Quest Through Space And Time Read online

  Perry Rhodan

  The Third Power #9

  Quest Through

  Space and Time

  The unknown immortal who guards that most devoutly desired secret, the secret of eternal life, seemingly has prepared an endless series of tests, "impossible" challenges that anyone must meet and beat who would win the secret of secrets.

  Perry Rhodan, Leader of the New Power, has already gone ahead too far in his pursuit to ever think of going back—even if he wanted to. Following an adventure that has strained the nervous systems of all involved to the utmost limit, he finally has in his possession a further clue from the unknown one.

  And this message is the curtain-raiser to the (so far) most incredible adventure of the Peacelord of the Universe, his—

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  QUEST THROUGH SPACE AND TIME

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  1/ THE CRYPT OF LIGHT

  The Vega System

  Ferrol, eighth planet of the system, more than twenty-seven light-years from Earth.

  And the Ferrons had concluded a trade treaty with Perry Rhodan, the representative of mankind. Friendly relations had been established between the two inter-stellar cultures. On the surface there was no compelling reason to delay any longer the great space expedition's return to home base.

  If one regarded the whole problem from a purely technical point of view. But there were, of course, other considerations apart from the mere technical feasibility of a quick trip back to Terra, considerations which kept Perry Rhodan and his men on Ferrol.

  Ferrol circled the Vega sun closer than Earth did Sol. As a consequence the Ferronian climate was much hotter than Terra's. The native population, a humanoid race, was well protected against the searing rays of their sun by a head of thick coppery hair and a bluish complexion. They were not much over five feet tall and their squat figures seemed an ideal adjustment to their home planet's gravity of 1.4-G's.

  Coppery hair, blue skin, stocky body, tiny mouth, deep-set eyes—how insignificant if one looked at it from a cosmic viewpoint. Particularly insignificant to those individuals who comprehended the size and diversity of the worlds of our universe.

  Such a one, for instance, as Reginald Bell.

  The short, heavy-set Earthman, whose red bristles seemed always to stand on end, excitedly paced the floor in the control center of the giant spacesphere. A strange fire glowed in his pale-blue, almost faded eyes.

  "We got a rotten deal from this positronic brain!" he growled. He punctuated his displeasure with wild flailing gestures of his great hands. "Here we sit waiting for an answer from this brainy monster and I doubt that we'll ever hear from it. We've had it, Perry!"

  The two men stood within the semicircle of the ship's control center. Rhodan, the leader of the expedition, was thirty-six, two years older than his friend Bell. Rhodan's lean figure revealed toughness and courage. Determination sparkled in his grey eyes—and a great sense of humor.

  "Are you serious, Reg?" Rhodan looked intently at the face of his closest collaborator but failed to detect any signs of genuine rebellion. "Do you want to give up the whole deal?"

  "Who's talking about quitting, Perry? But we've been sitting here for weeks, waiting for this confounded monster of a positronic brain to honor us with some information—maybe. All we've heard from it so far is excuses. The code of this message is extremely difficult to break . Most likely it will never be deciphered. Who knows—the so-called immortals may have played a dirty trick at our expense."

  Meanwhile another man had joined them. He entered almost unnoticed. He looked like a human being but a certain something in his appearance exuded the impression of superhuman qualities. The tall figure, the uncertain age, the thick, whitish hair, the very high forehead, the reddish albino eyes—and especially the expression in his eyes—all these combined to make him appear ... different. He was a scientist from a star system thirty-four thousand light-years from Earth. The Arkonides, his race, had mastered all the secrets of space travel for thousands of years. Several years ago his research vessel had crash-landed on Earth's moon, where it had been discovered by Perry Rhodan, who rescued the two survivors of the catastrophe, Khrest, the scientist, and the beautiful Thora, the female commander of the research cruiser.

  Upon entering Khrest had overheard Bell's last remark. He addressed Bell with a trace of reproach in his voice: "Aren't you a bit quick to draw such conclusions? The immortals, whose trail we are pursuing, never intended to make our task an easy one."

  "I never doubted that," replied Bell impatiently. "Your infallible race found out several thousand years ago that this system contains a planet that is the home of the immortals. But this planet disappeared in the meantime. In order to track it down, we are forced to solve almost impossible tasks, for the inhabitants of the vanished planet have puzzled out a kind of cosmic treasure hunt. Only beings capable of five-dimensional thought processes will be able to find this planet of eternal life. They concocted a real dilly for us poor mortals. We are trying to rack our brains to solve this galactic riddle. And all because we want to find the secret of immortality."

  Perry Rhodan smiled a friendly greeting to Khrest. "Reg is feeling blue that the positronic brain has not yet deciphered what the coded message of the immortals has to tell us."

  "I'm not feeling blue, I'm sick and tired of waiting around for weeks on end." Reg sounded disgusted.

  The smile had left Rhodan's face. He was serious now as he regarded the giant console of the positronic brain which was was hidden behind the huge panels of Arkonite. He knew what must be going on now behind these walls: incomprehensible mechanisms and positronics of superior intelligence were busy translating the encoded message composed in an alien language. Nobody had expected that this message would be easy to decode, particularly in view of the difficulties they had had to overcome to extract it from the underground vault located in the ruling Thort's palace. There the secrets of the vanished race had lain for millennia, hidden in the crypt formed by cosmic rays, which had been made inaccessible by a time lock. The Ferrons had been unable to open the crypt—but Perry Rhodan had succeeded where they had failed.

  Now Rhodan's impetuous friend Reginald Bell demanded that these complicated encoded messages be solved instantaneously.

  "Whoever seeks eternity must arm himself with infinite patience, Reg," Rhodan warned. "We have nothing more urgent to do right now. Everything is fine back home on Earth—otherwise Colonel Freyt would have informed us via hyperwave radio." Rhodan knew Freyt would use this way of communicating with them only as a last resort. They couldn't risk giving away Earth's position in the universe. There were too many hostile alien races just waiting for such a blunder on their part. Rhodan continued: "Do you have a better suggestion than continuing to wait for the translated text?"

  That was a direct question that deserved a concrete answer. But Bell had no better solution. So he said with an embarrassed grin: "Unfortunately not, Perry. So I guess we'd better keep on waiting."

  Khrest slowly shook his head with a puzzled expression. "How strange you humans sometimes behave. There you are discussing things you have agreed upon a long time ago—just because you have too much time on your hands. I would have expected you to come up with a good counterproposal, Reg, if you are dissatisfied with the present state of affairs."

  "I can easily imagine what you have in mind there, Khrest: return to Arkon, to your home planet. I wonder if Thora has been making life miserable for you again with her demands."

  Thora was the former female commander of the ship-wrecked Arkonide research vessel on the moon. Ever since she and Khrest had been rescued by Perr
y Rhodan her over-exaggerated self-image had suffered a painful blow. For as far as she was concerned, mankind was at best just at the threshold of truly intelligent life. And this haughty woman had now become dependent on these lowly creatures.

  "Why, naturally, it's Thora's desire to return to Arkon; but she sticks to our agreement. First we'll find the planet of eternal life and then we will return to Arkon. Sorry, Bell, but I can't share your views. Rhodan is right, we must first decipher the message of the immortals. Not until then will we know what we must do in order to unravel the mystery of eternal life. It's a goal worth striving for, don't you agree?"

  But before Bell could reply, a tiny lamp lit up at the side of a visiscreen. At the same time the dull surface began to glow.

  Rhodan flipped a switch. The face of a young man appeared on the screen. His fair hair contrasted sharply with his deeply tanned skin. His lips were pressed together in such a way that he seemed perpetually to grin. But those who were familiar with Major Conrad Deringhouse knew that he rarely smiled indeed. It just looked that way.

  "Reporting to the commander!" said Deringhouse. "The last scouting party of space-fighters has returned from their reconnaissance flight. Nothing special to report from the Vega sector. Shall we keep up our surveillance activities the same as usual?"

  "Yes, Deringhouse," Rhodan acknowledged with a friendly smile, "keep up the good work! You and Nyssen and the rest of your scouting group mustn't get rusty. Just keep your eyes open." Rhodan marveled at the enormous job it was to know at all times what was going on, on all the forty-two planets of the system. It was so easy for alien space travelers to land here unnoticed. And unfortunately, as he'd learned by now, those invaders didn't always come with kind intentions. So he added, "Don't relax your surveillance, Deringhouse!"

  "Okay, boss!" Deringhouse confirmed. Then the screen grew dark again. A few minutes later, the small fighter planes would take off to carry out their patrols at the speed of light. Back on Ferrol everybody could rest assured that no one would enter or leave the Vega system unnoticed.

  Rhodan turned to Bell. "You see, everything is quiet here, no immediate danger threatening. Nothing prevents us from waiting in peace and quiet until we get the next clue we need to come nearer to the solution of the galactic riddle that the immortals hatched out more than ten thousand years ago. You must get used to the idea that time plays no role for those who live forever."

  Perry Rhodan could not anticipate how soon this statement would prove to be true. He could not sense yet that time would be the most dangerous factor in the near future. How lucky Rhodan and Bell were to be unaware of that.

  The even, monotonous hum of the positronic brain underwent a slight change that did not escape Rhodan's trained ear. He quickly waved off Bell, who was just about to reply. Khrest was listening intently, too. Somewhere behind the massive walls, contacts and relays began to click. Small lamps lit up on the console. Crackling noises came from the loudspeaker system.

  For the first time in many weeks, the positronic brain was getting ready to make some statement. Would they now finally learn the meaning of the encoded message left thousands of years ago by those unknowns whose trail they pursued? A message destined only for those intelligent enough to solve the galactic riddle? Would it bring an answer to the question of where the planet of eternal life could be found?

  Rhodan's hand trembled imperceptibly as he depressed the small lever underneath the red lamp. The light went out and clicking sounds started in the loud-speaker. Then a metallic voice announced.

  "Partial decoding of the message completed. Only the first part could be deciphered. Transcribed written text ready. Use the proper channels to obtain it. Continuing with work for final decoding."

  "A partial solution!" Bell groaned. "That won't get us very far."

  "Oh, shut up, Reg!" Rhodan was trying hard to overcome his own disappointment. "You should appreciate that we're finally getting to hear something at least."

  Rhodan's hand moved across the controls of the positronic brain, pushing in several buttons. Little lamps began to glimmer, others grew dark. Somewhere a ticking commenced. A wide slot opened. The three men stared fascinated at this slot, from which they expected the written text to emerge.

  But it took almost two minutes until a strip of paper dropped from the opening onto a small table in front of the console, where Rhodan was standing. The type was large and clear. All read the text eagerly:

  ONCE THE PLANET ON WHICH YOU ARE NOW STAYING HAS ROTATED 21.3562 TIMES AROUND ITS POLAR AXIS, THE INSCRIPTION WILL FADE AWAY. THEREFORE HURRY IF YOU WISH TO FIND THE LIGHT.

  That was all.

  Rhodan tried again to hide his disappointment and worry; he had expected more. But it was one step forward, at least. What was the meaning of this message?

  Ferrol rotated around its axis once every 28.23 hours. Shiptime on board the Stardust was still reckoned according to the 24 hour day on Terra. Therefore 21.3562 Ferronian days equaled 24.700423 Earth days.

  "We found the message exactly three weeks ago in the vault below the Red Palace in Thorta, Ferrol's capital," Rhodan elaborated. "That means we have exactly three days and 15 hours left. Or to be precise, the robot brain has that much time left to decipher the rest of the message—or else it will disappear."

  Strange, Bell had been the pessimist just a little while ago. And now, from one moment to the next, he turned optimist. His face was radiant with triumph. "Well, so what! I don't care if that cosmic inscription vanishes. We have captured it on film! Even if the original should disappear, we still have copies of it."

  Rhodan looked at Khrest. For a moment it seemed that Bell's arguments had made all doubts fade away. Khrest finally reacted to Rhodan's questioning glance.

  "My dear Bell, your mistake lies in thinking in a three-dimensional manner. But that does not work if you try to solve the puzzles of those whose minds function on a five-dimensional plane. If they say that this inscription will disappear at a given moment, this includes of course not only the original message but also any copies made of it on film or otherwise."

  Bell's face expressed disbelief. "But, Khrest, that's quite impossible. How can these immortals exert any influence on our photos? The two are separated from each other by a mere distance of thousands of years! How can you prove your allegation scientifically?"

  "That's simple, Bell," Rhodan intervened. "I understand what Khrest meant to say when he blamed you for thinking in three-dimensional terms. These immortals think in a five-dimensional way. Time enters their view of the world and mathematical thought in a two-fold manner: first in a form that will perish forever once it has passed; that is the fourth dimension. Then, on a changeable form—let's call it the fifth dimension. All processes of the galactic riddle take place in an automatic fashion. And such an automatic limit is already built-in in this inscription. Once the time limit has passed, an event in the past will be annulled. Therefore, the inscription of the message that our positronic brain is supposed to decode will be totally canceled out. And since the message never was written, it can't exist either in present time—that means, we could never copy it. It simply never existed at any moment in time. You get it?"

  Bell's hair stood on end, a sure indication how excited he was. His face mirrored the fight going on inside him; common sense was battling against something incomprehensible.

  "But that is—" he started to say.

  Rhodan completed his thought: "—something monstrous, I admit. But it is logical, nevertheless. You can bet your life that the writing will disappear in three days and fifteen hours—nothing will ever bring it back again."

  "That's right," confirmed Khrest.

  Bell grew calmer. His inborn intelligence plus the Arkonide hypno-training that had passed on to him the entire body of knowledge this ancient superior race possessed—these two factors combined made him realized that there was nothing impossible in the universe. There was an explanation for everything, including therefore this seeming contr
adiction.

  "Well," he decided, "that leaves us very little time. Let's hope the big brain on the Stardust will make it."

  The Stardust was the giant spacesphere that once had been seized by a hostile warrior race from the Arkonides. Rhodan had recaptured the ship and thus assured his claim to become the commander of the gigantic battle cruiser. This ship, eight hundred yards in diameter, was the product of a civilization that made Earth appear in contrast like a world inhabited by Stone Age men. The propulsion drive of the Stardust permitted space jumps across distances of thousands of light-years with practically no loss of actual time. The ship disposed of audio-visual installations that made possible instantaneous communication within a considerable part of the galaxy. The radio and light waves raced directly through paraspace, rendering any distance totally immaterial.

  The Stardust was the acme of perfection dreamed of by any human being. The positronic robot brain was only a part of the ship.

  "Let's hope that the brain will solve the problem for us," said Rhodan. "Otherwise our chase will come to an end and we can redeem our pledge. We will return Thora and Khrest to Arkon."

  "I'm rather scared of that," declared Bell categorically.

  "Frightened? Of what?" Khrest wondered.

  "The Stardust has filled us with plenty of inferiority complexes. What will happen when we come face to face with the marvels of Arkon, the pivot of the Arkonide galactic empire? Let's be honest with each other, what is Earth compared to Arkon?"

  Khrest replied with deadly seriousness, "A grain of sand—you are quite right."

  There was a definite undertone of pity in his voice. Was it pity for Bell—or for Earth?

  No one could have been able to tell for sure.

  Three days went by. The positronic robot had not shown any further success in deciphering the message. Not even partial results had been produced. The gigantic, seemingly all-knowing brain remained silent.