Perry Rhodan - Atlan In Danger Part 5

Marshall only had to look at his chronometer to know that it was a race against time.

His agent s.p.a.cesuit was equipped with the same perfection as the suits of his active teleporters. Instantly John Marshall clapped his helmet shut, switched on the high output telecom of Swoon design and called his teleporters to immediately return with all bombs to the Drusus.

The order was just crossing his lips as a squeaky voice, sounding quite irritated, asked: "And what am I to do with my bomb, since the fuse is already lit, John?"

"Do what you can, Pucky!" Marshall sharply replied to the mousebeaver and, sensing trouble, asked: "Where are you?"

"On the flagship of the Druufs! Where else?"

"Pucky, for heaven's sake, nothing must happen, there of all places..." Thereafter he could spare his words. A soft crackling sound informed him that Pucky could no longer be reached by telecom.

Slowly Marshall opened his helmet. He could feel that his forehead was covered with perspiration.

Meanwhile a lively conversation had developed between Rhodan and the Druuf chief. Complicated adapters on both sides were required to enable this exchange, for the Druufs did not have organs of speech in the human sense; they communicated with each other by means of ultra-high frequency which was outside the human range, employing bodily organic receivers and transmitters.

The Druuf repeatedly inquired about Rhodan's fleet. It must have appeared suspicious to him that they had only discovered the one, gigantic ship. It was obvious that he was thinking about the gigantic robot fleet which had compelled him to abandon the attempt to conquer the Solar System and flee to this inhospitable region of the Galaxy.

And Rhodan repeatedly replied: "it is waiting for my orders! My fleet is tuned into our conversation!"

He was bluffing. Rhodan could not tell whether the Druuf was picking up on his bluff. Suddenly there was a glaring flash between their two fronts. Both Rhodan and the Druuf gasped: "What was that?"

Pucky could have told them in detail. It was the bomb exploding that was actually meant to destroy the Druuf flagship which Pucky had grabbed when the time fuse was already lit and, after a teleportation jump, hastily dropped in s.p.a.ce.

Pucky's special s.p.a.cesuit, singed on the right side, testified to how close a call it had been. The mousebeaver was even more explicit in his expressions when he returned "...and then I took off with the thing. There were three seconds left to the explosion! Out of the ship, into s.p.a.ce, drop the thing! And when I was about to teleport to the Drusus..." None of the mutants laughed at Pucky's wild streak of profanity. Everyone comprehended what risk Pucky had undergone and some were honest enough to ask themselves: would you have dared to do it? And to answer the question negatively with equal honesty.

"The explosion of the bomb and my teleporter jump must have been about a 1,000th of a second apart. OK, we lucked in once, but now I'm anxious to know how things will continue. Just take a look at how completely we've been surrounded by the Druufs!"

The Mutant Central was a smaller version of the huge Command Central of the Drusus. There was no lack of tracking devices and screens with sliding optical magnification. Pucky was not exaggerating. If the Druufs so desired, the Drusus would soon cease to exist. There were over 2,000 Druuf ships partic.i.p.ating in the encirclement and this concentration turned a transition into a hopeless enterprise.

Perry Rhodan did not allow his feelings about the situation to show. "Commander-in-chief," he calmly addressed the stubborn Druuf, "your strength is your, weakness. The existence of your ships is only a matter of a few short days. You can flee wherever you want: we will not lose track of you. The chances of returning to your people in your Universe are nil."

"Commander-in-chief, how many ships did you dispatch to the front to determine at which point you could best penetrate the overlap zone? I don't want to know the number of reconnaissance vessels but I do know that not one of them returned. And every hour that pa.s.ses allows the discharge fissure to become more unstable and in proportion to its growing instability, the combat strength of the fleet is increased, thus preventing you from penetrating our Universe."

"Words, nothing but words, Rhodan!" the Druuf interrupted. "You wished to speak with me; you have spoken with me and that is the end of our conversation."

"And the end of you and your crews as well, Druuf!" Rhodan had changed the tenor of his approach but not his inflection. The adapters did not transmit the nuances of voice into ultra-high frequencies.

Harno, the creature hovering exactly in Rhodan's line of vision, now showed him the awkward Druuf who was intertwining his fingers, so disproportionately delicate in relation to his ma.s.sive body. The Druuf appeared to be thinking.

"Rhodan, what do you have to offer?" The question came like a stroke of lightning from clear skies. A few officers in Com Central suppressed a startled cry.

"Druuf, what are you prepared to give?" That was Rhodan's ma.s.sive counter-question and it did make an impression on the head of the Druuf fleet, even though he could not show any human emotion. He did wave to his staff, a.s.sembled behind him, to keep silent.

"What security do we have to guarantee that you will really provide the possibility for our return to our Universe?"

That was the question Rhodan had been waiting for; the question that had to come!

I will provide you with double security, Druuf," Rhodan declared unemotionally. "Give one of your ships the a.s.signment to approach within 100 kilometres of my vessel. I will direct the ship into position."

"That ship, but that one only, will be able to fly into your Universe. Its commander is to convince himself that he is really in his own continuum and on orders from you he is then to return to this Universe as quickly as possible."

"I will make that possible, Druuf, and that is my first guarantee!"

The 120-man team at the great lens field projector in the largest hangar of the Drusus was listening. 120 men waiting for the command to switch on the lens field projector, which by virtue of its power could open the portal to the Druuf Universe at all points that had once before been within an overlap zone.

The time and locality schedule of the overlapping areas had been calculated in an inconceivably difficult communal effort in Terrania including astronomers, physicists and mathematicians.

The bullet head of the Druuf suddenly seemed to be rigidly fixed onto his quadratic rump. Rhodan could antic.i.p.ate what was now going on in this clever insect brain.

"Druuf, an attack on my ship is pointless! With the first rays, the device that would enable the return to your Universe self-destructs."

The commander of the 3,000 ships ignored the warning. "And what is your second guarantee, Rhodan?"

"I will send five of my men as collateral on your ship!"

By Druuf standards, this offer was no additional guarantee. But this clever Druuf had meanwhile realized that in this world of little bipeds there was a totally different ethical code which placed a high value on the security and life of the individual.

"And what am I supposed to do, Rhodan?" the Druuf asked, revealing neither acceptance nor rejection of the offer.

"You don't have to do more than make a flash appearance over a certain planet with your fleet. You will have the right to convince yourself with your own scoutships that I am not luring you and the fleet into a trap. Two of the five men I will place in your command will guide your reconnaissance vehicles directly to the target star and avoid all danger."

"And what is the purpose of that, Rhodan?"

"Nothing more than an intimidation attempt with which I hope to avert the outbreak of a revolution in a bloodless fashion..."

The Druuf interrupted. "Rhodan, we have determined that there is not a great difference between our intelligence and yours but do you really expect me to believe this?"

This compelled Rhodan to play a dangerous trump. "Druuf, to us you are monsters, a nightmare! The common man is terrified of you. Your s.p.a.ceships engender horror. And that world, a powder keg with their revolution, will barely dare to breathe for fear that, after my warning an enormous fleet of Druuf s.p.a.cecraft will appear above it."

"Druuf, fly us a demonstration of might and intimidation and as surely as my name is Rhodan and by all that is holy to me... I swear that I will allow your fleet to return to your Universe by way of the portal."

"Show me the portal, Rhodan. Let one of my ships fly through it and it will receive my command to return as soon as it is convinced it has indeed arrived in its own continuum. We will discuss the rest upon the return of my ship!"

"Agreed!" Rhodan replied. "Have your ship approach within 100 kilometres. The exact position will be forthcoming." He covered the microphone with his hand and looked over at Bell. "Has Atlan's courier arrived yet?"

"He reported in. He's waiting for the prescribed position, Perry. But do you really trust this Druuf?"

"We'll discuss that later! Marshall, who let the bomb between the ships go off prematurely?"

"Pucky! And he barely came out alive, sir!" Marshall said, trying to protect the mousebeaver with his last remark. But there was no deceiving Rhodan's amazing sense of time.

He regarded Marshall sharply. "Which means that Pucky must have ignited the bomb before the arranged time."

Marshall only nodded. Rhodan likewise nodded, which indicated that the mousebeaver had something unpleasant ahead of him.

The Administrator then had to turn his attention back to the Druuf commander.

"Rhodan, I'm sending my fastest ship over. Can you see it yet?"

It could be made out clearly, for all the ship floodlights were shining. The s.p.a.cecraft was speeding closer, a blue-white gleaming stellar dot.

The economic collapse of the Great Empire was threatening to split the gigantic celestial empire in the cl.u.s.ter of M-13. From hour to hour the inflation took on a more terrifying form. At Arkon's command, the stock exchanges on all planets were closed; the rates were no longer quoted. It was useless to fetch money from the bank and take it home. It wasn't worth anything there either.

The Galactic Physicians now had an additional reason for not delivering medications. They couldn't have, even if they had so wanted, because the Springers with their billion-ton freight capacity were not landing on any worlds anymore. In great bunches they had gathered between the stars, awaiting further developments.

On Arkon 3 the first emergency in the a.s.sembly arose after 20 hours because more than 40 special s.p.a.ceships that were to deliver important parts had returned empty.

The supply policy of the gigantic computer had not failed in the question of spare parts. But due to the fact that the ships returned without cargo, the reserves for the next three months had to be tapped. As always, the Robot Brain was directing production. It did not occur to Atlan to take over control; he had enough to do replacing the old directives with new ones in keeping with latest developments. Yet even the work which could no longer be postponed could not be completed.

Minute by minute the positronicon informed him of new, ominous events within the Empire. It became increasingly evident that Thomas Cardif, with the help of c.o.kaze, had unleashed an avalanche of galactic proportions.

He now contemplated the Ring of the Nibelungs lying in front of him. He remembered having regarded Rhodan's courier in astonishment when he had greeted Atlan in the hatchway of his ship while the skies were blocked out by the gigantic dome on the other side.

"Ring of the Nibelungs," he repeated once again, recalling the days when Gunther, Hagen and Siegfried were alive and battling. He had known all three and of them all it was the sinister Hagen who had been his friend. But back then there had not yet been any Ring of the Nibelungs: the saga had not yet been created.

"Aha!" Atlan suddenly exclaimed. His auxiliary brain, which operated with strict logic, had supplied the explanation.

He walked past the astonished Terranian over to the small ship's computer and regarded the little round ring on its casing. Normally it had no other function than to serve as a pull ring if the casing jammed.

Rhodan had once called his attention to a similar ring, jokingly having remarked: "Isn't that the Ring of the Nibelungs? If the casing jammed and the ring weren't there, how could one get at the treasures stored in the computer?"

Rhodan's courier ship had meanwhile started off, taking course for that inconsequential sun system which was harbouring the Druuf fleet.

Atlan took the ring in his hand. It was specially designed. In the courier ship he had easily lifted it out of its loop, while still requiring a few minutes to find the opening mechanism.

"Why all these complications?" he asked, slightly dissatisfied. He did not like Rhodan's security complex. He turned the ring back and forth, a light metal with a high stress tolerance. A hundred years earlier no one would have even dared to think of anything like it; today this material could be found in every Terran household.

"But of course!" Astonished at himself, Atlan shook his head. Suddenly he knew why the ring was made of this light metal alloy and why it was supposed to be the Ring of the Nibelungs. "Perry, I owe you an apology! You are no romantic but a splendid old realist with romantic ambitions..."

A conveyer strip carried him to the laboratory of the mammoth positronicon. He entered the room equipped for metallurgic-photographic examinations. The ring was mounted in front of the 3rd developer that worked with guided magnetic fields, probing the piece of metal layer by layer. At first trace of any metallurgic-photographic exposure it would act as a 3-dimensional developer.

Atlan sat down in an armchair. His gaze rested expectantly on the screen. The 3rd device was humming away. Suddenly the screen flickered on; the scanner in the developer had found the layer with Rhodan's message.

Atlan, kept young for 10,000 years by the cell activator in his chest, could still be surprised, despite all his experience.

Rhodan was conveying to him what the Fly Swatter mission signified. Atlan was sitting bolt upright in his chair. He reviewed the message many times. "If he manages this..." the Arkonide sighed, seized by admiration for Rhodan. "Barbarian, I think you are still somewhat ahead of your son after all!"

He switched off the 3rd developer and returned by conveyer strip. The news which had meanwhile arrived could no longer surprise him. Everything was inescapably heading towards collapse.

Again Atual and Ortece were seated in the cylindrical s.p.a.cecraft, c.o.kaz 2, opposite c.o.kaze and Thomas Cardif.

Again the two finance experts were begging for the opportunity to take action. "...tomorrow is too late, Patriarch! An inflation knows no laws! A total collapse cannot be stopped by one command! By our G.o.ds, c.o.kaze, don't listen to the Terranian! Listen to us!"

"In which case the Galactic Traders would have never come as far as we are now!" c.o.kaze mockingly replied. "The Arkonides are at the end of their economic resources. That Atlan may dare to challenge little colonial peoples with the robot fleet but it takes more than robot s.p.a.cecraft to get at us Galactic Traders. Arkon knows that our cylindrical s.p.a.ceships are no pilgrimage vessels that only trust in the protection of the G.o.ds."

Atual excitedly interrupted him. "Patriarch, do not mock the G.o.ds or we will be cursed. Arkon is still a reality! The Druufs, those monsters from another universe, are still a real threat! The Regent still exists, even though Atlan has switched him off. And there is still Rhodan! Rhodan..."

c.o.kaze broke out in peals of laughter. "Rhodan! Of course, Rhodan! One need only mention the name of Rhodan in the Great Empire and everyone thinks that the celestial devils are standing behind the door."

"I have made his acquaintance! I know how great his power is! For decades he has made a fool of us, the Great Empire! He alone was mighty!"

"Didn't I say that?" Atual exploded, displaying an amazing amount of emotion for a banker.

"And who is sitting next to me, Atual?" c.o.kaze derisively asked. "So you have come to tell us that you are frightened after all?"

Ortece, who had barely uttered a word, now intervened. "The Empire, that is us, you, Patriarch and the poorest Springer who has thus far lost over a third of his fortune!"

Slowly Thomas Cardif stood up. His Arkonide eyes were gleaming reddish fire but the gleam radiated a chill. A mocking smile distorted his mouth. "You have spoken so much but not once have you touched upon the question of why the State Bank of Arkon has made no attempt to support the falling rates by purchasing. Answer that question, Ortece, and we will give you permission within the hour to halt the economic collapse! We have the full power of attorney and doc.u.ments to enable it!"

Ortece stared at him as if seeing a ghost. He then looked imploringly at the Patriarch, in whose eyes, however, there was neither pity nor help to be found. "I can't do that. Atual and I are totally perplexed by the pa.s.sive behaviour of the Arkon State Bank."

c.o.kaze's face showed his contempt. Triumphantly he pointed at Thomas Cardif. "Ortece, why do you think Cardif could predict to us, the Springer patriarchs, and to the Council of 10 before the inflation set in that the State Bank of Arkon would not intervene? How do you explain that?"

Ortece's eyes blazed in fury. "We are no clairvoyants, c.o.kaze! We are bankers who take their profession seriously, not charlatans!"

Cardif casually threw in his question. "How much would your bank earn if you attempted to halt the inflation today, if the plants were to resume work, the Springer fleets were to transport goods from one planet to the other? How many billions?"

"Couldn't we split the profit?" c.o.kaze sarcastically inquired, staring at the two men.

Ten minutes later they were alone. Almost head over heels the richest and most influential bankers of the Great Empire had left c.o.kaze's ship.

"Those scoundrels..." the Patriarch grumbled, shaking his head. Inquisitively he regarded Cardif. I know how to handle money and I also know what I have to do to increase it. But how can one earn enormous sums in an inflation if all the others are losing their last funds?"

"Here's how you do it..." Cardif began to explain as the intercom of the c.o.kaz 2 switched on.

"Sir," the Springer com officer called to his patriarch, "the great transmitter on Arkon 3 has announced an important communique within minutes. All hyperwaves..."

"Put the transmission through when it comes in and don't talk so much when you haven't been asked. Remember that!"

6/ WORTH DYING FOR.