Perry Rhodan - Atlan In Danger Part 3

c.o.kaze managed to meet four industrial tyc.o.o.ns at an appointed place. He negotiated with them alone. When he returned three hours later on board the c.o.kaz 2, he handed Thomas Cardif 9 additional doc.u.ments to scan.

"c.o.kaze, for the first time in my life I admire a Galactic Trader!" Cardif impulsively said, extending his arm for a handshake in Terran fas.h.i.+on.

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. c.o.kaze was beaming. He was pleased by Cardif's genuine admiration.

At the same time hypercom impulses were flas.h.i.+ng 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 coloured 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 s.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+ps 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' a.s.surance 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 G.o.ds 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 G.o.ds! 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 a.s.sociates 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 Lah.o.r.e.

4/ A WARNING OF DOOM.

24 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 battles.h.i.+ps 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, c.o.kaze 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, c.o.kaze. 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 counselled 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 defence 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 c.o.kaze 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 c.o.kaze 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 c.o.kaz 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 robots.h.i.+ps 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 va.s.sal of the Great Empire!

"Arkon is striking back!" c.o.kaze 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: "c.o.kaze, shouldn't the Galactic Traders be made aware of that distinction?"

Atual and Ortece came to Patriarch c.o.kaze. The clan chieftain had proven that he was the stronger and with the general authority doc.u.ment 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 doc.u.ment. Ortece's hands were trembling slightly as he returned it to the Patriarch. Uneasily he said: "We have made all necessary preparations, c.o.kaze, 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 c.o.kaze, 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," c.o.kaze 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.

"Well, then, it's all simply a question of the risk!" Cardif triumphantly concluded, but his voice remained calm. "The Bank cannot even lose any money if you cause inflation in the Arkonide Empire! And an economic blow is of more consequence than a lost battle!"

"When will you set off the inflation? Decide now or we will make use of all the doc.u.ments and the Bank of the Galactic Traders in t.i.ton on Archetz will be bankrupt within an hour!"

Never since the Bank had been founded had anyone spoken in such a threatening manner to its two owners. For many generations the clans of Atual and Ortece had gloried in the fact that they had been approached solely with respect.

One person, however, who was Perry Rhodan's son and had had an Arkonide princess as a mother, confronted them with the alternative of either accepting his plan and causing inflation within the Great Empire or declaring bankruptcy within the hour.

Beads of perspiration appeared on the foreheads of the 18 Springers as well as those of Atual and Ortece. Thomas Cardif was sitting next to c.o.kaze.

Ortece, the slim Springer, cleared his throat. "Tomorrow, Terran! Tomorrow, three time-units after the new rates have been reported from Arkon, Terran!"

The expression 'Terran' sounded like a curse. Ortece's voice was trembling with helpless fury.

Thomas Cardif spoke. "Thank you," he said, smiling at the two men. He understood the bankers well. They left without any parting words.

18 Springers regarded him as if he were a deadly peril. In a cracked voice c.o.kaze asked: "Cardif, where did you acquire that knowledge about financial interdependencies?"

"What knowledge am I supposed to have? I'm supposed to know about financial matters? I can't answer that because up until these negotiations with Atual and Ortece I've never given it any thought whatsoever!"

The GHC Company in Capetown was no longer a heavy industrial centre of the African Federation. By declaring a state of emergency, Perry Rhodan had the industrial complex confiscated by Solar Defence. The search mission uncovered so much evidence of traitorous connections to the Springer clan of c.o.kaze that not even the opposition publication of the African Federation dared to criticize the confiscation.

The Ara toxins found at Rochard's, Artun's and Sharkey's were a.n.a.lysed in the medical laboratory and found to be previously unknown poisons which, when injected in a human, elicited hypnotic or suggestive abilities of phenomenal strength. Their great danger lay not in their toxic quality but in the fact that the effect lasted for over 6 months.

The solar system, startled out of a deceptive calm in the first half of the year 2044 by the sudden appearance of Druuf s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps, next experienced the invasion by a great Arkonide robot fleet. And it had made the acquaintance of the cylindrical s.h.i.+ps of the Galactic Traders.

Suddenly being confronted with these facts and realizing that the enormous might of the Solar Empire was not what they thought it was, made the people excited and led to domestic political tensions of a serious nature. Rhodan had mastered the situation; the Springer fleet of Patriarch c.o.kaze had left the System. Thanks to Atlan's generosity, the Solar combat units were stronger than ever but nothing could detract from the realization that there were dangerously loud rumblings within the Arkonide Empire and that the collapse of the Great Empire would also result in the downfall of the solar system.

Once again the destiny of mankind lay in one hand. And once again only a few were aware of it. Not even the men of team 065Propulsion had any idea why Perry Rhodan had been urging for days that they complete their a.s.signment.

The Hindu, Rabintorge, discovered by Frank Lemmon, section head of F-1 in Solar Defence, had become the team's motor. He himself was motivated by his ambition to prove that his daring hypothesis was correct. He was not contradicted nearly as often as in the initial days. One of the largest computers of Terrania, which he had requisitioned, repeatedly confirmed his findings. But before the computer could be fed this unique data it had to be compiled.

Structure changes caused by linear hyper-propulsion was the basic problem, doubly difficult to solve as the propulsion itself was almost a mystery to the scientists, except for a few clues.

In the middle of the night Perry Rhodan was torn from his sleep. The readout screen on the intercom next to his bed flashed on. The dark face of Rabintorge was looking at him-the face of an old man, someone about to have a breakdown.

"Sir, the positioning device is ready..."

And Rhodan saw the young Indian slowly collapse, his face fading from the screen. A moment later he was connected with the main hospital.

"Rhodan speaking! Immediate medical alert with full equipment to Tract 18, Section 065Propulsion! All men present there need medical attention. Total exhaustion. Over!"

Then Bell was awakened by Rhodan's call. Reginald Bell's sleepy face stared at him from the screen. "You...?" he said, disgruntled. "Do you know how late it is?"

"Reggie, the tracking device for structural changes by linear hyper-propulsion is ready!"

Bell was still not fully awake. "Linear hyper-propulsion..." Rhodan saw Bell screw his eyes shut, wipe his hand across his face, yawning heartily as he did so, then instantly become wide awake. "Did you say ready? Who will tell me how the device works and..."

Rhodan hastily interrupted him. "I'll call you right back." He had made a mistake. Reconnection with medical emergency. He heard that they were already on the way to Tract 18. "Then connect me with Tract 18!" Rhodan demanded.

A moment later he was speaking to Aeskul-6 of Medical Emergency.

"Listen," Rhodan hastily urged the physician, "you'll find an Indian in 065 in a state of collapse. Revive him for 1/2 hour but only if you can take that responsibility. He has to give Mr. Bell some explanations!"

Rhodan's loudspeaker clicked. He had already switched back through to Bell. "Reggie..." he called. "Rabintorge will brief you on the new tracker in 065Propulsion!"

Four hours later Bell, on board the California, with which he had penetrated s.p.a.ce, transmitted only one word: flyswatter.