3/ REVELATIONS

 

It sounded like the wind blowing through the riggings of a sailboat. Before my escape into the depth of the ocean I had often challenged the forces of nature. But now I was not lying on the deck of a sailboat, dreamily watching the moving clouds. Alas, it was entirely different.

There were 4 or 5 of them. What I had taken to be the blowing of the wind was a loud and fast debate.

They thought I was still in a coma and I didn’t care to give any sign of having awakened.

Thus I had already gathered from their conversation that they had indeed believed I was an unknown underwater fish with unusually beautiful luminous organs. They had launched their shots at me and hauled me in through the fish hatch the moment my protective field collapsed. It was my good—or bad—luck.

By quickly blinking my eyes I learned that I was flat on a table in a rather big room. It probably was some kind of a laboratory where the captured living organisms of the deep sea were studied.

They spoke English but the general trend of their discussion confused me. The logical nucleus in my grey matter stubbornly insisting that survivors of a terrible atomic war would have other worries than renting a special submarine for diving into the trench of the Azores under the guidance of a professional deep-sea fisherman on a fishing adventure.

If they had implied that they had done it for the purpose of saving their lives and for obtaining food, I could have understood them. But this…?

I lay stock-still as soft hands fingered my face and the region of my throat and neck. The deep voice of a man said with obvious annoyance: "Balderdash! There’s no sign of gills. This is without question a lung-breather and, what’s more, he’s a human being."

"Cover him up!" another man cautioned. "Dora’s coming!"

A soft wool blanket was spread over my naked body. It tickled my perspiring skin and I had trouble controlling the scarred epidermis of my abdomen which had become very sensitive after my operation.

"Did he wake up yet?" the strident voice of a girl inquired.

Hysterical tendencies! my analytical brain-sector signalled.

A warm breath breezed against my face and I savoured the fragrance of well-groomed hair. From that moment on I knew that the atomic war could not have been as devastating as I had assumed all this time; not if they were still able to produce such expensive perfumes up there!

"A fine specimen!" somebody said with unconcealed mockery in his voice. "At least 6-foot tall and built like a wrestler. Not an ounce of fat and a white blond mane like a Nordic god."

2 other men broke out in gales of laughter. I began to feel deeply ashamed. These were obviously people who knew neither respect nor decency. They treated me like a rare animal and an object for rude and asinine remarks.

I felt tempted to get up but at this moment a man addressed as Doctor entered the room. I had already instinctively expected this to happen.

He greeted everybody very politely in the manner of a newly hatched M.D. in the presence of very rich and influential persons.

"Did you get the X-rays?" the man with the deep voice asked.

"Yes, sir," the newcomer replied. "They’re extremely odd, I must say."

"Is this an amphibious man or not?" the girl interrupted him impatiently.

"Definitely not, Miz. But he’s not a normal human being either. If you’ll allow me to show you the pictures?"

"Lemme see them!" somebody said gruffly. "What the blazes is this? This man doesn’t have any ribs!"

I noticed that they recoiled from me as if in flight.

"You don’t have to draw your gun!" the girl exclaimed. "He doesn’t look that dangerous to me. This is really fantastic! Can you wake him up, Doc?"

"It wouldn’t be advisable, Miz. Maybe in a few hours; he has received a great shock."

A hand pulled the blanket away from my chest. It must have been the physician. "Will you look at those scars!"

"Gruesome!" the girl blurted. "I’m interested in medicine. I wonder what kind of a bungler could’ve butchered him up like that."

"I don’t have the faintest notion. Apparently it’s a stomach operation."

"What do you mean by apparently?" the man with the deep voice mocked him. "Are you a doctor or aren’t you? You ought to know whether it’s a stomach operation or not!"

The physician seemed embarrassed. Little wonder! These people were extremely ill bred.

"Sir, it’s impossible to state with certainty, considering his anomalous skeleton structure. The entire chest cavity is enclosed in continuous and very solid breastplates. This… eh… man should be taken to a prominent research clinic. My resources here are too limited."

"What’s limited? The resources or yourself?" the deep voice sneered again.

"Listen, my dear friend, if this is neither a monster nor a genuine man, then something is very rotten. The circumstances of his appearance were rather suspicious."

"I said already it was an energy screen," someone interjected with a growl.

"That’s my opinion too, John! I’ve worked enough with energy-fields to have some experience. It looks to me like this fellow wasn’t born on Earth. This is a case for the Space Defence. Send a radio message to the Security Office in Terrania. If necessary we’ll have to inform the Administrator. I don’t want to get mixed up in this."

"But daddy!" the girl said pouting, "perhaps he’s really an unknown being living at the bottom of the sea. Imagine what…!"

"Bunk!" the loudmouth scolded. "Deep sea man! You do what you’re told! This fellow will be handed over to the Space Defence. Captain, we’re breaking off the trip. Emerge and radio the message. Tell them to send over a fast plane. Under the circumstances we can’t continue on a pleasure trip."

They went on discussing the matter without suspecting that I understood every word. My scar tissue began to itch unbearably. I felt like scratching with all my fingers at once.

Moreover, the situation became perilous for me. The man with the deep voice not only seemed to be the big shot on board but also had a very energetic personality.

With a feeling of dismay I began to sort out the overhead details. My mind seemed to reject the whole preposterous idea at first. My brain went on strike. The simplest conclusion was difficult for me.

Everything added up to the fact that the atomic war had never occurred. They talked about Space Defence. Consequently they must have spaceships!

If they could even ask a Security Office to dispatch a plane it could mean only one thing: I had committed a horrendous error. But how? I knew definitely that the first atomic bombs had begun to fall on Asia at the time of my escape.

Was it possible that this Air Force Major had played a decisive role in the war? If this was so, he really must have discovered something of critical importance when he landed on the Moon, though it had completely escaped my knowledge.

"You’ve slept 69 years for no reason at all, you fool!" my extra-sense transmitted.

Then I told myself that only part of Earth might have been razed and the reason these people failed to allude to it might have reflected the fact that a long time had elapsed since the event. Nevertheless I had nagging misgivings. The wounds of an atomic war don’t heal in 69 years.

I continued eavesdropping on the conversation. But its topic concerned exclusively myself and I was in a position to learn what had actually occurred.

"That’ll be all!" the boss shouted, apparently angered. "I’ve got a nose for such things. The Solar Imperium can’t permit the presence of aliens in its realm and this one—" a finger poked at my chest "—and this fellow is not from here. Captain, emerge at once! John, do you have a gun?"

"I’ve got an old pistol," somebody answered reluctantly.

"That’ll do. You stay here in the lab with him and watch any move he makes. Or are you afraid?"

The man by the name of John reassured him hastily that he didn’t have to worry about him. The girl laughed shrilly; she was neurotic.

Several people left the room. I heard a steel hatch snap shut and then a man uttered a subdued curse while a revolver drum clicked. Apparently the man had flipped out the drum to make sure the gun was loaded.

"How much longer will he be unconscious?" John shouted at the top of his voice but the people rushing off didn’t answer him. I was alone with a man whose nerves were on edge.

I remained completely quiet and tried to breathe deeply. I was familiar with the type of people like John. Undoubtedly he would have shot me at the first little move I made.

Disregarding him for the time being, I pondered the meaning of the "Solar Imperium" to which they had referred.

What did it really imply? At the time when I retreated into my steel sphere there existed several great power blocs on Earth. A united world government was unthinkable, let alone a political organization of outer space which deserved the name Solar Imperium.

I was calm and collected again. My kind of people quickly regain their powers of reasoning. However the fact remained that I had committed a stupendous error which primarily stemmed from my knowledge of human psychology. When some lunatic pressed the button 69 years ago I was utterly convinced that those heretofore-normal people would start acting like madmen too.

However I must have been sadly mistaken and I should be able to ascertain the reason for it. My thoughts focused on Perry Rhodan’s name. This fledgling space pilot could hold the key to the big mystery.

I waited till my guard had calmed down. After a few minutes he walked back to the hatch again. I heard him operate the sturdy levers and the hatch door slid open with a slight squeak.

I turned my head and got my first good look at the room. It was indeed a laboratory. John stood in the round door opening listening to the outside. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and tight slacks with a gun stuck in his belt.

"Get me something to eat!" the lanky man shouted through the door. Somebody answered too low for me to understand.

A perfunctory test of my reflexes was positive. I had fully absorbed the effects of the shock rays. My bulky protective suit had been placed at my left side. They had evidently searched my outfit but didn’t seem to know what to do with it. I noticed the slight long bulge of my psycho-beamer in my right thigh-pocket. They had neglected to remove my defence weapon.

John yelled again. Of course he was not really hungry, he was merely anxious to have somebody else around.

I slipped off the table without making a sound. With 2 quick steps I stood behind the thin man.

Jumping on his back I clamped my legs around his arms and applied my good old Dagor hold. Without choking his breath I pressed my fingers against the arteries on the left and right of his larynx, blocking the flow of blood to his brain. He slumped noiselessly to the floor and remained still. It would be about 3 minutes before he recovered; there was no time to lose.

Now 2 things happened at once: the powerful engine of the submarine began to hum and I heard steps coming closer.

When I saw the man I already had the silver rod of my psycho-beamer in my hand. He was caught in the thin shimmering beam of the hypno-suggestive rays before his mind became aware what happened to him. I could feel the slight vibration of the influence-weapon in my brain. Thus the transference contact with the selected victim had been established. I didn’t have to speak a word and merely concentrated on the thought I wanted the man to obey.

The man stopped in his tracks and his eyes became glassy.

Go to the lab and wait till I call you! I formulated the hypnotic impulse.

Wordlessly he resumed walking, passed by me and entered the room behind me. Then I waited till the unconscious man awakened and gave him the same instructions.

My psycho-beamer had a range of more than a mile. By broadening the concentrated beam I was able to sweep a large area at once. I had no intention of entering each room in a dangerous search to put each member of the crew individually under my influence.

I fanned my beamer over the whole ship. It was a small submarine which couldn’t have more than a crew of a few men.

Soon the people I had summoned came in one by one. First a burly man whom I believed I recognized as the man with the deep voice and behind him 4 other people, among them a young girl with hair dyed an atrocious green.

I collected them in the large lab and locked them up after directing them not to leave the room under any circumstances.

Half naked as I was I investigated the submarine. Behind several luxurious cabin suites was a parlour with observation screens. The craft had already gathered speed but remained at the same depth of 6000 feet.

Next to the parlour was the control room of the submarine. Then came the quarters of the crew, the reactor department and the transformer station.

Nobody paid any attention to me as I walked through the ship. Returning to the control room, I stepped behind the captain. He was an elderly man with snow-white hair and a ruddy skin.

"Head for the Portuguese coast. Anchor the ship on the bottom near Cape Roca. What’s your maximum speed?"

"80 nautical miles," the captain said tonelessly.

"Okay, bring the speed up to 70 miles and set the automatic pilot!"

The first officer went to the navigation console to determine the course. He and the helmsman followed my orders instantly.

After the course was corrected the instruments in the radio room sounded a beeping noise. Another submarine had been picked up by the electronic detector and we steered around it automatically.

An illuminated cartographic picture showed that we approached a heavily travelled underwater lane. More and more red lines with depth notations appeared. This was one more proof that my assumptions had been all wrong. Nothing pointed to a destructive atomic war.

I decided to end my doubts by asking the direct question: "Did an atomic war devastate Earth 69 years ago?"

"No," the captain answered in the same toneless voice.

"How old are you?"

"65 years."

"How come the atomic war failed to break out? Did they teach you this in school?"

"Yes, sir. The New Power under Perry Rhodan prevented the spread of the conflict by deploying the war potential of the Arkonide super-technology."

I felt my legs tremble. I probably had turned pale. "Arkonide technology?" I repeated with a tremulous voice. Does that mean Perry Rhodan has established relations with the Arkonides? If so, tell me when, where and how this came about!"

Since he was under the influence of my psycho-beamer his answers had to be absolutely true.

"After landing on the Moon, Perry Rhodan discovered a research cruiser of the Arkonides which had crashed there. He helped them and received their help in return. He averted the war and subsequently founded the New Power."

The interrogation was irksome for me since the man could answer only such questions as were asked directly. I passed over the next period of time. "What is the state of the Earth now? What form of government do you have and what’s Perry Rhodan’s function today?"

"The Earth is a big beautiful world. The deserts were made to bloom. We’re controlling the weather and all ailments have been eliminated. Perry Rhodan is the First Administrator of the Solar Imperium which came into existence after the Terranian World Government was formed."

Now I had to reach for a chair and sit down. I was shaken by his revelations. I had spent 69 years in my bathysphere and completely slept through the most momentous epoch of the Earth’s development!

I continued my query for the better part of an hour. Then I had learned enough.

This young daredevil spacepilot had had the guts to challenge the major powers of Earth! Afterwards he had plunged into space in a series of obviously very bold adventures and captured several powerful battleships and cruisers and proceeded to use them cautiously to take a hand in the history of the inhabited Galaxy.

He even said that Rhodan visited Arkon. My heart stood still at the very thought. Since when was it conceivable that a little barbarian could fly to Arkon and start trouble? I would simply have Rhodan’s few measly ships wiped off the map in hyperspace with a single squadron!

"What kind of a reception did Rhodan get on Arkon? Does anybody know?"

"Yes, sir. It’s well known that the great empire under the hegemony of the Arkonides is falling apart. Nowadays it is ruled by a robot brain. The Arkonides are lethargic, degenerated and unable to manage their own affairs. They’re pleasure bent to the point of insanity."

I suddenly became possessed by my subconscious mind. I leaped to my feet and grabbed the old man by the throat. I shouted in wild anger. How did this old codger dare to talk so abusively about the Arkonides?

He didn’t defend himself when I shook him hard. After a few seconds I regained my self-control. "Never say that again! Understand, never!" I warned him.

"Yes, sir," the man answered unemotionally. "Never again.

I refrained from asking further questions and walked slowly to the forward deck where the laboratory was located. There I asked the men to hand over their identification papers which I carefully scrutinized.

All of them were from the USA and citizens of Terrania, leaving no doubt that Rhodan had made the old dream of many world reformers come true.

I let the men step forward one by one and studied them intently. One of them by the name of Phil Holding had a figure like mine. His face also resembled mine despite some definite differences. On my first visit to the civilized world of Terra I had to assume the role of Phil Holding, business manager of a canned food company.

I took him to his cabin and let him show me his clothes. His pants were tight and his jackets had loud colours which Phil described as the latest elegance.

I put his clothes on and looked at myself in the mirror. Well, there was no point in arguing with the style in fashion.

From then on I followed the plan I had conceived. First of all I had to find a good library and become familiar with the Terranian history of the past 69 years. This shouldn’t take more than 24 hours with my photographic memory.

During that time the submarine and its crew had to stay out of sight. The First Officer informed me that they had enough food for about 4 weeks on board. Drinking water and air was produced by machines.

Therefore it was possible for me to order the men to remain on the bottom of the sea for a month before they were allowed to emerge. I had no intention of letting them starve to death.

We reached the Portuguese coast unseen. I assembled the crew and the passengers in the big parlour where I instructed them by deploying the psycho-beamer not to move from the anchoring place until their stock of food was exhausted and to forget everything that happened when they emerged.

They obediently returned to their cabins. I checked the automatic equipment of the submarine again and found everything to be in the best of order.

I put Phil Holding’s wallet in the pocket of my ‘new’ suit which, according to him, looked so elegant. There seemed to be plenty of money in the wallet although I was not familiar with the bills which were made of high quality plastic banknotes and imbedded micro-wires with coded magnetic impulses, making counterfeiting money virtually impossible.

The time of manifold currencies was over. On Terra and in the so-called Solar Imperium money was counted exclusively in Solars and a Solar had 100 Soli. The purchasing power of the money seemed to be considerable as Phil Holding explained to me.

I took 2000 Solars and made out a receipt. I wanted to pay it back to Phil Holding later on but first I had to make my arrangements.

Before I donned my underwater protective suit I had the steward cut my hair. My long mane was skilfully trimmed after it had grown for 69 years. Now I wore it semi-long with waves.

I caught myself smiling. The trip to the surface promised to be very interesting. I removed the rations and medical supplies from my backpack; they were no longer needed.

Thus prepared I left the submarine through the fish hatch. I surfaced and waited till it got dark. Then I cautiously floated to the nearby land.

Behind Cape Roca I could see the sparkling lights of Lisbon. I experienced a wonderful feeling of relief from my tortuous nightmare and my sense of adventure was rekindled.

There had been no war—so much the better! I went ashore near a small forest not far from a road with a lot of traffic. I hid my underwater gear in a hollow at the mouth of a stream. My only weapon was the psycho-beamer. I realized I would have to return to my shelter after my excursion to Lisbon in order to make the necessary preparations.

I started walking and soon stopped a car on the road. I didn’t know the model; it seemed to draw its energy from a high-capacity charger bank.

I made up a little story for the driver, an elderly Portuguese, and he took me in 15 minutes to the elevated streets of the capital. Here I got my first good look at the accomplishments achieved in the last 7 decades and I was greatly impressed by the progress made in the short span. I thanked the driver for his troubles and got off near a high-rise hotel.

The reception was completely automated and performed by robots. A smoothly functioning machine with a permanently smiling plastic face asked my name and that was all there was to it.

Room #123 had an electronic impulse lock. When the mechanism reacted properly to the touch of my hand, I realized they had registered my frequency without my knowledge.

Fool! my extra-sense conveyed.

I stood thoughtfully in the large, luxuriously furnished room, soberly considering the fact that I had already made my second mistake in the course of a few hours. Evidently my normally unfailing instinct had not yet been fully restored. Perhaps I still suffered from the aftereffects of the extended deep slumber.

I had totally forgotten to destroy the telltale X-rays. They were still lying in the lab of the sub. The trouble it could cause me was still 4 weeks in the future and I would be able to return to the ship to remedy the neglect.

The matter with the registration of my body frequency was more serious. The door lock had been automatically coded with my personal identification, otherwise it would not have opened at the simple touch of my hand.

I decided to take care of this problem a little later. It should be possible to demand at the time of my departure that my individual record be expunged.

I sat down in a comfortable-looking chair. It surpassed my expectations because it perfectly moulded itself to my contours the moment I sank in.

These capable Earth dwellers had come a long way. Actually they had gone much too far!

With a frown I inspected the bathroom. It contained a fully automatic massaging machine. The same machine in my deep-sea sphere was not a whit better.

My desire to visit the public library became more and more urgent. It would have been all wrong to approach all sorts of people with inquiries about the past.

If I had known that an Encyclopaedia Terrania describing the history of mankind in the new era had already been published, I would have left my hotel on the spot. Then I would also have found out about the special volume titled ‘Mutant Corps’ relating its legendary exploits.

Instead I went to sleep. The tiring events of the day had taken their toll.