Caller from Eternity Read online

  These demands were met with a murmur of approval. Only one member of the Council was not in agreement: Auris of Las-Toor. She asked to be heard.

  "If you please!" said old Sa-Ga, and his shrewd eyes looked toward the young woman expectantly.

  In a cleverly phrased introduction, Auris pointed out that she could say nothing concerning the advice of the military experts since this was not in her field of experience or responsibility. However, she stressed that she had very much to say about their unconsidered judgment of the Terrans. Turning to the recent past, she spoke exclusively of one Terran in particular: Perry Rhodan. She refreshed every Council member's memory with a recounting of Akon provocation, and having gotten that far she brought up a series of rhetorical questions: "How would we have reacted in Rhodan's place? Wouldn't war, demoralization and death have come to the galaxy again? In Rhodan's place would we not have completely destroyed these overbearing Akons?"

  These questions were regarded as an enormity and an affront. She was met with sharp rejoinders because her words caused agitation and indignation among the councilors.

  But Auris of Las-Toor would not be interrupted and she continued in Perry Rhodan's defense. "The situation can't be what Gonozal VIII represents it to be in his Imperium. It can't be true that Rhodan has betrayed his friend the Imperator! There must be misunderstandings here, or circumstances must be involved which we are not able to judge at this distance. From my own position I must warn you: do not grant Imperator Gonozal VIII this assistance immediately! Use diplomatic subterfuge if you have to! It is the duty of the Ruling Council to find out the causes of this terrible misunderstanding between the Arkon Imperium and Perry Rhodan!

  "I'd like to say personally, right here and now, that Perry Rhodan is not capable of the treason which the Arkonide accuses him of! A man like this Terran who places such high value on each individual human life must also know what it means to have friends! Honorable Ruling Council, may the wisdom of the gods and the insight of the great ones among our people be with us today and lead us to a correct decision!"

  The eyes of all present followed Auris of Las-Toor as she went back to her seat. No one could free himself from the impression her words had made. But finally the third military expert asked for the floor again.

  Resorting to unemotional logic, he plucked the girl's argument to pieces and in the end his figures and numbers prevailed. By the time he sat down, they might as well have dispensed with the formality of a vote. The decision was already there. There was an almost unanimous agreement that the required assistance would be given to Imperator Gonozal VIII.

  One hour later the largest transmitter of the Blue System beamed out an answer from the Ruling Council to the Greater Imperium. The answer consisted of terms and conditions representing unbreakable chains of commitment, which Atlan would be binding himself with if he were to agree to the demands of the Akons.

  • • •

  In the Crystal Palace on Arkon 1, the force of Arkonide fighting machines standing guard over the Imperator had been tripled. One hour previously the robot Brain on Arkon 3 had relayed the Blue System's message to Atlan and at the same time it had sent him its evaluation. The gigantic positronicon had warned him to accept the Akon offer. It recommended a test of strength with the Sol System.

  Logical evaluation indicates a strength ratio of 58:42 in favor of the Arkon Imperium if the Imperator succeeds in obtaining the help of the Galactic Traders or the priests of Baalol...

  This was probably the 20th time Atlan had read the giant robot's evaluation since receiving it, and finally he lost his patience. "That thing is crazy!" he exclaimed. "The Brain is mad! Of all people, I should make a pact with the Antis? In that case it would be better to make an unconditional surrender to Terra!"

  He had good reason to distrust the Brain's conclusions. The colossal computer had never been able to outguess Perry Rhodan. It thought in Arkonide patterns and had not been able to make an adjustment to the Earthly mentality. Time and again the Terran had made his clever chess plays to outsmart the mechanical monster-a feat that was formerly considered to be simply out of the question.

  Atlan's red eyes were aflame with weariness. Sleepless and still shaken by Rhodan's inconceivable betrayal of their friendship, he sat there staring at the Akon message and its evaluation. "Galactic Traders!" he muttered tonelessly. "They're only waiting for the chance to strike the best bargain of their lives! If I were to just go and ask for help, all I would get would be a sneer and a cold shoulder. And the Antis are out of the question. Yes, Rhodan, I believe you have chosen the vital moment; the Arkon Imperium may not be an independent state much longer."

  In hostile rejection he read the military ratio figures again. 58:42 was false. 80:20 would be more like it-in favor of the Solar Imperium! He supported his head in his hands. This was the deepest despair he had ever experienced in his long span of existence. He kept on thinking it must all be a bad dream, yet the constant stream of reports coming in from all parts of the star cluster only served to confirm the reality of Rhodan's betrayal.

  "I don't understand id" he groaned aloud. "I simply can't!"

  Sad old hound dog... He could still hear Perry Rhodan calling him this but it had been in a moment of sympathy. He visualized again the circle of courtiers around him who had sought to deter him from flying to Arkon 3 on board the Ironduke.

  "A man doesn't say this to another when he is planning to betray him!" Atlan seemed to listen to his own words reflectively and once more he envisioned the situation where Rhodan had coined the description of 'sad dog'. But this old hound dog, Atlan, knew his humans well; he knew their good and their bad sides and he had encountered his share of traitors and deceivers-but he could not conceive of Rhodan ever deceiving him. Something simply did not come together here.

  "Bell!" he thought aloud. "Or Mercant or Deringhouse...!" He had already switched on his microphone. On an impulse he requested a hypercom channel to Terrania-person-to-person with Reginald Bell.

  Then came the waiting.

  But not silence. New emergency reports and alarm calls kept pouring in. By now there were approximately 21,000 Terran spaceships stationed at the center of star cluster M-13. The strategy behind their deployment pattern was becoming obvious. They were taking up standby positions around the most important defense fortresses of the Arkonide Imperium. Atlan needed no star charts to realize that this demonstration of power was making the Imperium's helpless state unmistakably clear. It also became apparent that the movements of the Solar Fleet were following a very carefully prepared plan. Almost at a glance the Arkonide recognized Rhodan's fine strategic hand.

  Then came the hypercom connection.

  The metallic voice of the robot operator in the Crystal Palace announced the call: "Your Highness, Mr. Reginald Bell in Terrania, planet Earth, is ready to speak to you."

  Atlan's viewscreen flickered to life. He waited until Bell's broad, rugged face became visible. Then Atlan began to talk. And Bell listened to everything he had to say. He only nodded now and then.

  But finally it was his turn. "Arkonide, for three days now the Chief has not permitted any contact with him. We only know what's he's doing after it's done. We're all in the dark, without exception. It's possible that he's even monitoring this conversation-and that's OK with me because at least it gives me a chance to let him know where I stand."

  The Imperator interrupted impatiently. "Bell, don't give me any long dissertations! I don't have time for that! From your side, how is it that nothing was done to block this treasonous action by Rhodan?"

  Bell answered without the quiver of an eyelash: "Because in the past few weeks Rhodan has wrangled dictatorial powers from Parliament. Mercant, Freyt and everybody else you can name... all of us have our hands tied. We have to go along with it-or else! Do you understand our situation?"

  "But I don't understand Rhodan's betrayal."

  "Do you think we can understand what he's doing?" retorted Bell vehemently. He str
uggled to control his feelings. "The Chief must be sick, Atlan! There's no other way to explain the change that's come over him!"

  The Imperator's voice was equally vehement. "I thought you Terrans were always so proud of being individualists! What's happened to all that? Where is your famous initiative-your spirit of responsibility? Believe me, Terran, it isn't easy for me to say this, but under the circumstances I'd say you have your head in a bucket!"

  Then Bell thundered at him as though he wanted his voice to be heard across 34,000 light-years. "Look, Atlan, I know you've got an axe to grind but if you can't understand that ever since Perry's come back from Okul he's been mentally sick..."

  "All the more reason for you to do your job as First Deputy of the Solar Imperium!" Atlan interjected. "You should have stepped in!"

  Bell waved off the criticism with a weary gesture. "But who could know he was this sick? Nobody! Not even the doctors! Anyway, Arkonide, why do you presume that the worst will happen?"

  "Because it can't get any worse than it is right now! With all the Terrans going back, my Imperium has been brought to the brink of disaster. I cannot stand by any longer without taking action. I shall have to proceed according to the requirements of the situation!"

  Atlan intended to end the unfruitful conversation at this point but Bell rather hastily repeated his question.

  "What makes you think the worst will happen?"

  Imperator Gonozal VIII took note of this. Bell had made a point of stating the question twice. But his tone was almost hostile when he replied: "I have lost all faith in Terrans, which leaves nothing but an unspeakable contempt!" Wherewith he cut the connection.

  The die was cast! Now he had to accept the conditions imposed by the Blue System. One way or another, Arkon's days as a gigantic independent stellar empire were numbered.

  "Perry-!" Atlan cried aloud to himself. It was a futile cry for help which remained unanswered. Within the Arkon Imperium the fleets of the Sol System were moving into attack positions!

  • • •

  Thomas Cardif had eavesdropped on the hypercom conversation between Atlan and Reginald Bell. He had smiled with satisfaction when Bell spoke of Rhodan being mentally sick, offering it as an explanation for his personality change. On the other hand his attention had been drawn suddenly to Bell's cryptic question: Anyway, Arkonide, why do you presume that the worst will happen?

  He suspected what Bell, Mercant and Freyt were planning. But he had also taken precautions against even this eventuality. They'd never get to make their move-not one of them!

  It was night in Terrania. In the cloudless sky glowed the great belt of the Milky Way. Those millions of suns were far points of light in the vastness, sending their combined light to Earth. As Thomas Cardif looked up at them it was not in awed wonderment but with eyes that hungered for power.

  He was heir to the universe! He, Rhodan's son!

  Now his gaze swept to the distant spaceport. In the field lights he could see the spherical shape of the Ironduke. "Hmm..." he murmured to himself.

  The intercom buzzed suddenly. He walked over to it and uttered a clipped "Yes!" which all in Terrania had begun to fear.

  The operator spoke briefly: "Solar Marshal Mercant wishes to speak to the First Administrator concerning Nolinov and Alkher."

  How many had wanted to speak to him in these past few days, ever since the fleet had taken off for Arkon? He, 'Perry Rhodan', had not received any of them. But now he would make an exception and he knew why. "I shall be expecting Mercant," he said into the microphone.

  He waited calmly for the arrival of the Intelligence Chief. He sat comfortably in his chair, completely relaxed, master of the situation. Meanwhile, he felt the sudden activity of his cell activator. He sensed a life-giving current pass through his body from the device.

  The touch of eternal life!

  But at the same moment his subconscious echoed the distant laughter which had become so familiar to him. It had announced Its presence in this disconcerting manner at least once every day. Cardif listened only with half a mental 'ear' to the voice within him. The same old stereotyped warning was beginning to bore him: If you do not wish to become too big and powerful, Perry Rhodan, remove the cell activator! Even now he was hearing this message again. Cardif attempted to ignore it-but then he started because the multiplex being on Wanderer was saying more today than usual: Perry Rhodan, you have just one more day to take off the activator! Take care too much of greatness can also have too great a price! You must know what you are doing, Perry Rhodan!

  His only reply was a rebellious laugh. His weapon supplier on Wanderer had long ceased to be the uncanny mental colossus which Perry Rhodan had always considered It to be. He, Thomas Cardif, had learned how limited the horizons of It really were! He had proved that the community entity's faculty for gasping the contents of anther's thoughts was also limited. His deception on Wanderer had succeeded and he had no intention of removing the activator.

  With the same indescribable laughter, It withdrew from Thomas Cardif's inner consciousness. The last cosmic titter ebbed away as Solar Marshal Mercant made his appearance in spite of the lateness of the hour.

  Cardif-Rhodan was purposely friendly. "Have a seat, Mercant," he invited. "What have you to report? Political unrest in the Arkon System... Arkonide robotships attacking the Fleet? Ah yes, it almost slipped my mind! You've come here about the Nolinov-Alkher situation. Are there any new details on that?"

  Mercant nodded slightly as he placed his folder on a small, low coffee table. "Sir, there are astonishing new details but unfortunately on the whole they are something of a riddle."

  Cardif-Rhodan leaned forward with interest. "At times I regret having lost my slight telepathic capability, and this is one of them. I can only wait until you've satisfied my curiosity."

  The Solar Marshal sat back and crossed his legs. "Sir, in just the last few hours we've run into some surprises. This all started when we made a routine inspection of space-jet I-109 on board the Ironduke-the one you flew with Alkher and Nolinov to Wanderer. Back in under the flight console we found a micro-transmitter..."

  "What?" Cardif-Rhodan's feigned surprise was extremely well done. "In the space-jet's control room...? You mean a device like the one that was surgically implanted in the Anti at the Springer trading post on Pluto?"

  "No, sir, Although there's no doubt it's from the workshops of the Swoons. In some way that's still a puzzle to us, somebody must have brought this midget sender on board the space-jet..."

  "Please, Mercant, get to the point. I'm not in the mood tonight for solving riddles. What is the nature of the transmitter? What was its purpose and function?"

  This was a typical Rhodan characteristic. He had never had patience for long-winded discussions and always insisted on hearing the essentials.

  "Well," began Mercant, "this micro-transmitter drew its power from the ship's positronicon but at the same time it was able to pick up from it the space-jet's position data. Sir, its transmission range is 100 light-years."

  If Mercant had expected the Chief to react to this he was disappointed. He continued: "So the device could register all conversations in the space-jet's control room and transmit them in short pulse-bursts along with the position data. The pulse duration was five microseconds! The transmitter remained active as long as the jet's engines were functioning. Further lab investigation revealed that it stopped working when the Antis arrived in their long-ship and crippled the space-jet with their mental field."

  "Hm-m..." Rhodan's double managed to be appropriately thoughtful as he looked at Mercant. "That could mean that my suspicions concerning Alkher and Nolinov are unjustified! Mercant, if this is true, I'll be the first to apologize to these two men in every way I can-provided they are not actually dead. It will be a great satisfaction to me to publicly reinstate them. But how could anyone know that the I-109 would be the specific ship I would use?"

  A faint smile touched Mercant's lips. The Chief's apparent sympathet
ic attitude was not the only reason for it, however. For the first time in weeks he felt that he was facing the old Perry Rhodan, who was healthy again and in possession of those faculties which had given him such an incredible talent for directing his fellow men. His last question was a clear indication of the old alertness and penetration.

  "Sir, we more or less beat our brains out on that question for awhile-until we cross-examined the hangar officer. His mental processes at the time of your departure gave us the most obvious answer. When he heard that you were going to need a space-jet, naturally his mind turned to the most modem one on board the Ironduke, which was the I-109. Nothing would have prevented the real culprit from arriving at the same conclusion. "I..."

  "Just a moment, Mercant, there's something I have to get off my conscience. Before we go on, I want to say this: put out a general Fleet bulletin over the hypercom channels. Express my regret for having suspected the two lieutenants and that I shall not neglect to apologize to them and make full restitution, in case they return... That's it, Mercant. Was there anything else?"

  "Nothing, sir-except that I must tell you your closest staff members have been watching the movements of the Solar Fleet in the Arkon Imperium and..."

  Cardif-Rhodan rose to his feet. Mercant fell silent as a brief flickering of hope was extinguished within him.

  "Mercant, I still have work to do!"

  The Solar Marshal made a slight bow. He took his papers and left.

  But his blood ran cold. The alien personality that had suddenly projected itself through Perry Rhodan was frightening. Although Mercant was a top expert in his field, in the Alkher-Nolinov situation he still did not suspect that the man he took to be his chief was worse than mentally ill. By means of the hidden micro-transmitter he had deliberately led him up the garden path.

  In a moment of reflection, Thomas Cardif had come to realize that he had pushed too far in accusing Alkher and Nolinov of treason-it was fraught with the danger of bringing himself too much under scrutiny. This latter consideration had been his sole motivation for reinstating the good reputation of the officers who had accompanied him to Wanderer. That Mercant and the experts of Solar Intelligence were 'beating their brains out' to find out who could have concealed the micro-device on board the space-jet did not concern Cardif at all. It would never occur to the Solar Marshal that the Chief himself, after his return to Earth, had personally hidden the micro-transmitter there!