The Sleeper of the Ages Read online

  "Evidence?"

  "Syntron projections on the basis of the initial data. There are signs of recent movements and changes down below."

  Rhodan looked around. The eyes and minds of the control center crew were focused on the images in the holos and their possible meaning. The Syntrons were processing enormous quantities of data and had already made some of it clear. The energy of the throttled engines continued to flow away but with no clue as to where. The rest of the ship's support systems operated flawlessly. Two crawler teams, V—the Dumas trio—and VIII, reported ready for the operation.

  The commander gave it three seconds thought. "The ark and possibly other arks are important to us," she said with an impassive face but flashing eyes. "But when a planet so obviously invites us, we should acknowledge the opportunity. It'll be twice the work, but possibly triple the success. So, crawlers, take a look around without attracting too much attention."

  "We will, by all the buried treasure in the Galaxy," came the reply from the loudspeakers.

  Alemaheyu Kossa activated the crawlers' transponders and went on stand-by status. Two or three minutes of deep silence followed.

  Then Kurd Brodbeck, the gaunt Olympian, switched into the real-time transmission. "It won't surprise anyone if I say that we won't find an ark that landed directly on the planet's surface, but probably a detachable landing system—or something like that. The overall structure was split apart and landed in at least four different places. Significant heat source: down below, north of the coast. There's a fire burning that's the only one in this hemisphere. Remember the NETHACK ACHTON's landing shuttles."

  "I see. I suspect that, too." Rhodan nodded to Harriett Hewes and Denetree, who had just now come out of the antigrav shaft. "And that signal was transmitted by some mysterious process. The transmitter was possibly triggered automatically. That's my opinion, anyway. So I'm going to take a look. Would you like to come along, Denetree? Your help would be indispensable."

  "I would like nothing better. Thank you, Perry Rhodan." Denetree was momentarily both embarrassed and excited. "Right away."

  "Meet me in the Space-Jet hangar in twenty minutes," Rhodan said.

  Denetree waited for a glance and an approving nod from the commander before she ran to the antigrav shaft.

  "It's something you'll need me with you for," announced Isaias Shimon, the exobiologist. The tall, blue-eyed man, who had been born in the Large Magellanic Cloud and had an incredible life story behind him, grinned self-consciously. "Magellanites like me are the best professionals for a job like this."

  "Perhaps the ark inhabitants down there will need my medical help," Hyman Mahal offered. "I'd gladly come along. Sharita?"

  "Permission granted, Dr. Mahal," she told the ship's physician.

  Rhodan stood up and nodded to Mahal and Shimon. He became aware of the same controlled excitement around him that had also gripped him. "We shouldn't take any risks. Four men are enough for the first trip. Sorry, three men and a woman. And we do have the additional support of two crawler teams."

  "I'll transfer the data to the Space-Jet Syntron," Driscol announced. "That's so you won't wander around blindly down there and search endlessly."

  "Thanks, Omer." Rhodan gave him an archaic military salute. "And what are our Akonian friends doing to contribute to solving this mystery of the past? Or more likely the mystery of our common ancestors?"

  Grinning, Omer pointed to the wide holo-display above the communications console. There, Commander Jere von Baloy, Echkal cer Lethir, the first officer, and Solina Tormas could be seen in the background of the view of the LAS-TOOR's bridge. It gave the impression that the approach to the planet and the energy-draining emergency had awakened them from a very deep sleep. The short-statured Ma-Techten cer Lethir seemed to be extremely dissatisfied with this development; his expression betrayed hidden anger and considerable discontent. Most likely, Rhodan thought, he was not alone in the opinion that a great deal of trouble could be expected from cer Lethir. Perhaps more than just that.

  When the alarm sounded sharply through the LAS-TOOR's control center, it tore First Officer cer Lethir straight out of his contour seat. His first thought was of the Terrans. Ever since the start they had tried to deceive them—had they concocted some new dirty trick? He raised his head and looked up at the commander, who had certainly registered the shock of the power drain but did not seem at all disturbed.

  "We are flying through a region of the Galaxy in which such incidents are to be expected," Echkal cer Lethir heard him say, with almost unnatural calmness.

  Therso Oe ta Acenusk checked the fire-readiness of the ship's guns and raised a hand. "Complete system failure here, too, Maphan."

  Then the PALENQUE called and reported that they were also affected by similar interference. Shaking his head, the First Techten listened as Jere von Baloy spoke in a casual tone with the Terran commander. He believed the Terran without checking her statements. What naive foolishness—Echkal cer Lethir could not believe it. The Maphan turned around on his podium and pointed to the historian in the lower ring of the control center. "We'll contribute a Shift with a picked crew, Sharita Coho. And of course, Terran, you may make use of Solina Tormas's comprehensive knowledge. Ameda Fayard, our ship's archaeologist, wants nothing more than to discover fascinating ruins, which in all probability don't exist. And our best Shift pilots, Arsis Tachim and Kealil Ron, launch in fifteen minutes. I will prepare the team for all eventualities."

  "Thank you, Maphan," Rhodan replied.

  Echkal cer Lethir bent his right arm and absent-mindedly rubbed the sleeve on the fabric of his trousers. What was this overeager obedience? It was wise to send their best people; it was not wise to simply offer them to the Terrans as though it were the most natural thing in the world. The commander should hold back at least a little from the Terrans, just to make it clear to them how valuable the offer was!

  And it was risky, almost madness, to trust Sharita Coho in particular. She would have long since driven them off if her ship had only had enough firepower.

  Echkal stared silently at the hologram that showed the opposing commander and Perry Rhodan. He still could not understand it, but he managed to maintain his self-control. All the virtues that he believed in seemed to be worth nothing any more.

  The historic values and their significance no longer held sway. He had accepted that as early as when he was training. But they still existed, especially on colonial worlds and among the families of the old, lesser nobility. Pride in the conviction that former enemies were by no means new friends simply because the spirit of the times would have it so. Echkal's uncertainty grew as he observed how it was easy for people of the higher nobility to behave correctly yet still leap the barriers between Akon and Terra. He did not trust some of the others in the LAS-TOOR's crew even though they probably had unblemished characters. But what if this energy drain was the work of the Terrans? That was a possibility they should at least consider, and if it became a certainty, they—or he, Echkal cer Lethir—would have to act.

  Jere von Baloy apparently believed that the sudden energy loss had as much—or as little—significance as did Rhodan and Sharita Coho. "We will find the source of the outside influence, Commander Coho," he said casually. "Together we are invincible. The ark, the planet, and these events promise exciting insights and important discoveries which we will exchange with each other."

  "Certainly," Rhodan agreed. "After all, down where the ark crashed, something is lying in wait that forced a proud Akonian cruiser and ship full of seasoned professionals into an orbit not of our choosing. Whatever it is, I'm anticipating all kinds of surprises, both simple and challenging."

  The Akonian signed off. "Have a good flight and a problem-free landing."

  "The same for us all!"

  The Space-Jet, two crawlers, and the Akonian multi-purpose vehicle commonly referred to as a Shift launched about ten minutes later. Without any hindrance, they flew the twenty million kilometers separating them
from their intended destinations.

  Under its oxygen atmosphere, the planet's clouds, expanses of ocean, islands, and continents of the world lay half in sunlight, half in the darkness of the nightside. There were no clusters of lights and no radio signals, neither active smoking volcanoes nor missiles whose warheads were aimed at the four space vehicles. At appropriate distances from each other, and at about the same speed, they approached the locations where concentrations of metal had been detected.

  The First Officer of the LAS-TOOR, Ma-Techten Echkal cer Lethir, bent over his console and systematically called up the holos that displayed his ship's status. He studied them systematically, searching for clues as to what had caused the loss of power.

  Just what was going on? Only a short time before, all the systems had been operating perfectly. Now the LAS-TOOR was practically without any propulsion and drifting towards the planet. All the energy disappeared without a trace before it reached the engines.

  "But why didn't all the systems fail?" he demanded, expressing his helplessness out loud.

  He looked around the control center. Commander Jere von Baloy sat on the uppermost level, apparently unexcited. Next to him, under the dome, was the pilot who was also studying the displayed data. Both men conversed in low tones. Why did they stay so calm? Had they somehow been expecting an incident like this? Echkal had long suspected that the Maphan was withholding important information from him.

  He broke off his useless activity and forced himself to think things over, coolly and clearly. Whether he felt the Terrans were good people or not, it was completely irrelevant to evaluating the situation. The deliberate energy loss was a fact, however. Who could partially paralyze a spaceship if not the Terrans? There was no one else even close who had the required knowledge. With this in mind, he was unable to accept these events as calmly as the Maphan.

  "Let's wait and see," he murmured to himself. "It's only just started. But by Mikandol's Stars, everything could change within seconds."

  His thoughts raced. The Terrans ... could they really be the cause? They would have to have far greater resources at their disposal than had been assumed up to now. Their science ... Echkal's train of thought came to a sudden stop. There was a Terran on board the LAS-TOOR. A scientist, Hartich van Kuespert, who was allowed to stay in Echkal's own stylishly furnished officer's cabin.

  The hyperphysicist was sitting just as calmly in front of his console and studying the indicators for the secondary and life-support systems. The "hostage" from the PALENQUE also did not seem to sense any danger to the ship. Echkal's thoughts were full of distrust; he could not interpret the Terran's unruffled arrogance any more than he could his overly friendly behavior. But perhaps his judgment was wrong in this case as well.

  I'll keep an eye on the hyperphysicist. Perhaps he will betray himself. Perhaps I will learn where our precious energy is going!

  Including the Terran hostage, forty-two men and women should have been in a state of frantic activity. The hopelessness of the situation gnawed at Echkal's nerves, since he feared worse things would happen with the ship's energy supply and that a catastrophe was looming.

  "Our course?" he asked himself, then called up the pilot's holo on his own console and checked the readings. He exhaled in relief: the LAS-TOOR would go into a flawless, wide-ranging orbit above the fifth planet's equator.

  He sank back in his seat and stared into emptiness. No one was agitated; each member of the control center crew accepted the event as a given of the Universe. Within Echkal cer Lethir grew an urge to leap up and start giving sensible orders in order to eliminate the silent chaos.

  As he seethed internally, he looked in to the large, near-range detection hologram. He watched as the Akonian Shift, the Terrans' Space-Jet, and the two so-called "crawlers" left orbit around the planet and headed for the surface. Two of the three moons followed their courses over the curvature of the horizon.

  —They resemble the enemies of the past!—

  The swarm of Menttia of the Moons' Realm had discovered first two, then five metal bodies that approached the planet like meteors. In contact with the Menttia of the Sand Surf, they absorbed images, sounds, and odors that had originated with the strangers who had reached the soil of the planet.

  —Are these the same ones? Or their descendants? Or similar beings?—

  —Let us wait and observe. Stop time and the motion of their metal ships!—

  The Menttia of the Moons' Realm gathered together, processed the information, and climbed easily but determinedly to the levels of the gas layer in which pure sunlight fell upon them. The gas particles, which had been chemically altered and were few in number, did not block the view of the strangers. Feelers of energy, thinner than threads, stretched out over vast distances into the depths of the great spheres. They felt for energy concentrations and networks, detected the compact nature of the energy, and seized it. From the artificial caverns, hollow spaces, and this or that torus, the energy flowed out of the ships, into the gigantic swarm, and erased the hunger of hundreds of thousands. With the precision of endless years of experience, the Menttia seized only the most important portion, of the energy that was produced. With their atomic eyes they saw to it that the beings on the two ships were not endangered but merely incapable of doing anything.

  —The small spacecraft?—

  —Do not interfere with them. Wait and observe. Certainty is still lacking.—

  The Menttia of the Moons' Realm floated at a short distance from the strangers' spaceships in the zone between the fringes of the atmosphere and open space. They observed and waited, for the strangers, even if they dared, could not make use of their weapons. By exchanging memories with other swarms, the Menttia could visualize the appearance of the strangers, and regretted not being able to read their minds.

  Perry Rhodan sat in the pilot's seat of the Space-Jet and, in silent concentration, enjoyed every moment of the flight in the discus-shaped craft. Ever since the layover on the planet Maahkora, it had stood in the PALENQUE's hangar where it had been maintained with absolute perfection. As was plainly visible, it showed virtually no signs of use and in fact only had a few light-years in its log. The Space-Jet reflected the latest fleet design specifications: it was a capable and robust model, equipped for performance rather than luxury. All the detection systems were activated; the occupants carried beamers at their belts, the Space-Jet's shields and light weaponry were primed and thoroughly tested.

  Rhodan and his companions wore light, Syntron-supported standard spacesuits without antigrav-backpacks. Apparently the four members of the GEAMC partnership that owned the PALENQUE had not wanted to pay for the most modern and thus most expensive suits. The backpack propulsion units were stowed in the storage hold next to the airlock.

  The small crew concentrated on both their duties and the images of the planet's surface beneath the clouds, over which shadows glided.

  "There's something in the air here," Rhodan murmured. "I can just about smell it. And it's more than a landed ark."

  The Space-Jet went into a slow descent. How many times had Rhodan approached planets this way? With each passing minute, the arrangement of land and water beneath the drifting clouds grew clearer.

  Rhodan looked to the left, then to the right. Crawlers V and VIII escorted the Space-Jet at increasing distances. Off to the far right, the massive, turtle-like Akonian Shift headed towards the planet's surface. Beyond the arching horizon, Moon III rose into full view in the sunlight. All the com channels within the entire spectrum were switched on and ready to receive ... nothing.

  Rhodan temporarily deactivated the continuous com connection with the PALENQUE, which he estimated to be now going behind the planet's night side. "I don't know what's waiting for us down there, but we'll stay in constant contact with the ships and the other teams," he said to his companions. His index finger ran along the details of the preliminary hyperdetection readings in the hologram. The enlargement showed a seacoast, some islands, a wide s
trip of land, and in a northerly direction, vast, hilly forests of lush green. Long strings of birds with huge, yellow-blue wings stretched out along the coast searching for prey over the ocean.

  "Two targets ahead," Shimon said lowly.

  "Acknowledged," the physician replied.

  The spacesuits were equipped with expedition gear: multi-purpose tools, spotlights, Syntron cameras, emergency rations, and handbeamers. Rhodan did not anticipate direct attacks and firefights, but there could be serious incidents nonetheless. He steered the Space-Jet in a wide curve towards the two detection traces on the horizon. The course took them into the night zone from the east, with the sea on the left and they gradually approached the metal objects while decreasing in altitude. The Space-Jet had the morning sun behind it.

  "Landing craft," the exobiologist said seconds later. "Shuttles or something like that. And huts in between them!"

  "Many from the ark have survived, then!" Denetree looked deeply into the enlarged image, and only raised her head as the speed of descent had slowed even further and a direct view was possible. Silent and intent, the Space-Jet's occupants took in the scene that could now be made out below and ahead of the almost motionless craft.

  A large landing shuttle, metal-colored with prominent green ornamental stripes, had come in over the sea from the left. It had dug a wide trench in the sandy, graveled ground, and stopped abruptly in a patch of burned vegetation. The seashore was about 500 meters away; a calm surf rolled up to the beach. The second shuttle was a virtually identical model, though striped black and white like a zebra's coat. Apparently it had landed at a different time and in a more conventional way, since there were no skidmarks in the ground. Its engines had also set fire to grass and bushes. The shuttles stood about 150 meters apart from each other, their hatches open and showing obvious signs of heat damage to the hulls.