"Chapter 01" - читать интересную книгу автора ((novel) (ebook) - Perry Rhodan 0126 - (117b - 118b) The Shadows Attack [HTML])

1/ THE ROBOT HUNTERS

"BOGIES!"

"Sir, we have bogies in sector K1-8-DX. Range 2.3 lisex. Standing by for instructions …"

Col. Kermak, commander of Solar class battlecruiser Alderamin, did not so much as turn his head. He stared intently at the main viewscreen of the Control Central, which gave him a very natural reproduction of a section of the outer void. With a swift movement of his hand he brought in the magnification. The 2.3 light-seconds of distance seemed to telescope and the tracked objects became visible.

"Increase retropulsion," he said without taking his eyes from the screen. "Approach manoeuvre. Boarding crews stand by! Man the battle stations!"

The 1st Officer saluted and left the room in order to transmit the orders and see that they were carried out.

Col. Kermak was looking at 3 ships on the viewscreen. They were apparently drifting along through space without guidance and it was obvious that they were unmanned. They were robot units of the Arkonide Imperium’s fleet which had virtually "died" when the robot Regent was destroyed. The Terrans had already succeeded in securing about 90,000 out of a total of 100,000 of them but out there in the unfathomable reaches of space there were still 10,000 heavily armed ships. In the hands of any potential enemy this could represent a force not to be underestimated.

Col. Kermak was among those who had been chosen to prevent this. With his heavy battlecruiser Alderamin, a spherical vessel 500 meters in diameter and carrying a normal crew of 800 men, he had been assigned to the task of tracking down the pilotless robotships of Arkon and taking them over with special prize crews.

This was no simple operation because when the robot Regent of Arkon was destroyed the units of the Arkonide Fleet were scattered all over the galaxy. Without a special circuit alteration these ships had responded exclusively to the command signals of the giant positronicon. Thus from one moment to the next they had suddenly become pilotless and they were subject to being confiscated by anyone who knew the secret of how to switch them over to manual control. Within the Milky way there were numerous races who desired to increase their military power so it was natural for them to seize the opportunity by attempting to capture Arkon’s inactivated ships.

But Perry Rhodan sought to prevent this at all costs.

As Col. Kermak continued to observe the 3 drifting vessels he noted that one of them was a superbattleship of the Imperium class, a tremendous sphere measuring almost a mile in diameter whereas the 2 other smaller ships were obviously cruisers. They still flew in their original formation, which was loosely triangular, with the battleship leading and the 2 cruisers following.

The First Officer returned to the Control Central. "Ship ready for combat sir."

This time Kermak turned toward him. "Probably as superfluous as in all the other cases," he said with a reassuring smile. "Let’s secure the battleship first. Who’s leading the boarding team?"

"A Lt. Vitali, sir. This is his third ship capture."

"Then he knows what he has to do. Let me know as soon as all 3 ships are secured for manual flight."

"Very good, sir," answered the First Officer, who again exited the room.

Col. Kermak turned back to the viewscreen in order to follow the forthcoming procedures in every detail. But before the locks of the Alderamin could be opened for Lt. Vitali and his men, something unexpected occurred: a message came through from the duty officer in the tracking section. At least 20 ships ranging from large to small had materialised at a distance of just 5 lisex and were now approaching at top speed. They deployed themselves swiftly so that they quickly surrounded the Alderamin and the robotships.

"Energy screen!" roared Col. Kermak. This placed him in a security mode which would protect his spacesphere from eventual raybeam bombardments. And of course Vitali could no longer leave the Alderamin.

"Stand by!" he ordered, while watching his screen.

The alien ships were cylindrical in shape. Springers! But after all, what else? Wherever there was trouble the Springers, otherwise known as the Galactic Traders, were never far away. These merchant-pirate offshoots of the Arkonide race were as shrewd and clever as the Terrans. There could be little doubt that their technicians knew how to make the manual override connections on the robotships. The stellar traders had shown up with the intention of grabbing the spoils and dividing the heritage of Arkon between themselves.

"Radio message, sir!" announced the com officer over intercom. "An urgent warning!"

Almost imperceptibly, Kermak composed himself. With outward calm he answered: "Alright, let’s have it!"

The Springers’ challenge was brief and unmistakable: "Get out of here, Terrans! The 3 ships belong to us because we sighted them first. We’ll give you 10 minutes, your time."

Kermak studied the viewscreen thoughtfully. The 20 longships of the fighting nomads had meanwhile firmed up their positions around the Alderamin. Within that circle were the 3 robot vessels which were the objective of both sides. He knew that for the moment their granted period of "grace" but on the other hand he was not in a position to drive them off. Under these circumstances he could not order Lt. Vitali to try taking the Arkon vessels. It would be a useless sacrifice. But for the same reason the Springers couldn’t send out any boarding crews either, without exposing them to danger. It was a completely messed up situation.

He had the option of beaming out a call for Terran reinforcements, he thought bitterly, but they couldn’t arrive before the 10 minutes were up. Probably by then the Springers would open fire in an attempt to break down the Alderamin’s defence screens. The gamble could turn out to be fatal. Turning the picture around, it seemed out of the question for the Alderamin to knock out 20 opponents simultaneously. This was aside from the fact that Kermak was not intending to be the first to fire a shot. there could be no doubt that the Springers were in superior force here. It wouldn’t be easy for them to knock out the heavy battlecruiser but with a streak of luck it was possible.

"Only 8 minutes left," said the First Officer, who had returned. "That’s damnably short …"

"Long enough to make a decision," replied Kermak calmly, although he was shaking inwardly. "There’s no way they can take those ships in the meantime. On the other hand we’re under orders to avoid armed conflict with other races wherever possible. We are to defend ourselves if attacked—and that hasn’t happened yet."

He scanned the viewscreen again. Although the 3 robotships were hurtling through space at a considerable velocity, they appeared to be standing still. The Alderamin and the Springer formation also seemed to hover there motionlessly. It would be quite simple to take deadly aim with all the cruiser’s heavy armaments. Anyway, only 3 minutes of the allowed time had been used up.

"The 3 Arkon ships don’t have their screens up," muttered Kermak as if to himself. "They could be wiped out with our first broadside."

"But sir … !"

"Do you have a better idea for keeping them out of the Springers’ hands? You’ll have to do better than a shrug of your shoulders. If we can’t get control of those robotships, then the Springers shouldn’t be allowed to either. That would be the best solution where Terra is concerned."

The First Officer stared at his commander. "If we had a teleporter on board I’d know of another way!"

"Me too," confessed the colonel bitterly. He glanced at the chronometer. "Still 3 minutes left. Get a move on! In the meantime I’ll try talking to the Springers."

Which was no particular problem. The Springers spoke Interkosmo as well as the Terrans. It didn’t take the com operator more than 30 seconds to establish contact. On Kermak’s screen the bearded face of a typical Galactic Trader appeared. He must have been one of the patriarchs because he was certainly more than 100 years of age by Earthly reckoning. The full, thick beard was tinted red and curiously squared, which was obviously a clan identification.

"What do you want, Terran? You have 2 minutes left."

Kermak controlled himself and kept his voice as even as possible. "These 3 Arkon ships belong to us. We have permission from Gonozal VIII … "

"Permission, he says!" The Springer began to laugh thunderously. "Who is this Gonozal VIII, anyway? Or are you talking about that pseudo-imperator of Arkon who merely fronted for the robot? If so, then the ships don’t belong to you any more than they do to us. They are ownerless—free booty for the first to find them. And we were first in this case. So?"

Kermak knew that he only had another minute to go. "Gonozal-Atlan was the rightful ruler of Arkon. Perry Rhodan is his rightful successor. Therefore the ships belong to him. If you take them it will be an act of theft. Do you want to tangle with Terra?"

"Terra!" echoed the Springer, starting to laugh again. He seemed to be genuinely amused. "What is Terra without the protection of Arkon? And the Imperium doesn’t exist anymore."

The bearded swindler was in for a surprise, thought Col. Kermak heatedly while noting with a quick glance that only 40 seconds were left. His hope of convincing the Springer was fading away. The First Officer had just returned and gave him the nod. This meant that Kermak only had to depress the red firing button to bring the robotships under concentrated fire. Since they were without defence screens they would be destroyed in a matter of seconds.

"So what you are saying is that you are willing to perform an act of piracy and risk open conflict with Terra?" he asked quietly.

That’s right!" nodded the Springer, still chuckling. "What have we got to lose?"

10 seconds to go.

"Very well," said Kermak, suddenly returning a very sarcastic smile. "I might have let myself be talked into letting you have at least one of those cruisers but since you’re so greedy you won’t have even one of them. Do you understand?"

"Not a word," replied the Springer, fingering his beard. "You Terrans are fond of speaking in riddles. Besides, your time is up. Get out of here or I’ll open fire."

"I’ll do it for you," retorted Kermak grimly. He shoved in the red button which activated all the guns that had been carefully aimed in the meantime.

"You’re welcome to the scrap!"

From 3 turret positions the concentrated energy beams of the Alderamin shot out and found their targets. They penetrated the hulls of the robotships with ease and bored their way into the vessels’ central cores—to the Arkon power piles. The resulting nuclear explosions ripped the ships asunder.

Although there were actually 3 explosions their effect was that of one gigantic detonation. One of the Springer ships had been too close to the robot super giant and was hurled away into the void by the fury of the blast. Before the remaining 19 longships could take their revenge on the Alderamin, Col. Kermak shoved his flight lever forward into full thrust. Immediately the warship started toward a distant nebula and accelerated wildly. It soon reached light velocity and vanished into semispace.

All they could do was attempt to rescue the smaller longship that was plunging out of control into emptiness. They paid no further attention to the glowing nuclear clouds which had been 3 proud Arkon ships. They also knew that it was useless to try pursuing the Terran cruiser with its new linear-drive propulsion.

The Alderamin switched course, however, and made a direct flight to the distant Earth, prepared to submit a report to the First Administrator. It was to inaugurate a new phase of the search for Arkon’s missing robotships

* * * *

The Caesar was a superbattleship of the Imperium class, also equipped with linear space-drive and also on the hunt for the valuable Arkon robotships.

4 days had passed since the return of the Alderamin. Tactics had been changed. In a conference convened by Perry Rhodan it had been decided to distribute the members of the Mutant Corps among a number of the search ships so that even superior forces of Springers, Aras or Ekhonides could be outsmarted. Moreover, all had agreed that no compromise was to be countenanced and that it was preferable to risk combat, if necessary, and to destroy the robotships rather than have them be taken. From now on the search units were going to offer stiffer resistance. In the past few days the Springers especially had demonstrated a ruthless determination to challenge the men of Earth for possession of Arkon’s heritage.

Col. Sukril, commander of the Caesar had also been present at the conference. Outwardly he looked very much like Rhodan’s second-in-command, Reginald Bell, nor was it to be denied that certain elements of his character reminded people of Bell. This is why it was perhaps not a pure coincidence that Col. Sukril had the distinction of acquiring the mutant services of Pucky the mousebeaver.

Their first meeting had not been without a certain flavour of drama.

It had been Pucky’s own fault that he had not been present at the briefing. He had just come back from a strenuous mission and had decided to pass the few hours of his leave at his weekend place at Lake Goshun. Rhodan had told him that his presence at the meeting wasn’t mandatory. He said that it only entailed some routine matters that concerned the Fleet commanders.

So it was that Pucky came on board the Caesar at the last moment, after Rhodan had given the mutants their assignments. He was of course familiar with the name of Col. Sukril but he had not yet met him personally. The Caesar was like any other ship and, like every one of them engaged in the search activity, it was to have a mutant on board. This was in addition to a special load of 20,000 experienced spacemen, other than regular crews, which the search ships were carrying for the purpose of taking over the robot battleships and bringing them to Earth.

A young, dark-haired officer was waiting for him in the airlock. "You’re flying with us, Lt. Puck," he said. "May I welcome you most heartily on board the Caesar?"

"That you may," replied Pucky patronizingly, saluting rather indifferently. He wore his custom-made uniform with the heated case for his beaver tail. Being a telepath, he already knew the officer’s name. "By the way, does it happen that I’ve been assigned to your task unit?"

"You’re quite correct, Lt. Puck!"

The mousebeaver stretched out his paw and smiled. "Then you can drop the title of rank. We’re buddies in this together."

"Hm-m … ah—very well, Puck."

"Pucky!"

"What … ?"

"Pucky! that’s what I’m called." He looked around. "Where is the commander? A Colonel Sukril, if I understand correctly."

"In the Control Central. We take off in 5 minutes."

"Then I’ve arrived at just the right time," Pucky grinned. "So up, up and away—to happy hunting!"

"Hm-m," grumbled Germa doubtfully, shrugging vaguely. "I’m not so sure it’s going to be all that happy. The Springers are keeping our search commandos pretty busy."

"Pah!" Pucky watched while the heavy main lock closed and slid in place with a dull thud. "So far we’ve always been able to handle those whisker-faces. We just have to be faster than they are—and smarter."

Lt. Germa smiled to himself. He seemed to be pleased with Pucky’s answer. "Come on, I’ll show you to your cabin. It’s right next to mine."

The mousebeaver waddled after him although he would have preferred teleportation. But in the young officer’s mind he had detected some very important indications. First of all he discovered that Germa liked him very much. It wasn’t the usual respect for his outstanding parafaculties but a genuine feeling of fondness and friendship. And secondly Germa had thought of their forthcoming interim landing—on Mars.

Mars? What did the Caesar want on Mars?

Pucky realized that Germa didn’t know. If anybody knew the reason for the Mars touchdown it would most likely be the commander. So he’d have to ask him, provided the thought didn’t come into his head first.

The cabin reflected Pucky’s extraterrestrial preferences and was provided with everything the mousebeaver would have wanted for a lengthy journey. Even the fridge with a supply of fresh vegetables had not been forgotten. And even a full-grown man would have been comfortable in the wide bed.

"Neat!" chirped Pucky appreciatively, and he reached up to pat his much larger companion on the back. "Very neat. You people must have really put yourselves out. So you live in the cabin to the left of me? Who’s in the other one?"

Germa shrugged. "No idea. As far as I know, it’s empty."

"That suites me." Pucky lowered his little dufflebag in which he had collected the things most important to him. "At any rate I guess I was too pessimistic. I sneaked in my own crop when I didn’t have to."

He picked up the bag and shook out its contents onto the floor. Nothing but fresh carrots. Lieutenant Germa laughed until it brought tears to his eyes.

At the same time the Caesar took off and accelerated at a modest rate into space. Inside the ship the effects were barely noticeable since the gravity fields and inertial absorbers took up the shock. Thus the effects of small course changes were also neutralized.

"You still have to report to the Commander," said Germa somewhat concernedly. "Col. Sukril is a stickler for the rules. It’s a wonder he took off without making sure you were present and accounted for."

Pucky made a wry face. "I hate regulations and formalities, Germa. I always get in trouble with people like that. But how is he otherwise?"

"A good officer, pretty daring at times, and he flares up once in awhile—otherwise he’s straight and very fair. But I think in your case you’d better not—hm-m … "

"I’d better not what … ?"

"I mean, maybe you’d better not try a first name basis right away. If you forget rank and title he might blow up at you."

Pucky grinned, revealing his famous incisor tooth. It was a sure sign that the situation was turning into a "fun game" for him. "Alright, you know him better than I do. Why should I make things tough on myself? But watch out if our good friend Sukril plays a one-sided game! If he drops his formality with me, he could be in for a surprise! Fine—let’s go. Or aren’t you coming along?"

"Do you think I’d want to miss it?" retorted Germa with mock indignation, and he led the way out. "The grav is right over there."

"I could get there much faster if I wanted to but there’s no need to startle Sukril too soon. Also, it’s good to have a walk after eating."

The Caesar was a world in itself. With its 1500-meter hull it resembled a Terran submarine modular city with streets and even building-like structures which were connected by antigrav lifts. An untrained person could become irretrievably lost in this maze of ultra-modern installations and never find his way back to the point of exit. Pucky, however, was well acquainted with the interior of such superbattleships. He could still recall the many emergency drills he had gone through in the days when these "big ones" were still a novelty in the Fleet.

Germa stopped at the door to the Control Central. "It’s always like entering the Inner Sanctum," he half-whispered.

Pucky could hardly suppress a giggle. "You’re stretching it, Slim. I’ve never been afraid of any commander. If he’s not a nice guy, I sail him through a couple of corridors and clamp him to the ceiling somewhere.

"You and your telekinesis," muttered Germa shakenly. He pointed to the door. "You lead the way this time."

Pucky cautiously concealed his incisor tooth and pressed the automatic release button. The door slid into its niche and gave access to the Control Central. In spite of the maze of consoles and equipment cabinets the room appeared to be semi-circular in shape. Everywhere there were gleaming viewscreens on the walls, surrounded by controls and switches of every description. At one table an officer was studying star charts. He looked up briefly and grinned at Pucky—then immersed himself again in his work.

Another man sat in the wide seat before the main control board. His back was almost broad enough for 2 men. His hair was cut short and stood up like gleaming silver-grey bristles. He still didn’t seem to have noted the intrusion because he was staring intently at the viewscreen, in the middle of which was a reddish star. His vice-like hands were on the console beneath the indicators.

Two other officers turned to discover Pucky and Germa. One of them seemed to know what was on the commander’s mind.

"Sir—the mutant."

Col. Sukril did not even turn his head. "You mean this Pucky creature?" he asked. He cleared his throat. "As soon as he shows up he is to come to me. I expect him to report in according to regulations like anyone else." He continued his concentration on the outer space view although he must have known that the mousebeaver stood directly behind him.

Pucky gave Germa an imploring look but the lieutenant shook his head. Knowing that the mousebeaver could read his mind he suggested mentally that he should "toe the line" just now. It was no use to start any trouble when it wasn’t necessary.

Pucky turned his gaze from Germa to contemplate Col. Sukril’s broad back. There was something about his figure that was very familiar. Hm-m … If his hair were red instead of grey, one might have thought this was Reginald Bell. But Bell was with Rhodan just now on the Ironduke, which was the flagship. They, too, were on a mission.

"Lt. Puck reporting for duty, sir," the mousebeaver finally managed to say, while more or less standing at attention.

The man in the pilot’s seat folded his hands in his lap before he slowly turned around. He remained seated and it was only the chair that actually turned. His healthy, ruddy face was good-natured but revealed a trace of curiosity. He smiled faintly. "So this is Pucky, the most notorious of all the mousebeavers. Hm-m … Why are you just reporting to me now, Lt. Puck?"

Pucky stared in utter amazement at Col. Sukril. Actually he looked almost like Bell with his hair dyed. If it were not for the completely different brainwave pattern it would be possible to imagine that this was Rhodan’s second-in-command. But then upon closer inspection the other differences came to light. The mouth was smaller and more tight-lipped than Bell’s, the cheeks somewhat fuller and the chin much heavier. In the grey eyes there was an expression of sternness, courage and justice.

"Well, is this too late?" was Pucky’s counter-question.

Col. Sukril remained motionless. He made an effort to screen his thoughts but of course without experience in such matters he didn’t quite succeed. Thus Pucky picked up a few interesting items although they didn’t seem to tie together clearly. So he was going to have to rely on questions to learn the rest.

"Lt. Puck!" said Sukril sharply. "I permit no exceptions to the rule on board my ship. You are a member of my crew, with the same rights and the same duties. A lot of commendable stories have been told about you, I’ll admit, but don’t think that entitles you to any special privileges. Here everybody does his job and you will do yours. Is that understood?"

"No sir," replied Pucky while lowering his gaze in mock shame. "There are some people who say that my intelligence leaves something to be desired and … "

"Military discipline has nothing to do with intelligence!" roared Col. Sukril impatiently but then he calmed himself immediately. "Anyone boarding a ship for duty must report immediately to the commander. Can you understand that?"

"That’s what I just did, sir," replied, Pucky, making a weak attempt to defend himself. Inwardly the discussion began to amuse him. "Lt. Germa brought me here right away."

"So? And how do you explain the fact that you’re just getting here now? Look there on the viewscreen! We’re already passing the moon!"

"Nice view," commented Pucky appreciatively as he watched the cratered landscape pass by. "It always reminds me of Pericles."

Sukril caught his breath, apparently nonplussed. "Of what?"

"Aren’t you familiar with Pericles? Too bad—you’ve missed a lot. It’s the 2d moon of the 4th planet of Clara 5, a red sun just left of Cancer. Of course you must know where Cancer is located?"

Col. Sukril’s face went through an interesting process of changes. It became darker, for one thing, but in contrast to Bell’s face instead of becoming red it turned blue.

"Are you trying to—?"

"But—to be honest about it, I couldn’t report to you any sooner than this."

Sukril appeared to have calmed himself again. "Oh? And just why was that?"

"Because I just got on board before you took off."

Sukril looked at Pucky more closely. "Your top uniform button is unfastened, Lt. Puck."

The mousebeaver nodded negligently. "Why is yours buttoned? Afraid you’ll catch cold?"

Col. Sukril swallowed hard and thought of his temper. He told himself to just take it easy and not get excited. To fence with the mutant was a senseless waste of time. He abandoned the hope of getting the best of him, in contrast to all the mousebeaver’s other superiors. No one had ever succeeded. Why should he be the one? And yet … ?!

"Lieutenant," he said sharply, "you will adhere to the regulations. In your cabin you may do as you please, as far as I am concerned." He took a deep breath. "You are familiar with our orders and your own, as well?"

"We’re to catch us some robots, sir."

"You might call it that." Sukril became a trifle friendlier. He leaned forward and looked into the mousebeaver’s eyes. "Has Lt. Germa shown you your quarters? Do you have any complaints?"

"None, sir. Just one question: what are we going to Mars for?"

Sukril leaned forward still farther. He grinned broadly. "Aha! So you’ve already done some telepathic snooping? If not, why would you ask about Mars? Alright then, I’ll tell you. Rhodan ordered us to pick up Miss Iltu. From now on she’ll be flying on various missions, as occasion demands, and she is to be trained by you."

Pucky forgot his military schooling. Indignantly he placed his small arms akimbo. His expression was one of thunderstruck amazement. "Iltu? That babe in arms?"

Sukril nodded affirmatively. "What do you have against Iltu? She is a cute and capable mousebeaver girl. She can handle telekinesis and is also a telepath. Well, yes—where teleporting is concerned she has some shortcomings, but she’ll also learn that—"

"But she’s much too young!" persisted Pucky.

"Nevertheless, she’s 100 years old, according to what she told us," declared Sukril soberly. "If that’s supposed to be young I’d like to know just how old mousebeavers get. How old are you, Lt. Puck?"

It was a delicate question to which Sukril received no more of an answer than had Rhodan or Bell or anyone else.

"Iltu!" Pucky’s voice seemed to express complete rejection but deep in his brown eyes was a glimmer of pleasure over the prospect of meeting his special friend whom he had once rescued from Vagabond along with 27 other young mousebeavers. They had all been brought to Earth but had later settled on Mars. "Does she know about this?"

"She was instructed about the mission and has agreed to go."

"She’s a brave girl." Pucky nodded appreciatively but then added quickly: "But she’s not ready for real work because she has no idea of how to teleport properly. And as for telekinesis she only has playful kid games in her head. Does she really have to come with me?"

"No, it’s not mandatory. According to Rhodan’s instructions, if you’re strictly against it we’ll change course and not pick her up." He turned to the officer at the chart table. "Captain, work out the new course. We’ll continue to accelerate and bypass Mars."

"Hey!" chirped Pucky in a shrill tone. He waddled past Sukril to the navigator. "If you don’t land on Mars I’ve got news for you!" Then he turned back to Sukril who had become speechless. "Well, don’t lose your eyeballs, Sukril. After all, everyone has to make a start sometime."

He nodded patronizingly to Col. Sukril and strutted out of the Control Central. With a stiff salute, Lt. Germa also took his leave before the thunderstorm could break over his head.

But there was no thunder.

The commander watched Pucky go with his mouth agape but then he got hold of himself. He nodded to the navigation officer. "Steady as she goes," he ordered. "Interim landing on Mars."

The first round, he thought to himself, was undecided. But he didn’t realize how wrong he was.

* * * *

The brief landing on Mars occurred according to plan. Iltu was brought on board and taken to her quarters by Lt. Germa where she was received by Pucky. Then the Caesar took off again and set course for its assigned sector.

This was a peripheral region of the galaxy where there were very few stars. Atlan had declared it to be a zone of operation for one of the larger fleet formations, which turned out to be the case. Almost daily the search teams of the Terran ships ran across scattered cruisers or major vessels of the Arkonide Imperium. Being cut off from the usual command signals from the robot Regent, they drifted without direction through the void, the helpless prey of anyone who found them.

Col. Sukril waited until his target star appeared on the screen. It was an unknown giant sun that didn’t even have a name, merely an index number. It was to be the point of reference for all operations of the Caesar. The ship had long since surpassed the speed of light. Gaining velocity with each passing second it glided toward its goal between Einstein space and the 5th dimension. The target star remained visible even though part of the universe had disappeared into a zone of darkness. Rather than a blind flight as in the case of hypertransitions, it was based on visual navigation.

The Caesar was the first super-class spaceship to be equipped with a fully tested propulsion system based on the semispace principle. The Alderamin also had this new system but was not considered to be perfect because Prof. Kalup had provided the Caesar with certain additional safety factors which had not been applied before. Thus the Caesar was the safest and fastest ship in the Terran spacefleet.

Col. Sukril was fully aware of this fact. He sat in front of the screen for another half hour and monitored the flight, the course and the velocity. Then he called his First Officer to him. "Maj. Brokov, you can take over now. Call me if you think it’s necessary. All incoming hypercom messages are to be recorded. I’ll go through them later. Well—good night, Major."

"Good night, sir," said Brokov, saluting. He relaxed again only after Sukril had left the Control Central. He had crinkly dark hair, was stockily built, in fact almost too broad in the shoulders, but seemed otherwise to be of an easy-going nature. "The Skipper’s sure a stickler for spit and polish, wouldn’t you say, Henderson?"

The navigation officer, Capt. Henderson, placed his hands on the star charts and grinned. "I think he must even sleep with his fingers on his pant seams," he reflected. "But on the other hand I don’t believe we could imagine a better commander."

"I’ll buy that, Henderson—all the way!" Brokov sat down. "You want to give me the usual poop?"

The other nodded toward the screen. "Course is border zone BM-53-XB. Present speed is 370,000 light units. Acceleration constant at 3X factor. The target area ETA is 50 hours as she goes. So far nothing unusual has come up."

"Thanks, Henderson." Brokov removed his gaze from the screen to look at the captain. "I hear we have the mutant, Pucky, on board."

"He was assigned to us as you know but he only arrived at the last minute. The Old Man almost came apart."

"I can imagine because I know Pucky, actually. We once flew a mission together with Rhodan. As I recall, he doesn’t go much for the rule book. Well, he’ll have his hands full now that his little Bopeep is with him."

"Come again?"

Brokov grinned significantly. "The little mousebeaver gal we picked up on Mars. Seems as if having one of them on board isn’t enough. I’m afraid on this flight the Colonel may suffer a stroke."

"He can adjust himself to a lot of things," Henderson assured him. And he went back to his work of checking out the ship’s course.

At this time a quite different discussion was going on in Pucky’s cabin. Pucky sat with his legs drawn under him in the farthest corner of his couch and with his back pressed against the wall. It seemed as if he would have been happy to go back farther if it had been physically possible. Sitting all neat and proper on the edge of the couch was another mousebeaver.

As seen through human eyes, at first glance there might have been no observable difference between them although Iltu only wore a pastel green combination without any rank insignia, instead of a uniform. Also Iltu was slightly smaller and of a more delicate build than Pucky but that was the only outward difference. Even Iltu had an incisor tooth which showed when she laughed but it was not gleaming white like Pucky’s. Rather it was a pale pink counterpart. She had the same brown badger eyes and the same flat beaver tail although it was somewhat smaller. Her suit pants had no special arrangement in the seat but merely a hole. The tail with its silky red-brown fur lay directly in front of Pucky.

He made a disdainful face. "Do you all run around on Mars like that?" As if to change the subject he added: "How’s the settlement getting along, anyway?"

Iltu briefly flashed her pink incisor at him. "You’ve been long overdue for a visit to us, you know. All the children want to see their grandpa."

Pucky stiffened in sudden shock. "Grandpa!" he gasped. "Are they referring to me with that name?"

Pucky slumped despondently. "So that’s what those dorky rascals call gratitude! I rescue them from certain death on Vagabond, bring them to Earth, settle them down on Mars and give them a new home—and then they call me grandpa! How disrespectable can you get?"

Iltu shook her delicately-shaped head. "Haven’t you always pointed out what youngsters we were in comparison to you? Haven’t you always said that compared to us you were old and wise? Well, then—there you have a grandpa.

"If Bell heard that he’d die laughing."

"Bell? Is that the fat fellow with the fire-red hair?"

Pucky grinned cheerfully, having forgotten the "grandpa" subject. "Yes, that’s him but don’t let him hear you call him fat or he’ll have you for supper in spite of your pretty eyes."

Iltu moved closer. "Do I have pretty eyes?" she whispered hopefully.

Pucky’s incisor vanished as he sought to press himself farther into the corner. "Uh—what I was asking you—how is the colony doing on Mars these days?"

Iltu pouted. "All day long we get schooling or sports. We hardly ever get to play anymore. They’ve put an energy dome over the settlement—so that nobody can rob us , they say. But I think they put it there to keep us from having some real fun."

Of course by "fun and play‘, Iltu referred to telekinesis. The young mousebeavers used their natural gift by way of amusement—moving every possible object—including men—from one place to another through the force of their minds. For the officers and personnel of the Martian base this type of. "fun and games" often resulted in some unpleasant surprises—hence the energy dome.

"But we still play anyway," Iltu continued. "We can do it inside the dome." She sighed. "but I’m glad to be flying with you. That’s a real nice vacation."

Pucky frowned sternly. "This is no vacation," he said. "You have been assigned to me as a pupil. As it is, you’re far too young—I mean, too inexperienced—to be of much help to me. But I’ll do what I can. How is your teleportation?"

She seemed to become a bit smaller, as if shrinking from the subject. "It’s nothing special," she finally answered candidly. "My telekinesis is great—as well as telepathy. But I’m still learning teleportation whenever they give me the chance."

"We’ll have plenty of practice," Pucky promised her grimly, "before we go into any action. There’s enough room here in the ship but let me tell you one thing, Iltu: there will be no ‘fun and games’ on board! It can cause too much grief. If you just moved one of the control levers it could be the end of all of us. We could crash into a sun or maybe even fall into a hole in time."

"Fall where?" Iltu raised her ears, which was becoming to her.

"That’s a special expression," Pucky told her evasively. "Anyway, there’ll be no telekinesis unless I order it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she sighed. Then she got up and began to waddle flirtatiously about the cabin. "How do you like my jumpsuit outfit?"

Pucky shrank back again. If it hadn’t been for the bulkhead he would have tumbled to the deck. "Females!" he chirped impatiently. "They’re all the same everywhere and in every race or species! But I’m going to tell you this, girl: this is no summer resort—you’re on board a warship! Here there is discipline—you’ll find that out. I am not your grandpa—I’m your superior officer! You are to do exactly what I order you to do. Is that clear, once and for all?"

"And what do you order me to do now?" she half-whispered anxiously.

Pucky threw his small arms into the air and whistled in sheer desperation. "I order you to disappear into your cabin at once and to leave me in peace! I want to go to sleep! I’m tired! I’ve had enough of this children’s prattle!"

Instead of pouting, Iltu smiled in submission. "Yes, grandpa," she chirped teasingly. After that she seemed to go into a brief trance while she stared at the cabin wall—and she was gone. She had teleported. Only a momentary shimmering of the air marked the place where she had been.

Pucky sighed and simply fell back on the bed where he stretched himself out and pounded the covers with his fists. "What a little monster!" he muttered angrily. "A sassy little beast, she is!"

But then he suddenly became quite motionless and listened inwardly. He was receiving Iltu’s thoughts. She must also be lying on her bed and reflecting on their meeting.

She was thinking of him, Pucky.

He closed his eyes and began to smile. What Iltu was thinking about him must have been something very delightful.

1/ THE ROBOT HUNTERS

"BOGIES!"

"Sir, we have bogies in sector K1-8-DX. Range 2.3 lisex. Standing by for instructions …"

Col. Kermak, commander of Solar class battlecruiser Alderamin, did not so much as turn his head. He stared intently at the main viewscreen of the Control Central, which gave him a very natural reproduction of a section of the outer void. With a swift movement of his hand he brought in the magnification. The 2.3 light-seconds of distance seemed to telescope and the tracked objects became visible.

"Increase retropulsion," he said without taking his eyes from the screen. "Approach manoeuvre. Boarding crews stand by! Man the battle stations!"

The 1st Officer saluted and left the room in order to transmit the orders and see that they were carried out.

Col. Kermak was looking at 3 ships on the viewscreen. They were apparently drifting along through space without guidance and it was obvious that they were unmanned. They were robot units of the Arkonide Imperium’s fleet which had virtually "died" when the robot Regent was destroyed. The Terrans had already succeeded in securing about 90,000 out of a total of 100,000 of them but out there in the unfathomable reaches of space there were still 10,000 heavily armed ships. In the hands of any potential enemy this could represent a force not to be underestimated.

Col. Kermak was among those who had been chosen to prevent this. With his heavy battlecruiser Alderamin, a spherical vessel 500 meters in diameter and carrying a normal crew of 800 men, he had been assigned to the task of tracking down the pilotless robotships of Arkon and taking them over with special prize crews.

This was no simple operation because when the robot Regent of Arkon was destroyed the units of the Arkonide Fleet were scattered all over the galaxy. Without a special circuit alteration these ships had responded exclusively to the command signals of the giant positronicon. Thus from one moment to the next they had suddenly become pilotless and they were subject to being confiscated by anyone who knew the secret of how to switch them over to manual control. Within the Milky way there were numerous races who desired to increase their military power so it was natural for them to seize the opportunity by attempting to capture Arkon’s inactivated ships.

But Perry Rhodan sought to prevent this at all costs.

As Col. Kermak continued to observe the 3 drifting vessels he noted that one of them was a superbattleship of the Imperium class, a tremendous sphere measuring almost a mile in diameter whereas the 2 other smaller ships were obviously cruisers. They still flew in their original formation, which was loosely triangular, with the battleship leading and the 2 cruisers following.

The First Officer returned to the Control Central. "Ship ready for combat sir."

This time Kermak turned toward him. "Probably as superfluous as in all the other cases," he said with a reassuring smile. "Let’s secure the battleship first. Who’s leading the boarding team?"

"A Lt. Vitali, sir. This is his third ship capture."

"Then he knows what he has to do. Let me know as soon as all 3 ships are secured for manual flight."

"Very good, sir," answered the First Officer, who again exited the room.

Col. Kermak turned back to the viewscreen in order to follow the forthcoming procedures in every detail. But before the locks of the Alderamin could be opened for Lt. Vitali and his men, something unexpected occurred: a message came through from the duty officer in the tracking section. At least 20 ships ranging from large to small had materialised at a distance of just 5 lisex and were now approaching at top speed. They deployed themselves swiftly so that they quickly surrounded the Alderamin and the robotships.

"Energy screen!" roared Col. Kermak. This placed him in a security mode which would protect his spacesphere from eventual raybeam bombardments. And of course Vitali could no longer leave the Alderamin.

"Stand by!" he ordered, while watching his screen.

The alien ships were cylindrical in shape. Springers! But after all, what else? Wherever there was trouble the Springers, otherwise known as the Galactic Traders, were never far away. These merchant-pirate offshoots of the Arkonide race were as shrewd and clever as the Terrans. There could be little doubt that their technicians knew how to make the manual override connections on the robotships. The stellar traders had shown up with the intention of grabbing the spoils and dividing the heritage of Arkon between themselves.

"Radio message, sir!" announced the com officer over intercom. "An urgent warning!"

Almost imperceptibly, Kermak composed himself. With outward calm he answered: "Alright, let’s have it!"

The Springers’ challenge was brief and unmistakable: "Get out of here, Terrans! The 3 ships belong to us because we sighted them first. We’ll give you 10 minutes, your time."

Kermak studied the viewscreen thoughtfully. The 20 longships of the fighting nomads had meanwhile firmed up their positions around the Alderamin. Within that circle were the 3 robot vessels which were the objective of both sides. He knew that for the moment their granted period of "grace" but on the other hand he was not in a position to drive them off. Under these circumstances he could not order Lt. Vitali to try taking the Arkon vessels. It would be a useless sacrifice. But for the same reason the Springers couldn’t send out any boarding crews either, without exposing them to danger. It was a completely messed up situation.

He had the option of beaming out a call for Terran reinforcements, he thought bitterly, but they couldn’t arrive before the 10 minutes were up. Probably by then the Springers would open fire in an attempt to break down the Alderamin’s defence screens. The gamble could turn out to be fatal. Turning the picture around, it seemed out of the question for the Alderamin to knock out 20 opponents simultaneously. This was aside from the fact that Kermak was not intending to be the first to fire a shot. there could be no doubt that the Springers were in superior force here. It wouldn’t be easy for them to knock out the heavy battlecruiser but with a streak of luck it was possible.

"Only 8 minutes left," said the First Officer, who had returned. "That’s damnably short …"

"Long enough to make a decision," replied Kermak calmly, although he was shaking inwardly. "There’s no way they can take those ships in the meantime. On the other hand we’re under orders to avoid armed conflict with other races wherever possible. We are to defend ourselves if attacked—and that hasn’t happened yet."

He scanned the viewscreen again. Although the 3 robotships were hurtling through space at a considerable velocity, they appeared to be standing still. The Alderamin and the Springer formation also seemed to hover there motionlessly. It would be quite simple to take deadly aim with all the cruiser’s heavy armaments. Anyway, only 3 minutes of the allowed time had been used up.

"The 3 Arkon ships don’t have their screens up," muttered Kermak as if to himself. "They could be wiped out with our first broadside."

"But sir … !"

"Do you have a better idea for keeping them out of the Springers’ hands? You’ll have to do better than a shrug of your shoulders. If we can’t get control of those robotships, then the Springers shouldn’t be allowed to either. That would be the best solution where Terra is concerned."

The First Officer stared at his commander. "If we had a teleporter on board I’d know of another way!"

"Me too," confessed the colonel bitterly. He glanced at the chronometer. "Still 3 minutes left. Get a move on! In the meantime I’ll try talking to the Springers."

Which was no particular problem. The Springers spoke Interkosmo as well as the Terrans. It didn’t take the com operator more than 30 seconds to establish contact. On Kermak’s screen the bearded face of a typical Galactic Trader appeared. He must have been one of the patriarchs because he was certainly more than 100 years of age by Earthly reckoning. The full, thick beard was tinted red and curiously squared, which was obviously a clan identification.

"What do you want, Terran? You have 2 minutes left."

Kermak controlled himself and kept his voice as even as possible. "These 3 Arkon ships belong to us. We have permission from Gonozal VIII … "

"Permission, he says!" The Springer began to laugh thunderously. "Who is this Gonozal VIII, anyway? Or are you talking about that pseudo-imperator of Arkon who merely fronted for the robot? If so, then the ships don’t belong to you any more than they do to us. They are ownerless—free booty for the first to find them. And we were first in this case. So?"

Kermak knew that he only had another minute to go. "Gonozal-Atlan was the rightful ruler of Arkon. Perry Rhodan is his rightful successor. Therefore the ships belong to him. If you take them it will be an act of theft. Do you want to tangle with Terra?"

"Terra!" echoed the Springer, starting to laugh again. He seemed to be genuinely amused. "What is Terra without the protection of Arkon? And the Imperium doesn’t exist anymore."

The bearded swindler was in for a surprise, thought Col. Kermak heatedly while noting with a quick glance that only 40 seconds were left. His hope of convincing the Springer was fading away. The First Officer had just returned and gave him the nod. This meant that Kermak only had to depress the red firing button to bring the robotships under concentrated fire. Since they were without defence screens they would be destroyed in a matter of seconds.

"So what you are saying is that you are willing to perform an act of piracy and risk open conflict with Terra?" he asked quietly.

That’s right!" nodded the Springer, still chuckling. "What have we got to lose?"

10 seconds to go.

"Very well," said Kermak, suddenly returning a very sarcastic smile. "I might have let myself be talked into letting you have at least one of those cruisers but since you’re so greedy you won’t have even one of them. Do you understand?"

"Not a word," replied the Springer, fingering his beard. "You Terrans are fond of speaking in riddles. Besides, your time is up. Get out of here or I’ll open fire."

"I’ll do it for you," retorted Kermak grimly. He shoved in the red button which activated all the guns that had been carefully aimed in the meantime.

"You’re welcome to the scrap!"

From 3 turret positions the concentrated energy beams of the Alderamin shot out and found their targets. They penetrated the hulls of the robotships with ease and bored their way into the vessels’ central cores—to the Arkon power piles. The resulting nuclear explosions ripped the ships asunder.

Although there were actually 3 explosions their effect was that of one gigantic detonation. One of the Springer ships had been too close to the robot super giant and was hurled away into the void by the fury of the blast. Before the remaining 19 longships could take their revenge on the Alderamin, Col. Kermak shoved his flight lever forward into full thrust. Immediately the warship started toward a distant nebula and accelerated wildly. It soon reached light velocity and vanished into semispace.

All they could do was attempt to rescue the smaller longship that was plunging out of control into emptiness. They paid no further attention to the glowing nuclear clouds which had been 3 proud Arkon ships. They also knew that it was useless to try pursuing the Terran cruiser with its new linear-drive propulsion.

The Alderamin switched course, however, and made a direct flight to the distant Earth, prepared to submit a report to the First Administrator. It was to inaugurate a new phase of the search for Arkon’s missing robotships

* * * *

The Caesar was a superbattleship of the Imperium class, also equipped with linear space-drive and also on the hunt for the valuable Arkon robotships.

4 days had passed since the return of the Alderamin. Tactics had been changed. In a conference convened by Perry Rhodan it had been decided to distribute the members of the Mutant Corps among a number of the search ships so that even superior forces of Springers, Aras or Ekhonides could be outsmarted. Moreover, all had agreed that no compromise was to be countenanced and that it was preferable to risk combat, if necessary, and to destroy the robotships rather than have them be taken. From now on the search units were going to offer stiffer resistance. In the past few days the Springers especially had demonstrated a ruthless determination to challenge the men of Earth for possession of Arkon’s heritage.

Col. Sukril, commander of the Caesar had also been present at the conference. Outwardly he looked very much like Rhodan’s second-in-command, Reginald Bell, nor was it to be denied that certain elements of his character reminded people of Bell. This is why it was perhaps not a pure coincidence that Col. Sukril had the distinction of acquiring the mutant services of Pucky the mousebeaver.

Their first meeting had not been without a certain flavour of drama.

It had been Pucky’s own fault that he had not been present at the briefing. He had just come back from a strenuous mission and had decided to pass the few hours of his leave at his weekend place at Lake Goshun. Rhodan had told him that his presence at the meeting wasn’t mandatory. He said that it only entailed some routine matters that concerned the Fleet commanders.

So it was that Pucky came on board the Caesar at the last moment, after Rhodan had given the mutants their assignments. He was of course familiar with the name of Col. Sukril but he had not yet met him personally. The Caesar was like any other ship and, like every one of them engaged in the search activity, it was to have a mutant on board. This was in addition to a special load of 20,000 experienced spacemen, other than regular crews, which the search ships were carrying for the purpose of taking over the robot battleships and bringing them to Earth.

A young, dark-haired officer was waiting for him in the airlock. "You’re flying with us, Lt. Puck," he said. "May I welcome you most heartily on board the Caesar?"

"That you may," replied Pucky patronizingly, saluting rather indifferently. He wore his custom-made uniform with the heated case for his beaver tail. Being a telepath, he already knew the officer’s name. "By the way, does it happen that I’ve been assigned to your task unit?"

"You’re quite correct, Lt. Puck!"

The mousebeaver stretched out his paw and smiled. "Then you can drop the title of rank. We’re buddies in this together."

"Hm-m … ah—very well, Puck."

"Pucky!"

"What … ?"

"Pucky! that’s what I’m called." He looked around. "Where is the commander? A Colonel Sukril, if I understand correctly."

"In the Control Central. We take off in 5 minutes."

"Then I’ve arrived at just the right time," Pucky grinned. "So up, up and away—to happy hunting!"

"Hm-m," grumbled Germa doubtfully, shrugging vaguely. "I’m not so sure it’s going to be all that happy. The Springers are keeping our search commandos pretty busy."

"Pah!" Pucky watched while the heavy main lock closed and slid in place with a dull thud. "So far we’ve always been able to handle those whisker-faces. We just have to be faster than they are—and smarter."

Lt. Germa smiled to himself. He seemed to be pleased with Pucky’s answer. "Come on, I’ll show you to your cabin. It’s right next to mine."

The mousebeaver waddled after him although he would have preferred teleportation. But in the young officer’s mind he had detected some very important indications. First of all he discovered that Germa liked him very much. It wasn’t the usual respect for his outstanding parafaculties but a genuine feeling of fondness and friendship. And secondly Germa had thought of their forthcoming interim landing—on Mars.

Mars? What did the Caesar want on Mars?

Pucky realized that Germa didn’t know. If anybody knew the reason for the Mars touchdown it would most likely be the commander. So he’d have to ask him, provided the thought didn’t come into his head first.

The cabin reflected Pucky’s extraterrestrial preferences and was provided with everything the mousebeaver would have wanted for a lengthy journey. Even the fridge with a supply of fresh vegetables had not been forgotten. And even a full-grown man would have been comfortable in the wide bed.

"Neat!" chirped Pucky appreciatively, and he reached up to pat his much larger companion on the back. "Very neat. You people must have really put yourselves out. So you live in the cabin to the left of me? Who’s in the other one?"

Germa shrugged. "No idea. As far as I know, it’s empty."

"That suites me." Pucky lowered his little dufflebag in which he had collected the things most important to him. "At any rate I guess I was too pessimistic. I sneaked in my own crop when I didn’t have to."

He picked up the bag and shook out its contents onto the floor. Nothing but fresh carrots. Lieutenant Germa laughed until it brought tears to his eyes.

At the same time the Caesar took off and accelerated at a modest rate into space. Inside the ship the effects were barely noticeable since the gravity fields and inertial absorbers took up the shock. Thus the effects of small course changes were also neutralized.

"You still have to report to the Commander," said Germa somewhat concernedly. "Col. Sukril is a stickler for the rules. It’s a wonder he took off without making sure you were present and accounted for."

Pucky made a wry face. "I hate regulations and formalities, Germa. I always get in trouble with people like that. But how is he otherwise?"

"A good officer, pretty daring at times, and he flares up once in awhile—otherwise he’s straight and very fair. But I think in your case you’d better not—hm-m … "

"I’d better not what … ?"

"I mean, maybe you’d better not try a first name basis right away. If you forget rank and title he might blow up at you."

Pucky grinned, revealing his famous incisor tooth. It was a sure sign that the situation was turning into a "fun game" for him. "Alright, you know him better than I do. Why should I make things tough on myself? But watch out if our good friend Sukril plays a one-sided game! If he drops his formality with me, he could be in for a surprise! Fine—let’s go. Or aren’t you coming along?"

"Do you think I’d want to miss it?" retorted Germa with mock indignation, and he led the way out. "The grav is right over there."

"I could get there much faster if I wanted to but there’s no need to startle Sukril too soon. Also, it’s good to have a walk after eating."

The Caesar was a world in itself. With its 1500-meter hull it resembled a Terran submarine modular city with streets and even building-like structures which were connected by antigrav lifts. An untrained person could become irretrievably lost in this maze of ultra-modern installations and never find his way back to the point of exit. Pucky, however, was well acquainted with the interior of such superbattleships. He could still recall the many emergency drills he had gone through in the days when these "big ones" were still a novelty in the Fleet.

Germa stopped at the door to the Control Central. "It’s always like entering the Inner Sanctum," he half-whispered.

Pucky could hardly suppress a giggle. "You’re stretching it, Slim. I’ve never been afraid of any commander. If he’s not a nice guy, I sail him through a couple of corridors and clamp him to the ceiling somewhere.

"You and your telekinesis," muttered Germa shakenly. He pointed to the door. "You lead the way this time."

Pucky cautiously concealed his incisor tooth and pressed the automatic release button. The door slid into its niche and gave access to the Control Central. In spite of the maze of consoles and equipment cabinets the room appeared to be semi-circular in shape. Everywhere there were gleaming viewscreens on the walls, surrounded by controls and switches of every description. At one table an officer was studying star charts. He looked up briefly and grinned at Pucky—then immersed himself again in his work.

Another man sat in the wide seat before the main control board. His back was almost broad enough for 2 men. His hair was cut short and stood up like gleaming silver-grey bristles. He still didn’t seem to have noted the intrusion because he was staring intently at the viewscreen, in the middle of which was a reddish star. His vice-like hands were on the console beneath the indicators.

Two other officers turned to discover Pucky and Germa. One of them seemed to know what was on the commander’s mind.

"Sir—the mutant."

Col. Sukril did not even turn his head. "You mean this Pucky creature?" he asked. He cleared his throat. "As soon as he shows up he is to come to me. I expect him to report in according to regulations like anyone else." He continued his concentration on the outer space view although he must have known that the mousebeaver stood directly behind him.

Pucky gave Germa an imploring look but the lieutenant shook his head. Knowing that the mousebeaver could read his mind he suggested mentally that he should "toe the line" just now. It was no use to start any trouble when it wasn’t necessary.

Pucky turned his gaze from Germa to contemplate Col. Sukril’s broad back. There was something about his figure that was very familiar. Hm-m … If his hair were red instead of grey, one might have thought this was Reginald Bell. But Bell was with Rhodan just now on the Ironduke, which was the flagship. They, too, were on a mission.

"Lt. Puck reporting for duty, sir," the mousebeaver finally managed to say, while more or less standing at attention.

The man in the pilot’s seat folded his hands in his lap before he slowly turned around. He remained seated and it was only the chair that actually turned. His healthy, ruddy face was good-natured but revealed a trace of curiosity. He smiled faintly. "So this is Pucky, the most notorious of all the mousebeavers. Hm-m … Why are you just reporting to me now, Lt. Puck?"

Pucky stared in utter amazement at Col. Sukril. Actually he looked almost like Bell with his hair dyed. If it were not for the completely different brainwave pattern it would be possible to imagine that this was Rhodan’s second-in-command. But then upon closer inspection the other differences came to light. The mouth was smaller and more tight-lipped than Bell’s, the cheeks somewhat fuller and the chin much heavier. In the grey eyes there was an expression of sternness, courage and justice.

"Well, is this too late?" was Pucky’s counter-question.

Col. Sukril remained motionless. He made an effort to screen his thoughts but of course without experience in such matters he didn’t quite succeed. Thus Pucky picked up a few interesting items although they didn’t seem to tie together clearly. So he was going to have to rely on questions to learn the rest.

"Lt. Puck!" said Sukril sharply. "I permit no exceptions to the rule on board my ship. You are a member of my crew, with the same rights and the same duties. A lot of commendable stories have been told about you, I’ll admit, but don’t think that entitles you to any special privileges. Here everybody does his job and you will do yours. Is that understood?"

"No sir," replied Pucky while lowering his gaze in mock shame. "There are some people who say that my intelligence leaves something to be desired and … "

"Military discipline has nothing to do with intelligence!" roared Col. Sukril impatiently but then he calmed himself immediately. "Anyone boarding a ship for duty must report immediately to the commander. Can you understand that?"

"That’s what I just did, sir," replied, Pucky, making a weak attempt to defend himself. Inwardly the discussion began to amuse him. "Lt. Germa brought me here right away."

"So? And how do you explain the fact that you’re just getting here now? Look there on the viewscreen! We’re already passing the moon!"

"Nice view," commented Pucky appreciatively as he watched the cratered landscape pass by. "It always reminds me of Pericles."

Sukril caught his breath, apparently nonplussed. "Of what?"

"Aren’t you familiar with Pericles? Too bad—you’ve missed a lot. It’s the 2d moon of the 4th planet of Clara 5, a red sun just left of Cancer. Of course you must know where Cancer is located?"

Col. Sukril’s face went through an interesting process of changes. It became darker, for one thing, but in contrast to Bell’s face instead of becoming red it turned blue.

"Are you trying to—?"

"But—to be honest about it, I couldn’t report to you any sooner than this."

Sukril appeared to have calmed himself again. "Oh? And just why was that?"

"Because I just got on board before you took off."

Sukril looked at Pucky more closely. "Your top uniform button is unfastened, Lt. Puck."

The mousebeaver nodded negligently. "Why is yours buttoned? Afraid you’ll catch cold?"

Col. Sukril swallowed hard and thought of his temper. He told himself to just take it easy and not get excited. To fence with the mutant was a senseless waste of time. He abandoned the hope of getting the best of him, in contrast to all the mousebeaver’s other superiors. No one had ever succeeded. Why should he be the one? And yet … ?!

"Lieutenant," he said sharply, "you will adhere to the regulations. In your cabin you may do as you please, as far as I am concerned." He took a deep breath. "You are familiar with our orders and your own, as well?"

"We’re to catch us some robots, sir."

"You might call it that." Sukril became a trifle friendlier. He leaned forward and looked into the mousebeaver’s eyes. "Has Lt. Germa shown you your quarters? Do you have any complaints?"

"None, sir. Just one question: what are we going to Mars for?"

Sukril leaned forward still farther. He grinned broadly. "Aha! So you’ve already done some telepathic snooping? If not, why would you ask about Mars? Alright then, I’ll tell you. Rhodan ordered us to pick up Miss Iltu. From now on she’ll be flying on various missions, as occasion demands, and she is to be trained by you."

Pucky forgot his military schooling. Indignantly he placed his small arms akimbo. His expression was one of thunderstruck amazement. "Iltu? That babe in arms?"

Sukril nodded affirmatively. "What do you have against Iltu? She is a cute and capable mousebeaver girl. She can handle telekinesis and is also a telepath. Well, yes—where teleporting is concerned she has some shortcomings, but she’ll also learn that—"

"But she’s much too young!" persisted Pucky.

"Nevertheless, she’s 100 years old, according to what she told us," declared Sukril soberly. "If that’s supposed to be young I’d like to know just how old mousebeavers get. How old are you, Lt. Puck?"

It was a delicate question to which Sukril received no more of an answer than had Rhodan or Bell or anyone else.

"Iltu!" Pucky’s voice seemed to express complete rejection but deep in his brown eyes was a glimmer of pleasure over the prospect of meeting his special friend whom he had once rescued from Vagabond along with 27 other young mousebeavers. They had all been brought to Earth but had later settled on Mars. "Does she know about this?"

"She was instructed about the mission and has agreed to go."

"She’s a brave girl." Pucky nodded appreciatively but then added quickly: "But she’s not ready for real work because she has no idea of how to teleport properly. And as for telekinesis she only has playful kid games in her head. Does she really have to come with me?"

"No, it’s not mandatory. According to Rhodan’s instructions, if you’re strictly against it we’ll change course and not pick her up." He turned to the officer at the chart table. "Captain, work out the new course. We’ll continue to accelerate and bypass Mars."

"Hey!" chirped Pucky in a shrill tone. He waddled past Sukril to the navigator. "If you don’t land on Mars I’ve got news for you!" Then he turned back to Sukril who had become speechless. "Well, don’t lose your eyeballs, Sukril. After all, everyone has to make a start sometime."

He nodded patronizingly to Col. Sukril and strutted out of the Control Central. With a stiff salute, Lt. Germa also took his leave before the thunderstorm could break over his head.

But there was no thunder.

The commander watched Pucky go with his mouth agape but then he got hold of himself. He nodded to the navigation officer. "Steady as she goes," he ordered. "Interim landing on Mars."

The first round, he thought to himself, was undecided. But he didn’t realize how wrong he was.

* * * *

The brief landing on Mars occurred according to plan. Iltu was brought on board and taken to her quarters by Lt. Germa where she was received by Pucky. Then the Caesar took off again and set course for its assigned sector.

This was a peripheral region of the galaxy where there were very few stars. Atlan had declared it to be a zone of operation for one of the larger fleet formations, which turned out to be the case. Almost daily the search teams of the Terran ships ran across scattered cruisers or major vessels of the Arkonide Imperium. Being cut off from the usual command signals from the robot Regent, they drifted without direction through the void, the helpless prey of anyone who found them.

Col. Sukril waited until his target star appeared on the screen. It was an unknown giant sun that didn’t even have a name, merely an index number. It was to be the point of reference for all operations of the Caesar. The ship had long since surpassed the speed of light. Gaining velocity with each passing second it glided toward its goal between Einstein space and the 5th dimension. The target star remained visible even though part of the universe had disappeared into a zone of darkness. Rather than a blind flight as in the case of hypertransitions, it was based on visual navigation.

The Caesar was the first super-class spaceship to be equipped with a fully tested propulsion system based on the semispace principle. The Alderamin also had this new system but was not considered to be perfect because Prof. Kalup had provided the Caesar with certain additional safety factors which had not been applied before. Thus the Caesar was the safest and fastest ship in the Terran spacefleet.

Col. Sukril was fully aware of this fact. He sat in front of the screen for another half hour and monitored the flight, the course and the velocity. Then he called his First Officer to him. "Maj. Brokov, you can take over now. Call me if you think it’s necessary. All incoming hypercom messages are to be recorded. I’ll go through them later. Well—good night, Major."

"Good night, sir," said Brokov, saluting. He relaxed again only after Sukril had left the Control Central. He had crinkly dark hair, was stockily built, in fact almost too broad in the shoulders, but seemed otherwise to be of an easy-going nature. "The Skipper’s sure a stickler for spit and polish, wouldn’t you say, Henderson?"

The navigation officer, Capt. Henderson, placed his hands on the star charts and grinned. "I think he must even sleep with his fingers on his pant seams," he reflected. "But on the other hand I don’t believe we could imagine a better commander."

"I’ll buy that, Henderson—all the way!" Brokov sat down. "You want to give me the usual poop?"

The other nodded toward the screen. "Course is border zone BM-53-XB. Present speed is 370,000 light units. Acceleration constant at 3X factor. The target area ETA is 50 hours as she goes. So far nothing unusual has come up."

"Thanks, Henderson." Brokov removed his gaze from the screen to look at the captain. "I hear we have the mutant, Pucky, on board."

"He was assigned to us as you know but he only arrived at the last minute. The Old Man almost came apart."

"I can imagine because I know Pucky, actually. We once flew a mission together with Rhodan. As I recall, he doesn’t go much for the rule book. Well, he’ll have his hands full now that his little Bopeep is with him."

"Come again?"

Brokov grinned significantly. "The little mousebeaver gal we picked up on Mars. Seems as if having one of them on board isn’t enough. I’m afraid on this flight the Colonel may suffer a stroke."

"He can adjust himself to a lot of things," Henderson assured him. And he went back to his work of checking out the ship’s course.

At this time a quite different discussion was going on in Pucky’s cabin. Pucky sat with his legs drawn under him in the farthest corner of his couch and with his back pressed against the wall. It seemed as if he would have been happy to go back farther if it had been physically possible. Sitting all neat and proper on the edge of the couch was another mousebeaver.

As seen through human eyes, at first glance there might have been no observable difference between them although Iltu only wore a pastel green combination without any rank insignia, instead of a uniform. Also Iltu was slightly smaller and of a more delicate build than Pucky but that was the only outward difference. Even Iltu had an incisor tooth which showed when she laughed but it was not gleaming white like Pucky’s. Rather it was a pale pink counterpart. She had the same brown badger eyes and the same flat beaver tail although it was somewhat smaller. Her suit pants had no special arrangement in the seat but merely a hole. The tail with its silky red-brown fur lay directly in front of Pucky.

He made a disdainful face. "Do you all run around on Mars like that?" As if to change the subject he added: "How’s the settlement getting along, anyway?"

Iltu briefly flashed her pink incisor at him. "You’ve been long overdue for a visit to us, you know. All the children want to see their grandpa."

Pucky stiffened in sudden shock. "Grandpa!" he gasped. "Are they referring to me with that name?"

Pucky slumped despondently. "So that’s what those dorky rascals call gratitude! I rescue them from certain death on Vagabond, bring them to Earth, settle them down on Mars and give them a new home—and then they call me grandpa! How disrespectable can you get?"

Iltu shook her delicately-shaped head. "Haven’t you always pointed out what youngsters we were in comparison to you? Haven’t you always said that compared to us you were old and wise? Well, then—there you have a grandpa.

"If Bell heard that he’d die laughing."

"Bell? Is that the fat fellow with the fire-red hair?"

Pucky grinned cheerfully, having forgotten the "grandpa" subject. "Yes, that’s him but don’t let him hear you call him fat or he’ll have you for supper in spite of your pretty eyes."

Iltu moved closer. "Do I have pretty eyes?" she whispered hopefully.

Pucky’s incisor vanished as he sought to press himself farther into the corner. "Uh—what I was asking you—how is the colony doing on Mars these days?"

Iltu pouted. "All day long we get schooling or sports. We hardly ever get to play anymore. They’ve put an energy dome over the settlement—so that nobody can rob us , they say. But I think they put it there to keep us from having some real fun."

Of course by "fun and play‘, Iltu referred to telekinesis. The young mousebeavers used their natural gift by way of amusement—moving every possible object—including men—from one place to another through the force of their minds. For the officers and personnel of the Martian base this type of. "fun and games" often resulted in some unpleasant surprises—hence the energy dome.

"But we still play anyway," Iltu continued. "We can do it inside the dome." She sighed. "but I’m glad to be flying with you. That’s a real nice vacation."

Pucky frowned sternly. "This is no vacation," he said. "You have been assigned to me as a pupil. As it is, you’re far too young—I mean, too inexperienced—to be of much help to me. But I’ll do what I can. How is your teleportation?"

She seemed to become a bit smaller, as if shrinking from the subject. "It’s nothing special," she finally answered candidly. "My telekinesis is great—as well as telepathy. But I’m still learning teleportation whenever they give me the chance."

"We’ll have plenty of practice," Pucky promised her grimly, "before we go into any action. There’s enough room here in the ship but let me tell you one thing, Iltu: there will be no ‘fun and games’ on board! It can cause too much grief. If you just moved one of the control levers it could be the end of all of us. We could crash into a sun or maybe even fall into a hole in time."

"Fall where?" Iltu raised her ears, which was becoming to her.

"That’s a special expression," Pucky told her evasively. "Anyway, there’ll be no telekinesis unless I order it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she sighed. Then she got up and began to waddle flirtatiously about the cabin. "How do you like my jumpsuit outfit?"

Pucky shrank back again. If it hadn’t been for the bulkhead he would have tumbled to the deck. "Females!" he chirped impatiently. "They’re all the same everywhere and in every race or species! But I’m going to tell you this, girl: this is no summer resort—you’re on board a warship! Here there is discipline—you’ll find that out. I am not your grandpa—I’m your superior officer! You are to do exactly what I order you to do. Is that clear, once and for all?"

"And what do you order me to do now?" she half-whispered anxiously.

Pucky threw his small arms into the air and whistled in sheer desperation. "I order you to disappear into your cabin at once and to leave me in peace! I want to go to sleep! I’m tired! I’ve had enough of this children’s prattle!"

Instead of pouting, Iltu smiled in submission. "Yes, grandpa," she chirped teasingly. After that she seemed to go into a brief trance while she stared at the cabin wall—and she was gone. She had teleported. Only a momentary shimmering of the air marked the place where she had been.

Pucky sighed and simply fell back on the bed where he stretched himself out and pounded the covers with his fists. "What a little monster!" he muttered angrily. "A sassy little beast, she is!"

But then he suddenly became quite motionless and listened inwardly. He was receiving Iltu’s thoughts. She must also be lying on her bed and reflecting on their meeting.

She was thinking of him, Pucky.

He closed his eyes and began to smile. What Iltu was thinking about him must have been something very delightful.