by Perry Rhodan
Daros looked long at his brother. Then he shook his head. "Why do you try to deceive me, Alban? Didn't you yourself tell me about your plans? It was your own agents who destroyed the station; now you must bear the consequences for what you've done. I can't help you."
"We're all in the same mess now, regardless of whether we're for or against the Arkonides - they
certainly won't make any distinction here. The high commissioner must have warned his home base on Arkon before the attack took place. I didn't think he had that much intelligence. The Arkonide rulers are very powerful for sure, but they're also decadent and undecided. If it weren't for their super weapons we could easily finish them off."
"One shouldn't underestimate one's opponent, for that's always the first lost battle," warned Daros. "But I have to disappoint you, brother. I'm not willing to risk my hide for you. I was and I still am against any rebellion."
Alban placed both hands on the table in front of him. He fixed his younger brother with a stare. "This makes us enemies, Daros. I fully intend to deceive the Arkonides. If the commissioner really gave the alarm, then the Arkonides won't find any cause to lead them to suspect me. The two men who threw the bomb last night are dead. Nobody knows on whose behalf they were acting. I shall, however, order my police to arrest several members of the revolutionary movement and have them executed as soon as the Arkonide punitive expedition arrives. This should clearly demonstrate my loyalty to their cause."
Daros regarded his brother, and he was filled with loathing. "You plan killing your most faithful followers, just to put yourself in a favorable light? That's horrible!"
Alban smiled slyly. "You ought to be grateful to me."
"Grateful? What for?"
The high Lord of Tuglan continued smiling. "Because I won't tell anyone that you gave the order to the two criminals to blow up the broadcast station. You wanted to eliminate the Arkonides in order to usurp the position of high Lord of Tuglan in my place, after having gotten me out of the way, too. That's what you planned, brother, didn't you?"
Daros was speechless. How inconceivably low and treacherous his own brother had become! To turn the tables on him and blame him for everything! The Arkonide inspectors would believe him and fly home reassured that all was well on Tuglan. They might even insist on punishing the guilty traitors and then Alban could execute his younger brother, whom he believed to be a rival and who was much more popular with the people.
Daros began to realize the danger that threatened him. True, he had no proof whatsoever against his older brother. Their conversation of the previous day had taken place under strictest privacy. There were no witnesses.
"The Arkonides are too smart - they'll see through you, Alban. They're well acquainted with the psychology of their colonial nations..."
"I've thought of that, too, Daros. I've already arranged that some of our rebels will be apprehended during the visit of those albinoes. They'll all confess as one man that they want Tuglan to become independent and plan to get rid of their present Lord because of his loyalty to the galactic empire. Their new Lord, they will say, is called Daros. He desires freedom for Tuglan and the realm of the eight planets."
Daros was seized by sudden panic. "You'll find no one willing to sacrifice his own life for a lie."
"Who says they're lying?" asked Alban, raising his eyebrows. "They'll be convinced they're speaking the truth. Not even a lie detector could expose them as liars. No, dear brother, I've thought of everything.
Others will state that they were incited to murder Rathon by your delegates, but that they refused to do so out of loyalty to the Arkonide empire."
Daros clenched his lists. "I really ought to kill you..."
"Just try!" Alban grinned perfidiously. "That, too, I've taken into consideration. Look at my hands! They're resting on this table top, but also right on a button. A slight pressure will be enough to erect an instantaneous energy wall between us. You can't get to me - not even with force."
"You devil!" "Only the devil will be the final victor, all the others are too weak. Freedom-loving spirits need too much time to make a decision, because they always have to consider the welfare of their nations. I don't have to be bothered with such considerations; I can act at once. I don't have to ask anybody. From one second to the next I can make up my mind what to do; the opponent hasn't a chance to adjust to it, there's simply no time. Do you understand now why I shall be the victor and you the defeated?" Daros forced himself to remain calm.
"I'm surprised you give me warning. Can I leave the palace if I want to? Am I free?"
"Of course my dear brother. The farther you flee the more the Arkonides will be interested to catch you. They'll interpret your flight as a confession of your guilt. Is that clear?"
It was all clear. Daros was caught in a trap. If he escaped, he declared himself guilty. If he remained in Tuglan, Alban's 'proofs' would finish him off.
"All right then, I shall stay. I have trust in the cleverness of the Arkonides."
"And I rely on their stupidity. We'll see who's right. Now leave me, I'm busy. I have my hands full,
preparing everything for a fitting reception of the Arkonide punitive expedition. I have to convince them of my devotion. My first word to them will be a complaint against the rebels." Daros got to his feet and walked to the door. He opened it and then turned around once more.
"When did the Arkonides visit our system last?"
Alban looked up unwillingly. "Almost fifty years ago. When they brought the new commissioner here to relieve his predecessor."
"A lot can change in fifty years."
A lot would depend on the wisdom and cleverness of the Arkonides, thought Daros. As they swung into orbit around the thirteenth planet, Rhodan located three heavy space-cruisers drifting along slowly. They were armored and therefore recognizable as warships. Khrest ordered the normal radio transmitter to be used.
"Will we be able to understand them?" asked Rhodan. "They speak Pankosmo, the Esperanto of our empire. And you, Rhodan, have learned this multiplanetary language together with Bell, Haggard and Manoli during your hypno-training four years ago. It won't present any difficulties for you, therefore, to understand the Tuglanians and make yourself understood by them. This very moment John Marshall is undergoing a hypo-indoctrination of Pankosmo. It will be to our advantage if one of our telepaths can communicate with the Tuglanians, too."
A signal from the radio station told that contact with the three spaceships had been established. Rhodan switched on the videoscreen and looked at it with great interest. At first he saw the three ships; then the face of a man appeared.
Alban, the high Lord of Tuglan.
"The dominion of the eight planets extends greetings to the Arkonides, the masters of the universe," he said in the widely understood interstellar language of the empire. "Everything has been readied for your arrival. May I lead the way?"
A deep furrow appeared on Khrest's high forehead. He was obviously startled by the friendly reception. Rhodan on the other hand took it for granted that this was the way colonial races would welcome the rulers of the universe; he found nothing unusual in this greeting.
Rhodan's hand unconsciously stroked his white hair that contributed to his appearance as an Arkonide albino. He said slowly: "Fly slowly ahead of us; we'll follow you!"
But the Tuglanian did not seem satisfied with this brief reply. "You arrive just at the right moment, sir. The commissioner of Tuglan needs your help. Criminal elements destroyed the hyperwave station last night. The perpetrators were both killed."
Khrest's forehead was smooth again. At last the situation seemed to become normal in his eyes. The battle started. How often had he encountered similar situations on other planets! The only question was who was behind the rising dissatisfaction with the Arkonide masters this time.
He would have to find out. He gave an imperceptible sign to Rhodan.
"That's why we've come here," answered Rhodan calmly, as if this represented n
othing new to him. "Make sure that I'll be able to talk to the high commissioner immediately after our touchdown. We're short of time."
The Tuglanian on the videoscreen nodded his head, then he disappeared.
Rhodan checked to see that the speaker was turned off before he addressed Khrest. "Who was that?"
"I'm convinced it was the high Lord of Tuglan in person. He mentioned a rebellion, Rhodan. Against our will, you've now become a representative of the Arkonide empire! A kind of a dress rehearsal for later. What does it feel like to be in that role?"
Rhodan smiled and wondered how the red eyes would look on him. His lean frame was well-suited to play the role of an Arkonide. His heavy-set friend Reginald Bell, however, cut a rather ridiculous figure as a native of Arkon.
"If that was the Lord of Tuglan, as you say, I must confess that I foresee some difficulties. He impressed me as being quite unsympathetic."
"Don't come to any rash conclusions, Perry," warned Khrest. "The first impression must not necessarily always be right, particularly when you're dealing with an alien race. I admit, the Tuglanians resemble our own race, but they're different in some ways. To judge them by their exterior would be unfair. We must hold back our final judgment."
Haggard and Manoli entered the Command Center, both with white hair and red eyes. They, too, were supposed to impress the Tuglanians as Arkonides. Only John Marshall had not been made up as an Arkonide albino. He would identify himself as the inhabitant of a distant solar system that only recently had become part of the galactic empire.
Marshall was not alone when he came into the Command Center. He led little Emby by the hand. The Vagabondian had undergone a session in hypno-training under Thora's supervision. with the help of complicated electronic devices it was possible to school any susceptible brain during the course of a few hours in the accumulated knowledge of generations. Therefore nobody was surprised when the mouse-beaver started talking with a squeaky voice in the language of the galactic empire:
"'Teska vyt, jenmen." And in English he translated:
"Good evening, gentlemen. I've also mastered the provincial language."
Bell was so amused by the talking animal that he forgave it all its mischievous tricks - even the bath in the water kettle. He laughed until tears came into his eyes, then he bent down to the mouse-beaver to shake hands.
"Welcome, my little friend. Let's make peace!"
Emby bared his famous single incisor. "If you'll let me play again."
Bell lifted a warning index finger. "Someday you can play as much as you like. But not as long as we're on this ship. It's too dangerous. Will you promise not to play here on the Stardust?"
"But when may I play again?" squeaked the Vagabondian miserably.
"After we've landed on Tuglan. There you'll find plenty to amuse yourself with. Now, keep quiet, we have to discuss important things."
Emby nodded his head in an almost human gesture and sat in his corner on his broad backside. His clever eyes took everything in that went on around him.
The three Tuglanian battleships had reversed their direction meanwhile and hurried on ahead. The eleventh planet of the blue sun was visible off to the side and gradually moved into view in the frontal vid-grid. Rhodan seized the opportunity in the meantime to compare the data obtained through Khrest from the ship's colonial index file with his own current observations on the spot. Nothing seemed to have changed.
Tuglan's atmosphere was quite similar to that of Earth, with almost the same gravitational pull, just slightly higher. There were two continents in the immense ocean which covered most of the planet's surface. There was a narrow land-bridge connecting the two land masses. The mountains were moderately high, gradually giving way to giant plains covered by woods. No large cities existed, for Tuglan was an agrarian society. Its technology was limited to the construction of spaceships, which kept the main planet of the Laton system in touch with the rest of the lesser planets. The Tuglanian spaceships had not yet accomplished flight at speeds faster than light. Thus the Tuglanians were unable to leave their own solar system.
It was not astonishing, therefore, that Tuglan possessed a spaceport of tremendous size despite its lack of industrial installations otherwise. The spaceport was large enough to accommodate with ease three spacespheres the size of the Stardust.
The three cruisers of the Tuglanians landed off to one side, standing vertically on their tail ends. Rhodan steered the Stardust over the center of the field and let it descend to the ground. He envisaged what impression the gigantic sphere of glittering metal would make on alien races, who would not even be able to imagine what fearsome weapons were aboard the spacecraft. Resting on the ground, the Stardust soared up to a height of over eight hundred yards. A sphere with a diameter of eight hundred yards! The Stardust was not a simple spaceship any longer - she was a small, hollow, self-contained world, where generations could be born and die.
One single manipulation sufficed to switch off the automatic steering system. The positronic robot installations stopped, the humming and the vibrations died down. The Stardust had finished her voyage.
At least for the time being.
Tuglan was just a way station, an intermission on their seemingly unending search for the planet of immortality - perhaps Tuglan would offer them a respite for a while.
But even the eternally optimistic Bell doubted that their stay with the Tuglanians would be a rest cure for the Stardust and her crew.
5/ PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS
Rathon, the high commissioner of the Arkonides on Tuglan, pointed with resignation at the destroyed installation of the hyperwave station.
"The very instant that you established communication with us, the bombs exploded here. One of my robots was damaged but it's been repaired meanwhile. Two Tuglanians planted the bomb and were killed while trying to escape. Unfortunately for us, for this way we couldn't find out who sent them on this mission."
"Any clues?" inquired Khrest, and threw a quick glance to Rhodan. "There are supposed to be some resistance groups on Tuglan, as we learned yesterday from Lord Alban. He's also quite suspicious of his younger brother Daros. To judge by Alban's hints, Daros is regarding himself already as the successor of the present ruler. It would be logical therefore if he tries to discredit his brother in our eyes."
Rathon thoughtfully moved his head from side to side. "I heard other tales. A few hours before the bombing attack I was informed by an unknown man that Lord Alban himself is planning an attempt on my life. He wants, so my informant told me, to free himself from our rule."
"One accuses the other," said Rhodan impatiently. "How can we ever find out who speaks the truth? where is Daros? Why does he hide?"
"Perhaps because he has a bad conscience."
Rhodan did not reply. He examined the radio installation which could not be repaired without the technical equipment of the Stardust. Chance had come to his assistance. Now it would be completely impossible for Khrest and Thora to communicate with Arkon, which, of course, they could have done directly from the Stardust. Much more important, though, Rathon could not send a report to Arkon, where they would be very astonished to hear of a punitive expedition of the Arkonides that had never been dispatched by them!
Rathon resumed. "A few days ago I sent a faithful and devoted Tuglanian called Ror to Alban's palace, to make sure that all the rumors were unsubstantiated. Ror hasn't been seen since."
"Why don't you inquire after him in the palace?" Khrest wanted to know.
The commissioner proved that he still had a spark of common sense left. "I didn't want to give myself away. An unknown person warned me against Lord Alban, therefore, officially I should have no inkling that Alban plans a rebellion against Arkon."
"I can't believe this story is true," said Khrest. "And I definitely don't think that Alban was behind any rebellion. He himself has members of the rebel movement arrested constantly and has them executed. As I was told, he's proceeding with great severity. Would he do th
at if he were in favor of a revolt?"
Rathon shrugged his shoulders.
"Aren't you keeping in touch with your confidential messenger?" asked Rhodan reproachfully. "Some electronic device perhaps?"
"Robot Number Two wears a receiver that is attuned to a tiny transmitter, a mini-probe inserted in a muscle of his leg, capable of sending signals regarding his heartbeat. we might determine the direction from where the signal is coming, but not the distance. I can check up at any moment if Ror is still alive."
"You certainly didn't overexert yourself for your own man," Khrest blamed the commissioner. "By the way - in which direction is Ror located now?"
Rathon motioned to RN2, who had accompanied them. "Report about Ror, Number Two!" he commanded the robot.
The robot reacted at once. "The receiver registers increased heart rate of the sender. Direction - over there."
All looked to where the robot's outstretched arm was pointing. In the distance they could recognize the shining roofs of the palace. Ror was still in the palace, then, and he was also alive.
Rhodan was just about to make a remark but the robot began to announce in its monotonous voice: "Heart beat irregular ... regular again ... skipping beats ... same direction as before ... heart stops ... no more signals ... the transmitter is silent."
Rathon's face was deathly pale. His helpless eyes looked at Rhodan. Khrest stared somberly at the robot. One minute ... two minutes ...
"No more signals coming through," reported RN2. The commissioner breathed deeply. "Ror is dead," he whispered softly. "He must have died in the palace. Is that sufficient proof of Alban's involvement?"
"Not at all," countered Rhodan. "It could be just as well proof for the contrary. Somebody might have killed your man inside the palace in order to throw suspicion on the Lord. Maybe they discovered the transmitter probe and recognized the significance of the instrument. No, Rathon, if Alban should indeed be guilty, we'd need other means to expose him as a traitor."