1/ THE DEVASTATING DIAGRAM
THEY’D DONE IT!
3 men with exhausted faces sighed deeply as their department’s computer spewed out a length of tape with an audible click. The tape fell rustling into a cup-shaped receptacle and at the same time the computer, a device based on positronic principles, shut off and the humming and vibrating died away. A penetrating silence suddenly reigned in the room.
Chief logician Nourag got up and crossed to the machine, taking the computer tape from its receptacle. Then he turned and looked triumphantly at his 2 colleagues.
It was the finest reward for a work that had occupied them for 36 hours.
36 hours before, Chief Logician Nourag had been summoned to Allan D. Mercant, Marshal of Solar Defence.
"I need," Mercant had said, "in 40 hours, a set of precise coördinates according to which our solar system would appear to be in the following position… take this down if you will, Nourag… Phi 16 degrees, 34 minutes, 22 seconds; Psi 03:05:45; and Chi 44:43:01. Your range will be between 3,500 & 4,200 light-years from Earth. No more, no less. Within those limits, where you go is up to you and your men to decide.
"Once you’ve determined those coördinates, you will have the interesting task of calculating the distance from the Earth’s fictitious location to those star systems known to us.
"To put it simply, your mission is this: supply me data in the next 40 years that would guarantee that a spaceship of our fleet using it would never find its way back to Earth. However, the data must appear utterly genuine and stand up to the most suspicious examination without evidencing any hint of deliberate foul play."
With that the chief logician had been dismissed.
And now they had done it: in 36 hours, on the 4th run-through. 3 times before the positronicon had stopped during the middle of computations. The data it had been fed was not sufficient to reach any conclusions but Nourag and his colleagues were able to determine readily enough what information was lacking and supply it.
Nourag, a small, slender man, was radiant with joy now. The long plastic tape with its encoded symbols was like an open book in his mother language to him.
"Miltau," he said to his closest coworker, "call Marshall Mercant and tell him our job is finished—and so is our strength, for that matter."
But the Solar Defence Marshall could not be reached.
"Alright," said Nourag, "then I’ll wait for him. Thank you, gentlemen. You can go now."
Nourag had been alone for only a few minutes when he had a visit from Esting, the navigational mathematician.
Esting fell tiredly into a seat. "That Solar Defence bunch," he moaned. "One of these days they’re going to kill us all. I had to calculate spring coördinates… Good Lord! I’d hate to be flying in the spaceship going into transition with my data! What in heaven’s name is all this nonsense for, anyway?"
But it was not nonsense at all.
In all details, it was a very carefully thought-out plan.
For 2 hours Perry Rhodan, Reginald Bell, Marshall Mercant and Maj. Clyde Ostal of the Solar Security Service had been sitting at the final conference.
Allan D. Mercant handed new reports to Perry Rhodan, Administrator of the Solar Imperium. Rhodan skimmed over them and nodded. "The picture is becoming more complete," he said, "but we’ve waited long enough. The reports from our agents are growing steadily sparser and less detailed. Our experience with the Robot Regent indicates that that means Arkon is attempting to double-cross us again." He laid his hand on the reports that Mercant had given him. "Here we see how strong the probability is that Arkon has begun development of its new compensator-detector. Mercant, not even you know how dangerous our situation has become in the last 3 days!"
The Defence Marshall looked at Rhodan in astonishment. Rhodan reached behind himself and produced a slip of paper on which a diagram had been drawn. He laid it out on the table.
Bell, Mercant and Maj. Ostal bent over the diagram in curiosity.
The diagram came from the space freighter Orinoco and was 3 days old.
2 days before, the Orinoco had returned from a freight run to the M-13 System, landing at Terrania a full 6 hours behind schedule.
The 6-hour delay was due to unplanned transitions. The commander of the Orinoco fortunately belonged to the officers of the Terran spacefleet and merchant marine and consequently took his work very seriously.
The diagram that now disturbed 3 of the men taking part in the conference had deeply shaken him as well. And thus 30 minutes after his arrival in Terrania, he had requested to speak with Perry Rhodan.
"This is too much!" Bell exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Mercant’s eyes shimmered dangerously.
Maj. Clyde Ostal had gone pale.
The testimony of the diagram was devastating.
Mercant began to speak, as though lecturing a class. He rarely spoke in that tone: only when he had been deeply disturbed. His pen flew over the diagram, pointing various things out. "Here… that’s the Orinoco’s transition… uninteresting. But here, at 0434:05 hours, ship’s time, the vessel came out of hyperspace. And there…" Mercant’s hand trembled. "… At 0435:36 hours, ship’s time, just 1 minutes & 31 seconds later, the first Arkonidean ship flew towards it. And that 1.23 light-years from where the Orinoco was going to land.
"No sir, I didn’t know that. That’s the catastrophe we’ve been trying to prevent for more than half a century. And tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, the first Arkonide Titan-type spacespheres will be landing here by the hundreds!"
It was astounding that Bell did not comment at first. This was something quite out of character for him. He, a man whose bent for flying off the handle at the least provocation was well known throughout the Solar Imperium, merely ran both hands through his reddish hair while gasping loudly for breath. Finally he burst out with: "What a fine fishket! (21st century expression for ‘kettle of fish’) The Druufs to the right of us, the double-crossing Robot Brain to the left of us… and the positronic scrap pile knows the position of the Earth now…!"
"I don’t believe it knows yet," Rhodan interrupted. "The range of the Arkonide structural compensators is still limited." He reached behind himself again and laid the 2nd diagram on the table. "Commodore Lyst of the Orinoco had the fortunate idea of testing the capabilities of the new Arkonide device with a spring near M-13. This diagram doesn’t tell us why the Arkonide sensor can’t pick up the frequency of our structural compensators from a distance of more than 10 light-years but it does tell us that we Terrans don’t dare lose another minute…" He allowed a pause to emphasize what he had yet to say. "…And we have to first make arrangements so that all our spacers can return to Earth when we transmit a coded message for them to do so; but making at least 20 different transitions while on their way before they finally set course for Terra on their last spring. That, gentlemen, is our situation at the present time."
"As if that motorized bucket of bolts hasn’t given us enough trouble already!" Bell cried out angrily. "Perry, don’t you feel an urge to send Pucky to the Robot Regent so our little friend can ‘play’ with him a bit?"
In spite of the earnest situation, Perry Rhodan could not repress a smile. Bell’s suggestion of sending the telepathic, telekinetic and teleportative mousebeaver extraordinary, Pucky, to face the giant computer on Arkon 3 was no joke but just the thought of a playing Pucky was enough to cause a smile.
Had he been given such a mission, Pucky would have certainly displayed his single incisor tooth, as he always did to express his joy. Teleporting himself inside the mammoth positronic computer and then beginning to ‘play’—destroying the positronicon section by section with his telekinetic powers unleashed full-force—would have been his idea of fun.
However…
"Such a suicide mission is out of the question for Pucky," Rhodan said, tabling the idea. "Mercant, don’t have your agents concentrating their attention on the construction of the Arkonide sensing equipment. Ed much rather know if they’re started mass production of the device. Its construction is less important…"
Bell stared at his friend, startled. Rhodan overlooked it, turning to Maj. Ostal. "Are you ready enough that you could take off at 12:45 hours?"
Mercant answered for Ostal. "They’ll be ready by then, sir. The extra equipment is ready now and the rest of the work is just routine."
Rhodan turned to his friend. "Reggie, I asked you to have the light cruiser Lotus refitted. How has the work been going?"
"We’re ready," he replied, gesturing angrily, "but those pickle people, the Swoons, seem like they never will be. If I could only see what they’re trying to do. These microscopically small devices of theirs are beginning to get on my nerves.
"They’d get on my nerves, too, Reggie… if the Swoons were working for Arkon instead of us." That was all Rhodan had to say about that but for Bell those words had their own meaning. He knew Perry Rhodan better than anyone else and he was aware that when Rhodan spoke in such riddles, something was up and would soon reveal itself, usually at some unexpected moment.
"Anything else, gentlemen?" Rhodan looked at the men questioningly.
"Yes sir," said Maj. Ostal. "Is our destination still the star system of Naral?"
"Yes it is. According to the latest reports of our agents, suspicion as increased that one or even several compensator-sensors: are on the planet Ekhas, possibly built into Arkonide ships. We know already through the commodore of the Orinoco which Arkonide planet is definitely the site of a sensor unit but re-programming your ship’s extra equipment would cause us to lose 5 days—and that much time, gentlemen, we don’t have. In the next few days or hours Arkon could succeed in increasing the range of their compensator sensor to a thousand or more light-years. What then?"
"I still like the idea of sending Pucky to pay a call on the Robot Brain!" Bell muttered, vexed.
Perry Rhodan replied without hesitation. "We need both Pucky and the Positronicon on Arkon 3—we can’t afford to lose either of them!"