by Perry Rhodan
Thora's lips were pressed together. She knew the cold expression in the eyes of the lean man. Rhodan had that forceful look again. He'd realized only a short while ago that he possessed the gift of compelling power under certain circumstances. This quality had become very pronounced during the hypno-training.
"Okay, let's keep it brief. I've only five minutes to spare," he said. "You want to point out that our people would still be flying to the moon with antiquated liquid rocket fuel if you Arkonides hadn't come. You also want to tell me how puny and ridiculous we'd be without you and that it was only a regrettable accident which caused you and your ship to land on the Terrestrial moon. You'll have to excuse me but I know this song. You've taught me your great knowledge, that's all. Now we're on the eighth planet of Vega. A very dangerous and intelligent race that's neither human nor Arkonide is lurking out there in space. I don't have time."
"Barbarian!"
Rhodan bowed silently toward Thora. Her delicate nose was quivering. The strange love-hate relationship between her and Rhodan was overwhelming her.
"Thank you very much. It's usually been the barbarians who by virtue of common sense and physical strength have pacified and rebuilt fallen empires after temporarily conquering them. Don't you think we better skip it, Thora?" Khrest remained silent;
"We remind you of our request. You've been informed," scowled Thora.
"You've given it to us in writing," scoffed Rhodan. Bell grinned.
The beautiful alien closed her eyes. Her hands were shaking.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Rhodan broke the quiet pause. "This battleship has been recaptured by my own men. Therefore, I cannot put you in charge. Moreover, it's completely irresponsible to leave the Vega system on Stardust II to take you home."
"But we insist on our right. You will-" Thora choked.
"I'll do nothing of the sort, if you allow me," Rhodan countered her sharp words. "This is a matter of life or death for mankind. The Earth is a mere twenty-seven light-years away. It can be discovered any minute by the Topide invaders. These people have apparently noticed that they've made a little miscalculation. They're checking it already. I won't take a chance. Can't you understand that?"
"Let us go to Arkon. We assure you the fleet of the Imperium will come to your aid," interjected Khrest softly. "I believe that I've failed in my mission. Obviously, the planet with the mysterious inhabitants who know the secret of eternal life can no longer be found. Take Thora and me home."
"I'm sorry. I wouldn't even think of getting into the hot spot of the galaxy and risk losing the only super spaceship at my disposal. Terrible wars between rebellious races are going on there. Until mankind is strong and united, I must keep the existence of Earth the foremost secret. In contrast to your demands, my most urgent task at this time is to drive the Topides out of the Vega Constellation. The detection of Earth has to be prevented by all means."
"You should give a little thought as to how unimportant your adored mankind is in the framework of galactic events," declared Thora derisively.
"That's a matter of opinion," stressed Rhodan. A sharp line stood out on his forehead.
"Khrest, you're the scientific leader of the ill-fated Arkonide expedition. Wait till we've chased the Topides out of their strongholds. Then we'll see."
Rhodan looked at his watch. He had said it all. "Please excuse me, the five minutes are up."
"Then blood's going to flow again," Khrest said bitterly. "You know that I hold the human race in high esteem. There are no other people who are so closely related to us. If you're of the opinion that you can take over the heritage of my race in a few years, you're badly mistaken. You don't have the required qualifications."
Rhodan paused at the sliding door. His body turned around slowly.
"You'll be amazed, Khrest. Don't mistake us for your people, who've grown so terribly tired. Someday Terra will play an important part in the galaxy. When I've insured peace I'll be glad to take you to Arkon. Please wait, and don't forget that your life would've been over without the concerted help of humans."
"Did you have to say that?" inquired Bell as they entered the elevator outside. Rhodan didn't react. Bell continued reproachfully:
"I don't think it's wise to remind the Arkonides, or anybody else, of favors rendered. If they hadn't come we still wouldn't know what it looks like beyond our solar system.
Rhodan's face darkened. Bell was right, but it couldn't be helped in this case.
"They'll have to get used to the fact that we're not merely "clever." I wouldn't think of letting the Stardust II leap into this galactic chaos. Arkon is doomed to failure as well as the Great Imperium ruled by it. This has been going on for centuries, although we didn't know anything about it. Now that this aggressive race with highly developed intelligence has appeared so close to our own world, we have to operate in a state of emergency. We can't let the hurt feelings of the Arkonides interfere. Any more objections?"
Rhodan pushed out of the antigrav field of the elevator. They'd arrived in the sector containing the living quarters of the officers. He stopped in front of the commander's cabin, which was guarded by two robots.
"Take over the S-7. I'll be busy. Do we have a good hair stylist on board? If possible, one who has experience with wigs."
"I'd better call the doctor," groaned Bell. "Just keep quiet and rest. It's nice and cool in the cabin. I-"
Rhodan broke out in the grin for which he'd been famous among the test pilots in the Space Force. Now it was only seldom seen. Bell caught on instantly. A watchful look lurked in his pale eyes. His stocky body became tense. He dropped the bit about the doctor.
"You're planning something," he whispered slowly. "What's up?"
"Do we have a wigmaker on board or don't we?"
"Most certainly not. We have thee hundred specialists with partial hypno-training."
"Okay, forget it. Attend to the S-7. Nyssen is ready."
A loud rumbling interrupted the silence. The atomic energy HHe-piles producing the electricity for the force-field projectors had started up in the F-sector. The observation screen next to the door of the commander's cabin showed that the auxiliary ship, which had been on the ground, was gone. It had been hauled in through the big airlocks of the mother ship, where it rested in the immense inside hangars.
The roar of the atomic piles eased up. A high-energy screen had been formed to enclose Stardust II. This was beyond the Ferrons" comprehension even though they were used to superior technical achievements. These energy units were of a superior order in space which insured that the structure of the defense field could never be grasped by any Ferron. Their brains didn't have the ability. They'd advanced to simple speed-of-light space travel and hadn't been able to improve further.
Rhodan listened to the low hum of the machinery. It was located about sit hundred feet below him in energy hall B. By erecting the defense field, Stardust II was hermetically sealed from the outside world.
"I'll see you in the mess. Don't worry about the hair-dresser." With that the lanky man vanished behind the sliding door.
Bell was left standing at the door. The two Arkonide robot guards remained motionless. They'd already checked Rhodan's brain waves and allowed him to pass safely.
Bell walked away, cursing under his breath. He failed to understand what a hairdresser had to do with the latest events. A cosmic fortress was being built on the six moons of the fortieth Vega planet! A member of the crew had been killed in action! And the commander was asking for a hairdresser!
That was too much for Bell. He shouted at an innocent robot repairman who'd just been told to replace a damaged picture screen.
A little farther away Major Nyssen appeared, waved silently and entered his cabin. It was time for the scheduled rest period. Everyone on board, except the guards on duty, was required to sleep. The planet Ferrol was very exhausting for body and mind.
Outside a few of the egg-shaped Ferronian spaceships were manoeuvring in the far, cloudless sk
y. They were of the type which had been smashed to pieces by the Topide battle units.
Bell gave up his guesswork. He was unable to fathom Rhodan's mind. Thereby he was subconsciously conforming to a principle which had been followed by millions of officers before him.
The spacious cabin with its separate compartments resembled more a miniature center of controls than a comfortable living room. At this time the various monitoring screens were dark. The interoffice communication system was shut down and the normally hectic light signals had ceased.
Perry Rhodan was alone; as alone as all commanders of great fleets had been since the beginning of the technical age.
No commander could afford to hold far-ranging discussions in the presence of his subordinates. He was obliged to keep a certain distance and to be careful at the same time that the wall of silence required by military necessity wasn't regarded as arrogance and reserved formality.
Rhodan was a natural psychological phenomenon. Even without his special training he would have known that he had to be by himself at this moment.
On a folding table at his side was a small visiphone made by the Ferrons. It was a marvel out of the micro-mechanical workshops of a people who were in this respect far superior to the almighty Arkonides.
The gadget, no bigger than a fist, was turned on. The oval mini-screen showed bright lines which formed senseless patterns under the influence of the distorting scrambler.
It took a few moments until the synchronized receiver was adjusted. Then the confusing flickering stopped. The small face of a Ferron appeared on the screen. The deeply recessed eyes under the bulging forehead could hardly be seen. However, the insignia on his gray uniform could be recognized clearly.
Chaktor, the Ferronian liaison officer between the Thort and Perry, nodded his head.
"Sir."
"Is your scrambler working, Chaktor?"
"Perfectly, but we ought to keep our conversation short. What can I do for you?"
"I have to talk to you urgently."
"Aboard your ship? The treaty hasn't been signed yet."
"That doesn't matter at the moment. I have other problems. Be prepared to confer about the matter we've discussed before. Where can we meet?"
"At the old place, sir, and at the same time. Is that all right with you?"
"I'll be there. Something else. Can your secret service get me five wigs? Do you understand what I mean?"
"I beg your pardon," said the Ferronian space officer.
"Artificial hair, a false head of hair. Listen..."
It took Rhodan a few minutes to explain his strange request. As he switched Off the visiphone and placed it in the safe of the cabin, his tanned face showed little emotion.
He'd now initiated the measures which would terminate the Vega affair sooner or later.
Slowly, he walked over to the weapons chamber. The more or less death-dealing products of Arkonide super-technology were mounted under the protection of a micro-energy field. Rhodan inserted his coded key-card to lift the block.
A moment later he felt the heavy service weapon in his hand. It was a disintegrator which was totally unknown on Ferrol. The pulse-rays of the disintegrator could cause the total dissolution of a crystalline field structure.
Prior to lying down on his pneumo-couch, Rhodan switched on all control instruments. The most essential departments of the giant ship became visible on the tiny screen. The sound transmission was set for secret surveillance.
He was listening in for a few minutes on the conversations of the personnel on duty. They were talking about the six moons of the fortieth planet.
Satisfied, Rhodan shut off the equipment, which was meant exclusively for his use. He could trust his men, there was no doubt about that. What he was concerned about were the reactions and willingness of the Ferrons.
They wore dark brown cloaks, reaching to their feet, such as were favored by the allegedly wild and rebellious mountain dwellers of the planet Ferrol.
Especially Bell's short, squat figure could be mistaken for a Sicha.
It was more of a problem for Rhodan. The fact was that there was a resistance movement on Ferrol against the humans ever since the Topide invaders had retreated in headlong flight.
There was widespread dissatisfaction in the country because many didn't understand why the Thort made such concessions to the strangers. Everyone wanted to express gratitude, of course. Trade and its benefits were quite naturally also very welcome. However, some leading Ferrons opposed the establishment of a trading base for mankind which called for full sovereignty on its site.
It was argued that this would inevitably lead to a bastion of a foreign race, but Rhodan insisted on this demand. It was up to the government of Ferrol to accept or reject his request.
The contractual agreement was imminent and it had started to seethe within the opposing groups. The Ferronian television system, broadcasting from a centrally controlled transmitter in Thorta, had conducted violent debates between official agents of the government and representatives of the opposition. Eventually the decision had to be made by the ruler.
Reginald Bell was well-informed about these occurrences. He'd watched with the greatest concern and was shaking his head when Rhodan himself had addressed all Ferrous on the three inhabited planets via TV. Rhodan had reminded them in no uncertain terms of the aid his people had given them. This had been badly received by the audience.
Bell had called this speech Rhodan's greatest error since establishing the New Power. Rhodan had only smiled and dismissed the arguments of his advisers without further ado.
Now there was a new and strange event in the offing after Rhodan's public statement was also printed in the daily press and magazines.
The two moons of the major planet had disappeared behind a heavy deck of clouds. Now the last star stole away. Sudden gusts of wind heralded one of those hurricanes which weren't at all rare under the extreme climatic conditions on Ferrol.
Vega had set below the horizon a few hours ago. It had turned instantly cool. In the opinion of the Ferrons it was already ice-cold.
They were in a most disreputable quarter of the capital, next to the industrial zone in the suburbs where the spaceships were built. The last of the local population was fleeing from the upcoming storm down steep stairs to cellar taverns which were a feature of the neighborhood.
Rhodan, feeling chilly, scrutinized the narrow alley. The mutant John Marshall was tilting his head and listening into the dark night.
"Is he coming?" asked Rhodan, keeping his voice low. "I don't feel like lingering here very long. There are some unpleasant looking characters hanging around."
"Just now one of them thought it would be better to get out of the way of the Sichas." Marshall laughed softly.
Bell was swearing under his breath. The outline of his weapon's spiraling barrel was clearly visible beneath his cloak.
"What a mad idea," he complained. "In ten minutes all hell's going to break loose around here. Couldn't Chaktor have picked a better place?"
"Not really. We can't meet in a tavern, can we? He can't let himself be seen too often on board the ship.... John, watch out for Chaktor's thoughts. On my advice he officially joined the Ferronian resistance movement. Try to catch the first inkling of an eventual betrayal. In such a case the man would be useless for us."
Bell turned around slowly. His wide face under the hood covering his forehead was alarmed.
"How was that? He belongs to the resistance group?"
"That's right. Shh! Marshall hears something."
Out of the menacing darkness a squat form loomed into the dim light of a lantern. Rowdy, discordant singing came from a nearby tavern.
The stranger stood still. He seemed to sense that Rhodan had a telepath from the Mutant Corps with him.
"Okay, he's here," whispered Marshall. "Appears to be deeply worried. He feels very uncomfortable. Wishes to get out of this neighborhood as soon as possible. Nothing else."
Rho
dan flashed the light signal and the figure slipped closer. They recognized Chaktor's face in a second. Then they found a wall and hid behind it. Marshall was posted as lookout. It was well-nigh impossible for anyone to approach the highly sensitive telepath without being noticed.
"We'll have to hurry," panted the Ferron. "I believe I was observed leaving my glider. There are informers all over the place."
Rhodan came directly to the point. There wasn't much left to say in a situation for which they'd prepared for weeks.
"Did you bring the wigs?"
Five of them. It was very difficult to get these wigs. What do you need them for?"
Chaktor's eyes were nothing but bottomless cavities in the dark. Bell tightened his grip on the weapon. Down the street some men in uniform appeared. They seemed to be crewmen of a Ferronian spaceship but they, too, soon ducked into the tavern.
"You'll find out," Rhodan said evasively. "Is your team ready?"
"Yes, sir. I have twenty men who've served under my command for years."
"Reliable?"
"Absolutely, sir," affirmed the Ferron. With an uneasy feeling he watched the shadowy figure of the telepath. He knew only too well what to expect from Marshall.
"Chaktor, you must trust us," Rhodan said a little louder. You should know that I'm not interested in interfering with the fate of your country. The resistance movement is completely wrong. You'll never see any of my people except those who'll be assigned to the trading base. If your ruler hadn't requested our armed support, I would've disappeared from your solar system long ago."
The Ferron silently stretched his open hands forward. It was a sign of agreement. Marshall nodded unobtrusively. Evidently, Chaktor hadn't forgotten that he owed his life to these men. Rhodan had rescued him when he was drifting through space in his wrecked ship after the first encounter with the alien marauders. Ever since-that time the commander of the Ferronian destroyer had proved to be a very trustworthy ally.