To Arkon! Read online

  "But as he had drawn near enough, he saw that the gold was in reality only brass; his courage returned and with only the troops in has advance guard, he defeated the Queen of Saba's mighty host."

  Then he turned to Rhodan, saying with a sardonic grin: "So much for the Mythology Hour - what do we do now?"

  Rhodan indicated the screen. "We're waiting for the evaluations. According to our calculations, we came out of the transition 38 light-hours from Arkon's sun. What we see from here concurs with the information on Khrest's old charts. Since so much has changed in the meantime, however, I don't want to run any risks. So the charts are being checked out one more time. It's quite possible that the Arkonides have built a new spacefort and we'll run right into it if we aren't careful."

  Bell frowned. "And there's the so-called 'Outer-Defence Ring,' too, right?"

  "Yes, but not in this area. The outermost ring is beyond the orbit of the planet farthest from Arkon in the Arkonide system, between 15 and 20 light-hours from the central sun."

  Bell read a row of instruments. "We're making 0·2 light," he determined. "We're within communication range of the outer ring. Should we call them?"

  Rhodan nodded. "Of course. We'll transmit everything we can to convince them that we're coming with peaceful intentions."

  "Aha. I hope it helps somewhat!"

  • • •

  Checking over the charts had resulted in no new discoveries. The Arkonides had added no new units to their series of space stations. A part of the 5000 platforms armed with the heaviest gunnery could be made out. The Ganymede now approached the Ring at 60% of light. The antennae broadcasted the ship's code signal unceasingly along with other radio messages.

  The platforms should have answered - at least, Khrest had maintained, under normal circumstances. But they did not. They moved silently along their orbits and no one could say what they would do if, without clearance from the automatic senders, the Ganymede attempted to crash through the Ring anyway and speed on towards the heart of the Great Imperium. One of the giant battle-platforms grew slowly on the videoscreen. In the strange perspective of space, which permitted no judgment of distance without instruments, it seemed to grow in seconds from a tiny shining point into an enormous monster next to which the Ganymede was only a mere lifeboat.

  For a fraction of a second the eyes caught the threatening openings of the ray turrets. Then the fire-storm broke out of all cannons. A glistening wall of vast, concentrated energy shot out at the Ganymede. The defense screen generators howled under the impact of terrific force: the ship was knocked to and fro like an old wooden skiff on a stormy sea. Naked fear gripped the hearts of all men aboard.

  The last energy remaining to the driving engines snatched the ship forward. A vigorous burst of acceleration put the incessant ray-blasts from the gun turrets behind the Ganymede for some seconds, wasting their energy on empty space. Then the automatic aiming devices sensed their error and set the ray-cannons in a new direction. By then, the Terran ship was already more than 120,000 miles away and the defense screen, which had barely stood up under the first barrage, now absorbed the shots racing in from the rear with no hardship.

  The ship's pitching stopped. The Ganymede rushed on into the alien solar system with a glowing defense field, leaving the destructive ring of battle-platforms behind. Rhodan's hoarse, hard voice startled the crewmen from their terror. "For the time being, we'll be on maximum alert readiness! Further attacks are to be expected. Attack reports are to be relayed to the control room immediately!"

  But there were no attacks.

  Khrest cowered in his seat at the sidewall of the control room. Fear-stricken, he was as pale as an albino. Rhodan turned to him, forcing a little smile in the hope of calming the Arkonide. Khrest did not reply but terror was written on his face. Yet, the space before the Ganymede appeared free. The mighty Imperium had given the alien intruders a short break in which to catch their breath.

  Rhodan stood up and, walking past his officers' working areas, gave each man an encouraging and calming word. He stood in front of Khrest, waiting until the Arkonide eventually noticed his presence in his fear, and said: "I'm placing the entire communications system at the disposal of you and Thora. You know how to use the equipment. Try to speak with Arkon! Make your people understand that we aren't coming as enemies! And do it successfully or all of us are lost!"

  Khrest nodded in confusion, stood up and left the room. Rhodan watched him go, then called Thora and asked her to help Khrest.

  Even so, it looked like she could use a great deal of help herself.

  • • •

  After the last shots from the outermost fortress ring had been left far in the rear, Rhodan dropped the Ganymede's speed. It was senseless to tear through the solar system at 90% of light. Caution was necessary, even if such caution would require more time and thus increase the chances of the Ganymede being attacked again before reaching Arkon's orbit.

  Thora and Khrest had been trying for some minutes to contact their home world over the hypercom. Up to now there had been no success. Arkon did not reply. Suspicion grew in Rhodan's mind. Arkon did not reply! Had the world of the Arkonides fallen victim to some catastrophe? Had a war wiped out Arkonkind? Nonsense, thought Rhodan, quashing his own fear. What about that fleet that was so fearsomely clearing the Motuners out of another sector of space? Where could it have come from?

  Or perhaps not nonsense after all: could not robot-guided ships have escaped the general collapse and, with the obstinacy of unreasoning machines, continue to carry out their missions even though those who had assigned them the missions were no longer alive?

  Had the Ganymede come too late? Rhodan sought confirmation. With the help of the small programme calculator standing by his desk, he encoded the question: "Have there been any robot-guided vessels among the Arkonide ships we have had contact with in the last 10 hours?"

  The question was transmitted to the central computer; Rhodan asked that the answer be relayed back to him as quickly as possible. He assumed that Positronicon would not come to a definite answer before 15 minutes had gone by.

  In those 15 minutes—

  The crackling of the intercom circuit startled Rhodan The navigation officer's shout burst throughout the room: "Transition in the immediate vicinity! Battleship of the Stardust class - visible with the naked eye!"

  A threatening black shadow had slid over a pan of the luminous carpet of stars - at first a small hole in space, then a ball and finally an enormous, perfectly round disc blocking the view completely from the Ganymede in its direction.

  Rhodan tensed his muscles as though he had to bear the brunt of the first shot himself. And then it came, the greenish energy mass from a disintegrator. It struck the Ganymede's defense screen directly above the guidance fins, lighting up the field with a harsh brilliance.

  Rhodan turned the Ganymede with a lightning-swift manoeuvre, bringing her to one side and leaving the next disintegrator salvo behind. But the giant ship was not to be shaken by the dodge: almost effortlessly it followed every move the Ganymede made, reducing the distance between it and the Terran ship to about 12 miles. The Arkonides continued their unceasing bombardment of the Ganymede with all possible types of weaponry.

  The screaming inferno of the defense screen generators began anew. New shocks jolted the Ganymede, the antigrav neutralizers could no longer absorb the alien blasts. Men were knocked out of their seats, thrown through the air, slammed against walls. Rhodan flew one manoeuvre after the other. Occasionally the strain bore so heavily on his arm that he would accidentally move a knob he did not intend and the Ganymede would shoot off in some new, unplanned direction.

  About a quarter of the barrage missed the ship in this fashion but the defense screen would stand up under even three-quarters of the space-giant's full fire-power for only another few minutes. Rhodan came to a decision. "All gunposts ready to fire! Gunpost 1, exercise care in range-finding!"

  The crewmen breathed easier. Final
ly! Something was finally happening! Finally they could show the Arkonide colossus out there just who it was dealing with. What was it? A giant ship? Ho Ho - for giant ships we have very special giant weapons! Take this teletransmitter for instance, which could catapult an entire planet if need be...

  What's this? Order rescinded? Hold your fire? Why? Because when things had looked bleakest, Thora's desperate voice had come on over the intercom. It had been faint amid the commotion raging throughout the ship but her words had nevertheless been understandable: "Don't shoot, for Life's sake! Countermand that order! We've contacted Arkon!"

  A last jolt struck the Ganymede, setting her spinning within her flaming defense field. The stars on the videoscreen became long streaks. Rhodan braked the movement with a brief counter-thrust, brought the picture on the screens back in order and surveyed the situation. Where was the battleship? Gone! Disappeared! The starry mass of the globular cluster gleamed in all its extravagant glory but the colossus was no longer there. Once again, the Ganymede had a free view in all directions.

  "I knew it!" muttered Reginald Bell. "It was all only a dream!"

  The crew laughed. A trifle hysterically, to be sure, but their tension was being relieved. A new waiting period began for the Ganymede. Because the evasive manoeuvring had brought the ship close to the outer fortress ring again, Rhodan undertook a small course correction. On the videoscreen, Arkon's sun blazed in blinding beauty. Black filters had to be pulled down over the screen so the view could be tolerated.

  The Ganymede was still nine hours away from Arkon's orbit. The orbit of the outermost planet lay behind her. But even so close to the goal, no one could answer the question - what had happened on Arkon? What influence had made the decadent, lethargic Arkonides so bloodthirsty that they shot at strange guests without warning?

  Thora and Khrest had spoken directly with Arkon, recording the exchange on a tape which they brought with them into the control room to play for Perry Rhodan. Rhodan watched them as they busied themselves with the tape player. Khrest seemed as fearful and confused as he had half an hour before when he left the chamber. And Thora's hands trembled. She started the machine with a sudden jerk that nearly broke the switch.

  Rhodan was surprised.

  A deep silence ruled in the control room when the recorded voices poured out of the loudspeaker. All of the officers understood the Arkonide language ass well as their own, thanks to hypno-training.

  Khrest: "This is Khrest of the Zoltral family speaking, member of the Aetron Expedition which left Arkon eleven (Arkonide) years ago. With Thora of the same family and second surviving member of the expedition, I found myself aboard the ship of an alien power which wishes to return us to Arkon. We request permission to land."

  That was cautiously phrased, Rhodan thought. If Khrest had been convinced that conditions on Arkon were the same when he left, he would have demanded permission to land instead of requesting it. The Zoltral family was the ruling dynasty.

  Khrest's appeal was repeated several times. After the second repetition, the uproar caused by the evasive manoeuvre to escape the Arkonide battleship could be heard on the tape. It was possible to hear the shrieking generators and, now and then, Rhodan's commanding voice over the intercom, whose circuit was required to be continuously open during a state of alarm.

  Khrest had to repeat five times before he received the first sign of a reply. By then his voice indicated that he had given up almost all hope. A strange indifferent voice said: "Arkon to Khrest of the Family of Zoltral. You are now no longer included in in the search-lists. Wait for an escort ship!"

  At that moment Thora had entered in. Judging from her voice, he energy reserves were much greater than Khrest's. "An escort ship!" she hissed wildly. "What you've sent out to us is a battleship! If you don't recall it immediately, the commander of our ship will have to destroy it!"

  Rhodan looked up in astonishment. His glance sought Thora but she was looking down at the floor. The indifferent voice emerged once more from the loudspeaker: "That is impossible. No one can destroy an Arkonide battleship!"

  "You'll soon find out somebody can, you fool!"

  At that moment, Rhodan's command to the gunposts was audible in the background.

  "However," continued the strange voice, "we will call back the battleship. Do not do anything before our escort ship has arrived. End of message."

  Rhodan knew the rest himself. Thora had asked him to rescind the order to fire and then the battleship had vanished. Rhodan looked at the two Arkonides. "This isn't what you had expected?" he asked in Arkonese.

  Khrest did not move but Thora's head snapped upright. "You know that as well as we do!" she hissed angrily.

  Rhodan nodded. "Yes ... but perhaps the lack of respect towards your family name is a good sign - for the entire Arkonide race, I mean. You shouldn't draw any all-too-dark conclusions from just the fact that they refused to use the titles 'Noble' or 'Excellency.'"

  Thora did not agree. "You're only saying that to comfort us," she claimed. "But you know as well as I do that a whole world would have to fall before an Arkonide of subordinate rank would refuse to address a member of the ruling dynasty with the appropriate title!"

  Rhodan looked at her thoughtfully. "Perhaps an entire world has fallen," he said gently.

  A discussion probably would have ensued from that had not the navigation officer, who still knew nothing of the communication with Arkon, reported in a cracked voice another transition in the immediate vicinity. Bell was the one to tell him his excitement was for naught. "Calm down," he instructed the officer. "We've been expecting this one."

  Rhodan called the crews away from the gunposts. Only Gunpost 1, the teletransmitter, remained manned. Rhodan didn't want to run the risk that in this important moment - the most important, perhaps, in the history of mankind - one of the men would lose his nerve. On the other hand, hehad to keep at least one weapon manned,

  The huge ball approached swiftly. Rhodan watched the operation. The Arkonide pilot was a master of his craft. He approached almost yard by yard until a gulf of only 2400 feet stretched between the equatorial rim of his ship and the Ganymede's outer hull. The defense screens touched and the point of contact lit up brightly.

  Reginald Bell could no longer restrain his impatience "I've never seen such cheek!" he growled angrily. "Why is he trying to crowd us so close?"

  Rhodan shrugged, smiling. "Ask him!"

  Bell did not wait for Rhodan to say it twice. His temper having gotten the best of him, he threw the telecom switch, turned the antenna in the direction of the Arkonide spacesphere and gave the Arkonide transmission code.

  The videoscreen lit up and humming bands began to form into a picture. Bell started to speak in Arkonidean even before he saw to whom he was speaking, "Sporogaar Gahmet quet okan Arkon-gar! Space-cruiser Ganymede to unidentified Arkon-ship! What kind of crazy... oh!"

  The image on the screen had become dear. Shocked, Bell took a step backwards and stared at it. Out of squinting eyes he saw a creature that, judging from the instruments shown around him, must have been at least nine feet tall. The being stood back far enough from the camera that his entire body could be seen on the screen.

  It belonged without a doubt to a humanoid race. It had two legs, thick as Egyptian temple columns, and two long arms, which dangled in an oddly loose manner. The head - now, it was a head even if it was a geometrically exact, hairless sphere. Three eye-openings and a broad but comically thin-lipped mouth had been chiseled in the head's front surface. There was no nose.

  While Bell was still gripped by his fright, Thora suddenly moaned. "My God! Naats! They're letting Naats on board Arkonide ships!"

  Rhodan quickly remembered the suspicion he had held an hour before. Had it been the Naats, the colonial people from the system's fifth planet, who had struck the Imperium's death-blow? Had the Naats taken over the rule - these ape-like creatures who moved about on all fours when they did not have a ship's metal planking directly beneath
their feet? Of course the Naats were more intelligent than one would suspect from their appearance. Had the Naats been instructed to ignore broadcast code messages?

  Reginald Bell had recovered from his shock. "Shatanaro," he started again; "I'd like to know what your crazy manoeuvre's supposed to do! You're endangering both plugar - both ships!"

  The giant Naat had watched the scene on his videoscreen rather stupidly. He answered Bell's question, however, as casually as though he conversed with Terrans several times a day. "There's no other way I can tow you."

  "Tow?" fumed Bell. "We can move by ourselves! "We don't need your towing service!"

  "Then do you know where you're supposed to land?" asked the Naat.

  "We want to land on Arkon and that's just what we're going to do!"

  Rhodan gestured to Bell, who stepped back, still quivering with rage, and let his commander have his place. "Rhodan, kadar ao Gahmet. Commander of the Ganymede,"

  Rhodan announced. "Who are you and what are your instructions?"

  The Naat seemed a trace more interested when he saw Rhodan's tall figure in contrast to Bell's and heard his terse, calm questions. "I am Novaal," he answered readily, "leader of this Imperium battleship. I have the assignment of bringing your ship safely to Naat and landing it at the Naatral spaceport."

  Rhodan remembered his training. Naat was a world the size of Jupiter with a climate like that of Mars. The gravity was murderous. The planet was a desert world, one which caused the Arkonides amazement that it was able to bear life at all and intelligent life at that.

  "I have two Arkonide passengers aboard," Rhodan interjected, positioning himself so that Khrest and Thora came in camera-range. "I believe that you will have difficulties, Novaal, if you don't provide the means for sending the two of them on to Arkon by the quickest way. I assume you are acquainted with the name Zoltral."