The Psycho-Duel Read online

  "Do you really believe that, Ras?" said Atlan dubiously.

  The swarm of ships disappeared from the viewscreens but the deep-space scanners followed their course. The warship armada rushed outward toward the Akon ship which was visible on the Ironduke ’s indicators as a tiny blip of light.

  "Sir, the Akons aren’t making any attempt to get away!" reported Nolinow.

  "Naturally not," observed Rhodan, deeply shaken. He had to avert his gaze from Atlan when he spoke to him. "We were far too slow, Admiral."

  Atlan’s uncomprehending stare gave way to a bitter realization. He now knew the real reason for the lightning take off of the Arkonide ships.

  The lieutenant spoke again. "The robotships are not attacking the Akons, sir. They are only circling the aliens."

  "They are taking the Akons under protective escort," Rhodan told him. "The Regent foresaw that we might attack the ship and has moved to block that idea before it got started. The Brain is well aware that our small force here on Arkon 3 is in no position to risk an open confrontation." Atlan smiled. "I’ve just been thinking about my position," he said. "I’m an Imperator without an Imperium because there is no one to transmit my commands or to follow them. The only thing left of my glory seems to be the title alone—or at least so far no one has stepped forth to lay claims to it." Atlan’s words had been full of irony but sooner than anyone on board the Ironduke realized it was to be discovered that this very irony was but a mask for the truth. He who was about to challenge the Imperator’s position and announce his claim to the throne had just arrived in an Akon spaceship and had landed in plain view of the Ironduke.

  3/ THE DEAD COMMAND

  From the beginning of it all it had been like stepping, from the shadows of a dark cave into the bright light of day, there to observe things of whose existence he had never dreamed before. He had rushed toward this new light, drinking in the new impressions almost greedily, and soon the darkness of ignorance had been left behind.

  Carba would not have thought it possible that the augmentation of his intelligence could have such an effect upon him. Actually he found himself in a state of mental intoxication. He was bewildered by the voracity of his mind and the swiftness with which it absorbed everything. Like an addict living in the two-faced Paradise of hallucinations, Carba discovered that in his previous ignorance he had been going through life like a blind man. With the new mental gifts which had been activated in him by ancient Arkonide techniques, he was able to obtain a completely different picture of his environment. A brain like his was deserving of being at the summit of his race. It would not do for him to be living among a bunch of empty-headed fools whose intelligence quotient was less than level 50, whereas he, Carba, now soared way beyond L-50.

  What Carba did not know was that he had been deliberately condemned to death because no organic brain could withstand this kind of alteration.

  Carba was still young and consequently inexperienced to a certain degree. His accomplices made him nervous and irritable with their patient procedures and the careful circumspection with which they tucked in the various threads of their plan. The Akons never plunged into things rashly. They were in the habit of sometimes brooding for days on apparently unimportant phases of a security plan. There was only one reason why he put up with their slow operations: they were successful. They were well on their way to taking over the power in the Greater Imperium and this would place the young Arkonide at the pinnacle—as Imperator. The Regent would doubtlessly acknowledge him because he possessed the high grade of intelligence that security circuit A-1 demanded. Moreover, since he belonged to the House of Minterol he was from one of the old-line families of Arkonide aristocracy, which was another point in his favor when the Regent ran its positronic evaluation of him. Carba was tall and lean and had a habit of fidgeting with his hands about his person as though he were searching for something that was hidden in his clothing. As he stood now before the oval viewscreen and looked out at the spaceport he was aware of being here for the first time with a certain amount of justification. For his protection the Regent had provided a fleet formation. Mular, the morose Akon commander, had mentioned that another 10,000 ships would be taking off in order to watch every move of the Terrans. Carba smiled secretly to himself when he thought of the Earthmen having to stand by and watch while he carried out his plan—or what he believed was his, plan. With 10,000 warships circling overhead, they should, get the message that any attack now would be futile. Tusnor, the glib-talking Anti, came to Carba’s side and gave him a similar nudge in the ribs. Carba felt repelled by the Baalol’s unctuous friendliness. He would tolerate his presence only as long as it was absolutely necessary. Uronla was another member of the sect on board but he seemed to be quiet and uncommunicative.

  "You will soon be ruler of all you see out there, my friend," said Tusnor, and Carba thought he detected a note of jealousy in the Anti’s voice.

  Nevertheless he could not refrain from answering. "it’s time to free the Imperium from these Terran parasites who have gotten in everywhere."

  Carba always spoke of Terrans as if they were animals. What made the young Arkonide so dangerous was his inner conviction that he had been chosen to be the savior of the Imperium. He thought and expressed himself concerning his mission in abstract ethical terms which were so exceptional as to leave no leverage for criticism. The Akon resistance fighters knew well how to exploit this peculiarity and they had used Carba as a straw figurehead through whom the Blue System sought to achieve its goals.

  "Yes," agreed Tusnor hatefully, "we have to put these barbarians where they belong." At the same time he was thinking of the failure of his own race to accomplish this.

  Mular the commander and Jergo the navigator came into the room followed by Sansaro, the actual leader of the operation. Mular’s broad figure momentarily concealed the scientist from Carba’s view.

  "I’ve just been talking to the ‘Imperator about his plans," announced Tusnor without taking the least notice of Carba’s look of displeasure. "It wouldn’t do any harm if later he had a few experienced advisers around him."

  "But those advisers could have different names than ours," retorted Jergo challengingly. Sansaro caught up to them then. "There is little purpose in being concerned about such matters at the moment," he said mildly. "We must proceed one step at a time if we are to succeed." Sansaro had spoken unemotionally and he had a way of expressing himself which always sounded quite rational. This made him a born leader who could convince other men and choose the right words to lead everybody in the desired direction by always remaining objective. Sansaro the revolutionary and rebellious was nonetheless calm and circumspect. A level-headed thinker from the green hills of Daraman, he was one of the leading figures of the Akon resistance movement.

  "You’re right," of course," agreed Jergo. The obvious edge to his voice was to let Sansaro know that although he was in agreement he harbored an insuppressible resentment for the Anti. Tusnor only laughed. Carba walked slowly over to Sansaro. He towered a head above the Akon and was only half his age.

  "We have work to do," said Sansaro soberly. "There is no time to lose. We have to arrange for Carba’s admittance to the Regent. It’s probably doubtful that either the ruling Imperator or his Terran allies are going stand idly by and watch us. We still can’t be certain that the Brain is giving us full military support. We must proceed from the premise that it is not going to help us. We have to operate here as if the Positronicon were still on the side of the opposition." This was typical of the Akon. He always put things in their proper proportion and always judged a situation slightly on the negative side in order to avoid the unexpected.

  "Everything depends on convincing the Regent that Carba is a suitable contender for the imperial throne," he continued. "Once Carba gets into the Brain’s interior we will have won, because it will be a sign that the Great Coordinator is ready to take orders from our young friend." He turned to Mular "Try and make contact with the Regent. We wish t
o inform him that we have with us a true Arkonide who has the light of power and intelligence in his eyes, who still has the capability of the ancients and is determined to do everything in his power for the continued existence of the Imperium."

  • • •

  The rest of the advance group had come back to the Command Central of the Ironduke because Rhodan considered Atlan’s new residence to be too unsafe for their meeting. At the moment, Maj. Hunt Krefenbac was just shutting down his remote sensor equipment and he looked at Rhodan questioningly.

  "Say it all out," Atlan urged him. "You" don’t have to hold anything back."

  "You won’t like it, sir," warned the major hesitantly.

  "Naturally not," admitted Atlan, "but by now I’m used to hearing what you call the ‘bad news’ first."

  "There’s a man on board the Akon ship whose level of intelligence has been increased to an abnormal extent. I presume this is Carba—and sir, his IQ is above L-50." Krefenbac swallowed slightly before adding: "He could have a higher IQ than your own."

  Dr. Riebsam spoke up. "We don’t have to be told what this means," he said. "Carba will be able to take over the Imperium completely unhindered. He’s equipped with the necessary level of intelligence and he’ll maintain that he has come here in the best interests of the Imperium whereas Atlan is working hand in hand with the ‘dangerous’ Terrans."

  Rhodan had remained silent until now. "We have to put a stop to this game, " he said. "Pucky will teleport to the Akon ship and try to put this Carba out of action." John Marshall objected. "I’m sorry to tell you that there are 2 or 3 Antis on that ship, sir. I’ve already mentioned that some of my mutants experienced a certain restriction of their special faculties from the moment that ship landed. Pucky wouldn’t be able to do anything over there because the Antis will find it easy to neutralize his paranormal powers."

  "But we have to do something!" exclaimed Krefenbac despairingly. "Are we just going to stand around and watch, without doing anything, while these characters grab off the Imperium with a mere flick of the wrist?"

  The major’s outbreak was followed by an oppressive silence. Everybody knew that for the moment they could only stand still and wait for an opportunity. Now at the very time when the Terrans were in the process of taking over more and more of the responsible positions in the Imperium, they were faced with an unexpected obstacle.

  After awhile, Dr. Riebsam spoke again. "Our last hope is the Regent," he said.

  "You mean of all things we’re back to that inhuman think-tank, Doc?" complained Claudrin. Riebsam nodded. "I can’t imagine that the security circuit will simply acknowledge Carba right off. At any rate I’m sure the Brain will take a closer look at Atlan and perhaps question him further so that he can make a comparison of the 2 contenders. Whether Atlan remains the Imperator or this Carba takes over his position will depend on the outcome of that comparison."

  "If you put it that way," said Atlan, "then actually nothing more can go wrong."

  "It’s not a cause for optimism," replied the mathematician. "You must not forget that the A-1 circuit evaluates the present situation according to the standards of the of Arkonides, because they were the ones who programmed it. Besides, we’re now up against the extra circuit the Akons installed. The new input activates Epethus, which makes it necessary for the Regent to reanalyze the entire situation—

  according to old-line Arkonide values.

  It was much the same as if a Terran positronicomputer had been programmed with the political perspectives of an Abraham Lincoln for the purpose of evaluating the modern age. Undoubtedly the machine would conclude that the present-day politicians were a bunch of bunglers since all it would have to go by were the views of a man long dead. Although in his own time he had no doubt been an ingenious leader, his brand of politics would nevertheless be out of place in the year 2105. The difficulties were enhanced by the fact that a positronicon of the Regent’s proportions could turn the first small mistake into a catastrophe.

  The men of the Ironduke, including Atlan, were faced with a completely different set of political conditions and they could not reconstruct the deliberations which had guided Arkonide scientists over 5000 years ago in their specific programming of the security circuit. The influence of the old Arkonides reached into the present day although they were now long dead and forgotten. To Rhodan, since A-1

  controlled everything else, the strategic circuit appeared to be a long arm of the ancients which could still reach into the present and make changes according to their former sense of values. Now for the first time Rhodan realized what a menace the Regent was for every living creature in the galaxy. No one was familiar with its original program. No one knew what insane decisions it might be capable of making. The mammoth positronicon on Arkon 3 was like a cosmic bomb and no one could guess at what moment it might explode. Only the effects of such an explosion could be foreseen. If the Regent were to strike, nothing in the galaxy would be able to stop it. When this vision came to Rhodan a cold shudder ran through him. What was in the minds of those Arkonides of the olden regime, those scientific geniuses of their day, when they built the Brain and set up its massive program? Was not the Regent but an expression of their ancient presumption and arrogance?

  Did it not represent a positronic version of the old lust for power?

  The Regent had to be destroyed!

  The thought came easily to Rhodan as though it had always been there waiting to be heard. Perhaps, this was so. He must have been playing with this idea subconsciously all along. However strange it was, his decision reestablished his faith in the capabilities of his own men. He was convinced that neither Carba and his backers nor the Regent itself could stand in the way of the developments which had already begun. The upward course of humanity had often been a rough and rocky road but Carba was merely another boulder to be cleared from the path.

  Krefenbac’s voice suddenly penetrated his thoughts.

  "By all the bowlegged mouse-beavers in the galaxy!" exclaimed the major. "The Akon ship is trying to contact us on the telecom!"

  Pucky took offense and was about to make a retort but Rhodan silenced him with a wave of his hand.

  "Let’s find out what they want from us," he decided.

  The lanky major turned on the videoscreen and a sharp-visaged man appeared who had all the facial characteristics of an Akon. "I appreciate your willingness to hear what we have to say," began the Akon courteously. "My name is Sansaro. It would he proper if you would turn on your video transmission so that I may see with whom I am speaking."

  Rhodan signaled to Krefenbac and stepped up behind him. As the 2-way video channel was established he said gruffly: "You’re talking to me!"

  "Perry Rhodan." The Akon smiled. "The name has a good sound to it. I am proud to finally..."

  "Come to the point," Rhodan interrupted. "I don’t believe you made this contact for a mere exchange of amenities."

  Sansaro smiled again. "When one has respect for his opponent, it will express itself." Rhodan stared back scornfully. "I don’t recall ever having expressed my respect for you." Sansaro slowly stroked his chin. "You cannot push me into anything, Rhodan—I am not disturbed." It seemed to Perry that Sansaro was looking straight through him. "I will only say what I am prepared to say, no matter what your conduct may be."

  "I’m waiting," replied Rhodan calmly. This Sansaro possessed an above average intelligence but even more formidable. was his obvious experience. The man was wily and shrewd.

  "We can’t very well deceive each other," said Sansaro. "Our goals are fairly well marked out and we both face difficulties. But from our side we have meanwhile spoken to the Regent for the purpose of having him install Carba as the Imperator. He does not seem to be opposed to this plan." The Akon smiled anew as he saw Rhodan’s reaction. "However he has obliged us to arrange a certain meeting with the former Imperator."

  Atlan’s voice was heard in the background. "Perry, I think I’ll speak with him now." Rhodan w
illingly made way for Atlan as he stepped forward.

  When Sansaro saw him he bowed. "Your Eminence, I regret very much that we meet under these circumstances," he said. "It is my hope that we may bring this unfortunate situation to a quick conclusion."

  "You must be joking," said Atlan. "Who do you suppose has staged this ‘unfortunate situation?’"

  "Let’s not quarrel over definitions," suggested Sansaro. "All I want is for us to agree on a time for the meeting."

  "What kind of meeting are you talking. about, and who will attend?" Sansaro’s expression remained unchanged. Rhodan thought that he had seldom seen a man with such self control.

  "Actually it is to be an encounter, Your Highness, and only you and the new Imperator are to take part in it," replied Sansaro. "The Regent wishes to test both of you and he invites you to engage in a mental duel, during which he will determine who should continue as the Imperator." Atlan appeared to be slightly caught off guard by this but Rhodan did not want to distract him by interrupting.

  "What will happen if I refuse to take part in such a duel?" asked the Arkonide. Sansaro turned around as though looking at a clock. "The Regent has allowed a period of 3 hours for you to decide. If you refuse to take part in the duel, Carba will automatically be established as the Imperator."

  Atlan folded his arms across his chest and regarded Sansaro thoughtfully. "In such a case, what would happen to me and my Terran friends?"

  "However regrettable it may be, Your Eminence, we would have to arrest you," Sansaro confessed.

  "The Terrans must then return to their central world."

  "Don’t think that would be so easy," warned Rhodan. Sansaro disregarded him. He was observing Atlan who stood before the screen with his head bowed in thought.

  Atlan looked up. "I declare myself prepared to begin the duel," he said finally. Sansaro gave no sign of either satisfaction or any other reaction. No one could guess his thoughts which were skilfully concealed behind an inscrutable mask. "In about 1 hour, Carba will come out of the airlock of our ship, unarmed and without escort. The Regent requires you to leave the Terran ship at the same time." Sansaro laughed in a peculiar way. "Naturally you will also come out without weapons or escort. A robot will pick up the two of you and take you to the area where the duel is to take place. There will be no spectators since they would not be able to see anything anyway. At the end of the encounter, the Regent will install the victor as Imperator."