1/ MENACE OF THE SILVER ARROWS
NO MIRAGE.
The silver arrow was certainly no mirage—its image was right there on the telescreen. Seemingly motionless, it hung among the thousands of stars that constituted the centre of the Milky Way. This inner centre had a diameter of only 30 light-years and a volume of more than 8000 cubic light-years. In an average cubic light-year there was one sun.
"There’s another!" Maj. Lan Koster, in charge of the EX-238, tried, understandably, to keep his voice calm but his excitement was immediately detected. And no wonder, for his first officer was Homunk, an android from the planet Wanderer.
"This time we mustn’t lose it, sir," said the artificial humanoid. "We’re getting closer and closer to its probable base—and we’ve got to find it."
Lan Koster nodded agreement. He was a middle-aged man, corpulent yet lithe. A look at his papers would have revealed, to one’s surprise, that he had been in charge of various space exploration craft for nearly 20 years.
"Direct course toward alien object!" navigation officer Koster commanded and then turned toward Homunk. "Take over now, Homunk. I have to… er… talk to my commander. You understand…"
The android nodded. Something like a human smile flickered over his almost Terran features, then he took his place in the commander’s seat vacated by Koster. The next second he seemed to have forgotten the major. He lifted his eyes to the front screen. It was as if he were trying thus to hold onto the alien ship that they had now been following for hours.
Lan Koster left central control and slowly proceeded toward the main elevator. He took his time. He had every reason to, for when he rightly thought about it, this was the craziest assignment of his life.
Never before had he had such a mixed crew aboard, especially if he counted the passengers along with the crew. He could put up with Homunk, even though the android seemed to have little sense of humour. Also the research robot FR-7 would do in a pinch, even though he was always wanting to be smarter than anybody else and was fully aware of the superiority of his positronic thought processes. As to the rest of the company—except for the basic crew…
Koster sighed. He entered the antigravitation elevator and floated downwards.
As for himself, he would have thought it perfectly normal to decline the assignment. Not really because it was particularly dangerous—that would hardly have put Koster off—but because of the conditions connected with the undertaking.
First of all, Homunk. An artificial man, an android had become his first officer and deputy. Koster had nothing against Homunk except that he just wasn’t human. But he was the personal adviser and friend of Perry Rhodan and that was decisive. Homunk knew the answer to practically every question.
FR-7 did not have the same eerie effect because one could tell just by looking at him that he was a real robot out of the factory. His walk betrayed a certain helplessness that afflicted all robots, no matter how well engineered. But this helplessness was deceptive. FR-7 was really built for research and resembled a walking laboratory completely equipped for immediate analyses of newly discovered organisms or inorganic materials. His miraculous positronic brain forgot nothing and learned something new every day. His right arm was built like a weapon.
It wouldn’t have mattered to Koster to take these two robots on board. But occupying important positions—that was more than unusual.
Still—what wasn’t unusual on this flight of the Explorer-238?
Koster walked out of the elevator and into the wide hallway that led to the passenger cabins. Since the EX-238 was a spacesphere with a diameter of 200 meters, it provided such unusual luxuries for its passengers.
Passengers! he thought angrily. Some passengers!
He should not have thought that.
He felt a strong shove against his back and stumbled a few steps forward. When he finally regained his balance and turned around, there was no one in sight. The hall was as empty as before.
"You rotten espers!" Koster shouted, and clenched his fist threateningly. "What underhanded methods! To read the thoughts of harmless men and then resort to telekinesis and assault them in such a wretched, dastardly fashion! Just you wait—!"
He had stopped by a door that suddenly opened by itself, as if guided by ghostly hands. Koster clenched his teeth and went in.
Shrill laughter met him as the door closed behind him. By itself, of course. A dozen small figures, hardly measuring a meter in height and covered with reddish brown fur, danced excitedly over beds, tables and chairs, until a curt command stopped them.
The command did not come from Koster but from one of the dwarfs.
The dwarf’s name was Pucky.
"You wouldn’t take our little prank amiss, I hope," squeaked the little creature, pretending to look harmless as he squatted in front of the major and saluted him with his right paw. "I’ve often enough warned you to keep your thoughts well in hand. It was Ooch who pushed you. Except for Iltu and me, he is the only real telepath of the clan."
The clan, Koster thought to himself, is the right expression for the group. Twelve mousebeavers at once’ No man could stand all of them together for any length of time, especially not when he thinks he’s normal.
And Koster figured he was normal. At least until the moment when Rhodan asked him to take command of the EX-238. Now he was no longer so sure.
"We’re getting a Silver Arrow on the screen, Lt. Pucky," said the commander, trying to be polite to the small creature, not from any inner compulsion but from pure instincts of self-preservation. "We’re pursuing it."
"Great!" piped Pucky and grinned. All the other mousebeavers grinned too. A parade of 12 glistening incisors. Expectantly, they looked at Koster. "Then we’ll soon get it."
Koster had doubts. "You know that we’ve already lost a Silver Arrow twice because we hesitated to intercept it."
"There’s some reason for it, Major." Pucky was once more serious. "I don’t have to remind you. You know it as well as I. Standard procedure holds for this instance, too."
"OK, Lieutenant," Koster agreed and took pains not to think badly about the mousebeavers. "If you’d like to go to central control-robot Homunk is in charge now. I’ll be in my cabin if you need me."
He turned around and kept his face frozen as the door was again opened and shut by ghostly hands. Regally he stepped into the hallway. He disappeared in the direction of his cabin.
"We’ll catch it yet," piped up Ooch enthusiastically and leaped onto one of the beds. He was the only one of the mousebeavers except for Pucky and Iltu who had mastered not only telekinetics but also telepathy. It was no wonder, then, that he thought a lot of himself. "Is this our ship or not?"
"Maj. Koster is, after all’s said and done, the commander. "Pucky tried to dampen Ooch’s enthusiasm. "We can’t really complain."
"If you look at it realistically," chirped in a mousebeaver with striking curly hair who was standing off to one side, "he’s quite a rational individual, even though he’s a human being."
Pucky threw the speaker a devastating look. "That was an entirely superfluous remark, Wullewull. Besides, it was stupid. Where would we be without the Terranians, hm? Have you forgotten that they rescued us when our own home planet was destroyed? Wasn’t it they who brought us to Mars where we grew up?" He cleared his throat. "You at least."
"I didn’t mean it quite that way," said Wullewull ruefully.
Pucky was silent and regarded the little band.
Besides himself and Iltu, 10 mousebeavers—it was more than anyone alive could bear. Ten half-grown mousebeavers perpetually ready to play practical jokes; mischievous menaces born with telekinetic abilities. Worse yet: they insisted that these abilities w
ere primarily for play. On all possible and impossible occasions, they ‘played’ at it. For the past few days they had put the EX-238 antigravitation elevator out of order and had assumed for themselves the role of the gravitational fields. Nobody had noticed a thing. Officers and crew were swept up or down as usual, but now they were held only by the telekinetic powers of the mousebeavers. Until Pucky caught onto it. The unlucky one was a fat technician who happened to be in the elevator at the time. He fell the last two meters into the shaft, landing on his hind end. Ten seconds later, the elevator was again functioning normally.
"Keep your hands off Biggy!" Ooch’s shrill voice startled Pucky out of his thoughts. He looked up. Wullewull had used the interval to waddle up to pretty Biggy who was known by all to be Ooch’s favourite. Since Ooch was the leader of their colony on Mars, no one tried to win pretty Biggy’s favours. No one except Wullewull. He stood next to Biggy and stroked her fur.
"My paws should be no concern of yours," he shrilled back and flashed his one incisor. No mousebeaver had more than one tooth.
Wullewull had not yet finished speaking when he was already pasted to the ceiling of the great common cabin. Ooch held him there through telekinesis. Since Wullewull was also genetically endowed with telekinetic powers, the contest promised to prove interesting.
For this, Pucky decided, there was no time, however. "Stop it!" he hollered at Ooch, who shrank back immediately.
Wullewull fell from the ceiling and landed safely on all fours. Luckily just beside Biggy. As if nothing had happened, he took up the activity that Ooch had so cruelly interrupted. Biggy began to purr contentedly.
"The major has reported another Silver Arrow," Pucky continued. "That must mean we’re getting closer to the home base of the aliens—which we want to find. We know their race only through their ships and their robots. Remember what you promised me before we started out and don’t forget it. You all came on board with me of your own free will. Ooch, you haven’t forgotten that, I hope?"
Ooch rolled up his eyes and tried to look innocent.
"Good," Pucky grinned and nodded to Iltu. "I’m going to central control now. Iltu will stay with you. If there’s the least sign of mischief, she’ll only have to send a thought-impulse and I will come. And then… understand?"
Majestically drawing himself up to his full height, Pucky marched to the door, opened it telekinetically and strolled out onto the hallway. Behind him, the door closed upon itself again.
Ooch sighed. His incisor gleamed. "He’s gone… As for you, Wullewull!"
Iltu and Wullewull acted at the same time. Their telekinetic thought streams gripped the infuriated lover and chained him to the bed. The other mousebeavers howled with glee and danced through the cabin.
Only Biggy went up to the ignominiously defeated one, sat herself beside him and took his hand. "You’re not jealous, are you?" she inquired innocently.
Ooch turned up his eyes before he closed them to give the impression of sleep.
Many problems, he thought to himself, are best solved in just this way.
* * * *
On the way to central control, Pucky reviewed again recent events in his mind. How had it all happened?
In the past hundred years the ships of Terra in their ever-wider interstellar roamings in space had always been reporting, on their way back to Earth, sightings of curious flying objects. These they had met in the deeps of space. They were slender, spindle-like craft with linear propulsion—or at least with a propulsion that enabled them to fly millions of times the speed of light. They avoided every attempt to contact them. But they did not attack, either. They simply swept away from their pursuers and vanished into the crowd of stars, mostly in the centre of the Milky Way.
No wonder, then, that the Terranians thought their home planet was in this region of the galaxy they’d always before steered clear of.
First signs pointed to mysterious vessels manned by robots. They must have had orders to avoid every contact with another race otherwise their constant flight would have been inexplicable.
One day, some time during the 24th century, a Terranian explorer cruiser was destroyed by one such Silver Arrow, as they called the unidentified ships.
At least, so it had to be assumed.
The cruiser had sent a hyperradio message, reporting that it was pursuing a Silver Arrow. Then the connection was suddenly cut off. The explorer never returned to Earth and was presumed lost.
Terra’s ships were all equipped with good protective shields and so were practically unassailable. They were also equipped with conversion cannons, the most fearsome weapons ever devised. The question was: how could a Silver Arrow possibly destroy the exploration vessel?
When matters had reached this stage, mousebeaver Pucky teleported himself from his country cottage on the shores of the Goshun sea to Rhodan’s office in Terrania. He materialized on top of his desk, discreetly cleared his throat and said: "Perry, there’s no trouble around here now and I’d like to go on a vacation."
Administrator Perry Rhodan, the most powerful man on Earth and perhaps throughout the known universe, smiled indulgently. He laid aside the document he’d just been working on. In his grey eyes shone understanding for his little friend who had more than once rescued him from a hopeless situation.
"You’ve chosen the right moment, little one. Where do you want to go? To the tellers of tall tales? Are you going to take Iltu, along?"
"To tell the truth, Perry, I haven’t even thought about telling tall tales. Iltu will come along, that’s for sure. After all, she’s my wife. But, besides her, I’d like to take along 10 more mousebeavers from Mars."
Rhodan frowned. It was clear he regarded Pucky’s request as odd.
"Ten more mousebeavers? You’ve always said that they were safely tucked away on Mars and thus would not get into mischief."
"That holds even today but where I want to go they could do us all a great favour with their ‘mischief’. They are good telekinetics, Perry. So are Iltu and 1. That would make a total of 12 telekinetics. Don’t you think that with common effort we could intercept a craft in mid-flight and direct it anywhere?"
Rhodan shook his head. "You speak in riddles, little one. Do you what to invent a new sport for the mutants?"
"Hee-hee, not a bad idea," Pucky snickered, amused. He moved a little closer to Rhodan. "But the matter is more serious. I want to spend my vacation doing mankind a favour."
"Well, well," said Rhodan, nodding in acknowledgment. "May I ask what kind of a favour you’re referring to? To stop spaceships in flight and then direct them…"
"Just one ship and a specific one at that. I want to capture a Silver Arrow."
Rhodan’s face suddenly took on a quite serious mien. He leaned back in his chair and stared at Pucky. The little mousebeaver shrank a little under the searching gaze of his great friend but he stood up to it. His back fur raised a little but that was not necessarily a sign of anger or embarrassment.
"So you want to capture a Silver Arrow? And how do you propose to do that?"
Pucky moved even closer to Rhodan "Very simple. Give me an exploration ship—not a large one, just a cruiser. Add a capable commander and the usual crew. Ten mousebeavers for building a telekinetic block—and maybe Homunk, if you can spare him. And a real robot, in case we run into telepathy. In addition…"
"…in addition a few hundredweight of frozen carrots to regale your mousebeavers at a proper party, I suppose."
"Wouldn’t be a bad idea," Pucky nodded, all seriousness. "And as commander, try to pick an officer who understands a joke. Not a fried-up strategist without a sense of humour or a sense of nonsense… well, you know what I mean."
"I," Rhodan said slowly, "would not care to be that commander."
Pucky grinned. Then he seemed suddenly to listen inwardly. "Bell’s coming. Do we tell him anything?"
Rhodan shrugged. "He’ll find out sooner or later—why not now? Besides, he can be helpful to you."
Reg
inald Bell, Rhodan’s closest friend and deputy, walked into the room. He was heavyset and still had his red stubbly hair. Since he was also wearing a cell activator, he had not changed for the past centuries.
When he saw Pucky, he exclaimed in surprise: "Good heavens! I thought you were going to take your vacation at the Goshun Lake."
Pucky suppressed a sharp reply and smiled amiably. "My friend," he began unctuously, "we have something of considerable importance to convey to you. We hope that you will contribute your unconditional support to our undertaking and…"
"When did you start talking so high-falutin’?" Bell interrupted and sat down in a chair next to the table. "Why are you talking in the plural? After all, that’s only done by…"
"By ‘we’ I mean Perry and I," explained Pucky. "But you, considering your fatuous dimensions, should always refer to yourself in the plural, seeing as how you weight twice what normal people…"
"And how about being twice as smart?" countered Bell, secretly smiling at the mousebeaver’s misconception of the word ‘fatuous’.
"Hm," grunted Pucky and again suppressed a suitable remark. He was obviously having difficulties in containing himself. "Let’s not discuss things that are undiscussable. Anyway, listen…"
In a few words, he explained his plan. Bell listened, caught a glance from Rhodan, nodded slowly and said: "The EX-238 is on the moon. She’s been overhauled. Her commander is Maj. Koster, a very capable officer with imagination and initiative…"
"Hopefully not too much initiative," grumbled Pucky. "Every once in a while I’d like to give a couple of orders, too. After all, it’s my expedition, in case you’d forgotten.
"Koster’s the right man, believe me. And Homunk will be enthralled at the prospect of flying to the centre of the galaxy. I’m just asking myself how you propose to handle 10 mousebeavers; together. You know the little rascals from Mars. It’s difficult enough to deal with one mousebeaver—but 10 together…!"
"Let me worry about that, Fatso." Pucky leaped from the table and waddled around the room a couple of times. "I guarantee that they’ll listen to me and behave. I’m picking out those just right for the trip."
In the Centre of the Galaxy Page 1