The Dead Live

by Perry Rhodan

  Noir looked up. "I just can't understand how any of our own men could come up with a plan to kill you. It's beyond all belief."

  Pucky hissed angrily in agreement and Rhodan explained: "Envy breeds hate, André. And hate in its turn makes the unthinkable thinkable. Hate often provides the motivation for seemingly irrational actions, whether the hate is justified or not. Now my hate for Tropnow—that’s justified! But morally speaking, is there a difference?"

  Noir did not answer. Instead he stood rigid and mute in the night, looking into the impenetrable darkness of the jungle. He faced into the west, in precisely the direction of Kuklon.

  "What is it?" Rhodan asked, concerned.

  The hypno pointed into the darkness. "I don't know how far away they are but there are living beings out there. They're conversing but I can't understand what they're talking about."

  "Natives?"

  "I can't tell but they probably are. What kind of creature is a Volatian, sir?"

  Rhodan brought to mind the short study he had made in Terrania. Now what was it the Arkonidean star catalog said about Volat, second planet in the Heperais system? "Ah, yes... The Volatians evolved from insects into a humanoid form. They walk erect and are about six feet tall. They have thin limbs and large heads with prominent multifaceted eyes and feelers. They have a brownish-black skin which is partially hardened into a shell. The Volatians are an intelligent and harmless race but they observe strange customs. They are ruled by a matriarchy, probably a carrry-over from their insect stage of development. They live according to the laws laid down by the 'Omniscient Mother', their ruler, who possesses unlimited power over them. Their language is not perceptible by human ears because it lies well up in the super-sonic range. Telepaths, however, have no difficulty communicating if they supplement their ability with the use of sign language. You, Noir, ought to get along well with them, since you're a hypno as well and can 'suggest' to them."

  "They sound like funny-looking creatures to me," murmured Pucky in some surprise and waddled off in a westerly direction. His sharp eyes had discovered a path. "I'm curious to find out what they'd have to say to me."

  Rhodan gave a fleeting laugh. He was curious about it himself. "Let's follow Pucky," he said to Noir. "He has the best instinct for woodsmanship."

  Noir took the rear. Then he whispered: "There are some more in the east, right behind us!"

  "I can sense their thought-impulses myself," said Rhodan in a low voice, "but I can't interpret them. Are they Springers or Arkonides?"

  "They're strange impulses," said Noir, "and very peculiar thoughts, and... they're limited somehow. No, they aren't human beings."

  "They aren't? Are they Volatians?"

  Noir shook his head, although Rhodan was unable to see him. "Not at all. Those are Volatians in front of us. No, the thoughts behind us are like those that would originate in conditioned brains. Do you understand what I'm getting at?"

  "I think so," said Rhodan. "You're trying to say that they are only able to think of one specific thing and nothing else, right?"

  "That's it, sir. Their minds have room only for their mission and nothing but."

  "Their mission?"

  "Yes," said Noir evenly, "and their mission is to capture us."

  • • •

  The high plateau reared above the jungle, which stretched even to the city limits of Kuklon. No roads lead to the city, only hidden paths and secret trails. Under certain circumstances the latter could be used by motorized vehicles, although if it had been raining for more than two days, even the widest caterpillar tracks bogged down in the mud.

  No Arkonide or Springer would have known where the plateau was located. Here resided the mysterious ruler of the Volatians: at once a queen and a goddess and the object of strange and incomprehensible rituals.

  Hidden beneath the sheltering tree branches stood the native huts, beehive-shaped structures constructed from a wide range of materials. Some huts had been built of wood, others of a sort of bark. Even hard mud mixed with straw had been used. The entrances resembled those on Earthly beehives; the only difference, in fact, was one of size.

  This rocky plateau, hidden and for all practical purposes inaccessible to outsiders, was the true 'capital city' of the planet Volat.

  In one of the primitive-seeming huts, Fellmer Lloyd lay on a low bed and held the hand of the girl Kuri. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at him. Kuri could not be called beautiful for she was somewhat too stocky but her large dark eyes, almost Oriental in effect, made up for it. Her skin was reddish and her hair was like copper. She was the daughter of a Galactic Trader.

  Fellmer Lloyd could read her feelings like an open book. He was a seer and could pick up and analyze brain-waves. His ability as a telepath also allowed him to perceive the feelings and moods of other living beings. In any event, he was aware that Kuri cared a great deal for him.

  "We're safe, Fellmer," Kuri said, giving her voice a confident tone. "Nobody will find us here."

  He nodded. Under the light sheet of bark that served as a cover, his broad, muscular body seemed thin and helpless. "That's good to hear, Kuri. If I could only find out if my friend Markus received our call for help and and passed it on..."

  "You've got to get well first," she told him.

  He shook his head. "I'm not sick, Kuri. The beam of a shockgun hit me, that's all. Another day or two and I'll be back on my feet. And then we'll have to do something."

  Kuri looked up. There was a movement at the hut entrance and then someone came in.

  It was a Volatian. Kuri gave the strange-looking creature a friendly smile, knowing she would never have anything to fear from it or the rest of its breed. The feelers above its staring eyes moved but she could hear nothing. Her glance went questioningly to Fellmer, who suddenly listened and then sat up.

  "The enemies have lost the trail and have returned to the city," said the Volatian. Only Fellmer could hear its voice and understand.

  He smiled weakly. "Thank you, my friend. You have rendered us a great service."

  "The Great and All-Wise Mother has said that you may remain among us for as long as it pleases you," the Volatian continued.

  "I'll be able to stand up today," said Fellmer. "As much as I'd like to stay, I'll have to turn down her kind offer. I'm waiting for my friends and they'll never be able to find me here."

  The Volatian stepped closer and sat down on a stool. "Do your friends look like you?" it asked. "Are they men like those who rule our world?"

  "Well," Fellmer hesitated, "they look the same."

  "And do they also come from the Great Void?"

  The 'Great Void' was outer space, Fellmer knew. The Volatians were not a spacefaring race. "Yes,"

  Fellmer answered. "They'd come from there if they were to come for me."

  A logical deduction seemed to have been made in the Volatian's mind. "Then it was them."

  "Who?" Fellmer asked.

  "Last night a small round ship came to our planet from the Great Void but it was attacked and it crashed.

  We received word of this only a short time ago."

  "A round ship?"

  "Yes, a flat, round ship."

  Fellmer felt fear. That could only have been a Gazelle, a ship like his own.

  Rhodan...

  "What happened to the men aboard the ship?" Fellmer asked.

  "We do not know. Perhaps they are dead."

  Fellmer swung his feet off the bed and onto the floor but as he tried to stand up he felt so unsteady that he nearly fell over. The effects of the shock-blast had not yet been overcome. He sank back resignedly to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Kuri supported him.

  "I'm still too weak," he admitted, "but I've got to find out what happened to the men aboard that wrecked ship."

  "We will soon know," said the Volatian. "The Omniscient Mother has instructed some of us to go into the great forest and search for signs of them. If the men still live, we will find them."


  Fellmer lay back on the bed. "You must find them!" he moaned and closed his eyes.

  The Volatian left the hut without a sound and only Kuri remained with Fellmer. She gazed tenderly at the Terran's pale face.

  On Earth, life in all its millions of forms had evolved from a single primal cell. The logical conclusion, then, would seem to be that evolution on various worlds would follow wildly different paths.

  But that had not been the case. True, Terrans discovered astounding creatures and entirely new twists of the evolutionary process but life everywhere always seemed to conform to the same principles of reproducing, eating and dying.

  The Katanians were no exception. They lived on a warm jungle world close to the center of the galaxy, enjoyed a modest intelligence and in all respects could be cited as a happy race. At least happy until they were discovered by the truly intelligent races and from then on their happiness was over.

  The Galactic Traders in particular recognized the Katanians' worth. Though they were large and powerful cats, the Katanians were extremely susceptible to hypnotic control. Once given an order via hypnosis, the cats would carry it out no matter what. It was impossible to turn them away from their goal. Since the Katanians possessed powerful teeth and sharp claws, they served especially well for guarding prisoners and tracking down escapees.

  Five such Katanians had been set loose to catch the crash-landed space-travellers in the event they were still alive and, if necessary, to kill them. The great cats glided silently through the dark Volat jungle, guided by their unerring instinct which did not let them miss the slightest spoor. Their supple bodies, up to six feet long, adroitly slipped around every obstacle and their eyes, well-suited for beasts of prey, penetrated the gloom of night almost as if it were daylight. Originally peaceful and friendly creatures, they had been transformed through hypnosis into mindless engines of destruction.

  When the refugees stopped to take a rest, Pucky became once more aware of the unknown pursuers' increasingly stronger thought-impulses. "I don't like it," he whispered to André Noir, who had sat down next to him. "Something in the thoughts of those behind us is bothering me no end. Subconsciously I want to avoid any confrontation with whoever's after us. But real fear isn't what I feel at all."

  Rhodan had listened attentively. "You've never been afraid of anything in your whole life, Pucky," he said thoughtfully. He motioned to Noir. "What are you picking up? Are you afraid too?"

  "No—er, not exactly. I'd just rather avoid our pursuers, that's all. They strike me as uncanny. They're concentrating so intensively on capturing us that it's as if it's their only purpose in living. Their minds are operating only to accomplish that goal and everything else has been shut out."

  Pucky moved restlessly, then stood lip. "Let's get going again. I don't want to—"

  Rhodan remained where he was. "What is it you don't want?" he inquired. His voice was still friendly but it carried the tone of a light reproach. "Pucky, I don't think I know you anymore."

  The mouse-beaver looked up into the dark canopy of tree branches. "We'd be safe up there and I can teleport you all up. This running through the forest is pointless, anyway."

  "Perhaps you're right," Rhodan admitted. "But you know that in order not to raise any suspicion we have to forego any use of your supernormal capabilities. They must think we're ordinary people, not magicians. Of course, later we can.

  He stopped. An audible rustle could be heard in the forest not far away.

  Pucky stood with his back against a tree. The hair on his neck stood on end. His concentration showed he was ready at any second to teleport himself to safety. Noir listened tensely into the night and Rhodan remained calm.

  "They're already rather close," Rhodan said. "Perhaps we ought to go on. I'd prefer not to meet them in the dark. Everything looks different in daylight, anyway. If we work it so they catch up with us only after daybreak, we'll be able to deal with them better."

  "That's right!" Pucky agreed quickly and immediately took up the march again. Noir followed cautiously and this time Rhodan was in the rear, watching continuously behind him. In the meantime the noises had died away. It was evident that the pursuers—whoever they were—were not gifted with telepathic or other parapsychological abilities.

  The remaining hours of night passed in nearly unbearable tension. Never before had Rhodan seen the mouse-beaver so agitated and ever-ready to flee. His instinct must indeed have been warning him of an unspeakable danger which Rhodan and Noir could not sense.

  The eastern sky grew lighter and then the shadows of night rapidly dissolved into daylight. Now it was beginning to warm up rather quickly.

  The three had crossed a broad clearing and now paused under the protection of the first trees.

  "If we want to lie in wait for our mysterious followers, we'd best do it here," said Rhodan, surveying the surroundings. "The bushes are thick enough to offer us excellent cover and the grass in the clearing is too low to hide our pursuers. So we'll see them before they see us. What do you think, Pucky?"

  The mouse-beaver fell to the ground and panted in exhaustion. "It's inexcusable," he complained, "for you to make me run like this when I could teleport myself to the other side of the planet. My short legs—"

  Rhodan smiled indulgently. "I know it's asking a lot of your short little legs but I can't change things. How far away are our followers now?"

  Pucky pointed in the direction from which the trio had come. "Not far at all, anymore. Luckily they aren't moving very fast but they haven't lost our trail yet, either. Must have good noses."

  Rhodan was surprised. "Good noses? You mean they follow our trail like hunting dogs?"

  "Yes—or like hunting cats."

  "Ah ha!" exclaimed Noir, regarding the little mouse-beaver with a suddenly very thoughtful air. "Like cats, eh?"

  Rhodan's smile grew broader. "I think I'm beginning to know why you have such an instinctive fear of our pursuers, Pucky. Maybe they are cats—and it's well-known that cats are down a ways on your list of favorite animals."

  "Big cats are way down," Pucky clarified. "Cats have something against me."

  Noir looked out into the clearing. "So they've sent animals alter us? Why didn't they come after us themselves? Wouldn't that have been simpler?"

  "Not at all," said Rhodan, his own gaze following Noir's. As yet, nothing moved in the tall grass. "They aren't familiar with the forest and furthermore don't know who they're up against. Didn't you tell me that the minds of our pursuers thought only of their mission and seemed to be conditioned? Well, there you have it. The cats—if that's what they are—have been trained for this sort of thing. Anyway, we'll soon see for ourselves."

  Pucky suddenly sat up. Then he teleported himself up to the thick lower limb of the tree behind him. He looked out over the clearing from a height of 12 feet. His fur still stood on end. He called out shrilly: "They're coming! And they are cats! Monster-sized cats. At least six feet long!"

  Rhodan and Noir were not high enough to see more than the movement of the grass. Not hesitating very long to consider, they also climbed up the tree. The branch was large enough to support them all and they could sit down next to Pucky.

  The pursuers were indeed giant cats: five of them sweeping across the clearing. Even now they were less than 200 yards away. Rhodan realized with a start that his small group had no weapons and yet it did not seem advisable to simply have Pucky teleport him and Noir off to safety. The cats would be intelligent enough to be able to report the inexplicable disappearance of their prey to their masters and that was precisely what Rhodan wished to avoid.

  "They'll be under the tree in three minutes!" Pucky whispered frantically. "we've got to do something!"

  "Maybe they can't climb trees," suggested Noir reassuringly.

  "These cats can!" Pucky retorted angrily. "I'm telling you, the second they start up this tree I'm getting out of here! You two can do what you like with the brutes—I'm not going to stick around just to get torn apa
rt!"

  Pucky had never before been heard to talk like this—not the courageous Pucky who feared nothing.

  What, Rhodan wondered, had gotten into Pucky, affecting only him and no one else? Was it really the instinctive fear his species had of cats?

  "Who said we wouldn't defend ourselves, Pucky?" asked Rhodan, not letting the five cats out of his sight. "You have my permission to do what you like with the cats—but please, nothing suspicious."

  The fur on Pucky's neck laid flat, as if on command. His incisor tooth made a timid attempt to reach daylight but without success.

  Then Rhodan and Noir suddenly noticed a loose boulder, which had been lying not 20 yards away, weightlessly raise itself into the air and climb straight upwards. The rock went so high, in fact, that they could barely see it. Then it moved a little to one side and began to plummet back down.

  The boulder fell out of the clear sky like a plunging meteor and Pucky's aim was exact. Before two of the big cats knew what was happening, they had been smashed by the rock deep into the soft ground. One thing was certain: they would never hunt again.

  The sudden appearance of a falling boulder frightened the three remaining cats into momentary confusion but they regained their self-control astonishingly fast. The incident was classified in their minds as inexplicable and they did not bother just now to seek an explanation. The important thing was that the falling rock had no connection with the prey they sought. And though two of their fellows were dead, three Katanians would be enough to track down the strangers and render them harmless.

  And so they resumed the hunt

  "That wasn't necessary," Rhodan whispered to the mouse-beaver. "Why kill them just like that?"

  Pucky's excuse was not long in coming. "They really would have been suspicious if the rock had fallen slowly. This way they'll think it was a meteor."

  "Well, you've made worse jokes," Rhodan conceded, turning his attention to the surviving cats gliding resolutely towards the jungle's edge. "But I must admit that I'd be afraid of them too if I were a mouse."