Atlan in Danger Page 4

  "Well? Is the storm turning into a hurricane by now, Springer?" Cardif casually inquired.

  "Not yet. But the Aras have called for the third time and urgently requested my freight space. That is so unusual that it can only mean that they want to negotiate with me."

  Cardif with a mocking smile for the Patriarch said: "Cokaze, you won't earn anything in this deal for the

  Great Empire if you don't secure your weak position on all sides. What are your 4,000 ships anyway? What does your bank account matter? What good is your knowledge that the positronic computer has been replaced by Atlan? Nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing as long as it is simply listed one after the other.

  "Capitalize on it!" Get in contact with the most unreliable colonial peoples. Negotiate with everyone about everything but don't risk your neck in the process. In politics it is very exposed. And don't forget that directly after the storm the hurricane must follow, otherwise Atlan will withdraw the battle fleet from the Druuf front and you will have the war you don't need at all!

  "After all, you don't want a burning empire. You want a ripe fruit to pluck and pocket. Springer,you must see to it that the pocket is big enough for the fruit! Have you understood me?"

  Cokaze had the impression that Cardif had spoken without any forethought. But when he was alone again in his own cabin he realized that there was no discrepancy in Cardif's suggestions.

  Cokaze summoned the Cokaz 3 and Cokaz 4. Both ships moored alongside him. A connection was made which allowed them to board the other ships without requiring spacesuits.

  The three strong hypercom stations were working continuously. Cokaze began to spin his web. He did not notice that he was doing exactly what Cardif had suggested, gathering power—political power!

  Meanwhile he was still located deep in space with his ships and Arkon was over 6,000 light-years away. That, too, had been a suggestion of Cardif's

  As the third day ended, the Patriarch had laid his mines everywhere. More than 900 Springer clans stood behind him; the Aras were still urgently demanding the freight space of his fleet. Through patriarchs of other clans or through trade agencies of the Traders on colonial worlds he had established contact with them.

  "Don't expose yourself that much!" Cardif repeatedly warned and Cokaze himself sometimes failed to comprehend why he listened to the young man's suggestions. He didn't understand himself but he knew that Rhodan's son was superior to him in this area.

  Now they were sitting together in the big cabin. The gathering storm was clearly taking form!

  The hour was drawing ever closer in which Admiral Atlan would have to speak to the Great Empire from Arkon 3 if he did not want to idly stand by and watch the downfall of his enormous celestial realm.

  But the Bank of the Galactic Traders on Archetz did not call back. Still Cokaze winked cheerfully at Thomas Cardif.

  The mines were laid; they only had to be detonated. The Patriarch had the detonator and it was thanks to Cardif that he now had the power which would compel Ortece and Atual to their knees!

  New dispatches arrived. Wheat was already separated from chaff. They were only read by Cokaze and Cardif. The eldest sons of the Patriarch were mere stand-ins. They did not show how they felt about the role that had been forced upon them but that Thomas Cardif was not their friend was an open secret in the Cokaze clan.

  One person was unconcerned about it: Perry Rhodan's son. He knew that he was the stronger but he was clever enough not to flaunt his strength. Time after time he made a point of demonstrating that he was merely the Patriarch's adviser and all his advice confirmed it. After critical examination it was impossible to ascribe any but unselfish motives to Cardiff.

  But he was not Perry Rhodan's son in vain. And though he did not possess the irreproachable character of his father, he did possess the intuitive know-how to supervise a project from its inception to finale, never forgetting to calculate on unexpected incidents.

  He actually acted without reflection; he acted from intuition.

  "Springer, shouldn't we acquaint Atual and Ortece with the new facts? After all, the Aras are the second largest family-nation in the Arkon Empire next to you Springers and the Council of 10 has inquired again in one of the last dispatches when you will arrive on Aralon."

  "Isn't it still too early for that?" Cokaze's eldest son dared to ask, earning a sharp reproach from the Patriarch. A moment later Cokaze ordered a connection with the two bank directors.

  Many minutes passed until Atual's face appeared on the screen in Cokaze's cabin. The chieftain took no time for any preliminaries. "Atual, I am now speaking in the name of 857 patriarchs, in the name of 126 different shipyards, in the name of heavy industry and weapon production. I am speaking for all the heads of the Mounders. After this I am sending a messenger with the necessary documents by which all of the aforementioned are closing their accounts completely. The documents will indicate where the funds are to be..."

  "As you like, Patriarch," Atual interrupted, unaffected. "We are awaiting the documents." He nodded lightly and switched off.

  Behind Cokaze's back there was unrest among his sons. No one had reckoned with failure. Springer bankers just seemed to have peculiar natures.

  The Patriarch's gaze faltered. Thomas Cardif was smiling with relish. At that instance he was Perry Rhodan, with the slight discrepancy of his albino-reddish Arkonide eyes.

  "Don't you want to have the documents brought to the bank, Springer?" Almost in the same breath he added: "We should inform the Council of 10 on Aralon of our arrival."

  But the clan chieftain was not completely adrift in young Cardif's wake. "We shall let Ortece and Atual wait until evening. Let them think we are just bluffing. They will be all the more willing to drop their reserve and I... I could make some connections in the meanwhile!"

  Cokaze proved his stature, that he was rightfully the richest Patriarch in the Arkonide Empire. He knew how to conduct negotiations; the ability to endow his words with an air of unequivocal trustworthiness must have been an inborn trait. Time and time again he had instructed his sons that by using tactical lies everything could be lost but riches never gained.

  Cokaze managed to meet four industrial tycoons at an appointed place. He negotiated with them alone. When he returned three hours later on board the Cokaz 2, he handed Thomas Cardif 9 additional documents to scan.

  "Cokaze, for the first time in my life I admire a Galactic Trader!" Cardif impulsively said, extending his arm for a handshake in Terran fashion.

  The Patriarch had encountered this custom on Earth and often made fun of it. Now, however, he did not hesitate to grasp Cardif's hand and return the firm handshake. Cokaze was beaming. He was pleased by Cardif's genuine admiration.

  • • •

  At the same time hypercom impulses were flashing back and forth between Arkon and Terra. It was impossible to listen in on this radio transmission and stretch the short impulses to their normal time-span. Furthermore, the antennas beamed them scrambled and coded. But without any noticeable time lag they came out of the hyperradio loudspeaker in clear text at Rhodan's end and at Atlan's.

  "But that's not all, Admiral," Rhodan said into the microphone. "I can see it in your face. So?"

  Across the distance of 34,000 light-years Atlan looked at his friend. "Right, Perry! I haven't informed you of everything and now I am sorry that I have to be telling you this: the one behind all these intrigues is Thomas Cardif! He is the strategist!"

  "Thomas Cardif?" Rhodan sharply interrupted the Arkonide in disbelief. "He has just grown up and..."

  From the gigantic domed hall of the mammoth positronic computer on Arkon heavy breathing could be heard. The colored screen in front of Rhodan showed Atlan shaking his head. Now he changed from shaking to nodding. "Perry, you would be right if Thomas Cardif weren't your son! Do you know which answer the giant computer gave me when I asked: who is behind the subversive movement? It named your name. It said: Rhodan! But it didn't say which Rhodan."


  "And you believe it?" the Administrator asked more sharply than he had intended.

  "Don't you, barbarian? Actually you could be proud of your son, if he weren't out to destroy you by way of driving me out. That, my friend, I wanted to keep from you, but we probably know each other too well to be able to conceal anything. Rhodan against Rhodan... who would have thought it?"

  A pause ensued: silence. Only the picture remained.

  This call from Arkon had been scheduled. Rhodan had had the time to summon his closest co-workers. Now they were sitting behind him. They could see the hypercom screen and hear every word.

  Rhodan against Rhodan—who would have thought it? That last sentence was ringing in all their ears. They were still filled with horror by Atlan's information, according to which the largest positronic computer of the Galaxy had identified the initiator of rebellion in the Arkonide Empire as being a Rhodan.

  Mercant, Freyt, Deringhouse, Marshall and Reginald Bell refused to accept it; they did not want to believe that Rhodan's son had inherited these abilities from his father.

  "Perry," Atlan began again in the great hall of the mammoth computer on Arkon 3, "I am pulling all the combat ships still flying under robot crews away from the Druuf front."

  "Admiral, if I were you I would follow the computer's advice this time. If you yourself intervene, or have your robot ships do so, you will ignite the flames in your Empire that can never be extinguished. I have had an idea ever since your first call but I must still wait until my scientists are finished with one part of the problem of linear hyper-propulsion. Now do you understand me?"

  Rhodan had purposely not spoken directly. He did not rely very much on the hypertransmission specialists' assurance that transmissions of this sort were impossible to monitor.

  "Got it, Perry," Atlan replied after brief consideration, "but I still don't get the entire picture. Does it have something to do with me and the Springers?"

  Rhodan smiled lamely. "I hope to be in the possession of a Fly Swatter!"

  Sighs could be heard on Arkon. "Perry, at this moment I thank our Gods for having met you, barbarian, but if you think I am a super-Arkonide, I thank you for your faith but I am no such thing. 10,000 years spent on Earth seem to have bestowed human weaknesses on me: I am beginning to be pessimistic and to think of Reggie's thumb and your Fly Swatter..." As he spoke his Arkonide eyes widened. "That...? Eternal Gods! Perry! Now it seemed as if Atlan were trying to reach across 34,000 light-years to place his hands on Rhodan's shoulders. "Your Fly Swatter should..."

  Rhodan interrupted brusquely. "We have understood each other, Admiral!"

  "No, we have not, barbarian! Do you want to drive out the devil with Beelzebub?" Atlan responded even more sharply.

  Rhodan replied with calm emphasis: I was speaking about a Fly Swatter, not about the devil or Beelzebub. You can sometimes get two flies with one swatter!"

  "I don't understand that either, barbarian. How lucky we are at least that Thomas Cardif does not have your experience!"

  The conversation between Earth and Arkon was concluded.

  For Perry Rhodan and his associates work began. Only Allan D. Mercant, head of Solar Security, knew about the Administrator's daring plan.

  But mission Fly Swatter would remain in the idea stage as long as Team 065Propulsion was still working on their task.

  The man who suddenly supplied the required impetus was called Rabintorge—the Indian from Lahore.

  4/ A WARNING OF DOOM

  Twenty-four hours later the major transmitters of the robot computer on Arkon 3 tuned into the most important hypercom news phases. The typical call code insignia of the mammoth positronic computer appeared on screens throughout the realm of the Great Empire. It was replaced by the familiar picture of the domed building and then the metallic voice of the computer could be heard.

  The voice was 'threatening; it was not threatening in tone or in expression, it threatened with its soulless logic, not hesitating to speak openly about the plans of the Springers, Aras, Ekhonides and 50 other large nations within the Arkonide Empire.

  The computer did not warn against impending chaos; it did not even indicate it. But it did speak about the Druuf front in the form of an ultimatum without setting any time limit.

  "...We shall withdraw the fleets. We shall not undertake anything further to prevent the Druufs from flying into our Empire. We will withdraw our fleets so slowly and inconspicuously that the Druuf battleships will have to find their way into the Great Empire."

  "An Empire that is no longer willing to preserve itself has no more justification for existence."

  In conclusion the large dome of the mammoth computer could be seen on all screens, followed by the wave pattern.

  For many intelligent beings in the Arkonide Empire it was a warning of doom!

  • • •

  On the return Right from Aralon after their successful conference with the Council of 10, Cokaze and Thomas Cardif had heard this transmission. It seemed to impress the Patriarch but not to have the least effect on Cardif.

  "Bluff!" That was his opinion. "Atlan is still hiding behind the Robot Brain, Cokaze. Really. If the positronicon had spoken on its own initiative it wouldn't have given you Traders a chance. But today the Computer is no longer what it used to be. Hasn't Atlan now offered proof that I have counseled you correctly when I suggested you make contact with the squadron commander at the Druuf front?" Cold laughter crossed Cardif's face. His voice sounded ice-cold, the voice that was a dead ringer for Rhodan's. But the father of this young man had never spoken so coldly, so devoid of any feeling.

  Instinctive defense compelled the Patriarch to lean back. Cardif discerned the significance of his movement. "I... the monster, right, Springer? You are thinking that again but haven't you overlooked that my plan does not contain any warlike engagements? I do not want to become the monster that brings blood and tears over the Great Empire. I want to destroy Rhodan; eradicate his name so that in 10 years not one person will mention it. After that I will withdraw, be forgotten as well, and until the end of my days I will know that my life has had a purpose! Thus far it has been meaningless."

  "Cardif, is Rhodan like you?" Patriarch Cokaze simply had to ask that question. An irresistible, inner urge drove him to it.

  The ice-cold smile reappeared on the face of the young man. "Rhodan like me? No, Springer!" Only the face I was given makes us similar. He is a Terranian, a conglomeration of feelings which are in constant contradiction to his insights. I, however, feel and am like an Arkonide!

  Now the merchant in Cokaze spoke. "Don't you want to take advantage of Rhodan's downfall in any way?"

  "Advantages? For me? I'm not even toying with the idea of becoming his successor in the Solar System. I want to destroy him, to punish him for the murder of my mother. Then I will be satisfied and the knowledge that he got what he deserved is enough for me. But why do you always compel me to talk about Rhodan and myself?"

  "Because you sometimes seem weird to me and because, like it or not I sometimes have to admire you. You cannot deny that you are Rhodan's son and I, why I would be proud to have a father like Rhodan!

  Thomas Cardif sarcastically replied: "You are remarkably emotional for a Galactic Trader!"

  The intercom that interrupted them was louder than usual. The call was from the Com Central of Cokaz 2. "Sir, please listen to this," the communications man excitedly insisted. The hypertransmission news memory bank, a small part of the computer system, repeated an Arkon communique.

  1,529 light-years from Arkon in the Dartol System that consisted of two suns and 36 planets, intelligent amphibious beings, the Rasis as they called themselves, had separated from the Arkonide Empire.

  An hour previously 200 Arkon robot ships had appeared over the three planets inhabited by the Rasis and, without warning, had transformed one of the many little moons above each planet into gas clouds. Unmoved, the mammoth positronic computer declared: "The strong r-radiation forced the amphibious
creatures on these three Rasis worlds to take shelter in the sea in their submarine safety dome. In one of their last transmissions the triple alliance government of Rasis declared they were a loyal vassal of the Great Empire!

  "Arkon is striking back!" Cokaze cried out in horror.

  Cardif contradicted him. "Not Arkon, Atlan! The Great Coordinator would have turned the Rasis worlds into suns and demonstrated to the Empire how mercilessly he punishes. Atlan, however, had three tiny moons vaporized and not one shot was fired at the planets." He leaned forward and said more softly than before: "Cokaze, shouldn't the Galactic Traders be made aware of that distinction?"

  Atual and Ortece came to Patriarch Cokaze. The clan chieftain had proven that he was the stronger and with the general authority document in his pocket according to which Aralon, the main world of the Galactic Physicians, was also prepared to close all its accounts, his position had improved even more.

  Ortece and Atual stared at the document. Ortece's hands were trembling slightly as he returned it to the Patriarch. Uneasily he said: "We have made all necessary preparations, Cokaze, but we cannot help warning you once again."

  "Why?" Cardif cut in sharply.

  Ortece and Atual, themselves patriarchs of two clans which had owned the Bank for millennia, were startled. Irritation and bafflement were in their eyes as they gazed at the young man. Then they turned to look at Cokaze, penetratingly, unmistakably posing a question. For Cardif's intervention was contrary to all customs among Springers.

  "Cardif is speaking and asking questions in my name," Cokaze coldly declared, thus expecting them to respond to Cardif's question.

  Eighteen Springers and Cardif were sitting opposite the two financial experts. Eighteen Springers did not dare challenge these experienced bankers but a young man who looked like Perry Rhodan pulled apart one argument of theirs after another, eventually cornering them so that Atual had to meekly admit that Cardif's viewpoint might be just as valid as theirs.