by Perry Rhodan
He took the key out of his pocket and was just about to shove it into the lock of his door when a shadow emerged out of the darkness of the hall. It came closer and stopped beside him. Toffner was scared half out of his wits.
Had they found his trail? Had his game here come to an end?
"Take it easy, Garak—it's me!"
Toffner heaved a sigh of relief, recognizing the voice of Markh the animal dealer—his business friend! "You gave me a shock there!" he answered, offering his hand. "Why were you waiting here for me? You ought to know where to find me every day."
"Let's go inside your apartment, Garak. What I have to tell you is not meant for alien ears."
Toffner sensed the urgency in the other's voice and asked no further questions. He began to suspect that this coincidence might be favorable to him even though his situation was starting to become hazardous. He would have to try to unite both elements of fortune and danger to his best possible advantage.
He opened the door swiftly and permitted the animal dealer to enter. Then he carefully locked it again and made sure that no one had bugged his place during his absence. This was a nightly ritual, a vital routine. Markh watched him silently.
"Everything is clear. Let's sit down." Toffner looked at his friend inquiringly. "What made you come here, Markh? Here there's just the two of us, so speak your mind. I presume you didn't come here at this time of night without a good reason—certainly not just for amusement."
Normally ruddy and deeply tanned by the Voga sun, Markh's face was remarkably pale although still darker than that of a European after four weeks on the Earth's equator. It was just that the coppery tone was lacking that was typical of all Zalites. In his eyes was a harried look. Markh must have been frightened by something.
But by what or why? The registrations wouldn't begin until morning.
"Have you seen the ships at the spaceport?" It was a question that Toffner merely answered with a nod of his head. "I knew all the time that it would come to this. Now they'll drag all the able-bodied young men away! They're fighting a war they can't win or they're building up for a major attack against somebody who seems to be stronger than Arkon. And we're supposed to join up and help with the fighting!"
"I figured it that way, myself, more or less," offered Toffner with cautious reserve.
"So... ? What will you do? Go with them and die?"
"Who says they're going to take us?" Toffner sought deliberately to stir up controversy in his friend so that he could obtain the information he needed. "Maybe it's only a routine investigation of potential reserves in case of crisis."
"So that's why they need a robot army?"
"Well, maybe not—but you know Arkon loves to demonstrate its power. At the same time, don't those robots prove that the Imperium isn't in danger? If it were, actually, how could the Regent spare his troops?"
Markh held to his stated suspicion. "I said—they're building up for something. In that case the robots aren't needed now but will be later. And we're to go along and join them."
Toffner pondered this. "Let's assume that your suspicions are confirmed—what will you do about it? Will you resist them and take the risk of getting shoved in front of a battery of Arkonide energy guns?"
"Does it make any difference at all where I die, whether here or slightly later on board a ship somewhere between a bunch of soulless robots?"
"You will risk it?" Toffner watched Markh questioningly, and when the animal dealer nodded, he added: "Why was I the one you came to? How could I help you? My deadline is in 10 days and there's no doubt they'll find me fit for service.
Markh leaned forward. "I got to see the proclamation just a few hours ago. My call time is in just two days, Garak! Think of it—two days!"
"And?" Toffner acted very unconcerned but inwardly he was in a turmoil. Was this finally a chance to win over true friends and trusted confidants after three years of undercover work—or was he at the end of his rope?
"And! Man, I'm not going over to the Arkonides! I'd rather live down in the catacombs under your arena, hidden and outlawed, hounded by the police, a prisoner of my own will to freedom! Now do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
Toffner understood only too well. Naturally the animal dealer knew there was only one way to elude the clutches of the draft commission: he had to hide himself where nobody could find him. What could be more suitable for that than the catacombs under Tagnor? Many of them were ancient and partially clogged up or caved in as well as half forgotten. Only a small portion of those vast subterranean labyrinths served as fighting arenas.
"In the caves under the arena?" Toffner repeated the thought in order to gain time. "What do you expect from that? You certainly can't spend the rest of your life without the sun and in total isolation from men."
"Nor do I intend to, Garak. One day the Arkonides will go away again, after they have enough troops. Then I can come out of my hiding place and begin a new life. The Zarlt's police won't bother about me any more, once this Calus character is out of the picture."
Toffner had misgivings. "I don't know if I should agree with you or not. A lot of people will have arrived at the same idea as you have. When the influx of recruits dies down, there'll be a search for those Who are missing. And where would they logically begin? In the catacombs!"
Markh did not answer immediately. He sat there in grim silence and seemed to stare at nothing but Toffner could easily tell that he was already regretting the fact of having confided in another. However, after some minutes, the animal dealer looked directly at him again.
"We've always worked well in our business ideas and we are friends. If I ask you for a favor, will you help me? I have money, Garak. You only have to provide me with food—just basic provisions. Any small forgotten rock chamber down there is more preferable to me than the comparative luxury of an Arkonide battleship. Do you think you can hide me...?"
Toffner realized that he shouldn't overdo his little act. "Of course I'll help you. In fact, I might happen to know where I can hide you. But it's a little sudden..."
"I still have two days. I'll go back to Larg and arrange for somebody to run my business—an old man who'll never be drafted in any army. He'll say I'm off on another expedition for animals and haven't come back yet. You can see it is possible for them to overlook me or ignore me altogether. I'll bring my cash assets with me—and they are not small. Also I'm bringing an old friend of mine—somebody who has no more taste than I do for taking up arms."
"You've told others of your plans?" asked Jeremy, alarmed. "Wasn't that a little careless?"
"It's Kharra. You know him, too. We can depend on him to keep his mouth shut. So—we'll see each other in two days. Here in your apartment, at the same time?"
Toffner reached out and shook hands with Markh. "You can count on me. Maybe you two won't be alone in your hideout. To tell the truth, I'm not overly fond of the idea of saying goodbye to Zalit forever. Sooner or later, Calus has got to fly out of here."
Markh was pleased when he got up. He was enthusiastically grateful and departed with the promise that he would be careful not to arouse any suspicion.
Alter that, Jeremy Toffner was alone.
When he was finally in bed and closed his eyes, he had no greater desire than to receive a firm set of instructions over the hypercom.
No matter what, he was being drawn into a dilemma—a blind alley that seemed to have no way out.
2/ UNCERTAIN FUTURE, SOLAR EMPIRE
After a few crisscross hyperjumps through the galaxy, the State class light cruiser Burma finally landed on the spaceport at Terrania. By this erratic method of approach the ship's commander was complying with standard regulations regarding security. No longer could one depend alone on the universally installed residual energy traps, or 'trace dampers' as they were called in the spaceman's vernacular, even though they served to neutralize space-warp phenomena following each hypertransition and made it impossible for sensors to track them. Experience had
demonstrated only too painfully in the past that even such sophisticated equipment as this could fail—and then the camouflage was gone. However, any discovery of the position of Earth would mean the end of everything.
The Burma’s commander placed a general restriction on all ground leave for the crew members, basing it on the fact that they would be taking off again in a half hour at the latest. Then he summoned Lt. Behrends to him, the officer who operated the relay station for the Security network transmitters. It was he who was to give the report to Rhodan.
Only five minutes later, Rhodan and Bell entered the Staff section of the Burma. After a swift reception by the Commander, they followed Lt. Behrends into the Communications Central.
Behrends was still quite young for an officer but he was highly experienced and very reliable. He had already put in years of duty as one of those special operators who maintained contact with agents of Solar Intelligence everywhere in the galaxy. Rhodan knew him personally and knew he was dependable. A case in point was Behrends' present observation of security precautions. After all, this very important message could simply have been beamed out from the relay point. It was 99% certain that no unauthorized operator would intercept the hyper-beamed transmission—but to Behrends even this remaining 1% had represented too great a risk.
"Did you pick up this message yourself?" asked Rhodan when they were finally alone with him in the Com Room, which bristled with complex communications equipment and materials. "Who sent it? Perhaps our agent, Jeremy Toffner on Zalit?"
Lt. Behrends interrupted his activity to whirl around and suddenly stare at Rhodan as though at an apparition. When he could speak, he almost stuttered: "You... you... uh... from Toffner, sir? How come. I mean, sir, how did you know that...?"
Rhodan smiled. "So it was Toffner! I thought as much."
Behrends finally recovered from his surprise. "This I have told to no one and I have handled the information as secretly as possible. For Security reasons I even refrained from passing on the text of the report to Marshal Mercant—and yet you already know what it's about. I mean, sir, I don't understand..."
"It was only a hunch, Lieutenant—and anyway it's confirmed. But take it easy; I was expecting an important message from Zalit. Actually, for some weeks now."
Lt. Behrends seemed reassured, since he had apparently not made a mistake of any kind. He turned on the recorder and placed a finger on his lips, asking for silence. The transmission was somewhat distorted in spots. A few words were lost due to the sounds of interference but the context came through clearly enough so that the missing fragments were easy to fill in.
Rhodan and Bell listened almost breathlessly to the faraway voice of a man who was performing his duty for Terra alone and completely on his own—a man who lived in the midst of an alien race of beings and didn't know from one day to the next if he would live to see another sunrise. These cosmic agents were held in high esteem because they were among the bravest men in the universe—and the loneliest.
"As of a few hours ago, Arkon has started a mass conscription of Zalites into military service for their spacefleet. There are no exceptions. An Admiral named Calus is in charge of this oppressive action. He is fairly young and surprisingly active for an Arkonide. The Zarlt here has submitted to his demands without resistance. Kosoka, the Zarlt, is a weak old man who will always kiss the Arkon boot. I am standing by for further instructions."
Rhodan listened further but Toffner's voice was silent. He turned questioningly to Behrends. "Why did you consider this report to be so important?" he asked. "The contents do not appear to be especially mysterious or even secret."
The lieutenant had recovered from his initial shock and now spoke with a calm deliberation. "That may well be," he said. "But Zalit is the farthest outpost for us and the most important. It cannot be lost and that's my main reason for taking special precautions. Then the report confirmed that Arkon is mustering troops—and incidentally we've also received similar reports from other colonial worlds out there. So I was especially concerned to take every measure necessary to avoid having the enemy find out that a Terranian is located on Zalit. When the Regent catches wind of our countermeasures, Arkon will develop such a suspicion soon enough as it is."
"Quite correct," said Rhodan. He regarded the young lieutenant appreciatively. "You have acted very prudently and earned yourself a citation. Of course we are going to take some action on this matter but by the time Arkon catches wind of it, as you say, it will be too late for them—that is, if everything goes according to plan. Which is something devoutly to be desired."
Lt. Behrends got up. "Would you care to hear the message again? Or may I erase it?"
"Erase it, Behrends. And get back to your post out there. Within the next few days I'll send you a communication for Toffner. Get ready for an immediate relay transmission. I'll want maximum coding and scrambled pulsing. It's of the utmost importance."
"I can well imagine," replied Behrends and he saluted as Bell and Rhodan left the Com Central.
When they met the Commander again, Rhodan gave him the order to take off within the next five minutes. He breathed a sigh of relief when he set foot on the ground outside. Without a word he climbed into the glider next to Bell. Soon the spaceport was behind them.
"So what now?" asked Bell. "Are our plans going to be speeded up?"
"The plans are over with, old friend. We have to execute them now. It's a good thing I've already paved the way. Today is the beginning of 'Operation Troy'."
"Nothing like playing a dark horse," murmured Bell tensely as he stared ahead at the swiftly approaching rooftops of Terrania. "There's one long shot that has to come in!"
• • •
The combat commando group was in standby readiness. It consisted of 200 men, all well-trained and long since prepared for their mission. No one knew what the actual mission was to be but they all suspected that the forthcoming action would be of major importance. For months now the men had been subjected to intensive hypno-schooling which imparted to them everything that a Zalite could know or do. They spoke the Zalite language with a perfect fluency, understood Arkonide and were familiar with their technology. Among the 200 members of the special taskforce were experienced space pilots, communications men, scientists of all types, mutants and former Intelligence agents.
One of the commanding officers was Maj. Art Rosberg, a specialist in the field of matter transmission. He knew all there was to know about the construction of the transmitter that was to have a special role in the pending action, whatever that action might be. The somewhat gruff and grumpy major, grey-haired and stocky, was an expert in his field, although he wasn't too pleased about being placed at the head of 200 hand-picked men on such short notice. Together with his friend Capt. Gorlat, he supervised the training of the special troops.
This evening the two of them were sitting together again and giving free rein to their speculations—with the exception that Gorlat knew more than he cared to admit. Having regularly taken part in meetings and briefings between the leading men of the Empire, he was still duty bound to observe a certain degree of discretion, even in relation to Rosberg.
"I hope this show gets on the road pretty soon," grunted the major, discontentedly. "This waiting around gets a man pretty uptight."
"Better keep those nerves all in a bundle," retorted Gorlat grimly, "because I'm afraid you're going to be needing them very quickly. If I'm not mistaken, we won't have much longer to wait for a green light. This afternoon, you know, the Burma landed here. You know which one that is: the State class cruiser—she's a relay ship."
"So? What does that have to do with us?"
Gorlat didn't want to say too much, yet he used every opportunity to keep the major in good spirits and on his toes. "I don't know exactly myself, but Rhodan and Bell were on board for about half an hour. After that, the Burma took off again."
"As far as I'm concerned," declared the major, "the men on that ship are to be envied."
&nb
sp; "That could happen soon." Gorlat didn't realize just how soon his prophecy would be fulfilled. "The actual training schedule has been completed on all points. All we're waiting for now is the order to start."
Even before Art Rosberg could answer him, the desk telecom buzzed. This was the standard visiphone device with a small viewscreen. Rosberg reached for it almost indifferently and pressed the 'on' button. Who could be calling him this late in the evening? At the most, somebody wanting a gate pass, or maybe...
He stiffened with a jolt of surprise when he suddenly recognized Rhodan's face.
"Maj. Rosberg? Is Capt. Gorlat with you...? Ah, there he is! Listen, Gorlat—Operation Troy is in effect as of now. Take care of what must be done. In three days you will take off in the Drusus ."
Gorlat had jumped to his feet. "I understand, sir!" he answered, somewhat rigidly. "I'll wind up everything that's necessary." With a quick glance at Rosberg he asked: "OK to take the wraps off for the major here?"
Rhodan smiled. "You'd better do that, Gorlat. Otherwise he'll explode from curiosity and we still have to use him." The screen went dark.
Rosberg stared for a moment at the milky raster of the tube, then turned slowly to face Gorlat, who met his demanding gaze with a grin.
"What was all that supposed to mean?"
Gorlat waved a hand vaguely. "What he means is, sealed orders can be unsealed—I can tell you the truth about our mission. You've been walking around long enough racking your brains about it. But hold on a moment while I pass on some orders. We can't have any delays in schedule from here on in." He used Rosberg's telecom and began giving instructions out but this time dispensing completely with code names.
The 'wraps' were really off. From minute to minute the Major seemed to become paler as he listened, yet a gleam of excitement grew in his eyes.
The waiting period was over!
• • •
The work now went on around the clock, day and night. There was an especially high pace of activity in the biochemical labs. Here the bio-medics were busy transforming the combat commandos, applying a new coloration to their eyes and their skins as well as their hair. Every hour now, a minimum of eight completely changed Terranians left the laboratory and began getting used to their new appearance. It was well that Rhodan had issued a blanket cancellation of all leaves from the special mission's inclosed area because otherwise the various niteries of Terrania might have witnessed a number riots.