Perry Rhodan Lemuria 1: Ark of the Stars (25 page)

At the same time, the results of human labor were unmistakable. The outer deck was an intensively farmed area. One field followed another. Irrigation channels separated the fields, so narrow that a person could jump over them even in the increased gravity. The scale of the landscape was small; it was divided into manageable units that could be tended without the help of machines, reminding Solina more of a garden than of serious agriculture. And that was another thing lacking: robots. On the galaxy's civilized worlds, robots had long performed physical labor. Farmers limited themselves to supervising the machinery and to making work processes more efficient in order to survive in the fiercely competitive galaxy-wide agricultural market.

No machines were in evidence here, only their tracks. On the path and between the fields Solina saw wheel ruts, some as wide as a person's thigh, others surprisingly narrow, perhaps two or three centimeters wide.

"No antigrav," Rhodan commented when he noticed Solina was examining the wheel tracks. "The ark's inhabitants don't seem to be able to neutralize gravity at all, or else they wouldn't waste precious farmland on access paths."

"That goes without saying," Solina agreed. "Either they haven't mastered the principle at all, or they lack the required energy."

Solina turned her attention to the plants. As was to be expected under the influence of the high gravity, they had thick stems and grew very close to the ground. Solina couldn't see any trees; the largest plants seemed to be bushes with heart-shaped leaves, which grew to about the height of a man.

The ark's flora and fauna was actually Hevror's department, and the planetary ecologies specialist was avidly at work collecting plant samples and shoving them into the analysis chambers on his instrument belt. Already Hevror would be able to provide the outline of a descriptive model of the ark's ecosystem and a table of the relationships and non-relationships of the various plant species on board, but Solina wasn't interested in that. Her attention was on the plants' cultural history.

After they had discovered faster-than-light space travel, the Lemurians had spread almost explosively across the galaxy. It was estimated that at the high point of the Great Tamanium, about fifty thousand years BC in the old Terran time reckoning, the Lemurian realm had comprised more than one hundred thousand settled worlds. But estimates were all there were. The records were incomplete, partly because in the end stages of the war the Lemurians had begun to destroy them deliberately. With defeat staring them in the face, they had attempted to hide their colonies from the Beasts.

Despite that precaution, thousands of worlds were discovered and their populations wiped out. Many colonies had joined the exodus to Andromeda, and many more—far more than had been estimated—had escaped annihilation by the Beasts, but died out nonetheless. Without the support of the Great Tamanium and its seemingly inexhaustible resources, the colonies had disappeared almost without a trace.

However, it was extremely difficult for a race to leave no evidence of its presence. A planet's ecology always retained some trace, as some animals and plants imported intentionally or unintentionally always managed to adapt to the new environment and survive.

For historians, this was a lucky break. By examining the plant and animal species, it was possible to determine that many planets considered to be virginal were in fact forgotten Lemurian colonies. And more than that; by studying the changes in the plants and animals, it was even possible to map out a picture of the Lemurians' great wave of colonization with ever-increasing exactness.

Solina was not an expert in Lemurian species genealogy, but from what she'd seen so far there weren't any species on board that had originated or been developed on a colony world; another indication that the ark must have set out before the founding of the Tamanium.

"What's that up ahead?"

Pearl had stopped. Solina looked over her shoulder at a thick, dark shape that loomed out of the haze in front of them. It stood at a slight angle and reached into the deck's sky.

"Perhaps an elevator, or some other connection to the inner deck?" Rhodan guessed. "We should take a closer look at it. Our chances of meeting natives there are considerably greater than out here in the fields."

No one objected to this plan. The group set off again, more quickly this time, spurred on by the prospect of encountering the ark's inhabitants.
How much easier it would be then to get the answers to the thousand questions crowding her mind!
Solina thought.
They would—

A cry tore her out of her thoughts. It came from the right, out in the fields. Solina whipped her head around to find the source of the noise, but only saw bushes the height of a man waving wildly back and forth. Only when she looked more closely did she see movement between the bushes. An arm was visible for a moment, then a leg. Solina heard more shouts, then she briefly looked into the face of an ark inhabitant. The eyes of the man—he wore short pants and a kind of T-shirt, and was barefoot—widened as their gazes met. He cried out once more, then he and his companions vanished.

"What's wrong with them?" Pearl asked, bewildered. "Why did they run away?"

"Out of fear," Rhodan replied.

"But why? They have to see that we're human beings just like them."

"I doubt it. I doubt they've ever seen a Terran in a spacesuit carrying a hand weapon before. Even if they recognized us as human beings, that does not suggest that we mean them no harm. Human beings can be extremely cruel to each other."

The Akonians and Terrans stood there a little embarrassed. Each of them had imagined the first meeting with the Lemurians, but no one had imagined it quite this way.

"Let's take a look at what our timid friends were doing when we disturbed them," Rhodan said. Solina had the impression the Immortal suggested it mainly to keep them from getting hung up on the Lemurians' reaction to their presence. "I saw something flash when they ran away. Perhaps one of them left something behind that we'll find informative."

His guess turned out to be accurate. Between the bushes they found a metal framework mounted on two wheels. Over one wheel was a bar at a right angle to the rest of the frame, and over the other a long plastic bowl.

"What in the name of the star gods is that?" asked Robol.

"Oh, that's easy," Rhodan said. "It's a bicycle. I had one as a boy." The Terran pulled it upright by its forward bar.

"And what do you do with a bicycle?" In Intercosmo, the term translated literally to "riding wheel."

"Ride on it, of course." Rhodan couldn't suppress a smile.

"But how?" Robol persisted. "Does it have an antigrav field or something like that to keep it upright? And I don't see any means of propulsion!"

"It doesn't have any. You provide it yourself!" Rhodan slapped his thigh. "It's so obvious! Bicycles are the ideal transport for the ark. Distances are short and there aren't any slopes. And a bike needs only minimal maintenance, doesn't use precious energy and doesn't give off any emissions."

"That sounds too good to be true," Hayden said, agreeing with Robol. The two seemed to have reached an understanding, made visible by the fact that they were standing next to each other. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"That's easy enough ... "

With a practiced movement, Rhodan slid onto the bicycle and pushed off. His thighs moved up and down as he swiftly rode away. Solina waited for him to fall over, but though he wobbled considerably, the Terran kept his balance.

Then Rhodan went around a curve and was lost from their view. Almost at the same moment, Solina heard a loud scraping followed by a louder exclamation.

"What is it, Rhodan? Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," came the reply. "But you've got to see this! You won't believe it!"

The Kalpen were jubilant at the news. They leapt out of their beds, from which they ordinarily rose slowly and with obvious reluctance to begin their daily work; they ran to each other and fell into each other's arms.

"The time has come! The time has finally come!" they exclaimed, faster and louder, until their shouts became a chorus, so loud that it could be heard for many metach'tons around.

Tekker, of course, was in the middle of it all, inventing new cheers in his high falsetto voice that were taken up in turn by the other Kalpen.

Denetree would have preferred to pull her thin blanket over her head, squeeze her eyelids shut, and hold both hands over her ears. But it wouldn't have helped: the stamping dance steps of the Kalpen made the ground tremble, and would not let her forget what had happened.

She was saved.

The others would die.

The two sentences echoed through her thoughts, chased by the sing-song chanting of the Kalpen. The Net had broadcast its news over all terminals this morning The portable terminal that the Kalpen carried like an unloved, useless piece of baggage from one campsite to another, and whose announcements they distrusted on principle, this morning brought joy to their lives.

The announcement had come directly from the Net. In the name of the Naahk, of course, whose obedient tool it claimed to be. In its melodious, neutral voice, it had thanked the Tenarch Launt who had distinguished himself through his unmatched dedication in the hunt for the traitors.

Launt ... Denetree hadn't wanted to believe it. Something terrible must have happened. Launt would have rather died than persecute the Star Seekers. Hadn't he rescued her at the risk of his own life?

The Net didn't dwell on Launt. Mentioning him by name was merely a means to increase the tension by putting off the actual news, which was unbelievable and at the same time inevitable. The Tenoy, the Net had proclaimed, had smoked out the traitors, had dragged them from their shabby hiding places in which they had falsely believed they could conceal themselves from the Ship—an error in judgment barely less traitorous than believing that there could be another life for the metach outside the Ship. Beyond the Ship, there was only death. Only the Ship could guarantee the survival of the metach.

Now that all the traitors had been captured, there was no reason to waste any more precious air and food on them. This evening, at nightfall, the Net had continued, the Star Seekers would be gathered at the Ship's stern and given over to the stars they had sought. They would die the same death that their leader had inflicted on the brave Tenoy who had tried to turn him away from his act of madness. Only when the traitors were dead would peace be restored on board and the community of all metach renewed.

Peace restored on board ...
The hunt had ended. Denetree looked at the dancing Kalpen. They waved their arms and legs wildly, holding their breath until their faces turned red and their eyes bulged from their sockets. "Help! Help! I can't breathe any more! Pull me in! Pull me back in the Ship!" Tekker cackled. He wasn't the loudest, but his falsetto voice rang out the clearest.

Denetree was safe. The Ship wouldn't search for her any longer, probably assuming that she had voluntarily followed her brother into death and her corpse floated alongside the ship, headed toward eternity. Launt, who had been put forward by the Ship as the one responsible for the traitors' capture and execution—surely only as a cover for the Net and not by his choice—would not betray her. She just had to keep quiet, go with the Kalpen through the Ship and patch the life-support systems, answer the rude remarks of the Kalpen with equally rude replies, put up with Tekker's "girl," and make sure that she always responded when someone called, "Danque, come here!" or "Danque, bring me some rope!"

She had to become Danque. Forget Denetree, bury her so deep that she never came out again. Some of the men—most of them, actually—had already given her to understand that they were interested in her. She only had to choose one—which one didn't matter, since they were all equally dirty, equally awkward and at the same time foolishly affectionate—and she would have peace. Until the end of her days.

"Come on, Danque! Dance with me!" One of the men had whirled to a stop in front of her, grabbed her with his sinewy Kalpen arms, and was about to pull her to her feet. "What's with that look on your face? Today is a day of joy!"

"No, Mehiu, I don't feel well." She became as much like a dead weight as possible.

"Come on, dance with me!" The Kalpen pulled at her, as though he hadn't heard her refusal. Perhaps he really hadn't. Denetree had learned that the Kalpen had exceptionally sensitive hearing. They heard everything they wanted to, but nothing of what they didn't like.

"Mehiu, please ... " It was no use. The Kalpen pulled Denetree upright—and a moment later Denetree fell back on her blanket.

"You heard what she said, Mehiu," came Tekker's high voice. "She doesn't feel good."

"But ... "

"She's new in our group. Don't you get it? She's tired because the work in the air shafts makes her weak. She isn't used to the air currents. Wait a few weeks and then she'll dance with you."

Mehiu sank his head in shame and rejoined the dancers. No one contradicted Tekker.

He turned to Denetree. "And see to it that you get better soon, understand?"

Denetree nodded.

The dance of the Kalpen finally came to an end. As with every other day, the work had to be done. The Ship expected all metach, even the Kalpen who considered themselves to be independent, to do their duty. If they didn't, it would cut off their rations.

Denetree went to work on this day, like all the others, with a growling stomach. The dance had cost the Kalpen valuable time that they had to make up. Tekken assigned them their tasks and spurred them on with cackling cries. He gave Denetree something to do at the edge of their working area, far from the others. So far that their calls and the hammering of their tools, along with the thumps of their elbows and knees against the narrow shafts, blended with the normal background sounds of the Ship and gave Denetree the illusion of being alone.

Did Tekker somehow guess at the turmoil inside her? Every moment since she had assumed her new identity, Denetree had been nearly paralyzed by the fear of being discovered and losing it all. All
what?
a low voice within her asked, while the tears ran down her cheeks and dripped onto the worn-out shaft that she was supposed to be repairing. She didn't care. Let the Kalpen or even the Ship punish her for her carelessness. She could survive a few days without eating!