Unknown Sector Milky Way Read online

  Perry Rhodan and his people find themselves amongst the damned of ISAN, Victims of a hydrogen war. Unusual adventure & exciting events await the Rhodanites in an uncharted area of space, among the despairing inhabitants of Isan in—

  Perry Rhodan

  Atlan And Arkon #45

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  Unknown Sector: Milky Way

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  1/ ISAN REBORN

  SUFFOCATING AIR. The foul atmosphere almost took Ivsera's breath away as she opened the door and entered the corridor. She looked in all directions and was happy to discover she was alone.

  Swiftly she traversed the 50 yards to the elevator and summoned the lift cage. She entered it and pressed a control button for the lowest level. The cage set itself in motion slowly and complainingly, which was a sign that the compressed air valves were no longer functioning properly.

  Nothing worked right any more, she thought. The ventilating system didn't work, democracy didn't work; there was nothing to eat or drink.

  If I could just have a new dress, she mused. A pair of trousers, a coat! But there were no new dresses, trousers, coats—no new clothing any more. Nothing but the poor tattered remnants the people were wearing to cover their nakedness.

  She looked pensively along the row of sparkling, gleaming instrument panels, expensive equipment that for days now had stood inactive and silent, no longer producing articles of clothing. At least they had been able, before, to convert the organic fibers into synthetic food. But the meager provisions of Bunker Fenomat would be depleted by tomorrow or the next day.

  Ivsera turned round. Behind her Irvin was leaning indolently against a table, a grave expression on his face. "Are you depressed?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "No. It doesn't make any difference to me."

  "But you have to inform Havan, don't you?"

  She looked at the young man in some surprise. "Havan? He already knows. For 10 days."

  Irvin left the table and approached her a few steps. He wore a short pair of trousers reaching only halfway down his thighs. This was all the clothing permitted any man in Bunker Fenomat.

  "He won't remember." Irvin sounded certain.

  "But..."

  Irvin raised his hand with an air of finality. "No buts! I don't think I have to tell you what kind of man Havan is."

  Ivsera lowered her gaze. "Won't you go tell him for me?" —quietly.

  Negative shake of head. "No, I'd better not. He'd yell at me and make it painfully clear that the Chief Chemist herself must report to him."

  Ivsera sighed. "You're right, Irvin." She raised her head to face the young man, forcing a faint smile. "Maybe it's best I take care of it right now."

  "I wish you luck."

  • • •

  If only we could go above! Ivsera thought. Up where no one had lived for eight years. Outside where the storm clouds of radioactive dust blew, where every single raindrop was so poisonous that it could kill 10 men. Out there in the aftermath of the most terrible war of all time, where the miles-wide glassy fusion of rocks marked the ground-zero point of the Bomb.

  Ivsera tried to mentally calculate how many humans had survived the war. In the underground fortification of Fenomat, usually referred to as the Fenomat Bunker, 6000 people had found refuge but in the course of eight years this number had increased to 10,000. Fenomat was the capital of the land, which was why it also had a suburb containing a second bunker, named Sallon, with the same capacity as Fenomat.

  In the whole country there were five such underground bunkers. If one were to consider that the enemy on the other continent had an equal number of shelters, then it would appear that about 100,000 humans had survived the Great War of Isan.

  100,000 out of three billion!

  The cage stopped. Ivsera opened the door.

  Outside was a passageway similar to the one she had come from. The young woman turned to her left and passed a few doors which bore name-plates on them, stopping in front of the next to the last one. "Havan?" she called out.

  She spoke the name with a certain unwillingness. Havan—this was the man who thought she would turn to him only two days after Ofaran's death. Havan was the man who made life difficult for her at every opportunity because she had made it clear to him that she wished to remain single through the widow's year of mourning and that a man like Havan would never be able to extinguish the memory of Ofaran even in 10,000 years.

  Havan shouted an answer: "Come inside!"

  Ivsera pushed open the door before her. Havan sat behind a heavy table of synthetic marble. As he recognized her there was no change of expression in his coarse and loathsome features. "So, what is it?"

  "We're all out of provisions," Ivsera answered curtly.

  Havan looked at her attentively. "Why have you waited until now to tell me?"

  Ivsera's eyes narrowed. "I told you 10 days ago that we were out of raw materials!"

  "So what!" he shouted. "As a member of the Council I have the right to be kept continually advised of what's happening." He brought the flat of his hand down on the table. "I'll have you removed from your post if you don't understand your duties!"

  Confronted with Havan's attempt to injure and provoke her, Ivsera regained her composure. "Just remember that you're not the only one here who decides on the assignment of duties," she interjected calmly. "We do have a Council and I won't budge unless they order me to."

  She turned around, opened the door and went out. While she was closing the door behind her she heard Havan's scornful taunt: "Thus far we have the Council...!" She didn't hear the rest, nor did it interest her in the least.

  At the elevator she was met by Killarog, who was also a Council member. He was one of the youngest of the Councilmen and it was Ivsera's opinion that he had been one of the few who had managed to preserve some degree of dignity and decency through the eight post-war years.

  She wanted to pass him by with a brief greeting but Killarog stopped and held her by the arm. "Trouble?" he asked her, not unkindly.

  She looked at him. "In these times who is without trouble?"

  Killarog kept a straight face but there was a teasing gleam in his eye. "As you know," he said with a contrived pontifical air, "I'm Chairman of the Committee on personal and psychological matters. If something is bothering you it's your duty to report it to me."

  He had raised a finger at her but now his sternness faded and he led Ivsera back into the corridor. "What's the matter, girl? No more supplies? The Council has known that for 10 days now. You don't have to beat your brains out over it."

  Ivsera laughed bitterly. "That's right," she retorted, "but it's only the Chairman of the Committee on Food & Clothing who didn't know anything about it."

  Killarog chuckled. "Havan? Naturally, he knows it. We were just discussing it a few hours ago."

  Ivsera explained to him what had happened. Killarog opened the door to his room and let her pass in ahead of him. He offered her a seat and then gestured contemptuously as he went around behind his synthetic marble table and sat down. "Don't believe a word of what Havan says," he advised. "Especially when he's talking to you. If he were to suggest your removal he'd make himself ridiculous in the eyes of the Council."

  He regarded Ivsera across the broad table and under his reassuring gaze the young woman lost a certain degree of the resentment she had felt since her meeting with Havan.

  "But let's consider another matter," said Killarog. "What are we going to do if we don't have anything more to eat?"

  Ivsera waved her hands in a gesture of futility. "If I knew I'd tell you," she answered. "Maybe we could vacate the bunker and take a look on the surf
ace, to see if anything is there?"

  It was only a passing remark but Ivsera was startled when Killarog almost jumped out of his chair and narrowed his eyes at her. "Who ever gave you that idea? You know it's impossible to vacate the bunker!"

  Ivsera was confused. "Excuse me. I... I had no idea it would upset you so. Nobody gave me the idea, it's my own. But don't you think it's an easy conclusion to reach?"

  Killarog sat down again and heaved a sigh. "Forget it," he murmured, suddenly weary and dejected. "I'm the one who should ask for pardon." He put his hands to his face, rubbed his eyes and finally looked at Ivsera through his fingers. Slowly and with emphasis he said, "The fact is, we were up on top..."

  Ivsera jumped up. "You were what!? "

  Killarog signaled to her. "Not so loud. Nobody is supposed to know about it because then everybody would want to go out. That's why I barked at you just now. Besides, your hopes are in vain."

  Ivsera held her breath. "To what extent?"

  "There isn't anything upstairs to eat, either! In the past eight years not even a single turnip has grown in the area of Fenomat and beyond the city for a distance of 300 miles everything is contaminated. We didn't go any farther..."

  "Yes, but..."

  "No buts!" Killarog stood up. His expression was suddenly deadly earnest. "Do you want to see something, girl? Something exciting, something thrilling and... disillusioning?" Ivsera nodded wordlessly. "Then come with me."

  They went out of the room. Killarog turned to his left and they went by Havan's door. He stopped in front of the end door of the corridor, which was right next to the bright grey bulkhead wall at the end of the passage. He produced a key, unlocked the door and opened it. Ivsera looked into a bare room whose lighting was the same cold color as in all the other rooms. There was a door in the opposite wall.

  "There's nobody in here," explained Killarog softly as Ivsera watched him hesitantly. "There's nothing to fear."

  She went in. Killarog followed her and carefully closed the door behind him. Then he crossed the room and opened the door on the other side.

  With anxiously widened eyes, Ivsera stared into a low, narrow passage that obviously did not belong to the regular bunker installation. The walls consisted of naked rocks which gleamed farther on with moisture. Every few feet the ceiling was supported by metal shorings.

  Cool air issued out of the tunnel—which was a blessing in the over-heated, foul-smelling atmosphere of the bunker.

  Killarog's voice was penetrating when he said: "Everything you are going to see must be held in strictest confidence. You must not dare discuss it with anyone—it wouldn't be healthy for you."

  Ivsera nodded without removing her gaze from the mysterious passage.

  "I'll lead the way," he invited.

  She let him go ahead of her. Then she followed at his heels and closed the door behind her. Now she observed that the tunnel was not illuminated from the doorway but by a raw of lamps up ahead, which were sufficient to reveal the uneven places on the floor.

  Killarog strode swiftly onward and she had a time of it to keep up with him.

  The passage proved to be longer than Ivsera had at first imagined it to be. For a quarter of an hour the distant lamps did not seem to be getting any closer but at last they were reached. By the time Killarog came to a halt under the first of them, they had been underway for at least a half hour and considering Killarog's rate of march this meant that they had put about three quarters of a mile behind them.

  "You still with me?" he asked with concern.

  Ivsera nodded. Killarog continued walking. The lamps became more numerous and finally in the illumination of the last one Ivsera made out a figure that seemed to lie motionlessly on the ground. Killarog approached it confidently. The figure moved. Ivsera saw a head come up and a pair of suspicious eyes greeted the two newcomers. She did not recall ever having seen the man. The most conspicuous thing about him was that he was fully clothed, in contrast to the short pants that were normally prescribed for the men.

  "Anything new, Ther?" asked Killarog.

  Ther nodded. "Yes, they're making headway."

  "How much time is left?"

  Ther shrugged and spread his hands in a gesture of approximation. "I'd say two or three days. What about this girl?"

  "I'm briefing her," Killarog answered curtly.

  Ivsera finally overcame her surprise and asked, "Killarog, how is it that this man gets to go around fully clothed? I could produce at least five complete dinners out of what he is wandering around in."

  Ther looked at her in puzzlement.

  Killarog laughed. "She is our provisioning girl," he explained to Ther, "Most of the stuff you've been eating for the past four years has come from her laboratory." Turning to Ivsera, he continued: "What do you think would happen to Ther if he had to lie around here half-naked?"

  "Well, I..." Ivsera considered this in some bewilderment. "Does he do this very often?"

  Killarog nodded. "He and two others. They rotate 10 hour watches, which is about the endurance span for each of them."

  "And what does he do here?"

  Killarog pointed at the ground. "Show her, Ther," he ordered.

  Ther stood up. Ivsera noticed for the first time that a row of apparatuses was arranged near him. She saw small black instrument cases studded with switches, buttons and meters. The subterranean passage came to an end just a few steps beyond.

  Ther connected a thin cord to one of the instrument boxes. The other end of the cord was attached to a funnel-like object which Ivsera recognized as a type of telephone receiver. Ther placed the box in an angle to his left, which was formed by the wall and the floor of the passage. She saw that the small case stood on sharp-pointed little legs.

  Ther handed her the cord and the receiver. "Listen in here," he invited.

  With some uneasiness, Ivsera pressed the receiver to her ear. She heard a monotonous roaring sound. When after several minutes she heard nothing else, she was about to hand the instrument back to Ther. But in that moment she suddenly heard a dull, repeated booming, as though from a giant, distant drum.

  The new sound increased to a crescendo and then slowly faded. Ivsera was startled by it almost to a point of alarm. She was about to ask what it was when it came again.

  "Wow!" Ther chuckled. "We don't need any amplifier for that! I can hear it from here."

  Ivsera relinquished the receiver. "What is it?" she asked.

  Killarog answered with a counter question: "You were just a little girl when the war broke out. Do you know where our present position is located, with relation to the Fenomat area?"

  Ivsera searched back in her memory for everything she knew about the bunker layout. The main shaft was beneath the center of the city but its peripheral passages stretched out for several miles in many directions, in some places to the city outskirts. The main corridors branched north, east, south and west from the center. The particular section where the Council members lived was served by the eastern main passage.

  "I'd guess we're closest to the suburb of Sallon," she ventured.

  Killarog nodded. "Exactly. This spot is only two-tenths of a mile from the western branch corridor of the Sallon bunker."

  Ivsera wanted to know what the drumming sound she had heard had to do with the discussion.

  "I already told you," continued Killarog, "that a couple of us were up above to have a look around. The ones who went encountered a party of strangers. Perhaps they came from Sallon, perhaps from more distant regions. At each sighting they began shooting at our people as soon as they saw them. Our men had to make a run for it because they were not sufficiently armed."

  Ivsera was frightened as she listened to him.

  Killarog pointed to the wall of the passage. "So here you have listened to the sounds that the people of Sallon are making, in their attempt to bore an underground access route toward the Fenomat bunker. Ther believes that we only have two or three days left in which to prepare ourselves for the
ir visit. Then they will break through..."

  • • •

  It did not take Ivsera long to finally comprehend it all. The inhabitants of the Sallon bunker still lived in her memory as they had been at the beginning of the war: average citizens for the most part, people who didn't want the war but who were glad to have the protection of the bunker.

  Killarog was sure that the strangers they had clashed with were from Sallon. He was of the opinion that no one would dare expose themselves to the surface world any longer than was absolutely necessary and the next nearest bunker was a good thousand miles distant.

  Moreover, the subterranean concussions had only one interpretation. Ther and his two companions had been observing them for some weeks now. With sensitive instruments they had registered the shock waves, which were obviously produced by blasting. They came from the direction of the Sallon bunker and in the course of weeks they had pushed close to the outermost passages of the Fenomat bunker.

  Ivsera held to a last remnant of hope that the Sallon people's intention might not be actually unfriendly, until Killarog bluntly spelled it out for her.

  "Who are we kidding? Naturally they are coming to steal food. And if perchance they don't find any, it's just possible they might arrive at the old-fashioned idea of cannibalism!"

  • • •

  Killarog's analysis of the present discussion was gloomy. "The people that fired on our men were equipped with weapons like an army of secret state police. Apparently they have cleaned out the big Sallon North Depot. On the other hand the most we've got is about 50 hand weapons and most of those are old-fashioned pistols for which we have very little ammunition. So if the Sallon troops can push through more than 20 men they will have secured their bridgehead and we won't have to worry about the rest."

  When Ivsera asked what the purpose of their own tunnel here might be, the answer was even more impressive. "You mean you haven't guessed it yet, girl? We started it with the idea of stealing food from Sallon. It's our tough luck that they arrived at the same idea just as quickly and, in addition, are better armed than we are. But..." He raised a finger, suddenly in a better mood. "Just in case we happen to succeed in driving them back, and if we can follow up the thrust at the same time, then we'll have saved ourselves a great deal of labor. Then the people of Sallon will have been building us an access tunnel."