The Secret of the Time Vault Page 6

  Ras removed the raygun from the belt of the stupefied first officer. Ras pointed the gun at the instrument board. He appeared perfectly composed, as if this were nothing unusual he was doing here. He pulled the trigger. The fine energy stream turned the glittering instruments into a glowing dripping mass of useless matter which evaporated as a result of the tremendous generation of heat.

  Trker-Hon didn't comprehend a thing, but he acted instinctively. With one mighty jump he leaped from his seat toward the black ghost. But before he could lay his hands on him, the stranger had vanished into thin air. Only the raygun fell, clattering to the metal floor. The commander and his first officer were once again all alone in the demolished command center.

  Ras Tschubai displaced himself to another part of the big battle cruiser, jerked several big guns from their holds, made the totally perplexed Topide crew take to their heels, opened the airlock and dematerialized.

  Trker-Hon noticed at a glance that the intruder's shot had destroyed only some unimportant instruments. The communication with the other ships of his fleet was still intact. He managed to shut the airlock just in time. But the opened airlock made him think. Had the black creature left his ship via the airlock? That would mean it could survive in the vacuum of space!

  A cold shiver ran over the pointed scales on his back. Then this couldn't have been an Arkonide, but a member of another race. This might explain their mysterious powers!

  He looked out of the visi-hatch and saw that the line enemy ships kept at the same distance. Regardless whether the Topidian ships tried to come nearer to them or to get away from them, the distance remained unchanged. Trker-Hon called the other cruisers: "Set course for the ninth planet! We'll carry through with Rok-Gor's commands. The right wing ..."

  He stopped short. He couldn't get out the words. Something happened on the small visiscreen which showed the command center of the seventh battle cruiser. It was the same event that had taken place a few minutes earlier in his own command center.

  The black ghost materialized behind the commander of Number Seven. Trker-Hon was incapable of shouting a warning to the unsuspecting Topide, he was too fascinated by the event that unfolded before the eyes of most of the other commanders, since Ras had landed right before the lens of the televideo apparatus.

  Trker saw how the ghost - or whatever the apparition might be - tapped the officer on the shoulder. The Topide jerked around; he wasn't used to such disrespectful behavior. He was chilled with terror at the sight of the black ghost. He couldn't move.

  Now Trker-Hon found his voice again. "The raygun - kill him!" he croaked. "Quick!"

  Even if the commander of Ship Seven heard Trker's warning shout, he didn't react to it. He sat halfway turned around in his seat, immobilized like a hypnotized rabbit.

  Ras Tschubai grinned and walked to the instrument board. He pulled a few levers at random, pushed several buttons, turned some switches. The commander's eyes followed his movements. He didn't budge; he was unable to move.

  While Ras was in the process of dematerializing in order to reappear in Ship Number Three and terrorize its crew in the engine room, Ship Number Seven began to respond to the changed settings of controls. It seemed to have gone crazy. It took off vertically, separating from the tight formation of the fleet, started to execute abstract figures, diving, rolling, turning and banking in all kinds of crazy angles. Finally it spun off sideways, guns blazing wildly, in the direction of the bright Vega star. Trker soon lost sight of it. He no longer received any answers to his urgent calls.

  There was no time even to ponder about this puzzling incident. Something even more incredible took place.

  The tiny hostile space fighters began their attack. They flew toward the Topidian fleet like bats shot out of hell, almost colliding with the heavier and not as easily maneuverable cruisers, creating havoc among the ships" formation. They then retreated lightning fast, only to take up their game anew a few minutes later. They didn't fire a single shot.

  And then it happened.

  Cruiser Number Thirteen moved up to the front of the formation, turned sideways, pointing its heavily armed broadside menacingly at the ranks of the fleet, blocking their way. Now the face of the commander of Ship Thirteen appeared on the visiscreens of the other cruisers. "I've assumed command over the entire fleet! Return to Ferrol! Turn about! Fire!"

  Before Trker-Hon could make any sense out of this mad move, Number Thirteen's heavy ray cannons opened fire, blasting pale bundled energy rays away at the rest of the formation. All protective energy bubbles surrounding each of the cruisers effortlessly absorbed the sudden bombardment. Except for Cruiser Number Nine, that apparently had switched off its force field for an instant. It disappeared. In its place, a slightly phosphorescent cloud was drifting off into space, its sharp outlines soon growing fuzzy and gradually totally fading away.

  The rebellious Cruiser Number Thirteen, however, closed rank again as if nothing untoward had taken place. There was no comment, no explanation from its commander, except for his inquiry a few seconds later as to where Cruiser Nine had vanished.

  Trker-Hon was trembling all over. He tried to give an answer. He realized that the officer on Number Thirteen had not acted of his own free will. He hadn't gone stark staring mad all of a sudden. No. He'd succumbed to the same evil forces that had almost managed to ruin him and his career. These Arkonides must have at their disposal powerful means beyond anyone's imagination.

  Just then, at that very instant, with fading awareness, he could barely perceive the foreign mind now penetrating his own brain. But this time it was quite different from before. This time he didn't lose consciousness completely; a small fraction of it remained awake. Although he'd been robbed of his ability to make decisions, he was still capable of understanding the strange, inexplicable thing that had taken possession of his brain - even if he failed to comprehend it.

  "We can destroy you," said an inaudible voice that he could hear only inside his head. "And we will destroy you, unless you abandon this senseless fight. Turn back at once, Trker-Hon! Report to your commander-in-chief Rok-Gor about your unsuccessful attack on Rofus. Withdraw from the Vega system or none of your ships will ever see your home planet again!"

  Trker felt the pressure recede. His analytical mind returned. He stared at the mike of his videocommunico-set. His claws shot out and grasped it. He called his commanders with a croaking voice: "Proceed with attack on Planet Nine! Let nothing deter you from the execution of my orders. And if I should issue any commands to the contrary ..."

  This was as far as he got. He felt the strange mind enter his brain again, completely blocking out his own awareness. Everything went black in front of his eyes. But this interruption lasted only a single second. Then he continued to speak, with the same croaking voice as before: "... I'll do this for very compelling reasons. Such as now. We're turning back to Ferrol immediately and abandoning the fight. Is that clear?"

  It was far from clear to anyone. But true to their racial conditioning, the fleet made an about-face, setting course for Ferrol. There was no one as furious about all this as Trker-Hon himself when he later stood in front of Rok-Gor, unable to supply a satisfactory excuse for his inexcusable action.

  "All right then," nodded the commander-in-chief, staring at the ceiling. "Report this incident to the investigation committee that is due to come within a few days. We've already been informed of their impending arrival."

  It was like a scene in a grotesque monster movie. The new commander of the Topidian forces, Rok-Gor, was sitting at his desk, scratching the synthetic top with his sharp claws, doodling intricate patterns. He was extremely nervous, for this was the day they expected the investigation committee from Topid.

  Chrekt-Orn, now dismissed from his post as commander-in-chief, and Trker-Hon sat on the other side of the desk. Using Chrekt's eyes and ears as a medium, Ralph Marten, the mutant, became a witness to this preliminary discussion.

  Ralph Marten was the son of a German fa
ther and a Japanese mother. He'd inherited his father's tall stature and light-blue eyes, and his mother's black hair. His ability to penetrate other persons" minds and spy undetected on their actions was not a normal characteristic shared by his parents and handed down to him. This was the result of the increasing radioactivity of the Earth's atmosphere, which caused mutations in the parents' genes, later expressed as startling new talents in their offspring. Thus Ralph Marten, the mutant, could see and hear with the lizards' eyes and ears and follow their conversation. Meanwhile Ralph's body was lying rigidly in the secret chamber of the Red Palace, watched over by Reginald Bell and other members of the mutant corps.

  The three Topidian lizards behaved in a rational and intelligent manner - a notion often proposed in times past by writers of imaginary stories, but which had seemed utterly fantastic and unbelievable scarcely ten years earlier. The lizards were not too much at ease in this strange environment, but they'd adjusted to it fairly well. They had different types of furniture on their home planet Topid, to be sure, designed for their reptilian body shapes. Still, here they made do with the furnishings they'd appropriated from the human-like Ferrons.

  "It was nothing but hypnosis, remote control hypnotic trance!" wheezed Trker-Hon, trying to explain the reason for both blunders he'd made. First he'd insulted the Despot, then he'd withdrawn his fleet in the midst of battle. "I wasn't aware of what I was doing. I was no longer master of my own mind. They must have machines which control other people's brains."

  "And how do you account for the fact," Rok-Gor asked, "that Chrekt-Orn could suddenly fly like a bird, that a black ghost appeared from nowhere right in the command center of the battle cruiser, demolishing many instruments? Was that also due to hypnotic commands?"

  Trker didn't reply. What answer could he give? Chrekt-Orn, the former commander-in-chief, tried to advance his opinion of the nightmarish events. "Our enemies must be aided by strange powers, unknown to us. We've learned from our conquests of alien races that they frequently possess incomprehensible abilities and characteristics for which we later have found some explanation. I'm sure this will be the case here too. Tomorrow the Commission will ..."

  "That's exactly why I've asked you to come here," interrupted Rok abruptly. "We all realize that we'll be held responsible if the campaign should prove to be a failure. And that's what it'll turn out to be in case the Commission orders us to retreat. This simply mustn't happen! We have until tomorrow to find some explanation for what's happened, and we must also find a method to prevent any further repetition. I'm counting on you for some suggestions, since you've already gathered some experiences in this field that might prove helpful."

  "Sorry. I wouldn't be of much help. I simply don't remember anything," admitted Trker. "I had completely lost consciousness; I have no memory of it. What could I possibly say about it then?"

  "Nonsense!" Expressing his anger, Rok swept aside a heavy chair with a single blow. "There are experts on the Commission who can extrapolate from the slightest clues. According to experience, then, they'll leave the courier-ship only when direct contact has been established with Topid. So the Commission isn't going to fall into a trap without noticing it. Our people back home will witness the investigation directly because the TV cameras will record the picture and beam it to Topid through hyperspace. We have until tomorrow to find a satisfactory solution, otherwise the invasion will be canceled or we'll be dismissed. In either case this will mean the end of our careers. I believe we understand each other."

  "It was actually a mistake to demand that the investigation committee should come here," Chrekt reproached. "If we hadn't, I would still be commander-in-chief and we would've found a way out. There are no ghosts and ..."

  The word stuck in his throat. With protruding eyes he stared at the chair in the corner, where it had been lying since Rok knocked it over. As though guided by invisible hands, the various parts began to reassemble, then the structure floated slowly upward, where it hung just below the ceiling and above the new commander-in-chief. Rok followed Chrekt's startled glance upward to the chair, which was supported as though by ghostly hands, at which time the floating chair suddenly lost its invisible support and fell to the floor like a shot.

  Rok didn't react quickly enough.

  His mind was still in a state of shock at the impossible sight of the airborne chair and he was struggling to comprehend how such a thing could be when the gravity-defying object crashed down on his hard head, its legs draping themselves around his neck like a collar.

  Trker and Chrekt regarded their superior with a mixture of horror and satisfaction, their superior who was frightened into immobility. In the meantime, Ralph Marten, through barely moving lips, whispered his account inside the hidden chamber. Bell squatted in his corner and grinned; it was very easy for him to imagine it all. Anne Sloane breathed a sigh of relief when she was able to release the chair.

  "By the Gods of the Despot!" hissed Rok, clearly frightened. "What was that?"

  "The chair-" said Trker. "The chair's taken vengeance because you kicked it. Dead things come alive and ..."

  "No!" Chrekt-Orn spoke. "It's nothing but a trick. An illusion that we ..."

  "You call that an illusion?" raged Rok, and tore the remnants of the chair from his neck and threw them furiously on the floor. "I have a bump on my head. Since when do illusions leave bumps?"

  "I didn't mean it that way," said Chrekt, trying to pacify the angry Rok. "What took place here was certainly no illusion. But dead objects don't come alive. The aliens can influence our brains over great distances and they can move objects. Whether they do this with the help of machines or completely by the power of their minds, I couldn't say ..."

  Rok shook his head in desperation. "That's nonsense! The Arkonides aren't magicians!"

  "Then maybe their friends are. Or can it be that we're confronted by two or maybe even three opponents? The Ferrons, the Arkonides - and someone else. And this someone is capable of magic."

  "Impossible! We can't face the Commission tomorrow with such old wives' tales or we'll be washed up. A super powerful opponent, all right; that they'd recognize. But ghosts and magicians? No! This would be no acceptable excuse for the failure of an invasion. Besides, we haven't yet found the Arkonide cruiser that sent out the emergency signal. I'm almost beginning to believe too that we made a mistake with this system."

  "This star has forty-two planets," Chrekt reminded him. "There are a few more surprises ahead of us. And now I'd like to make a suggestion concerning the Commission we'll see tomorrow: you've dismissed me as commander-in-chief - all right, I accept that, under the circumstances. But now you too suffer under similar difficulties. We must stick together or we'll all be destroyed. So I'm in favor of your informing the Commission tomorrow that you made a mistake, that the magic's come to an end. As soon as the examiners are through with us again, we'll renew our energies against the Ferrons and Arkonides, to finish them off ..."

  "... And these magicians!" interjected Trker. Rok threw him a disapproving glance but said nothing. Expectantly he looked at Chrekt but Chrekt had nothing to add.

  "Is that all?" Rok's voice was full of disdain. "You probably want to end the war at my expense! No, I'll report the truth to the Commission, so that they'll recognize our difficulties. I don't care what happens to you. The only important thing is that we find the Arkonide cruiser and the race of eternal life."

  Chrekt nodded slowly, but he caught a lightning swift side glance from Trker, who obviously didn't intend to become a victim either of Rok's lust for power. It was evident that the high command of the lizards was no longer in agreement.

  "For tomorrow," Rok-Gor went on, "the fighting will be discontinued. I want the Commission to be presented with a muster inspection. We'll show the Despot that we too can face unforeseen events. I expect that you'll execute my command with the usual precision. Anything else?"

  The meeting came to an end, but only because Ralph Marten decided to return to his frie
nds. His body moved and he sat up. He opened his eyes and stared into Bell's intent face.

  "Well"

  "Let's wait till tomorrow, Bell. I think we can do quite a few things there. Let's not forget that the ruler of the Topides will be watching."

  Bell grinned broadly.

  "I'll think of something."

  In Sic-Horum, the capital of the Sichas, Perry Rhodan received the reports of his people and of the Ferronian agents. Gloktor, chief of the resistance groups against the Topides on the occupied planet, spoke in his curt, dry manner. In his outer appearance he resembled the humans, even if his mouth had turned out a bit too tiny. Deep lay the clever eyes in their deep sockets. His skin coloration was like that of all Ferrons, bluish because of the effects of the Vegan sun. Hair covered his head and half his face.

  "The groups in Thorta have become more active. In the past three weeks alone four guard posts of the Topides were wiped out and at least twenty captured. Two transport vehicles were destroyed by explosives."

  "Excellent." Rhodan nodded, satisfied. "And what's the Topides" reaction?"

  "They've finally let all their servants go and no longer give any work to Ferrons since they regard them as too unreliable. This has, of course, certain disadvantages ..."

  "...Which we'll sufficiently make up for," interrupted Rhodan. "You probably know that we have eyes and ears everywhere."

  "I've heard about it." The Sicha grinned amusedly. "Everywhere they talk about it in Thorta; they say the place is haunted. However, the ghosts are on the right side."

  "They are indeed. Thanks, Gloktor, that'll be all. You'll continue your activities, giving the enemy no rest. May I ask Kekeler for his report now?"