I was prepared for many surprises from the "Little Man", as everyone called the slightly built Chief of Solar Intelligence, but this time the Solar Marshal had proposed the craziest plan I had ever heard of.

With their advancing technology the Terrans appeared to have a penchant for trying the impossible. I had known the human race for 10,000 years. They had always shown themselves to be intelligent, resolute and frighteningly acquisitive when it came to knowledge. These were characteristics which had caused me some apprehension as a former Arkonide admiral. In those days when I first set foot on Earth, in view of my training, my rank and my Arkonide outlook I had pondered at length how I was to compose my field report. I had been inclined to inform those who might follow me that here on an insignificant world in the 10-planet system of Sol a race was developing that would bear watching.

Now the Terrans had become a major power. They were fighting for their life which was something that could not be avoided ever since their official emergence into the political macrocosmos of the galaxy.

A significant figure in the Rhodan game of recognition, expansion and swift retaliation was Allan D. Mercant, a semi-mutant with slight telepathic capabilities and the brain of a genius. He had formerly been chief of NATO intelligence and Rhodan was indebted to him. for the fact that the "New Power", founded toward the end of the 20th century, had not suffered still greater difficulties than it had been forced to face.

Mercant’s "hobby", as he called it, was secret service and espionage activity. To my way of thinking the work of such an organization was of course indispensable although not always neat and clean. While orchestrating such instruments, no intelligence chief can avoid an occasional sour note or discord.

We had landed 2 days ago in Terrania. The city had increased still more in size and modernity. Even Rhodan did not know exactly how many inhabitants were in Terrania.

In response to Mercant’s invitation we had gathered together in the conference chamber of Defence-Intelligence Headquarters. The security measures were sobering if not alarming. In addition to robot guards, soundproof walls and the unobtrusive presence of mutants, the small briefing hall was enclosed in a protective energy field. Here there was no "officious" atmosphere, however, no horse-shoe shaped green-top tables. We sat unrestrainedly beside each other as if at a social gathering, placed at our ease by an awareness that no one could eavesdrop on our conversation.

The most important leaders of the Solar Imperium were present. I noted that there wasn’t a man among them who had not received the life-prolonging cell-shower treatment.

Even Homer G. Adams, the powerful but never conspicuous Chief of the solar GCC, had put in an appearance. GCC—General Cosmic Corporation— was conceived in a century that hardly knew anything about manned spaceflight until Rhodan flew to the moon. That had been the beginning of a cosmic gamble whose most important phase had now been reached.

I continued to take count of the notables present. Solar Marshals Mercant and Freyt were in attendance as well as generals Deringhouse and Kosnov. Rhodan of course was there, as well as Reginald Bell in the capacity of Defence Minister, in addition to leading scientists and other men I had only heard about but had never met personally.

A man who was veiled in considerable mystery was Col. Nike Quinto, a chief of one of the Intelligence Department’s divisions. It was said of him that he was a master of secretive operations. Unquestionably Mercant’s wild idea had come partially from Quinto, who sat perspiring in a corner and informed anyone who cared to listen about his imagined illnesses.

So I found myself in the midst of a task team which was capable of shaking the galaxy itself. Here was Homer G. Adams with his GCC, whose financial power was such that his signature alone could authorize a subsidy amount of up to 500 billion Solars. And there was Mercant with his unfathomable Security and Intelligence resources, plus of course Rhodan himself and his whole Solar Fleet, the actual strength of which he had never divulged.

For several minutes a tense silence had fallen upon the room. Mercant’s proposal had sounded too incredible. Even Rhodan seemed perplexed. "My friend—are you sure you’re sober?" he asked.

Mercant glanced at Quinto. I knew that courteous smile of the Intelligence Chief. I had never known a dangerous man with such a harmless appearance. "With your permission—I am quite in possession of my faculties," he replied.

Rhodan seemed to stiffen as if a cold shock had run through him. In fact I too could feel cold perspiration starting down my back. "Mercant—but that’s insane!" he protested.

Yet at the same time I was surprised to detect a fire of enthusiasm rising within me. Mercant, shrewd psychologist that he was, winked at me knowingly. He seemed to interpret the gleam in my eye correctly.

"Now there are two of us who have rocked off," observed Bell.

"How is that?" interjected Prof. Kalup in his loud voice. "I find myself fascinated."

Rhodan chuckled dryly. "Seems to be quite a difference of opinion here. Quinto, are you the one who suggested this audacious idea to our Chief of Intelligence?"

Nike Quinto stirred his short, rounded figure and puffed out his cheeks. "Sir, in view of my high blood pressure I’d never permit myself to agitate my superiors because that only develops other difficulties for me. However, since my blood pressure at present isn’t up to its usual—"

"If we’re lucky you’ll explode on us one of these days," grumbled Kalup. His fat cheeks trembled visibly.

Quinto feigned offence but finally smiled. It helped me to find my inner calm again. When Rhodan looked at me I discovered that same old expression in his features which he had always displayed at the inception of a daring venture.

"Well, old pirate?" I said to him. "I see you’re getting the itch, right?"

He laughed. We understood each other. "Well, that puts it together," commented Bell sarcastically. "Two nuts at the highest level—if Your ‘Retired’ Excellence will forgive me … "

When he bowed mockingly I began to feel impatient. Turning to Mercant, I inquired without preamble: "Have you made a thorough analysis of the data I gave you? You know that the slightest mistake can be fatal for all of us, granting that your plan even gets off the ground."

The marshal made a sign to Quinto and the chief of the so-called "Brain Trust"—otherwise referred to as Division 3—got up from his chair with a grunt of

exertion. He acted as if it were hazardous for him to place both feet on the floor at the same time, yet he manoeuvred himself quite agilely to the control console. The seat creaked audibly under his weight when he sat down at the panel.

The snap of a switch was heard. The lights in the windowless room were darkened. A wall-sized viewscreen brightened with the 3-D colour image of a spaceship.

I sprang to my feet, clinging with both hands to the table before me. I stared in utter amazement. This could not be real unless the Terrans had become magicians!

"Mercant … !" I groaned aloud. "Take it easy, will you? Even Arkonides can only stand so much shock treatment!"

"You are looking at reality, sir. This film was taken early today. You are looking at His Highness Tutmor VI’s heavy cruiser Soralo, commanded by Capt. Tresta of the distinguished House of Efelith. On the 10th of February of 2106 it will be exactly 6023 years since a hypercom message from the Soralo reached the Supreme Council of Arkon. The news was so important that it was brought to the attention of the ruling Imperator at that time, Tutmor VI. In the nebula sector, Capt. Tresta had succeeded in simultaneously liberating two worlds from the enemy—but in the process his cruiser was destroyed. The Soralo, never returned to Arkon. Capt. Tresta went down in the history of his people as a hero, sir."

"The spaceship you see has been converted by using every branch of technology and science available to us while sparing no expense, and now it resembles the old Sotala down to the last detail. Nothing was overlooked. That is guaranteed by Solar Intelligence. During the conversion many details had to be considered. The outer hull had to be reduced in its measurements by 189 meters. The modern full-scale positronicon had to be replaced by the kind that was in use at that time. Engines, power plants, weapons, power circuits and conduits, the computer central, officers’ and crew quarters—all this and about 10,000 other details had to be copied. Even the propulsion rating of the original engines was simulated. Any Arkonide technologist from the time of Imperator Tutmor VI could go over the ship to his heart’s content and not discover the slightest difference from the original. We thoroughly familiarized ourselves with the construction plans that we found in the microfilms you salvaged."

I trembled almost feverishly. My extra-brain came to life, activating my photographic memory. I knew how my ancestors had built their ships. Like one hypnotized I walked up to the viewscreen and began to inspect the vessel. The name Sotala had been painted in 2 places on the spherical hull in Arkonide letters. Here the same flaming red had been used as was employed then.

"The composition of the colour is correct," commented Mercant, just as casually as if he were chatting about the weather.

To me it was almost frightening. The Terrans were masters of camouflage but here Mercant had outdone himself. The sharply wedge-shaped engine ring bulge was typical of the Sotala class. The personnel airlocks were hexagonal—also correct! The lower sections of the landing struts also had the typical bulges containing the auxiliary hydraulic units. The gun turrets displayed their sensor antennas for individual precision firing. In those days they had not relied completely on remote control from the fire command central.

I looked closely at every last detail but couldn’t find an error. "Does the inside of the ship look like this, Mercant? I mean—copied to such a degree of exactness?"

"You have my word for it, sir," Quinto assured me. So he had been involved with this, after all.

"A real counterfeiter," observed Kalup. "Nevertheless—my compliments!"

My mind was fairly swimming as I went back to my form chair and sat down. The cell activator hanging on my chest was pulsing louder than usual, reminding me once again of my extreme age. Under my present state of excitement it was evident that some extra cell-regeneration was necessary.

Rhodan handed me a refreshment. "Satisfied?" he asked. "No defects?"

"None," I confessed. "Of course I’d still have to take a look at the inside. Mercant—what’s it all add up to?"

So far the Intelligence Chief had done very little explaining but we had already been flabbergasted by this plan, which had to do with "time-line alteration for penetration into the brain". What followed now caused me to hold my breath occasionally.

Mercant remained quietly objective. He did not even raise his voice when he came to particularly spectacular and vital points of his exposition. In fact his telegraphic style of delivery made it almost too impersona!—yet for that very reason the whole thing sounded extremely impressive. At no time did we have the impression of listening to a visionary.

"After transmitting her victory message the Sotala was not heard from again. Later reports from Arkonide Fleet Headquarters confirm that the cruiser was destroyed. So we are taking over the role of the Sotala and will return to the Arkon System 3 days after the reception of its last known message. Atlan is to play the part of the commander. We have also provided uniforms, all types of documents and credentials—even provisions in the form of dehydrated foods and conserves, such as were used at the time. The munitions supplies correspond to the number series issued by the ordnance chief of ‘Base T-187’. Nothing is missing, gentlemen. Even the manufacturer’s mark inside the collars of the combatsuits will be found to coincide with the facts. The Arkonides were very thorough and all the old data are completely at our disposal. When you land on Arkon 3 you will be the crew of the Sotala. There are no margins of error."

"Land, did you say?" Rhodan emphasized the word deliberately. "When? Don’t tell me that this talk about ‘time-line alterations’ is tied in to that"!

"It is the basic condition necessary to the success of the plan, sir," replied Mercant, as pleasantly as before. "The conversion of a Terran cruiser and transforming the crew into Arkonides of the time of Tutmor VI could only make sense if we can succeed in penetrating the corresponding historical epoch."

"I can’t believe it!" I exclaimed.

"But it’s true, sir. I recall the attack on the robot Regent shortly after the discovery of the planet Sphynx. At that time an attempt was made to alter the lines of time. The phantom fleet started to attack the Earth until we succeeded in destroying the converter equipment. A second machine of this type is located on the central world of the Akons."

"Time displacement?" asked Rhodan, leaning forward.

"In a way, sir. Certainly not time travel in the tradition of your fantasy tales. The device generates a 5th dimensional absorption field in which relative phases of ‘time’ can be altered. It is impossible to actually leave one’s own time reference and live somewhere else. One can’t just travel about as he pleases and act the part of the visitor from the future. However, the narrow radius of action this offers us should be sufficient for our purpose."

Kalup went into some of the technical aspects. The principle involved was understandable even though no one could explain how the Akons had influenced the present lines of time.Mercant waited patiently. The conference gradually took on the semblance of a casual gathering, breaking down into separate discussion groups. Everybody came to attention again when Rhodan sought to bring the meeting to order.

"Continue your presentation, Mercant. We’re just about ready for anything by now."

"Thank you, sir. We have learned that the machine is stationary. It would have to be transported in a spaceship and transferred in outer space to the converted cruiser … The converter’s operating crew is known to us. It consists of 4 Akon scientists who are still able to operate the equipment. But they aren’t capable of handling repairs in case of a breakdown. The secret construction details have been lost. However, there is no particular danger involved in case of equipment failure . No one can be cut off in another period of time. As soon as the energy held collapses, everything becomes stabilized again. Our commando force on Sphynx has already been instructed to keep the 4 Akons under surveillance. The mutants will make sure that these men will be in the vicinity of the converter at the proper time. The device is kept in a museum but any practical use of it is forbidden, subject to punishment by death. Only experiments under government control are permitted. And that gives us our point of attack, through the 4 Akon scientists. You must acquire the machine and get it installed in the simulated Sotala. Once you are in the Arkon System the time-field is to be activated. The phasing has to be very exact. Once you have picked up and registered the famous hypercom message of the original Sotala you will be able to make a vernier time-line adjustment. Wait 2 days and then announce your victorious return over local telecom. It’s certain that the genuine cruiser won’t be able to cause you any trouble. By the time you will have made your landing, the old Sotala will have already been destroyed"

I almost forgot to breathe. Mercant had to be insane. Of course a virtual trip through time was equally crazy but even this idea of a time-displacement field presented problems that neither the Terrans nor myself would be able to resolve. The ancient science of Akon had left a machine behind that no one really understood anymore. Just the operation of the controls alone would be a gamble which could neither guarantee a trouble-free performance nor any security at all for our task force.

On top of these difficulties we had to face the problem of stealing the machine along with the 4 scientists. No doubt the latter had learned more or less which switches to activate, as a result of years of experimenting, in order to achieve this or that effect but this was still not in the realm of professional operation. I couldn’t even imagine what effect a rephasing of time would have on us.

If we should actually manage to land on Arkon 3, 6023 years prior to present time, we would still be energy components of our own temporal plane or epoch. Mercant had admitted that it was impossible to achieve a stable entry into the era of Tutmor VI. The plan was senseless.

Mercant’s voice pulled me out of my stupor. It was evident from his concluding remarks that the scientists of the Intelligence staff were aware of the difficulties.

"At the maximum output of the converter the effective range of the phasing field is about 200 km. No one should venture more than 100 km from the generator. Granted, that’s a tight squeeze. Everything will depend on landing the false Sotala as close as possible to the Brain. At that time the Regent’s last sections were being completed and there wasn’t any defence screen. You will have to use your ingenuity, with the help of the mutants, to get into the lower labyrinths and conceal a nuclear bomb in such a manner as to prevent its subsequent discovery. The weapon has a time-fuse based on a Uranium clocking device. Exactly 6023 years later the fusion process will be activated. That will be on February 15, which is a few days from now."

Rhodan got to his feet. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his uniform, walked over to the film projector and came to a stop. "Mercant, this time you’re going too far out on a limb. If the bomb is to detonate on the 15th of February, that means theoretically that it’s already located somewhere inside the Brain."

"A relativistic conclusion," interjected Kalup. "It shouldn’t be but it can be! The function of the Akon device is an unknown factor."

"Professor, I believe I have a fair reasoning faculty but you’ve lost me somewhere."

"Me, too, sir," Mercant admitted. "Nevertheless the attempt should be made. I don’t see any other possibility of destroying the Brain. Recent events have proved how dangerous the Robot has become because of a reprogramming of its most vital circuits and installations. Members of the Akon Energy Command were detected in the security section. It would have been possible to capture the 8 scientists of that team if the Brain hadn’t jumped the gun, so to speak, and opened fire. Atlan couldn’t use his transmitter, and to use our most powerful weapon would mean the destruction of the Arkon System. Nor can mutants get through the modernized honeycomb screen. So I’m asking you—show are you going to ward off this menacing situation?"

Quinto spoke up. "Division 3 is of the opinion that something must be risked. Unusual situations require unusual methods. We’ve worked out a plan of action and it tells us what we have to do. You will be able to contact the greatest Arkonide scientist, the great councillor Epetran. He died 8 years later. Perhaps Epetran can be influenced to reprogram the robot Brain—fresh from the start."

"Nonsense!" retorted Rhodan. "If that were possible the Robot would be acting differently now!" I had to agree with him.

"That’s hard to say. The present situation indicates everything and nothing. We still can’t tell whether or not you’ve been back 6023 years or not, or whether you then reached the Brain. We would have to wait for February 15 to determine that."

"Then let’s wait!" I cried out in desperation. Mercant made a gesture of rejection. Suddenly he seemed to be very resolute. "Impossible, Your Eminence. You would miss the precise point in time. It was on the 10th of February, 6023 years ago, that the hypercom message was received from the Sotala. Her commander received orders to return home immediately. So the arrival in the Arkon System would have to be 2 days later, which would be February 12th by Earth reckoning. Of course you will have the conversion tables with the Arkonide units of time to go by. You will have 2 or maybe 2½ days at the most to conceal the bomb—or to influence the chief builder, Epetran, to build in some security circuits that will satisfy our requirements in the present. Otherwise the bomb must explode on the 15th of February. So if you miss the decisive moment there will no longer be any chance of landing you on Arkon in the bra of Imperator Tutmor VI. That the Sotala sent a victory message but failed to return is a very unique circumstance. There is no other spaceship you can copy."

"Why so? Thousands of Arkon ships were destroyed in the battles of that time."

"Of course, sir, but within the few days that are important to us, this only applies to the Sotala."

My extra-brain interceded. Mercant had made a mistake in his reasoning. When I stood up, Rhodan looked at me questioningly.

"Mercant, you know how long it will take to program the robot fleet. An attack is imminent but it isn’t going to happen tomorrow or even in the next 3 weeks. So I ask you: why should the 15th of February, the cruiser Sotala and all these other things be so critical and decisive? Also you know that the Akon converter enables us to alter time. If we started this operation later we could Still follow the necessary schedule." I believed I had given a logical argument but I was wrong. These Terrans could think!

"Certainly you could start 4 weeks from now and Still reach the right moment in time, sir. That still means the 12th of February for your landing on Arkon 3. This cannot be changed by any machine. But to make the plan work, the Sotala would have to be used and none other."

"I don’t understand."

"Sir, during those specific days, 6023 years ago, the last controls of the Regent were being completed. If you arrive only a short time after that, the honeycomb screen will be there. So you have to select a time for your landing that is prior to the activation of the screen and which coincides with the arrival of the Sotala. The loss of that ship was a fortunate coincidence for us. As for the 15th of February, that is an arbitrary point that was determined by mathematics—pertaining to the Uranium timing device of the bomb. It was quite a problem to calculate the exact detonation time, based on the half-life rate of radioactive decay. Why should we alter that and have to start all over again? You would still be able to steal the Akon machine and begin your operations—but there is no getting around the schedule of the Sotala."

I felt that I had been taught a lesson by the Security Chief—but he was right! If the honeycomb screen was activated only a few days later, any delay in our schedule would be catastrophic. The Terrans had thought of everything. Rhodan went back to his seat and I also sat down again. We looked at each other searchingly. The room became silent.

When I finally nodded to him he seemed visibly to be relieved. "Mr. Mercant, run the film through again. We want to take a look at the interior of the cruiser."

I was filled with new courage. Rhodan had decided. The operation was "go". My extra-brain prodded me mentally but I couldn’t quite make out the signal. It was probably calling me a fool.

The image of the Sotala appeared again on the screen just as Reginald Bell remarked resignedly: "Ever since the start of the New Power I’ve seen everything but this is the zaniest operation I’ve been involved in!"

"Wrong!" Rhodan corrected him. "You will take command of the Fleet and wait until the Regent is destroyed. When that happens, you will begin immediately to capture the Brain’s robotships, which will have become helpless."

"What … ?"

"That’s right, you are to begin with the task without delay, once the Regent’s control has been eliminated. We have the advantage of knowing that something is going to happen. Before other intelligences realize how easy it is to take over the valuable ships of the Regent’s fleet, we will have had to beat them to it. It’s your task right now to find out where the larger formations can be located. They will be the first to be taken over. The lone wolves way out in deep space will have their turn later. Mercant—switch reels. I want to see the inside of the cruiser.

I finally felt relaxed. The die was cast. Rhodan had begun to take over with his usual drive. He was already thinking of things that hadn’t occurred to me yet at the moment. Naturally, if the Brain should be destroyed, about 100,000 warships would be incapacitated. Unless we acted first, anybody would be able to take them in tow without resistance.

"If!" said my logic sector again. I lost track of how

many times it had used this word in recent days.

Two hours later the towering buildings that housed. the facilities of Solar Defence and Intelligence were like one big madhouse. Rhodan was too busy to be reached. He sat in a control room surrounded by at least 50 communicators. Next door to him the Fleet’s General Staff was in session. I felt lost in all this hustle and bustle, which was only possible on Terra. A small but tremendously energetic stellar empire was preparing to strike a major blow. A way had been found to achieve the objective, consequently that way was followed. This was what I admired about these Terrans. Once they made a decision they never gave up until they had reached their goal.

I withdrew to my quarters. Almost hourly I was contacted by videophone for information. They wanted to know even the social status of an Arkonide captain of the rank I was to portray. A uniform tailor from Intelligence wanted my exact measurements. Weapons experts wanted to know if officers of the Arkonide fleet in those days were permitted to carry beautifully engraved private sidearms.

For 2 whole days I was busy trying to satisfy the Terrans’ thirst for knowledge. But I became increasingly impressed with the feeling that I was dealing with realists rather than visionaries. These men were experts and specialists who considered details which ordinarily wouldn’t have been thought of.

Then at last I fell to waiting again. However, I avoided any attempt to influence Rhodan’s decisions with any advice of my own. There was still time for that should anything occur to me that might be significant.