Part 4 (1/2)

Mercant grew restless. ”My dear Miss Sloane, you must leave that to our judgment. We are better informed than you. Rhodan intends to seize not only this planet's military might but also its total economic potential. The machines and goods he can offer in trade already surpa.s.s anything we have ever dreamed of accomplis.h.i.+ng. This alone is sufficient for Rhodan to shake the very foundations of our economic existence.”

”That sounds great,” she mocked. ”I would like to meet this Rhodan very much. This makes your proposition sound acceptable to me.”

”You will have an opportunity to make his acquaintance if you are willing to work with us,” promised Mercant. ”Perry Rhodan and his allies are looking for friends and helpers.”

She was amazed. ”How can this be possible? To seek friends while being known as the world's foremost foe? How does he go about it?”

”Quite openly. Who could prevent him from doing so? And how is anyone to guess his neighbour's destination when he packs his suitcases and leaves home? Dr. Haggard from Australia was abducted by force. Today he is working for Rhodan. We tried to smuggle in some of our agents, but they were caught. Maybe you will have better luck.”

”I would seriously doubt that.” Anne shook her head. ”I can hardly believe I'd be more successful than your people, who are so much more experienced than I.”

”That's just the point! Exactly because you have less experience. Our agents were too cautious and wary and reacted accordingly. Besides, you are a woman.”

”I won't deny that,” she smiled. ”But what has that to do with the whole thing?”

”A good deal. One of the members of the Stardust's crew wanted to return to the States. Rhodan gave him a hypn.o.block that induced an artificial amnesia. When Captain Fletcher was cross-examined by the Australian authorities, he unfortunately suffered a stroke. His widow died too a few weeks later, when her first child was born. Her death was kept a secret. But we are in possession of her papers. And we also have a photo of her. Have a look at it, Miss Sloane!”

Mercant opened his wallet and took out a photo. Anne hesitated slightly before she accepted the preferred picture; then she looked at it. It showed a young woman, about twenty-five years old, dark and slender. Anne did not notice anything particular about it except that it reminded her of somebody she knew quite well.a ”It looks like you, doesn't it?” asked Kaats eagerly.

Now Anne could see the resemblance, but it was nothing more than a slight likeness. ”No one would dream of mistaking me for her, if that is what you want to say. No, I don't think I could pa.s.s for her.”

”That is not so important here in this case,” Mercant said. ”Neither Rhodan, Bell nor Manoli had ever met Mrs. Fletcher in person. They might have seen a photo of her. Therefore, a slight resemblance is all that is necessary. As Mrs. Fletcher you will try to enter Rhodan's base in the Gobi Desert.”

”This is a crazy idea,” said Anne sceptically. ”Who would fall for such a trick?”

”Rhodan! He will understand that Fletcher's widow wants to get in touch with him to find out what led to her husband's death. Once you are inside the energy wall, you can try out your special talents of telekinesis. I don't think even the fabulous Arkonides know a protection against that. At least, we hope they don't.”

”Arkonides?”

”That is what the aliens call themselves. The strangers who had to make an emergency landing on the moon. They originate from a solar system more than 34,000 light-years away from ours. Star cl.u.s.ter M 13, NGC number 6205, to be exact.”

”If these aliens really have come from this far distant star, I'm afraid that my limited faculties won't impress them too much.”

”Let's wait and see. In any case I am not wrong in a.s.suming that this job sounds tempting to you? You do accept, I hope.”

”I don't seem to have much of a choice. And besides, to be frank, this mission intrigues me.”

Mercant rummaged in his coat pocket and pulled out some papers. ”Here are your instructions. And your airplane ticket. But before you start you will undergo a short but intensive training course in psychology.”

Suddenly Anne felt cold. She gazed up and noticed that the sun was now hidden by the branches of the elm tree. She stood up. ”Let's go inside, it's too cool here on the veranda now. Over some whiskey you can explain all the details to me.”

While she led the way into the house, she was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that she had let herself in for more than she could handle. Perry Rhodan, the celebrated astronaut, had gained her complete admiration when he had undertaken his daring flight to the moon. She had not been able to make much of the events that had followed, but she was sure that he was neither a traitor nor a criminal even if the whole world was against him. And now all of a sudden she was supposed to fight against him.

She was not entirely sure that she really would.

Unlike Anne Sloane, Ras Tschubai had never had the slightest indication of his hidden talents. He was born a few years after the end of World War II in El Obeid, a tiny village in the Sudan. He had studied in India and had lived for the past two years in Moscow, the metropolis of the Eastern Bloc. He worked in the laboratory of a scientific inst.i.tute involved in research into the production of a serum to prolong life.

As a chemist, Ras took part in an expedition into the interior of Africa where a particular species of bee could be found. Their liquid food was indispensable for the synthesis of the serum.

For weeks now the expedition had roamed the jungles near the headwaters of the Congo River, far from civilization and cut off from their supply sources. Radio communication with the outside world had been cut off when their radio stopped functioning. The native porters had taken French leave one after the other and had disappeared into the darkness of the jungle nights.

Their situation was desperate, for the slightest relapse into primitive circ.u.mstances meant certain ruin in this age of advanced technology. Both Russians, the German and the African born Ras Tschubai were sitting in the middle of the immense jungle, surrounded by virgin territory and hostile wilderness, far removed from any help. What irony when high above the dense roof of foliage they could hear the hum of the heavy transcontinental airplanes! just a few miles above them, yet unreachable.

They ran out of food as well as medical supplies.

The leader of the misfortune ridden expedition sighed, ”d.a.m.n these wonder bees! Prolonging life! For that we don't need any bees now, just a few cans of food. And a lot of luck. Ras, you are the only one here who knows the country at all, If anyone can help us now, it's you.”

They were crouched around a small campfire in front of their tent. The fire was smoking terribly, for they had been able to find only damp wood. The sun never penetrated as far down as the jungle floor.

”I was only born in Africa but educated in India and the Soviet Union,” Ras replied.

”But your parents lived here and your ancestors. You inherited their knowledge and their instincts. You are the only one who could find a way out of this maze. We have tried in vain for days to reach even some village. We have not enough strength left to carry on. One of us must go on alone. You, Ras!”

Ras was frightened. It was correct that his grandparents and even his parents bad fought in Africa against the white man for their freedom and independence. They had lived in these endless steppes and impenetrable jungles. They had found food by hunting the animals of their domain. But he was now one generation removed from them. What did he know of the dangers of this wilderness? Nothing.

He shook his head in desperation. ”It is senseless; that much I know. I'll never find the way on my own. Who knows if there is anybody still living in this jungle? They are all concentrated now near the coast or on the steppes. Even the wild tribes were lured by civilization. The jungle has been deserted. The wild animals have taken over. How should I, a man alone, find my way back to civilization?”

As he spoke, a picture appeared before him from days long gone by. He saw El Obeid, a tiny oasis in the wide Sudanese steppes that had developed first into a little village and then into a regular small town. El Obeid! That, was where his parents had lived, where he had been born. Here he had spent his childhood, those long ago days without any worries. The village school and the teachers and the funny memories of many a childish prank . . . The old chieftain who used to sit under a banana tree at the edge of the village pond and who told such interesting stories . . . How well Ras could remember all this, just as if it had been only yesterday. And his parents a ”Instinct, Ras!” said the leader of the expedition, bringing Ras back to reality. ”It isn't the compa.s.s that matters; but the instinct. Your parents were still savages when they were children, don't you ever forget it. Your own civilization is nothing but a thin veneer that can be stripped away at any time. Forgive me if that sounds rather brutal but it's the truth. It takes many generations to turn this thin layer into a thick and durable skin. You, Ras, belong to the first generation. If anyone of us has a chance for survival, it is you. Therefore you are the one to go for help.”

Slowly Ras looked around the campfire. The German was squatting close by. He seemed to be cold, although it was warm and humid. He was drying his feet and boots, which had become soaked in the swamp. One of the Russians was sitting on a rotting tree trunk, staring straight ahead with a sombre expression. His rifle was leaning next to him, but only two bullets were left in it. The leader of the expedition regarded Ras expectantly.

The student of chemistry sighed deeply. ”You're the boss. If you want me to, I'll try my best. But I can't guarantee anything.”

”That remains to be seen. Take this rifle here five rounds of ammunition. That will leave us ten bullets for hunting. In addition here is your share of medications. It's not much, but it will do for one fever attack. You will have to hunt for your food.”

”That means no food to take along?”

”That's right. We can't give you any! We have almost nothing left. I am sorry, but I can't see any other way out. You must start out today.”

Ras knew that he could not argue; it would be senseless. He obeyed orders and soon afterward took his leave from his comrades. He walked off with firm steps and soon disappeared into the dense underbrush of the jungle. The thick foliage closed behind him and hid his friends from view. They remained behind, sitting motionless in the little clearing, just staring after him.

At first things were not too bad. Ras found a path apparently made by wild animals on their way to a water hole nearby. He followed the trail. If I should continue like this for about 600 miles, he thought bitterly, I would reach the coast. The only problem is that it would take weeks or months at this speed. It is hopeless. But what can I do? Perhaps I'll be lucky and I'll find some nomadic tube or some Pygmies. Or a El Obeid!

If only he had stayed there, everything would have been fine. Although he could not have studied, he would still have had a chance to live a long life. Perhaps he would even have become a teacher. His parents would still be alive, perhaps. As it was, only one sister lived in their old home. How long since he had last seen her!

Caution!

It was nothing but a monkey who, high up in the leafy roof of the jungle, had discovered the strange wanderer. His loud chatter aroused a lively echo. Ras was contemplating whether he should shoot him, but he did not feel hungry even though he had eaten hardly anything today. With a brisk step he continued on his way.

Soon it grew dark. Under no circ.u.mstances, he decided, would he spend the night down on the ground. He had to find some tree whose lowest branch was within easy reach. But this was not so easily done. It was almost night before he discovered a huge fallen tree trunk lying at a slant in a small clearing in the thick underbrush. He ran upward along the trunk until he reached a big forked branch, whence many paths led into a new realm that had been unknown to him till now. An entanglement of many branches, boughs and twigs wove a cover more than sixty feet above the jungle floor.

It was not at all difficult to find a suitable place. A cave like leafy shelter provided protection against the night wind and cover against any enemies approaching from behind. He took the blanket roll he bad carried on his shoulders and spread it out. Carefully he put the gun in a corner. He still felt no hunger, only great fatigue. He stretched out in a shallow depression of his ”nest,” listened for a while to the nocturnal noises of the primeval forest and was soon asleep.

He dreamed. Strangely enough, he dreamed of the scene of his childhood of which he had thought earlier. He could see everything so clearly that it seemed to be reality. The old chieftain once again told his stories of those bygone days when he roamed through the steppes, armed with spear and bow, hunting for enemy warriors and for game, Ras's sister brought water from a nearby well, carefully balancing the jug on her head. His parents- Ras sat up with a start. A new sound, which so far had not been part of the nocturnal concert of the jungle, had awakened him from his dream.

At first the trunk had trembled lightly, as if something had jumped on it from the ground below. Then came a soft shuffling, as if the creature was cautiously approaching. Some thing was softly treading on the wood.

Ras reached for his gun. He could not find it at once, and while searching for it he knocked it over. Before he managed to get hold of it, it flipped over the edge of his tiny platform. He could hear the rifle hitting against branches and leaves on its downward path. A dull thud announced that his weapon had arrived on the ground.

Silence.