by Perry Rhodan
"Okay, let's go," said McClears and nodded to a young captain to whom he had delegated the command of the Gazelle. "Come on, Tiff. The plot thickens. And just remember: we are the advance guard of the Springers. The main force is on its way!"
The two Topides watched the two men calmly as they emerged fearlessly from the hatch and sprang down to the surface. Behind them, the exit closed hermetically. And seconds later the high-energy defense screen was activated again. Admittedly, the Topides could hold the space vehicle captive and hinder its takeoff but it was now impossible for them to destroy the ship or to force an entry into it. The 8-man crew was fully secured from the clutches of the reptile race.
When the Topides requested them to surrender their weapons, McClears did not give his up so easily. They had to be taken from him by force and he didn't miss a chance to strike one of the flat, crocodile skulls powerfully with his fist, which caused him more pain than it did the reptile. And for that reason, it didn't have much of an effect.
The action was adequate and the reaction was what was to be expected. However, whereas Deringhouse had been considered as a possible ally, McClears and Tiff were immediately declared to be prisoners. But McClears didn't allow himself to be intimidated by that. While he and the young lieutenant were shoved into the narrow confines of the ground vehicle and were bumped along over a bad road near the coast, he spouted dire threats against the Topides and promised bloody revenge. His comportment, in view of the not-so-rosy situation, was a bit impractical and so finally the dull-seeming reptile creatures ceased to pay any attention to his ravings. McClears finally gave it up and hoped that he'd soon meet with a more intelligent example of this unpleasant race.
It was a wish that was soon fulfilled but not in a way to bring him any personal advantage.
The road ended on the coast under some high trees and camouflaged by the thick canopy of foliage there was a low-rambling building constructed of gleaming metal. Topides appeared to know of no other building material. The two prisoners were brought into a room, locked in and left to their own resources for the time being.
A brief investigation by McClears convinced him that there would not be any way out of the room without some outside help. Therefore he squatted down on the floor in a corner and began to meditate on the situation.
On the other hand, Tifflor thought of his micro body-transmitter. The coin-sized 'thing'—it could be called nothing else since no human scientist actually understood its true nature—had been planted in his right renal membrane.
Any telepath whose level of para-sensitivity was 'resonant' to Tifflor's body-transmitter was capable of tracking the 'telepathic bearing transmitter', Julian Tifflor, over a distance of two light-years and thus they were able to determine his location. Through this means, it was naturally possible to also pick up Tifflor's thought impulses, if the distance were not too great. So Tiff could be relatively certain that anything he thought of with sufficient intensity would reach the telepath, John Marshall. In addition, he was also equipped with a micro-transmitter in his larynx.
The only thing Tiff could not do was receive...
• • •
Al-Khor was fairly agitated as he entered the cell in which the two prisoners were being held. A deadly hate gleamed in his bulging round eyes. Only a last spark of circumspection prevented him from executing the two alleged Springers on the spot.
"Repeat once more what you said to my subordinate officers," he challenged McClears harshly and stationed himself in the doorway so that the two guards accompanying him would be free to fire their weapons. "I promise you that you will not be punished if you speak the truth but I must know what happened."
The major shrugged his shoulders. "Don't take your second officers too seriously. They must have misunderstood. What do you mean, anyway?"
"You know very well what I mean, Springer. Moreover, you should know that you are not the only prisoners that we've taken. We've captured a heavy cruiser and we have in our power a certain Maj. Deringhouse."
According to the plan, McClears put on an act of being horrified by this announcement and even became pale, which Tiff observed in secret admiration. He sprang to his feet and came a few steps toward the Topides. The guards raised their weapons threateningly. Al-Khor remained fearlessly where he was and did not move one inch.
"If your testimony is valid, your lives will be spared!"
McClears cast a quick glance at Tiff, who nodded affirmation. He could rely on the fact that Marshall was receiving the tracer impulses. "What are your questions?" he challenged Al-Khor.
"What is the meaning of your threat that others would follow to wreak revenge. Also, you told my people something about an impending invasion by your clan."
McClears gnashed his teeth dramatically. A small drop of blood appeared on his lower lip. "In my anger... Well, what's the use of holding anything back? I don't see any reason to remain silent about something that you're going to find out about anyway. The Springers suspected the existence of a stronghold in this system that belongs to their deadliest enemy. You aren't familiar with them, so their name isn't relevant to this discussion. Anyway, the Mounders were alerted. You probably know that the Mounders are the special police force of the Springers. The combined forces of the Mounders are going to attack and destroy the third and fourth planets of this system without any prior parlay or negotiation.
So I can only give you the good advice to get out of here as fast as you can."
"Hah!" snorted Al-Khor uncertainly. "This is a trick!"
McClears began to roar with laughter. He laughed until tears appeared in his eyes. Then, in a gesture of vast amusement, he clapped the Topide on both of his scaly shoulders.
"A trick? My dear friend, I swear to you by all my ancestors that I speak the truth! The Springers are preparing to depopulate this entire system without leaving a trace. Nothing can hinder them from their purpose—that I promise you!"
"Nothing?" roared Al-Khor in sudden rage. There was an insidious gleam in his eyes. "You mean nothing can hold up the Springers? I think that perhaps there is something. If they find out that we consider the fourth planet as our own property, no one would dare..."
"Why not?"
"Because..." Al-Khor hesitated. "Well, because the Galactic Traders have no reason to open hostilities against us. They don't have a good relationship with the Empire and we don't either. Why shouldn't we cooperate with one another?"
"For a very simple reason, my dear friend," McClears explained with apparent delight. "Because of course we have to assume that you are allied with our enemy, who has a military base in this system—in fact, has practically populated it."
Now it was Al-Khor's turn to laugh. "The water creatures—your deadly enemies? That's ridiculous! It's not only absurd but also even...
"Water creatures?" inquired McClears, cautiously. "I don't understand what you mean."
"On this planet there is a comparatively intelligent race that appears very infrequently on the land and also makes no claim to it. That's why we could set up our stations without hindrance. They only exist in the water and it's on the bottom of the ocean that they have to build their cities. But other than that there is nothing in this system that would represent a threat of any kind. If you don't refer to these water creatures then your Springers are the victims of a gross error."
"Our information is quite reliable," insisted McClears, while shaking his head in denial. "I have been instructed quite thoroughly and specifically concerning the plans of our patriarchs. In these briefings it has been asserted that the Topides have a weak military base on the fourth planet, the presence of which need not be taken into consideration. You can see that even negotiations will not help you any further. Our leaders consider you to be allies of our deadly enemies."
"In the name of the galactic gods!" cried the Topide. "Now once and for all, tell me who this mysterious deadly enemy is!"
McClears declined. "I'm not authorized to reveal it," he said.
>
"In that case we can force you to tell us!"
"You haven't got time," advised the major calmly. "Our fighting units can strike at any moment—and then it would be too late for you."
Al-Khor let out a hiss of rage. He signaled to his guards and tamed around and left the cell. With a dull thud, the door slid into its slot.
McClears looked at Tiff, who had quietly repeated the entire conversation and thus had transmitted it all to Marshall and Pucky. "Well?" he asked, triumphantly.
Tiff shrugged his shoulders. "Let's hope," he said sceptically, "that they will react to all this precisely as we would expect rational but militarily efficient beings to react."
McClears grinned. "That they will do—you can depend on it!"
Unfortunately there was no possibility of confirming this because only 10 minutes later they were picked up for transporting elsewhere. They were taken in a small vehicle directly to the coast, loaded on board a flat boat and brought to one of the steel, dome-shaped islands. This was the same cupola that they had seen before from the air. Deringhouse had probably also noticed its presence here. Using a ladder fastened to the wall, they climbed up the low superstructure, which was encircled by a railing. An elevator brought them finally into the depths of the structure. A Topide whom they hadn't seen before leading the way. He was heavily armed and of a fierce disposition.
McClears was not thinking of escape any more than Tiff. They were both dominated by a single thought: would their ruse not fail to work its effect?
The room was equipped with glass walls which faced the sea on all sides. Here one could enjoy an unobstructed view of a world that lay 5 to 6 fathoms under the surface of the water. Built-in air locks indicated that one could penetrate the open sea from here without letting water penetrate the below-sea level chamber. Or also the opposite: one could enter the cupola from the sea and this seemed to be the only reasonable purpose for the entire installation.
The Topide stopped in front of a door. He opened it and stepped back. "Here's your new prison," he hissed. "You remain here until everything is over with."
"What do you mean—over with?" McClears asked. But he didn't get an answer. Shrugging his shoulders, he entered the chamber, followed by Tiff, who quickly spoke into his laryngeal transmitter. The door glided shut and they were alone.
Alone—where?
Only the door seemed to be made of opaque material. Otherwise they seemed to be floating in emptiness—in the middle of the ocean, the nearby bottom of which dully reflected the light of day. But the truth dawned on them quickly: they had been placed in a cell that was under the dome structure or on its lower edge. This transparent cell floated in the ocean. Except for the side where the door was, they were surrounded on all sides by water.
McClears sat down in a corner on the transparent floor and to him it seemed as though he crouched on the water itself. Curiously he looked around. "Well now, that's very interesting," he remarked, sarcastically. "We're supposed to study
oceanography until they drown us!"
Tiff shuddered slightly. "You mean—they're going to kill us?"
"Don't be silly! I don't mean that literally but you did hear them say that intelligent fish or something of the sort are supposed to exist here. I guess we're supposed to look at them—but don't ask me why. On the other hand, it could be these fish are supposed to look us over and learn what Springers look like. It's a crazy situation."
"If I only knew whether or not Marshall has had a chance to pass on my information to Deringhouse. Deringhouse is, after all, no telepath but at least Pucky must know where we are."
The water was bright blue, mixed with a rosy glow from the light of Betelgeuse. At this place the ocean was not more than 10 fathoms deep. Now, after their eyes had accustomed themselves to the strange twilight of their surroundings, they could easily see the ocean bottom, which was perhaps another 4 fathoms underneath the transparent floor of their unusual prison cell.
Strange water plants swayed there in rhythm with an invisible current. Colorful fish shot through the scene in decorative swarms, as if pursued by an unseen enemy. In between hovered a few frail, transparent creatures, which moved with a slow dignity, reminiscent of Earthly jellyfish. Farther ahead the bottom dropped suddenly away and the water became dark blue and endless.
Then it was that Tiff emitted a cry of astonishment. Staring with widened eyes, he pointed into the deep blue of the sea.
McClears followed his startled gaze and for the first time human eyes beheld the rightful lords of the water planet...
4/ EIGHT LIVES AT STAKE
In the meantime other affairs came to a head. Deringhouse could hardly recognize Al-Khor as the latter ordered them brought before him.
"Why have you told me nothing about the imminent attack of your clan?" asked the Topide in sinister tones. His reptilian eyes gleamed ominously. "You should have considered it an obligation to do so."
"Obligation?" replied Deringhouse in amazement. "Is it perhaps then your obligation to keep me here against my will?"
"You are not being forced into the status of prisoners."
"But nevertheless, we are, aren't we? Will you perhaps deny that our ship..."
"That's the other matter I wanted to question you about." Al-Khor watched Deringhouse suspiciously. "What were you telling me—whom did you take it from? The Arkonides?"
Marshall swiftly read the thoughts of the Topide and knew why the question was being asked. Hopefully Deringhouse would catch on quickly enough. Otherwise he'd have to warn him.
"That's right. From the Arkonides," admitted the major cautiously, "but I naturally don't know whether the Arkonides captured it from somebody else before that. Why do you ask?"
Al-Khor nodded, apparently reassured. "That is probable, because the name that's painted in black letters on the hull is not in the Arkonide language. Anyway, let's drop that. We have placed the commander of the other ship under tight security. I'm seriously considering what I should do with you."
"Let us go," suggested Deringhouse. "What do you get out of keeping us here?"
"Hostages," retorted Al-Khor short and to the point. "You will be here with your people when the Springers come to destroy this world and perhaps—under my surveillance—you will place yourselves in contact with the attackers before then in order to warn them."
"That wouldn't be of much use," conjectured Deringhouse, truthfully enough. "They wouldn't listen to me."
"Then you will die along with us!"
"Fine!" The major forced a smile. "Then at least in that respect we would be
more or less allied with each other, wouldn't you say?"
Al-Khor did not answer. Without a word he left the prison cell that now served the Terranians as a temporary home.
Marshall frowned. "I don't like it," be announced, "and my mutants have been unhappy for some time now. Pucky has been raving to get into the action. I can hardly hold him back any more."
"He won't have to wait long," said Deringhouse consolingly and stared at the blank wall of the undecorated room. "What's with McClears?"
"He's sitting with Tiff in a glass prison cell under the ocean."
Deringhouse smiled. "Well, that way at least they're not being bored to death," he observed. "Okay—let's get with it. Give the mouse-beaver our position. Let him zero in and join us. Let's shake up these crocodiles with a real scare. They've certainly earned it."
Two minutes later, Pucky materialized with a happy grin and made the narrow cell more crowded. He brought two freshly loaded rayguns and several atomic hand grenades which, although not much larger than the average walnut, were capable of a devastating effect. He himself wore an impulse beamer in his belt, the weight of which was giving him quite a problem.
"So here we are!" he twittered. "Let's give them a show!"
"Hold on a moment!" warned Deringhouse. He turned to Marshall, who was in the process of signaling him while listening inwardly, telepathically. In the same second, Puc
ky's mouse-like physiognomy took on an almost devout expression. He seemed to have forgotten his spirit of enterprise.
Deringhouse waited patiently. He knew that both of the telepaths were receiving an important piece of news from Tiff.
• • •
McClears emitted a hoarse cry of amazement and alarm.
A squadron of underwater torpedoes raced toward the, glass cell in arrowhead formation, as if about to blast the entire domed structure into the air. The slender bodies were perhaps 5 feet long and glistened like silver in the reddish light coming down from the surface 10 fathoms above them. From the stem portions of the weird missiles streamed white jets of compressed water, which quickly
dissipated and faded away.
Only upon a second examination was McClears aware of his error.
These were no synthetically created torpedoes but living creatures, seal-like, with wide-open mouths, small eyes and low-lying oval-shaped ears. Now the speed of the small detachment diminished. Out of pouches in their skins emerged slender arms with finely jointed hands. The compressed water jets at their tails faded out. The animals—were they animals?—came to a stop.
They swam curiously around the glass cage and observed the two occupants with intelligent eyes. One of them came close and pressed its face against the transparent wall. McClears gazed directly into the questioning eyes.
And then he also sensed the vibrations.
Tiff finally reported to Marshall and Pucky.
"So that's what they look like—the little fishmen," mumbled McClears, mostly to himself. "They came at us like rockets—their locomotion isn't by regular swimming movements. Instead they have their own system. Probably some kind of recoil or reaction. They swallow water, compress it inside themselves and then jet it out behind them. Good heavens!—they're living underwater rockets!" He pressed his right hand flat against the separating glass wall. "They generate waves of vibration," he added, thoughtfully. "Maybe some kind of means of communication. If we could only understand..."
