by Perry Rhodan
"Transition in 10 seconds! Only defensive. No attack."
Rhodan nodded. The picture changed. Again the entire fleet appeared on the entire screen. The scene was being transmitted by a special communications ship. Then, finally, the picture on the screen changed from one second to the next, to reveal the countless, impersonal, coldly gleaming suns of Star Cluster M-13.
It was this same second of time that signified for Talamon the end of all hope for a profitable victory. Alarm bells and klaxons sounded throughout his ship. All units hovering in formation over the landing field, waiting for his command, now automatically activated their defense screens. His communications system went wild, shooting messages everywhere and reaching even the ships on the other side of the planet and on the edge of the system.
The first sighting was confirmed. A powerful battlefleet of the Arkonides had appeared—so powerful that in a matter of mere minutes it could reduce the Springer contingent to a chaotic mass of molten, plummeting derelicts. Talamon recognized this fact with astounding clarity and took lightning action. This admirable capability for fast reaction had saved his life many times in the past—and certainly would now.
"Hold fire!" he bellowed into the microphone of his communicator. "Remain passive. No attack. Wait it out! I'll deal with them!
Somebody shouted from the communications room. "We're being hailed! Somebody named Rhodan of—"
"Transfer it in here!" Talamon yelled back in grave surprise. "Hurry it up!"
It took a few seconds for the screen in front of him to come to life. A face appeared and the Mounder
looked into the cold, grey eyes of a being who was formed like an Arkonide but certainly could not have
been of that race.
" Keshtan Maunzer—jott?" asked the man, in faultless Intercosmo, "You are the commander of the Mounders? Answer me!"
"I am he," replied Talamon and smiled wryly. "You misunderstand my intentions—"
"If you mean I could misunderstand, you must be more specific," retorted Rhodan. "Do you know who I am?"
"Perry Rhodan of Terra," said the Mounder, not particularly enthused. "Your encounter with Topthor
has not escaped notice."
"That makes it the more astonishing that you should try to attack me. Who contacted you?"
"The Aras. They were in distress and so it was our duty to respond to their call."
"The first duty of all members of the Empire is to serve the Empire, Talamon. You should know that."
"The Aras serve the Empire, Rhodan. That is a known fact. When they request help, it's also in the name
of the Empire."
"What was the name of the Ara who called you?"
"The chief physician, Borat. He heads the spaceport sector and—"
"Borat, is it?" Talamon noticed that Rhodan turned to the side and spoke to someone. "You are Borat?
"Good! We will converse later..." And again, looking at Talamon, he continued: "What do you know
about the Aras and their methods, Talamon?"
The Mounder's expression was not overly responsive. Apparently he didn't know how to handle the question. He shrugged his massive shoulders. "What everybody knows. They heal the sick and develop the best kinds of medicine. They don't have any armaments and are considered to be peaceable inhabitants of the galaxy. That's why it was hard for me to understand why you—"
"You mean to say that's all you know? Pucky, is he speaking the truth?"
To his great astonishment, Talamon saw a small, curious, furry creature push Rhodan to one side and come into the field of vision. He looked into a pair of brown, good-natured eyes which regarded him searchingly. Then the creature nodded and disappeared again.
Rhodan's face returned. "You are fortunate, Talamon. You do in fact know nothing about the actual activity of the Aras. That excuses you. But I will explain it to you so that you may be able to instruct the races of the Empire as to what is happening on Aralon."
The next 10 minutes were for Talamon the most surprising of his life. He listened silently to what Rhodan was reporting. The latent humor and good nature in his face disappeared, to be replaced by grim anger.
When Rhodan finished, Talamon was silent for some time. Then he asked: "Why don't you destroy Aralon?"
Rhodan's brief smile was not exactly pleasant. "Did I destroy your fleet when you attacked me? No, because destruction and death are not always the best answers to a problem. The galaxy will learn how the race of the Aras came by their wealth. From today forward, their secret is no more. If they wish to continue to exist, they will have to make an about-face and apply their knowledge for the general benefit of all. If, however, an epidemic or sickness of some kind occurs somewhere in the Empire, and if it is found out that the source of the pestilence is Aralon, then by all means—this planet will cease to exist."
Talamon nodded slowly. "The Aras are offshoots of the Springers. Trading is in their blood, as it is with us Mounders. I'll admit we live by fighting but we don't live by meanness. You can count on me any time, Perry Rhodan wherever justice is too weak to defend itself."
Rhodan's face lighted with a new warmth. "Thank you, Talamon. I won't forget it. And now, gather your fleet together, and I hope that in the future you will think about what you promised me. You know, even the Springers aren't always on the side of what's right. I'm afraid "they're soon going to be faced with certain problems that may be a strain on their conscience."
"You have my word, Rhodan. I am wealthy enough to turn down a few propositions that come to my command post, in case I don't particularly like them. May I give you my hypercom frequency, on which I may be reached at any time?"
"I'll be glad to take you up on your offer, in case it's ever necessary to use it."
"And one more question," added Talamon. And in his eyes was a curious coyness that was not compatible with his mountain of flesh. "How is it that the Arkonides have become so active again? An official battlefleet of the Empire hasn't been seen for thousands of years."
"The times are beginning to change," smiled Rhodan knowingly. "The Empire stands at the threshold of a new epoch in its development. Become a part of this development, Talamon, and you will have ample opportunity to use your martial capabilities—but for the proper cause!"
Talamon nodded. "Count on me, Rhodan. And if you ever feel that your home planet of Terra is in danger, call on me. Luck be with you, Rhodan."
He switched off without waiting for an answer. There was a pensive gleam in his eyes.
Then with a ponderous movement he pushed the lever of the telecom into transmitting position. "Fleet standby for transition!" he said. His voice trembled with a mixture of relief and new decision. Coordinates as before..." And after a few seconds, he added: "Mission accomplished."
10 seconds later, Talamon's fleet disappeared from the skies...
7/ THE MIRACLE IN THORA'S EYES
Rhodan stared another half minute at the empty videoscreen before he turned to look at Pucky. "Well, shorty, what was on his mind?"
The mouse-beaver grinned. His incisor tooth slipped forward another little notch and gave his face a cunning appearance. The fur at the nape of his neck was smooth once more. "He is very much impressed, At first it was just his all-out amazement at the robot fleet. He had never counted on that. In his eyes, the Arkonides are asleep at the switch and aren't capable of fast reaction. But then when he learned the truth about the Aras, his attitude changed amazingly fast. I saw that this change was honorable and convincing. We have found in Talamon a true friend. He was also impressed by the fact that we did not use our superior strength to chastise him. He did not lose a single ship. Rhodan, he admires you!"
"Thank you, Pucky," replied Rhodan, who really seemed to be touched by this. But only of a moment and then his gaze hardened again. Coldly he turned to the Ara who stood trembling between Tiff and Sengu. Apparently he had not yet recovered from the remarkable manner of his lightning-swift transportation. "You heard what I said to
the Mounder, Borat. That was no idle warning. Aralon will have to reduce its production by half. In the future, no viruses or implanting of epidemics and pestilence will be exported, only medicines. You will take care of any races that have been afflicted by you and it will be free of charge. For the purpose of monitoring and controlling you, I am leaving 200 fighter robots behind on Aralon. They will be so programmed that they will immediately annihilate the first offender.
Do not believe that a robot with a positronic brain can be tricked. Even should you find the means to harm a robot, this would be of no avail. They would then combine their energies in order to transmit a hyper-communication to the robot brain on Arkon. The result would be a punitive expedition, which—after evacuating the sick patients on Aralon—would mean the destruction of the planet. Have I expressed myself clearly enough?"
Chief physician Borat nodded frantically. His eyes were filled with raw terror and he appeared willing now to do everything that was asked of him. Nevertheless, he said: "I am not able to decide alone. The Council of Physicians must give their consent and..."
"Do you know of anybody who would consent to the destruction of Aralon?"
"No! Naturally not, but—!"
"No 'buts', Borat. There is no other alternative! No compromises will be allowed. You know, your first mistake was not being satisfied with what you had accomplished. Your second mistake was to attack me. It's a good thing that you are able to leave this ship under your own power and return to your office. I shall expect a decision from the Council within 3 hours. That's enough time. Goodbye—and stay in good health, Borat. Tiff, take him to the lock."
With a cold smile, he watched the Ara's departure until he had disappeared. Then he turned to Pucky. "And now to you, my friend. You have refused to carry out an order. Do you have any excuse for your behavior?"
The mouse-beaver seemed to shrink a few inches in size. He actually seemed to curl up inside himself. His imploring gaze went to Thora, who looked at Rhodan with embarrassment. A slight blush colored her cheeks. "It was my fault, Perry. I asked him to kill Themos."
Rhodan looked past her. "You have a human life on your conscience, Thora."
"He was a traitor, Perry! He deserved death!"
"Can men decide this? Borat also deserved death, if that's the way we're going to judge things—and thousands along with him. But you see that he can be of more use to us alive. Even Themos in the future would have been able to compensate for his crimes."
"Are we the ones who killed him?" Thora defended herself. "He jumped into the shaft, the very one that he had hoped would be a death trap for you! He alone brought on his own death. If Pucky did not help him, it may have been negligence, but it was not murder."
"So it's mitigating circumstances is it?" asked Rhodan sarcastically. He shook his head. "Please, Thora, in the future, try not to alter my decisions like that. On the other hand, I can understand your anger and score, so let's not talk about that." He bent down to Pucky. "Let it be a lesson to you, little friend. Now of course Thora has the patience to scratch your hide for you in leisure hours and to scrounge a couple of carrots for you once in awhile in the ship's kitchen—but that does not mean by any stretch of the imagination that my orders may be ignored. Do you understand me?"
Pucky's faithful eyes looked up even more faithfully. His incisor tooth dared to make its first thrust in the form of a grin. He nodded his head vigorously. "Understood, Chief!" He was listening in the direction of the door. Now his incisor tooth took no further heed of the scolding just administered. He grinned, filled with expectation, as he waddled straight across the Control Central and made the door slide open.
Somewhat dazed by the unexpected ceremony, Bell stumbled over the threshold and looked down at Pucky, who was his bosom friend. Bell's red stubble of hair lay peacefully on his rounded pate. The broad face beamed with joy and satisfaction. In his blue eyes was a glimmer of suppressed sorrow, which was a sharp contrast to his outward contentment. It was as though he found himself in a severe spiritual schism at the moment. "Hello!" he said and waved generally at everyone. "So here I am again. Anything happen while I was gone?"
Pucky snorted disdainfully. "While we were out saving the whole Milky Way, you were lying in bed asleep with a silly grin on your face. One thing we can be thankful to the Aras for is that for awhile we didn't have to look at you all the time. And it would have to be me that took care of fetching the medicine that woke you up again. But I'll make another trip and get hold of some of the original virus, I think."
Then something totally unexpected occurred. Bell appeared to be terribly frightened. He squatted down and looked deeply into the mouse-beaver's faithful eyes, in which there was a spark of devilment. "But Puckykins, my best friend and battle companion! You wouldn't do that to me, would you? I'm all slept out now, believe me. I'm rested and ready for action. And I also have time, according to Uncle Dr. Haggard. Two weeks of convalescence. Just think—two weeks! That'd leave me enough time to even be nice to you and—"
"You mean, back-rubbing and scratching sessions?!" asked Pucky in surprise. And he began to beam with pleasure. "You mean you're going to be a real good guy and scratch me and rub my fur? Then its settled! Two hours of scratching every day—"
Bell made a face as if someone had just given him 3 death sentences simultaneously. But one glance into the beaming face of the mouse-beaver warmed his heart and almost caused it to melt. Resignedly, he nodded. "It's settled, Pucky."
He rose up slowly and staggered over to the nearest chair. With a loud groan he sank into it and closed his eyes. For him the world around him ceased to exist.
The fur stood up on the nape of Pucky's neck. He set his arms akimbo and shook his head disconcertedly. "What he said was real nice—but what he's thinking now—it's so characterless and mean that it can't even be repeated. Well, the main thing is what he will do. And he will keep his promise!" He straightened up to his full height and waddled over to Thora, who placed her hand on his head and smiled at him. "He just has this terrible fear of me, that's all."
From Bell's chair emerged a heart-rending groan. Then it seemed as if this impudently challenged victim had fallen asleep—which was perhaps the most merciful solution.
Rhodan grinned and motioned Lt. Bristal over to him. "We are waiting for a communication from Borat and then we will take off. See to it that the robot fleet return to Arkon and remains there on standby until further notice. We've made ourselves deadly enemies of the Aras and I don't know yet how all this is going to work out. Perhaps the Regent may have an answer for it. At any rate, we are the first who have given resistance to two powerful races—against the Springers and now against these Medical Masters of Aralon, who wanted to make a business of healing healthy people."
Khrest and Thora exchanged glances. As Lt. Bristal went out of the Control Central, the Arkonide said: "Rhodan, your behavior and restraint in this affair are going to bear results. That's as clear to me as the spring waters of Terra. People are going to start searching their minds and consciences and they're going to start asking themselves questions: Who is Perry Rhodan of Terra? You are a new factor in the calculations and evaluations of all members of the Arkonide race. People are going to have to learn how to take you into account. Inasmuch as you are acting in the name of the Regent, in the future people are also going to have to take the Arkonides into account. Therefore, Perry, I have you to thank. You are in the act of performing a great deed, whereby the old reputation for action and decision will be given back to my people—a reputation that they lost many thousands of years ago..."
Thora nodded her agreement. "If we continue to work together in the common cause, and for the time being recognize the robot brain as Regent, the Empire of Arkon will flower to a new prime of life. I, too, have you to thank, Perry—for everything..."
But Perry Rhodan was not a man to forget his origin any more than he could lose sight of how he had come thus far, as a result of that strange destiny that he had met
on Earth's moon when he landed there in a fragile liquid fuel rocket and discovered the shipwrecked Arkonides. What would he have been today without these Arkonides? Where would the Earth be? Would it have known at all that, in addition to Earthmen, there were intelligent beings in the universe? In fact, without this strange stroke of fate, would not humankind have long since destroyed itself in an atomic war?
He shook his head and reached out his hands to Khrest and Thora. "No, my friends, you do not have me to thank. What I am today, and what I am able to accomplish, is due entirely to your own merits. You are the ones who will save the Empire because what would I be without the help you first gave me? An Earthly space pioneer who, maybe by now, barring an atomic war, might have landed on Mars or Venus."
"No, Thora and Khrest, we—together—are what counts. Without me, you would have died on the Moon, but without you I would be a member of a primitive race that would just be taking its initial steps toward the stars—and maybe botching the job, at that. But together we're a team that counts—friends banded together with a common purpose, dedicated to the preservation and strengthening of the Arkonide Empire."
He met the gaze of she who was the epitome of Arkonide womanhood and sensed an exciting quickening of his pulse. For in. Thora's eyes there was not only admiration and friendship, emotions which multitudes felt for Perry, but—love! Genuine love: pure, open, unabashed. In this moment an inner peace came to the Peacelord as he realized that all of his secret hopes had not been in vain.
Lt. Bristal entered and wrenched Rhodan from his reverie. "A communication from Borat, sir! The Aralon Council of Physicians has accepted the terms of your ultimatum. We disembarked 200 robots. The Titan and Ganymede are ready for liftoff. —Your orders, sir?"
Rhodan looked at him as one awakening from a beautiful dream. "My orders? Oh—transition to Arkon, what else. Tiff will take over the command—I have other things to do."
Bristal disappeared. Seconds later, Tiff came in and sat in the pilot seat. His orders snapped out smoothly and authoritatively. Countdown began. In two minutes, both ships would hurtle into the heavens and leave behind 10,000 disquieted and reflective forms of life who had their homes on all the worlds of the Empire. Intelligences who had become accustomed to thinking of Arkon as a world drowned in the waters of Lethe, slumbering in a dream of ages. Now they had seen with their own eyes how a dynamic figure from the planet Earth had rescued a world from a false sense of security which had only served as an open inducement to all the enemies of the Arkonides to develop plans of conquest against them.
