area did he have to submit to an examination.

  Two uniformed Arkonides-Rous recognized them by their white hair and reddish albino eyes-stood at a ray barrier, which was passable at only a few places. Naturally, it would not have been hard for the Terrans to break through the barrier with the help of their Arkonide battle-suits but that would not have been in keeping with the purpose of their mission. They calmly pulled thin metal strips from their breast pockets and gave them to the Arkonides.

  The taller Arkonide took the standard Imperium identification strips from them while the other watched the two strangers attentively, evidently trying to classify them visually. He probably believed them to be descendents of the Springers.

  "Home planet Terra?" demanded the first Arkonide, looking at Rous, who stood closest to him. "There aren't any coordinates for its position. The pass is invalid."

  "If we'd only added false coordinates, we could have spared ourselves all this constant questioning whenever we land on a backward planet," said Rous in all calmness. "The coordinates are missin
g with the agreement of the Regent, my friend. Isn't that enough?"

  "Anyone can say that," persisted the Arkonide. "I'll have to make some inquiries before I let you pass. What do you want on Tats-Tor?"

  "To find the Administrator and warn him of an imminent invasion."

  The Arkonide stared at Rous in surprise while the other took an involuntary step backwards. "Invasion? Are you crazy...?"

  "Do we look it?" Rous demanded in return. "So don't think that we undertook our long and wearying journey here just to be insulted by you. And if you still believe you have to make inquiries, hurry up about it. We don't have any time."

  The Arkonide's surprise gave way to the usual arrogance. "You're going to wait for as long as I feel like making you wait, Terran! You'll never get into Akonar without our permission! Hey, Roph!" He turned to his colleague. "Call Central and televise them these Terrans' passes!"

  Rous and Noir threw each other a meaningful glance, grinning in a restrained way, and prepared for a long wait. It would not be pleasant but at least afterwards they would be allowed to pass through the checkpoint without any difficulty. Once they were known, everything would be simpler.

  The remaining Arkonide turned to Rous again. "So the position of your home world is not to be noted on your pass? That is rather odd. It's a general rule that every space traveler must carry a pass that clearly shows where his home planet is to be found. That's a security measure whose purpose you must surely understand. In the case of a crime, it's easier this way to-"

  "I've already told you that Terra is an exception. Haven't you ever heard of Terra before?"

  "No, never," admitted the Arkonide. "When was Terra settled? You don't look much like Arkonides anymore."

  The last words were pronounced to sound contemptuous. Rous suppressed his anger and stayed calm. "Terra has belonged to the Imperium for only a few months," he told the paling guard. "Well, even that isn't quite right, since up to now we've refused to be ruled by a robot brain-in case you're interested. But in order to avoid any trouble, we agreed to an equal partnership. But I don't know why I'm telling you all this. You don't seem to understand much of large-scale politics."