by Perry Rhodan
"Perhaps I should rephrase the question so that you can see what I mean," Rhodan replied. "Not far from you is another solar system—you know which one I refer to. You must observe whether or not your world is being visited by the inhabitants of the other system—and what I mean is visits with a very specific and special purpose. If you see this happening, you will immediately advise us accordingly."
"I don't quite...
"It's quite simple, Toffner. I want to know if the inhabitants on your world are being left to their own resources or if somebody is mixing into the internal affairs of ZV4."
Toffner looked back somewhat perplexedly at Rhodan. "Naturally the people here are free but all the same they are watched over... not, however, by their own government. Am I making anything clear?"
"Quite! Thank you, that's about all for now. The main reason I made contact with you was to alert you as to the importance of your position—or perhaps what it may become. You are my advanced post in a war that hasn't yet broken out. Goodbye, Toffner!"
That had been his brief conversation with Perry Rhodan.
Toffner recalled that after the screen went dark he had sat there staring at it for at least another 10 minutes. From one instant to the next his destiny seemed to have been decided for him. His existence here on Zalit was dangerous—it had been so from the moment of his secret landing. But after all, between a passive and merely potential danger and one that was suddenly urgent and acute, there was a mighty difference!
From then on he attended to his apparent tasks but actually paid more attention to what was going on around him. At first he had not been able to notice anything. Ships came from Arkon at no greater frequency than they had the year before. They brought merchandise, work robots, technical equipment and synthetic food. And of course they also brought sentry details to relieve the soldiers already stationed at Zalit.
For the most part the officers were Arkonides or members of some auxiliary race but the troops proper were made up of robots more than living entities. From time immemorial Arkon had maintained this kind of troop mixture on its colonial planets, even though they were disguised as police or helpers. The Zalites submitted reluctantly to this slight yoke but they did not dare to provoke the anger of the mighty Regent of Arkon, who was in such uncomfortable proximity to them. Their memory of punitive expeditions made against them was still too fresh.
Rhodan's instructions had been clear enough. Toffner observed the troops from Arkon. But however diligently he kept watch there was no noticeable change in routine. Rhodan's suspicion seemed to be without foundation.
The periodic reports to Solar Intelligence continued normal and quite routine also. Days passed, turning into weeks and finally into months. Rhodan had not repeated his contact and Toffner had begun to think that they had probably only wanted to jolt him out of a presumed state of lethargy. Perhaps there was a need for isolated and lonely agents to get an occasional panic treatment like that. Hmmm... not at all an impossible idea!
Exactly three months after Rhodan's call, Toffner rented one of the standard travel gliders with automatic pilot and journeyed to Larg, a city to the East of Tagnor. Although the population of Larg was only five million, it was regarded as the commercial center of Zalit. The monthly trade fairs that were held here were an attraction for modern caravans, wealthy merchants, swindlers, confidence men—and the police.
Toffner obtained a hotel room and then visited the current trade mart, hoping to keep an eye open for items suitable for future gladiator fights. The animal market was as profuse and variegated as ever and only a few hours passed before he had submitted a number of orders. He paid cash for his purchases since most of the tradesmen were known to him. After the completion of transactions it was customary to celebrate them, so it was not unusual that Toffner should find himself in some lively and colorful company along toward evening, or that he should land in a noisy tavern where it was customary to consume large quantities of the local wine.
Toffner's hypno-schooling on Terra had enabled him to speak a pure Zalit dialect, which was actually Arkonide with a slight accent. He was conversant with even the finest nuances of expression.
"Hey, Garak! You back in Larg again?" The shout came to him across a room that was crowded with merchants and buyers and all types of tradespeople. Some-where in a corner someone was singing a sad song though nobody seemed to be listening. "Bought up some new attractions, did you?"
"You guessed it!" Toffner called back.
Toffner concentrated once more on the conversations of the men at his own table.
"...something that shouldn't be very good news to any of us!" complained Markh, the animal supplier. "It looks as though some kind of big revolution or something has broken out all over the galaxy and there'll be a big demand for troops to fight it. I've got no stomach for getting packed into a spaceship..."
"The way you do with your animals, right!" interjected somebody, trying to be funny. But nobody laughed.
Markh continued without paying any attention to the snide remark. "I've heard tell that new commands are being formed every day. Of course it's on a voluntary basis but I'm thinking there's a slight shove behind it from the Zarlt—or better yet, it's a slight shove he passes along after getting a push from Arkon."
Everybody talked at once and reiterated their opinions. Nobody seemed to be in sympathy with the war in the distant Milky Way.
Hhokga, the wealthy fabrics merchant, stated his opinion. "Things are going well for us on Zalit and nobody is threatening us. Not one of our merchant spaceships has ever been attacked. What does Arkon's war have to do with us? I, for one, will never go in as a volunteer!"
"Nor I!" chimed in another, until all had expressed their support of his stand.
When there was a lull, Markh said: "I'm afraid they'll soon be running short of volunteers and then you'll see things get compulsory around here! There'll be forced conscription of troops! This I fear, my friends."
Toffner was annoyed at having missed the first part of the conversation. He asked: "What the devil are you talking about, Markh? You mean there's war?"
The animal trader stared at his best customer in some surprise before he answered: "You'd better keep an eye on things happening in and around Tagnor or one of these days the events are going to take you by surprise. Don't you ever read the papers? The government's putting out calls every day for voluntary enlistments in the spacefleet. So then what happens to the poor devils? They climb on board an Arkon robotship and go off to nowhere and are never heard from again!" He stopped suddenly and looked toward the door.
Toffner paled underneath his tinted skin. Two uniformed Zalites had entered the tavern and now looked about challengingly as though they were searching for somebody. The conversations at other tables ceased abruptly. Everyone was staring at the Dictator's police, and they all seemed to have a guilty conscience.
But when the two officers turned around and went out again the sudden atmosphere of relief was almost palpable.
Markh emitted a deep sigh. When he spoke, it was in a lower tone. "They spy on us everywhere no matter where we go. I'm about ready to believe they're looking for victims. The Zarlt is Arkon's servant—and we were so happy without this protection of Arkon, which is ruled by a robot Brain. I ask you, friends, why do we need a machine to tell us what to do?"
Toffner leaned toward him and whispered: "Calm yourself, Markh! You'll land us all in jail if you keep talking like that! We're getting by alright, aren't we? Why should we be concerned if a few lunatics voluntarily enlist in the space navy so they can lose their lives on some alien world? As long as they leave us in peace.
"But they won't!" cried Markh. To Toffner's secret satisfaction, the animal collector remained stubborn about the subject. "Pretty soon there won't be any question about our preferences in the matter. They'll force us!"
"You're exaggerating!" By now Hhokga wanted to divert the conversation into safer channels. "For the time being they're only taking volunt
eers, so you can't complain about that. If it comes to something else, there's always enough time to do something about it."
"Pah!" snorted Markh angrily. "What could you do about it then ?"
From then on the conversation began to become tedious. The good spirits of the tradesmen had dissipated and each became immersed in his own thoughts. Toffner soon took his leave of them and went back to his hotel, where he sought to digest all that he had heard.
Was this more or less the kind of information Rhodan was looking for?
He decided to return that night to Tagnor and beam out a short report to the Solar Empire. The closest relay station would pick it up, wherever the communications vessel happened to be.
So it was that a month prior to the top meeting in Terrania, Rhodan learned that the Regent of Arkon was starting to add to or replace his robots with volunteer people of all subordinate or colonial races.
The robot Brain realized that he could not get along without the organic type of intelligence, meaning humanoid brains or otherwise, as long as they were living and not mechanical.
A small factor that was worthy of reflection and one which was not without a certain element of hope...
• • •
Through the windows of his suite of offices Rhodan had a good view of Earth's capital city—at least in one direction. Terrania had become larger and was growing daily. Since this growth was not haphazard, the homes and buildings and streets followed the lines of long-range definite planning, always harmonizing with the overall aspect and character of the city. Terrania appeared to be organically integrated—and that it was.
Bell came in and joined Rhodan at the window. "It's like a city in a fairytale," he muttered somewhat dreamily, which was not at all like him. "Here all the threads come together and flow through our hands. The metropolis of an entire solar system. Actually, I think we can take pride..."
Rhodan barely turned his head as he interrupted: "We have to figure out how we are going to preserve Terrania."
Bell stared at him in some amazement. "What do you mean by that crack—preserve it! Who is going to..."
"Arkon! You should know that, because our meeting on the subject certainly made it plain enough. Either we destroy the Brain or he will destroy us. There is no longer any other alternative. A new treaty of alliance would be senseless because we know what the Regent is planning. And he cannot be persuaded to change. Have you given some thought to ways and means?"
Bell was somewhat embarrassed. "To level with you—no. I thought there was still some time."
"We don't have any time!" Rhodan looked out and down again at the city stretching out before him to the horizon. Somewhere out there the great desert began, traversed today by avenues and streets. "The robot Brain has more time than we do and yet he's accelerating his efforts. I believe we have to take action."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Our meeting served to strengthen my decision to be the aggressor with Arkon. Our monster genie, the robot Brain, happens to have a magic weak spot: the hidden failsafe device! If we can find that, the Regent will be vanquished."
"That's not going to be easy," cautioned Bell.
"Easy?" Rhodan smiled fleetingly but sobered again immediately. "I would say it's almost impossible! At least the first stage of the problem. Reports from our agent in that area indicate that it has become impossible to penetrate the ring of fortresses around Arkon. So force is not the answer. Not even the teletransmitter can break through those energy fields. If we are ever going to get into Arkon, it can only be by legal means."
"Legal! You mean, with the Regent's permission? Hmmm. I wouldn't be able to figure..."
"I don't know any way, either, as yet," confessed Rhodan gravely. "But we're sure going to find one!"
Bell made no reply. Thoughtfully he looked down at the hustle and bustle of the city, at the broad avenues filled with automatically guided vehicles, the police hover-cars gliding here and there above them and the swarms of humanity pressing through the business quarters.
He was about to add a comment when the silence was interrupted by a shrill ringing sound. Almost in one leap, Rhodan reached the switchboard that took up an entire wall. He flipped a small switch down and the viewscreen there brightened up. A man's face appeared.
"Message for the Chief! Message for the Chief! Message for..."
"Chief here!" Rhodan cut in impatiently. "What's the matter?"
The man's face hardly changed expression. "You have a radio connection with Venus, sir. Marshal Mercant is there at the present time."
"I know that. Connect me with him!"
It was not 10 seconds before Mercant with his thinning crown of hair became visible on the screen. The Chief of Solar Intelligence had remained young because he had received the same life-prolonging biological treatment as Rhodan and Bell.
"Glad I got through to you," he said with satisfaction. "I was going to wait till the Burma got there but then I thought maybe it'd be better for you to know what's going on."
"The Burma ?"
As though it were possible for Rhodan to have forgotten, Mercant went on as though to refresh his memory: "The Burma is stationed close to the overlap front between our universe and that of the Druufs and it's operating as a relay station for our agents. One of my men informs me that he has a report for you personally. The Burma will be landing in Terrania in a few minutes. That's what I wanted to tell you. Other than that, how's it going, sir?"
"Thank you," replied Rhodan. He did not seem inclined to answer the question. "We'll be seeing each other in a few days. Till then, try to keep the saurians off your back."
Mercant understood and cut off. The screen darkened.
Bell had come away from the window. "What do you think that means, Perry? The Burma —is she connected somehow with our plans regarding Arkon?"
"Perhaps, Bell. I don't know. She's carrying a special message or report for me. From whom? From Arkon? If so, why does it have to be delivered to me personally? I'm sorry but I can't answer your question. We'll just have to wait."
"Mercant said the Burma is going to land in a couple of minutes. He ought to know, even if he's on Venus just now,"
Rhodan was ready to leave. "Fresh air will do us some good. Are you coming along with me to the spaceport?"
• • •
For three weeks after the trade fair in Larg nothing happened other than the fact that Toffner had been able to find proofs of assertions made by Markh the animal dealer. It was true that the Regent's transport ships left Zalit almost daily now, taking loads of volunteers to Arkon.
However, by the end of the 4th week—it happened!
Two super battleships measuring over 4500 feet in diameter landed at the Tagnor spaceport along with a larger number of giant transport vessels. Out of both giant ships flowed an army of fighter robots, metallic monsters 10 feet tall, and these soon formed themselves in platoons and companies. The gun turrets in the weapons ring around the equatorial region of both warships were turnable. Powered by Arkon energy-cumulators, they rotated slowly and menacingly in all directions. But then, just as the metal army had marched into position, it suddenly seemed to freeze into complete immobility. Somebody had deactivated the robots.
This 'somebody' soon made himself known.
Unmistakable in his arrogance, as well as by his magnificent uniform that was overladen with rank insignia and orders of merit, an Arkonide official set foot on Zalit and demanded to be taken at once to the palace of the Zarlt.
Even Toffner did not know what happened there or what was discussed but the events of the following days spoke for themselves.
The Zarlt issued a proclamation to the populace in which all young men were summoned to report to the examining commission of Arkonide Admiral Calus. Registrations would begin first thing in the morning. Anyone refusing this summons would be subject to the severest penalties.
The proclamation was published in all daily newspapers and also regularly repeated
over television channels. Everybody was made aware of it and there would be no excuses. A schedule and time limit was established so that appearances before the commission were to take place according to considerations of profession and age.
Jeremy Toffner figured that he still had 10 days before he would become subject to penalty—10 long days on Zalit, yet so frighteningly short!
Now this evening as he hurried through the streets of Tagnor en route to his hideout, he frequently noticed groups of people in heated discussions. Their conversations switched to banalities as he passed but he was not deceived. He knew what people were talking about.
He sent out his alarming report and requested new instructions. As a precaution he turned on the automatic recorder. If any message were to come in during his absence, it would be tape-stored in coded form. Then at any time he could play it back and by this method he would not miss any transmission that came in unscheduled.
Then he left the room, locking it carefully behind him and causing a wall of natural-looking rock to slide into place before the door. Even the jaundiced eye of the most zealous police agent would never discover the small fissure that was left, as it, too, was jagged and uneven.
He moved as swiftly as he could through the dimly-lighted passages in order to reach the surface. If he were caught here he might have a few questions to answer but that was not the worst that could happen. Down here below were the animal cages, the locker rooms and the gladiators' living and training quarters. It was after all in the province of his profession to check around in these areas to see if everything was alright. Nevertheless he wanted as much as possible to avoid any contact with the authorities of Tagnor.
Unchallenged, he reached his apartment in the funnel-shaped building. No one stopped him, even though he had noticed more police patrols in the city than normal. It was no wonder, considering all the minor demonstrations he had seen before.
