by Perry Rhodan
“I should let the deserter Thomas Cardif run free? So, you’re a member too of that clique begging me not to condemn him just because he’s my son...”
Then Pucky made use of his telekinesis, for the first time taking an almost hostile stand against Rhodan. What it cost him could be judged only by someone who knew that Perry Rhodan was the mouse-beaver’s best friend and that Pucky almost worshipped him.
Rhodan’s arm was flung to one side by Pucky’s telekinetic power. The mouse-beaver scrambled to a safe distance and there assumed a military posture.
“Administrator... Lt. Puck reporting back from self-appointed mission. In this action I have determined that your son has not gone to the Springer side out of malicious intent. The defected Lt. Thomas Cardif is convinced that you sent his mother to her death!”
“And no matter what happens now, Perry, even if you send me away, I have to ask a question: who is more to blame for what has happened, your son Thomas Cardif or you?”
“Perry, why is he named Cardif and not Rhodan?”
“I suppose you’ll send me away now...”
The mouse-beaver, still standing motionless at attention, supporting himself on his fat beavertail, looked at Rhodan loyally from his mouse-eyes. He waited for the decision. He looked at the man who sat without moving. He felt him considering what he was going to say.
Then Rhodan sat up a little straighter. The frozen look in his eyes gave way to a grateful shine. A smile toyed at his lips. He took a deep breath, then said: “Go about your business, Pucky. You’re alright, little fellow. Just don’t drink all of Reggie’s...”
“I’m not thirsty, Chief!” Pucky squeaked, once more in the best of spirits. “Oh, Fattys on his way...”
He had picked up Bell’s thoughts. A few seconds later, Reginald Bell came in. He looked worn out and somewhat affected by an inner excitement. Only as he went right by the mouse-beaver did he notice Pucky.
“What? You...?” he said, staring at him with wide eyes.
Then Pucky showed his rather large incisor, revealing his pleased satisfaction. “What do you mean, ‘me’? Are there two of me, Fatty? On Cokaze’s ship I had to look out for myself. I could have used another one of me there...”
“What kind of nonsense are you talking about, Pucky,” Bell demanded, not at all in a good humor. Then he felt a wave of conscience for not having told Rhodan about Pucky’s unauthorized trip. But Pucky had read Bell’s worry and allowed his own obstinacy to melt away.
“Fatty,” Pucky broke in on him, “we’re all easily tired but after what the Grand High Sheik Cokaze...”
“Pucky!” said Rhodan, reminding him to choose his words with more care.
The mouse-beaver showed his incisor fully. “Boss, you don’t know how good that sounds with a ‘y’! But where was I? Oh yes... anyway, Cokaze was planning to drop fusion bombs on Earth, Mars and Venus if he didn’t get our trade monopoly. What do you think happened to Cokaze’s nerves when he found out all his fusion detonators had just gone poof in some lovely fireworks against the field screens of his Cokaz 1? And then, just as he was almost ready to fall to the floor, Thomas Cardif finished him off. He and the Patriarch of the Galactic Traders of the Clan of...”
“I give up!” Perry tossed in. “Just call him ‘shiek’—it’s shorter! But you aren’t telling us any fairy tales, are you, Pucky?”
Reginald Bell was staring at the mouse-beaver only in surprise. He was much more astonished at Rhodans’ relaxed composure. For the first time since Thomas Cardif’s flight from the planet Pluto had become known, his friend was not stiffening when the subject of discussion was the lieutenant.
“Boss,” Pucky told him emphatically, “there isn’t an Arkonide alive, no matter how arrogant, who could have rebuked a Springer better than how Thomas Cardif did it. And beforehand in the Cokaz control room, when the Trader got scared over the fireworks, Thomas recommended that he go get an education in the Solar Fleet Academy. There he was guaranteed to have that habit of getting seared during catastrophes broken. Yes...” he was ending his report somewhat precociously, “Cokaze is going to be a hard mutt for us to crack.”
“That’s true,” Rhodan agreed and handed Bell a hypergram message.
Bell’s face became a grim mask as he read the text. “What? Cokaze is now demanding we give him the monopoly on the basis of the old galactic laws? Is this message also intended for Parliament?”
“No, Reggie, not this message. He sent Parliament a drastically altered version. Our station picked it up and decoded it. Here it is.”
Bell’s eyes flew over the lines of the text. “He may not be honest but he certainly is a sly old fox, trying to bait Parliament with Thomas Cardif as new Administrator. But we’re still here!” He saw Rhodan’s agreeing nod, not to mention the spark in his grey eyes showing that he was anxious for action. “Do we have any missions against the Springer fleet in progress, Perry?” he inquired with some caution.
“Yes, but only the Mutant Corps is active. It’s going to provoke mass confusion among the Springers simultaneously on Mars and Venus...”
If there was anyone who knew how to get the most benefit from the least advantage, it was Perry Rhodan.
The Solar Spacefleet was in a state of alarm. Heavier units were suddenly orbiting Mars and Venus in free fall. Interceptors and destroyers approached each of the planets occupied by Traders to within 100,000 kilometers, disappearing at the approach of a cylindrical spacer back into the depths of space.
The Solar Spacefleet had been ordered to shoot only in case the Springer ships took off and made course for Earth.
Rhodan’s commanders did not worry about politics and internal disputes. Their chief’s name was Perry Rhodan. Their sole job was the Solar Spacefleet. So often he had led them personally into the most dangerous combats and so often he had proved that he was capable.
Common experience was the best cement for personal relations and Rhodan was as strong within the spacefleet as his political position was weak in the Solar Imperium.
Some of the messages exchanged between the heavy units were kept in simple code. Cokaze the patriarch should have been able to decipher them—and decipher them he did.
The messages indicated that Rhodan had ordered all his ships to open fire with all weapons at once on the cylindrical spacers should one Springer even dare to fly towards the Earth.
Numerically, Cokaze’s fleet was much larger than the Earth’s warship armada but he had nothing that matched the super battleships 1500 meters in diameter with their monstrous firepower, and such considerations at the moment hindered him from launching the main portion of his ships in a lightning attack to occupy all the tactically important points on Earth. Now it was clear that voluntarily evacuating his ships from the Earth and contenting himself with the occupation of Mars, Venus and the stations on the moons of the larger planets had been a serious error. The Springer fleet was also in a state of alarm now. The men on board the cylindrical spacers were used to it but they were also used to being able to force their will everywhere. That this ridiculously small onestar empire was resisting them was an almost unbelievable feat. Only a very few Traders understood why their patriarch was hesitating but not a struggle one dared to protest his tactics aloud.
For some time Cokaze had taken up contact with all the ships of his clan. Terse but clear directives told each captain what he was to do and what he was not to do but when a fire started in the tail portion of the Cokaz 13, Springer captain Solam ordered the evacuation of the ship in an oddly calm tone. His order also stated that the ship was to be left burning.
None of the 350 men aboard the ship wondered about Solam’s order. With uncanny calmness each one packed his most important possessions and left the ship.
When they stepped out into the open, they saw another spaceship burning one kilometer away: one fire after the other! But they did not wonder about the duplication of events.
At the emergency landing field K-f3, even more mysteri
ous things happened but only a small portion of Galactic Traders perceived them in their true meaning for the crews of 30 ships were in a state of panic.
Cokaze aboard the Cokaz 1 was alarmed.
Zugan of the Cokaz 505 stammered out an incoherent report over the telecom: “...Sire, and the Cokaz 66 took off from this system altogether and isn’t answering any calls. Captain Gudin and the entire crew got out in the lifeboats and now they’re trying to plunge into the Venusian jungle. We attempted to keep them back by force but then they used their hypnobeamers. At this time...”
The Cokaz 1’s com center interrupted the connection. The ship’s com-officer reported with utmost excitement in his voice to his patriarch: “Sire, your grandson Kacozel is urgently demanding to speak to you from Mars. Uncanny things are happening there...”
“What? here too? Haven’t you been listening to what’s been going on there on Venus? Patch in Kacozel but get a better focus on his face than we had with Zugan’s.”
Cokaze, otherwise a perfect example of self-control, felt most clearly how his nerves were threatening to give way. He stood helpless before these uncanny, incomprehensible events. To him, a realist who had never before directly encountered paraphysical manifestations, they were monstrous and shocking things.
The hypercom vidscreen flickered, then showed the face of his grandson, who was at Mars City with part of the fleet.
“Sire,” Kacozel began, his voice pleading, “please don’t think I’m crazy if I...”
The clan chieftain no longer had the strength to listen to long-winded introductions. “What’s going on with you? of course I want to hear what you have to say. How are things there?”
While he was still speaking into the microphone, Thomas Cardif entered his cabin. The deserter listened to what Kacozel had to report about the weird events at the Mars City spaceport.
Eight ships there had either gone up in flames or had their propulsion systems mysteriously destroyed. “Machines have been torn from their moorings, hatch covers have been twisted out of shape and heavy pieces of metal equipment have been thrown like bombs against converters and transformers. Sire, four crews have simply deserted their ships and gone into the city. It’s as if the star demons were loose among us and...”
Thomas Cardif interrupted: “Those star demons are Rhodan’s mutants, Springer!”
On Mars, Kacozel, sitting at his hypercom, fell silent. High above Venus, orbiting the planet in a cylindrical spacer, the patriarch of the Cokaze clan stared in confusion at the young man at his side.
“Yes,” Thomas Cardif repeated quietly, “this is Rhodan’s counterblow, Springer. He has put his most powerful hypnos and telekins into action against your fleet and if you don’t succeed in rendering this dangerous commando squad harmless... your Cokaz 1 will soon blow up just like the detonators did hours ago.”
“Mutants... mutants!” gasped Cokaze. It was hard for him to imagine anything substantial from the term ‘mutant’ but when he remembered his grandson’s description of the mysterious destruction of a propulsion-engine system, he became aware of a terrifying parallel to the explosion of his fusion detonators.
“Then... then there was a telekineticist here, too, Cardif?”
Cardif shrugged with an ironic laugh. Once more his Arkonide arrogance was evident. “The mutant who was on board the Cokaz 1 was not only a telekin but also a teleporter, Springer, and what’s more, he was a hypno as well. And if there was only one mutant, Cokaze... we don’t know, yet, for we haven’t been able to find the slightest trace of him... then he didn’t even look human because he was Pucky the mouse-beaver!”
“A what...? A mouse-beaver? A mouse-beaver what is that?” demanded the patriarch in surprise.
“It looks like an animal and seems to be a mixture of mouse and beaver, only a meter long. Springer, if you should ever encounter such a creature and can’t destroy it at once, then I advise you to avoid getting into a fight with it at all costs. You would certainly lose. This intelligence being, which speaks the Terran language English, Interkosmo and the best Arkonese, is a telekin, a hypno, a teleporter and a telepath. It...”
Suddenly, Thomas Cardif drew both his beamers and, making a wild leap, tried to bring them to bear. But an irresistible force pulled the beamers out of his hands and threw him up against the ceiling. A second thump was heard then: Cokaze the patriarch had come to keep him company.
From below, Pucky the mouse-beaver piped up: “Thomas Cardif, you’re the gabbiest newsmonger in the galaxy and when I consider you as such I’m really glad I’m not a member of the human race!”
“Hey, how do you like it up there, Grandpa Clan Sheik? Now do you know what a mutant is? But you don’t know yet that in five minutes the Cokaz 1 is going to be a pile of scrap iron. Take a good look at the confusion going on right now all over your ship. I’d advise you Traders to go visit the Solar Space Academy before you start out on your next raid so that you don’t get scared every time you turn around. As for you, Cardif, it’s too bad that my hands are tied. and it’s even more too bad I couldn’t plead amnesia to the Chief after I got through with you... Say, you two really look like a couple of clowns up there.”
Cokaze, the patriarch of the wealthiest trading clan in the galaxy, was not even capable of praying to his star gods anymore. He was experiencing the worst and most horrifying minutes of his life. His reason was failing. There was simply no explanation for the air to shimmer and then for a meter-tall animal to emerge from it, or for being thrown to the ceiling in the same moment and hanging there unable to even move.
Eyes wide, he stared at the unholy animal below. He saw how it occasionally flicked out its tongue past its single large incisor tooth. The shining mouse-eyes looked up at him and Thomas Cardif and yet seemed to see past them.
One more terrifying minute went by.
Nothing happened, then the communicator sounded. The mouse-beaver disappeared, then rematerialized in a renewed shimmering of air behind the camera eye of the intercom.
“Sire...” the patriarch was addressed from the communicator, “power plants 11 and 14 have been torn loose from their moorings and...”
The rest was lost in a wild outcry and an infernal crashing.
Behind the communicator, Pucky, quite pleased with himself, chirped up at his two victims: “That was my first joke. Now for my second...” And then he was silent again.
Ever since being pinned to the ceiling by Pucky’s telepathic power, Thomas Cardif had not even tried to move.
He knew that all resistance was useless. Not so the patriarch. He gasped and moaned. He continually attempted to reach one of his two beamers but it was not even possible for him to move a finger.
During that short span of time, Pucky turned the largest part of his telekinetic energies loose in the power plants and the transformer stations in the cylindrical spacer.
Nothing was spared. Everything was grist for the mill of destruction. Before the eyes of the Springers who were on duty in that area and could not move from the spot because of their fear, the huge antigravfield-generator smashed through a two-inch thick wall like a bomb.
A huge jet of concentrated energy-streams leaped to the ceiling with a satanic hissing, beginning to melt it.
The crashing and thunder released the last Springer left in the engine room from his paralysis. No longer was he forced to stand there and watch with eyes widened by terror the uncanny events.
Now he cried out, whirled around and driven on by panic, ran off.
Sirens howled in the Cokaz 1, whining in an up and down rhythm that not even the hard-boiled Springers wished to hear.
The rhythm ordered everyone to get in the lifeboats. It said that the ship was lost.
Cokaze also heard the sirens' howl and their rise and fall in pitch, along with Thomas Cardif and Pucky.
Pucky’s mouse-eyes sparkled with pleasure. “I’m going to let you two stew up there for awhile,” he said contemptuously. “If I were a human I could easily wor
sen your fate but fortunately I’m not a human, as you were so clearly emphasizing earlier, Cardif, and therefore I’ll allow you to get in the last lifeboat. However, that’s going to be awhile, so you’ll stay plastered up there until just before the lifeboat leaves!”
Just then, quick steps rang swiftly along the corridor outside. The Springers piling into the lifeboats had missed their chief and patriarch.
Three men stormed into Cokaze’s cabin. “Not here, either...!” called the first of them after a hurried look around. That seemed to indicate they had been looking for their patriarch in other places already.
No one saw Pucky, who was hidden out of sight from the cabin doorway in a wall cupboard. But not a single one of the three Springers looked up at the ceiling. So Cokaze screamed down at them.
Three heads turned up.
Three Galactic Traders, young and powerfully-built men, froze—one cried out—and all three ran out as though the devil himself were after them.
“I’ve always pictured heroes as being something different from that...” said Pucky from his hiding place in the cabinet, a sarcastic undertone in his voice.
The howling of the sirens died but the roaring, crashing and explosion-like shaking of the Cokaz 1 were growing more violent. The mouse-beaver climbed out of his hiding place. “Your ship will be leaving orbit in three minutes at most, Springer. At that time I think I’ll permit myself to make a few adjustments in its course so that it reaches Venus as quickly as possible. But since I don’t want to get the reputation of being a monster, I’m giving you the opportunity to climb into your spacesuit, patriarch. But don’t forget I’m reading your mind and that a thermobeam from this beamer I’m holding can be pretty fast. Watch out... don’t fall!”
Cokaze cried out because he felt himself falling but halfway down Pucky’s telekinetic power caught him, pushed him a meter to the right, then let him go again.
