The Blue System Read online

  We heard a couple of thundering drumbeats immediately followed by some ghastly-sounding musical discords, which was all I needed to shook me out of my spell. Rhodan heaved a great sigh of resignation which was drowned out by a now rhythmical combination of horn blasts, toots and stamping feet. With some distinctly unimperial cusswords I whirled about to see the assistant master of ceremonies go into action. He evidently thought that at least a bit of marching music might help to save the aborted reception of "His Administrative Excellence Perry Rhodan".

  With a great rumbling and clanking the robot musicians' corps marched toward us, fully programmed with a capacity of about 800 musical numbers. As they came, countless metal arms whirled and descended upon synthetic drumheads with a roll of accompaniment that sounded like the voice of doom. Other robots worked their portable air-compressors and sent such a blast of air into their built-in horns and fanfare trumpets and other noise instruments that one could not hear himself talk. I shouted a few more curses at the on-marching leader of the band and even shook my fist at him but the old-school courtier was not about to be deterred from his 'duty'.

  So we were forced to stand there while the whole mad assembly stomped on past us. The men of the Terran commando unit watched us almost helplessly. Rhodan half-heartedly held one hand in salute, lightly touching the peak of his gilt-trimmed service cap. There was a Terran colonel present whom I had not seen before and this one grinned so openly at the whole spectacle that he suddenly made me feel better. It seemed that only humans were capable of such frank expressions. For me it was heartwarming to look at this powerfully built officer and see the grim amusement in his darkly tanned and rugged countenance.

  It was only a few seconds later that I noticed the colonel's rank insignia and realized that he was a battleship commander. Also he seemed to be no ordinary Terran. His body was almost as broad as it was tall and his uniform was tautly stretched over some really startling bulges of muscle. It struck me that this man must possess a fearsome physical strength.

  Rhodan had followed my gaze and I could sense he was pleased to be able to unobtrusively distract me from the formal proceedings. He made a somewhat hasty introduction. "Colonel Jefe Claudrin, Commander of the Ironduke —a native Epsalian

  "Epsal...?"

  "It's a colonial planet with a 2.1 gravity. Jefe carries a micro-grav unit on him which gives him the extra weight he's accustomed to."

  Impulsively I stepped closer to the man and stretched out my hand to him in greeting. The musicians had receded sufficiently by now so that I heard a sudden gasp beside me which was almost like a whistle. Turning, I saw my Chief of Protocol, who seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. To him it was nothing short of catastrophic for the Imperator of a stellar empire to shake hands with a 'common' colonel. But I was happy to ignore him.

  At the most, Jefe Claudrin was about five feet two inches in height and I virtually towered over him but he was more than twice my width. When I felt his handshake it was all I could do to keep from groaning aloud and sinking to my knees. Yet I was convinced that Claudrin was aware of his monstrous strength and was trying to be as gentle as possible.

  "A pleasure, sir," came his deep voice like a roll of thunder.

  But then, after all, such a set of pipes was befitting for such an unusual man. When he addressed me as "sir" I had to chuckle with pleasure. At last I was being spoken to sensibly after having suffered through years of "Your Highness" and "Your Magnificence," ad nauseum.

  Claudrin was interesting from another point of view. He was a living proof of the unusual enterprise of the Terrans who had ventured to adapt normal humans so that they could colonize larger planets in spite of heavier gravity. By means of certain cosmo-genetic manipulations they were able to develop new races of men who were thus adapted to new environments. Evidently Claudrin was among the first who had been born on a world with a 2.1 gravity.

  I looked thoughtfully at Rhodan, who was watching me in evident expectation. I gave him a faint smile and suddenly I felt quite weary. These little barbarians had chalked up more successes than other races would probably even know what to do with. It was only a few decades ago, just about 59 years now, since Rhodan had helped me to conquer the mighty robot Brain and revise its programming. In the interim the Terrans had succeeded in building their formerly weak Solar Imperium into one of the great major powers of the galaxy.

  I still had a vivid recollection of the day when the fleet of the inhuman Druufs attacked the Earth. At that time I had sent out my robot fleet to help Terra. Today such aid would not be necessary, even if those monsters were to reappear out of their alien time plane. I knew that Earth's moon had been converted along Arkonide patterns into one gigantic spaceship-fabrication plant. It was possible that by now the Terran shipbuilding capacity had already outpaced our own.

  I looked over toward the Ironduke, which unquestionably represented the latest type of construction. The giant's spherical hull measured 800 meters in diameter. It would have been interesting to find out how long it took the Terrans these days to build such a vessel. Probably only a matter of months now when several decades ago it would have taken them at least a dozen years.

  Jefe Claudrin had been watching me with a fixed expression. He seemed to guess my thoughts and feelings. I excused myself hastily and smiled somewhat distractedly. "You have a beautiful ship there, Colonel. My compliments!"

  Claudrin slightly nodded his ponderous head on which his light service cap seemed a bit out of place. "Thank you very much, sir. TheIronduke does have a few points to recommend her."

  I could well believe it. The fighting ship's mysterious linear space-drive alone was a miracle. It awakened my technical curiosity.

  I was startled from my pondering by the shrill voice of a small, narrow-hipped officer with sharply defined facial features. Rhodan was standing next to me in an attitude of seeming indifference but I was quite positive that he had analyzed me in these few moments. He was an excellent psychologist. The commando leader was ordering his men into their waiting hovercraft.

  Rhodan then spoke up with his famous or infamous candor: "OK, so we survived the shockwave from your marching tin-tooters and we might even live through the poison barrage of looks from your courtiers. I would have preferred skipping all this idiotic foppery, you know. TheIronduke is on standby for takeoff. I'd like to know as soon as possible what kind of data the robot Brain has come up with. So what do you say...?" He looked around at my coterie with obvious impatience and they in turn seemed at a loss for what to do under the circumstances.

  I made a short speech of formal greeting in honor of the Solar Administrator, merely to satisfy the minimal requirements of protocol, and then I curtly dismissed my followers and turned toward the service glider of the Ironduke's commander. I was maliciously gleeful over the horrified expressions of my courtiers until Rhodan smiled knowingly but cautioned me confidentially.

  "If that's the way you handle your people," he said, "then you shouldn't wonder about their attempts to assassinate you."

  "They can go to the devil!" I retorted in English. "They and all their affected fuss and bother make me sick. I've a few more important things to take care of than give greetings to about 5,000 representatives of their so-called noble families and suffer through all their scraping and bowing."

  My protocol chief came running to me bathed in sweat. His reddish Arkonide eyes glittered as though he was on the verge of tears. He blocked our way with profuse apologies. Rhodan nodded courteously to him while I boiled with anger. Nobody was ever satisfied with my own arrangements; always there was somebody who thought it necessary to bring my attention to this detail or that in their affected formality and superfluous forms of speech."

  "Your Excellency, the lords of nobility are waiting in utter devotion and humility for the appearance of Your Grace and His Solar Excellence. Your Highness, may I with all due respect remind Your Eminence that the internal political situation on Arkon I requires a demonstr
ation of benevolence on the part of Your Grace? What I mean to say—"

  "You heard my orders," I interrupted the effeminate fop in a hostile tone.

  At this juncture, Rhodan gave the man a beaming smile and explained: "His Majesty is responding to a special request of my own, sir. Please be so kind as to extend my highest compliments to the nobility of Arkon. Unfortunately there are certain galactic events which are of the utmost importance to theexternal political situation and these have forced His Eminence and myself to forego the pleasure of the reception you have so masterfully arranged, sir!

  Even this was a form of rebuff but Rhodan had managed to decline the invitation with formal courtesy. The court official needed no further translation, he understood. While stiffly maintaining his dignity he withdrew. I sprang into the glider and as soon as Rhodan followed me it sped away.

  I still had to give a salute to the honor guard which had approached us. The giant Naats seemed to watch us go with an obtuse indifference. The large contingent of robot guards suddenly did an about face, prepared to leave the field.

  Jefe Claudrin was chuckling at the whole spectacle but I did not share his amusement at the moment. This native Epsalian did not seem to have the slightest idea, of the monstrous offense I had committed against the sacred traditions and customs of Arkon. I would not have dared to go this far as it was if it had not been for this latest assassination attempt.

  Rhodan removed his peaked service cap and squinted upward at the hot Arkon sun, after which he carefully wiped the sweat from his brow. "Atlan," he said, "as a friend to a friend, may I speak to you frankly, like one soldiering spaceman to another?"

  I did not look at him. I sat there silently and watched our approach to the vast spaceship. Its arching steel hull had already obscured our view of the spaceport installations farther to the North.

  "Please do!" I mumbled finally.

  "You're a pretty sad old hound dog, do you know it?"

  I felt neither piqued nor insulted. I had expected him to make such a remark, under the circumstances. Should I simply tell him that I wished for nothing more fervently than to rejoin the ranks of his Terran spacemen so that I could rove once more through the galaxy? Should I tell him how wonderful it was for me just to be by his side and hear his voice and to be able to look into the laughing faces of real men?

  No, better not, I thought. He was sorry enough for me as it was, and it made me sad. To think that at one time I wanted to kill this man simply because he had blocked my return to my native world! And now today I knew how logically he had thought and acted.

  I made an effort to smile as I answered him with mock irony. "This old hound dog can't bark yet as loud as he'd like to. Do you think it would be alright to let loose inside your ship?"

  "You can bark as long and as often as you like but just don't bite my leg!"

  We both understood each other. No—it was already an axiom on Terra that I would never again show him my teeth. Arkon was not strong enough for that anymore. But together we made an invincible power.

  Invincible? I thought of the robot Regent's final evaluation. Somebody had shaken the foundations of both of our empires. It was high time that we did something about it.

  2/ THE BRAIN'S INNER SANCTUM

  Upon close examination one might have regarded the Terran shipIronduke as a space-going super power plant in which every nook and comer was utilized.

  After taking the legendary linear space-drive from the Druufs, the humans had been able to duplicate its construction after a long and difficult period of research. However, during the short crossing to the third planet of the Arkon System the new method of propulsion was not put to use. So I was not able to observe its operation nor did I get a chance to examine it at first hand. In fact it was even very doubtful that Rhodan would have shared such secret data with me.

  The Ironduke was the ship of the future. Its tactical combat capability was superior to that of any other spaceship. Moreover, men like Col. Jefe Claudrin embodied the type of commander it needed—one whose nerves and reactions were also superior. For the Terran Strategic Space Command, ships of the Ironduke class were extremely potent instruments of power. With the forthcoming new conquest of space and time they would no doubt have to make practical use of them.

  Of course much of this was also true of the conventional transition-type ships but the latter types could not be guided toward strategic points with such incredible speed. Also with the old types the unavoidable warp-shocks enabled them to be detected, whereas this was no longer the case with linear drive. Instead of making ajump through 5th-dimensional hyperspace, the new ships could hurtle through the unstable realm between normal and hyperspace on a straight course at a million times the speed of light, and in addition the crew could still maintain visual contact with the point of destination. Not only did this system eliminate the pains of dematerialization and rematerialization; it also made it unnecessary for flight crews to undergo the physical hazards of high-G centrifuge testing.

  The advantages of the new spaceship were all too obvious so I refrained from besieging Rhodan and his scientists with questions.

  Arkon 3 was a world given over to fleet building and all related feeder industries, which were robot controlled. By the time we landed there I had weighed certain thoughts in my mind which were not entirely of an unselfish nature. For some days now I had known only too we'll the magnitude of that menace which had appeared from the depths of the central galaxy. Only I possessed the data which would be indispensable to Rhodan and his further operations. He had told me that under the pressure of events, circumstances permitting, he would be willing to furnish me with the secret details of the linear space-drive. I was already toying with the idea of converting the mammoth assembly lines of this industrial planet so that the heavier units of the Arkonide Fleet could be equipped with this fantastic new system.

  However, Rhodan had given me no opportunity to bring the subject up for discussion. To him everything depended first of all upon the information he was to get through me from the robot Regent as to where the Arkonides had originated and in what way they were related to the so-called Akon race.

  This I had discovered after hooking up the ancient data banks to the greatest robot brain in the Milky Way.

  • • •

  This was the first time that a non-Arkonide was being allowed to enter the subterranean control centers of Arkon.

  In this respect, however, I had thrown all conventional thinking overboard, especially since there was probably not another living person outside of Rhodan and myself who was even partially informed concerning the installations here. A few decades ago the two of us had overcome the robot Regent, which was known then as an autocratic and merciless machine. I had succeeded in getting certain security circuits to respond to me, circuits which had been built into the Brain by my forefathers, and after that there was an end to the Regent's uncontrollable actions.

  Now these truly gigantic installations were being put to a more profitable use. The incalculably vast ramifications of the Imperium's administrative machinery were directed exclusively by the Robot even now; however, where political or military events were involved the positronic Behemoth had no further influence without my specific sanction.

  Rhodan had requested permission to bring one of his mutants along with him. After some hesitancy I had agreed, although I wasn't quite sure why such an aide was important to him here.

  Tama Yokida, a Terran of medium height and stocky build, was a native of Earth's federated state of Japan. He was a quiet and unassuming little fellow whose special faculty was psychokinesis, whereby he could move and handle material objects through the force of his will alone. Tama had also been cleared by Rhodan to receive the so-called biological cell shower treatment and so it was that three relatively immortal beings approached the scintillating energy honeycomb of the defense screen.

  How long would Nature permit herself to be deceived by our biotechnical expedients?—I was thin
king at the moment. When would the point in time be reached when the final cell decay would commence? Rhodan, Yokida, many other mutants and myself were hybrid curiosities caught in the warp and weft of Nature's mighty tapestry. Our existence was based on a 'shabby trick', as one Terran naturalist had expressed it.

  His statement applied especially to me because I had always managed to keep a close enough eye on my micro cell-activator so that my cell regeneration processes had never been seriously interrupted. Many times I had been right on the razor's edge of extinction and it had made me come to understand that the mysterious communal being on Wanderer had considered the statistical probabilities when it gave me the device. By the law of averages I should have died long before this. During my extensive wanderings through Earth's past history there had been hundreds of times when I might have lost the activator. In fact it had often happened but in each case I had gone against the laws of probability and succeeded in retrieving the apparatus prior to the critical moment.

  A slight cough from Rhodan startled me out of my self-contemplation and I looked about me.

  The shimmering honeycomb of the robot's screen was directly in front of us. The Ironduke had landed two kilometers behind our present position. The ground car that had brought us to the red danger strip waited beyond the death zone. I recalled that 60 years ago we had come over the high protective wall and hugged the ground while firing at any and every chunk of metal in sight. But now I could just calmly approach the robot guard behind the screen and request an entrance in the name of the Imperator.

  Rhodan and Tama Yokida had come to a stop, watching me silently as I proceeded onward. They knew that their individual impulse patterns had to be picked up first and registered by the security circuits, after which they would have to be transmitted to the defense stations along with the necessary orders.