by Perry Rhodan
"You can speak plainer than that, Mr. Grothe. "What risk are we taking if we use force, as you say?"
"Kulman could be killed by it, sir."
"Then we will not take the risk," ordered Rhodan quietly. "But we have other possibilities." He turned to the mutant. "Noir, I want you to try to penetrate that block. Don't use force because Kulman's life is too important to us-which is aside from the fact that no life is unimportant. Anyway, try to break that hypnotic spell of his."
André Noir nodded. He understood what he was supposed to do. As a hypnotic telepath, or 'hypno', he himself was capable of superimposing his will on another entity and giving hypnotic commands. He was equally capable of lifting the influence of commands so given.
Oblivious to the others in the room, he set to work. No one disturbed him. They stared at him as though transfixed.
After ten minutes, Noir finally relaxed and turned to Rhodan. His face was drawn and tired and in his eyes was not only a look of disappointment but also surprise. "Impossible, sir. I can't even break through the defense screen that has been placed around his mind. The hypno who did that is stronger than I am. Perhaps given time, and with patience, we may succeed."
"A stronger hypno than yourself?" Disbelief was in Rhodan's voice. "Is that possible?"
Noir nodded. "Why not, sir? We could of course be dealing here with the work of a synthetically created hypno, in other words, a robot. But in that case the question would still remain as to whom it serves. Certainly somebody must have given the order to transform Kulman's will."
Now Rhodan's suspicions had been confirmed but he wanted to know something else that seemed important. "One more question, Noir. If this is what's happened to Kulman and he's lost his memory, then if his present actions are the result of a newly created memory can a telepath see through him? In other words: if the new Kulman knows he is the spy, can he conceal that fact from Marshall?"
"No," replied Noir. "There's no way he can do it."
Rhodan was relieved. "Then he can't be the spy. That's all I wanted to know for now. But keep on trying, Noir. I have to find out who sent that three-alarm distress call, of which Kulman apparently knows nothing. Perhaps Kulman even sent it himself but the memory of it has been erased. However, if he sent the call there had to be some very serious reason for him to want to be picked up from Swoofon! We have to uncover that reason. Once we have it we'll have the key to the mystery, perhaps even a clue as to the identity of the spy we have on board the Drusus."
Noir looked at him askance. "If it isn't Kulman, the only one left is his dog."
Rhodan smiled faintly. "Muzzel? No, I consider that completely out of the question. Muzzel is always with Pucky and you can believe me, nothing gets past the mouse-beaver. But I'll warn Pucky since we have to consider all possibilities. Anyway, the dachshund can't be a synthetic dog because he generates organic-type thought impulses, which no robot is capable of. The one proof of anything being a robot is its lack of true thought impulses. And if Muzzel isn't a robot he also can't be the spy because he lacks the necessary intelligence."
"Hm-m-m," muttered Noir and looked again at Kulman. "Well, I'll keep on trying, sir, and I'll let you know if I have any success."
"Please do that, Noir." Rhodan nodded to the others and left the psychoanalytical department. Deep in thought he walked along the corridor and took the antigrav lift, which brought him several decks higher. Then he continued on the conveyor strip. He stepped off the glideway in front of a cabin door, where he paused a moment before suddenly jerking it open.
Pucky sat motionlessly upright in the center of the cabin with his eyes half-closed as though he was strenuously cogitating. Of course he saw Rhodan, who slowly closed the door behind him, but he took no notice whatsoever. Rhodan, who was himself slightly telepathic, strove in vain to penetrate the mouse-beaver's thoughts. The many-sided little devil had screened off his mind.
"What's going on?" asked Rhodan in some surprise. "Where's Muzzel?" When he did not receive an answer, he added: "I heard that you two have become close friends and I was told I'd find him here."
Pucky didn't answer. Almost imperceptibly the finger of his right 'hand' turned toward the ceiling. Otherwise he didn't move.
"Are you supposed to be meditating?" inquired Rhodan amusedly.
However the question got him an almost disdainful glance from the mouse-beaver, who did not seem inclined to be disturbed in his strange occupation.
"Now talk or else I'll really give you something to meditate about!"
Pucky opened one eye completely and looked reproachfully at Rhodan. "Don't distract me. I'm concentrating!"
"What on?"
"On that lousy possonkal who wants nothing else but to lead me around by the nose."
"I don't understand a word of that," confessed Rhodan. "Where is Muzzel, anyway? And why are you concentrating on him?"
"We're playing hide and seek, of course," explained Pucky gravely. "First it's his turn to hide, then mine. Meanwhile, the other one has to search. Naturally I thought it would be simple for me, since I'm a teleporter and can trace him down everywhere with telepathy. But horsefeathers! The little dickens always finds new hiding places... and better ones! If I couldn't sense the weak emanations from his canine cranium, I'd probably never find him."
"Can't you take a break for a moment? I have a few questions I'd like to ask you."
"Does it have to be now?" Pucky seemed indignant. "When we're just in the middle of a real keen..."
"Yes, right now! When you're alone. A question: can you communicate well with Muzzel? Does he talk at all?"
"No, he thinks," Pucky informed him, apparently reconciled to losing this round of the hide and seek game. "I read his thoughts."
"And how does he understand you?"
"I speak English. He must have learned it from Kulman. For a dog that's stretching it, I guess, although I've always maintained that an Earth dog..."
"So then he understands what you say? And then he answers mentally so that you 'hear' him? Very interesting. And what does your dachshund friend think about when he's alone? You know what I mean, don't you? Everybody thinks continuously, even though they may not be aware of it. Is it the same with Muzzel?"
"Yes-I suppose so." Pucky hesitated where particulars were concerned because he wasn't sure what the purpose of Rhodan's question was. "Actually he does keep on thinking, even if it's not much and kind of vague. Most of the time he thinks more feebly than when he wants to tell me something. But he thinks."
"Aha." Rhodan nodded thoughtfully, discovering that his idea was confirmed. In no way could Muzzel be a robot. "And what does he think?"
Pucky emitted a silly giggle. "Idiotic things for a dachshund, I'd say. Why doesn't he think about rabbits or mice, or about foxes, or just running away to the woods? Why not hot sausages or raw meat? No, he doesn't think of any of those things. Do you know what he thinks about?"
"Now how would I know that?" asked Rhodan impatiently.
Pucky nodded. "Come to think of it, you're right. How would you know? When he's alone he is always thinking about water. He swims in water and catches plankton. I haven't the slightest idea what that may be but..."
"Plankton is the name for the smallest life forms that swim in ocean water. They serve as food for crabs, molluscs, small fish and..."
"Ha!" cried Pucky and he began to laugh with a shrill squeaking sound. "Then at one time Muzzel must have hunted for crabs and he can't get it out of his mind!"
Rhodan nodded but said nothing. His brow furrowed in thought while his eyes narrowed almost to slits.
Pucky assumed that the interrogation was at an end. He closed his eyes, then suddenly jumped almost three feet into the air. "I've got him!" he squeaked gleefully. "I finally caught him. He slips up every time he gets lost in his daydreaming about water. He's hiding in F-deck right over our heads-in a storeroom. Just a sec, I'll go get him!"
Pucky disappeared instantly but rematerialized again almost a
t once. The dachshund whined and jumped out of his arms. He came over to Rhodan and sniffed at his legs, after which he wagged his tail in a friendly manner.
"He likes you," announced Pucky contentedly. "Dogs have a terrific sense of telling who's to be trusted and who isn't. He likes you, for sure."
"I'm happy for that," admitted Rhodan as he bent down toward the dog. "Well, little fellow? Do you like it here with us? Have you made friends with Pucky already?"
Muzzel looked at Pucky. There was silence for about three seconds, after which the mouse-beaver cried out suddenly. "There! Did you catch that? He also thinks you're pretty neat!"
Rhodan shook his head. "I caught nothing. Are you trying to tell me he sent a telepathic message? Then under these favorable conditions I should have picked it up."
On Pucky's face was a look of wonderment. "But he telepathed quite clearly! Maybe I'm the only one who can catch his signals? I'm on his wavelength-that's it!"
"Nonsense! There must be another explanation. Let's try it again."
But even the second and third try produced no change in the situation. Of course Rhodan sensed that the dachshund was thinking but he couldn't understand him. Nevertheless he was convinced that they were not dealing with a robot, especially after Pucky also related to him what they had both had to eat.
No, the thought was absurd that Muzzel could even be a spy, much less a robot. Robots did not chew meat and carrots or drink water.
He waved a hand to Pucky and went out again into the corridor. It was time to prepare for the next transition. Since they still had to assume that the spy might immediately transmit the ship's position after his return to the normal continuum, the hypertransit again had to be made in the direction of the Milky Way's center and a minimum of 200 light-years at that.
Extensive preparations were made. Now as before, communications men took up positions in strategic places throughout the ship equipped with portable signal tracers. They were all in direct contact with the Control Central in order to give the results of their traces straight through. These calls would be coordinated. Thus within seconds the exact location of the spy transmitter could be determined, should it go into operation again.
Capt. Farrington kept his 15-man unit in readiness near the Command Central so that they could jump into action immediately when the tracer reports were in. Also, the Drusus was placed in battle ready status. So each man waited at his post and was not permitted to leave it without special permission.
Rhodan arrived in the Command Central and gave the nod to Sikermann, who had once more taken over Bell's position. The two men sat beside each other before the massive flight-control console and waited. The programmed hypertransition was close at hand. Just a few more seconds...
And then Sikermann threw in the red-capped switch. Outside the stars went out and with them the universe seemed to disappear, only to reappear immediately with altered constellations. The ship had been transplanted through 200 light-years of distance. The swarm of stars had become markedly thicker.
A breathless silence reigned in the Command Central.
Everything was the same as during the previous experiment. But this time Bell sat calmly in his seat, not showing the slightest sign of premature optimism. Which was well, because Rhodan's fears were realized.
8 minutes after the transition, the alarm sounded throughout the ship. The individual tracer reports came in and promptly within half a minute the Communications Chief announced the transmitter's location: it was below on the lowest deck, near the vertical axis of the Drusus.
The following action was practically routine and everything happened in the same sequence as during the first time in the Swaft System. When Farrington arrived with his men in A-deck, there was no trace of the spy to be found. Without waiting for orders from Rhodan, the vacuum cleaner detail went to work. The analytical laboratory became active immediately afterward and within 1/2 hour Maj. Hill had found the micro-transmitter.
The apparatus resembled the first one to a hair. It was a crude, single-frequency transmitter with a tiny, incredibly powerful fusion battery and the same simple clockwork that could be set once.
So they had found another transmitter but other than that they had not come a single step further.
Rhodan's face was stern and forbidding. "One possibility we haven't thought of before," he said, speaking suddenly into the silence of the room. Everybody looked at him. Bell leaned forward, watching him. "It's not a foregone conclusion that the spy must have come on board in the Swaft System. He could have been on the ship a long time already and only now gone into action. Now would be the most favorable time for him to perform his mission because he'd assume that we're going back to Earth with Kulman. And certainly Kulman's hypnotic block is somehow tied together with it all."
Bell shook his head. "But those tiny transmitters! The only place they could have been manufactured would have to be on Swoofon."
"Alright, so what! You know Swoofon has been around a little longer than a week or two. The Swoon have already been working for centuries for the Arkonides and the Springers."
Bell nodded and fell silent. The argument was unshakable.
Rhodan got up. "So lees have the third transition in two hours. Until then I still have one more thing to take care of. You will find me in my cabin."
He left the Control Central but instead of going to his own cabin he went to Pucky's.
• • •
A spaceship one-mile in diameter is a world in itself. If one doesn't know his way around in such a ship he can become hopelessly lost and may only be found again after days of searching-if ever.
For Pucky the tremendous hollow sphere of the Drusus represented an ideal playground because he could always find his way about in it. With his teleporting capability it was no problem to hurry from pole to pole or to circumnavigate its equatorial ring.
But for Muzzel it was difficult.
The dachshund was new on the ship and did not possess the slightest parapsychological characteristic. When it came his turn to go and hide, Pucky would let him out of his cabin and give him a fair head start. Sometimes he would also bring him to some spot and then return to his cabin.
But at least Muzzel never had to worry about getting lost in the depths of the ship or going hungry. Pucky would always find him and thus Muzzel always lost the game-which didn't seem to bother him in the least. One more reason for Pucky to take the dog to his heart.
Pucky opened the door and said: "This time I'll give you ten minutes, Muzzel! Go find a safe place. And don't think so much-otherwise I'll catch you right away."
The dachshund stirred his crooked little legs, lay back his sloppy ears and raced along the circular passageway like a streak of goosed lightning. Then without pausing he jumped into the dark opening of a lift shaft and allowed himself to be carried gently downward on the antigravity beams toward the center of the field of gravity, which was the reference point for 'up' or 'down'.
After sinking several hundred yards he jumped out of the lift onto C-deck. Again he turned on the speed in order to put as much distance between himself and Pucky as possible. Naturally, however, this didn't do him any good because the mouse-beaver could spot his prey equally as well at a distance of 100 yards or 6000 miles. But how could the possonkal suspect this?
He turned a comer and ran along a narrow passage which led off to someplace or another. It made little difference to him. Soon he would find one of the doors standing open and he would go inside. Then he would hide there very quietly and think of absolutely nothing. Pucky could search for him until he was blue in the face.
Muzzel noticed the pair of legs in front of him too late. He ploughed into them pell-mell and turned a couple of somersaults.
But the unexpected stroller was also surprised by the collision. He staggered back with an Arkonide curse of anger-Karchak!-then caught himself against the wall. He had almost lost his balance and fallen down. But he collected himself with amazing rapidity and reveale
d a remarkable presence of mind. By the time he took a second look, Muzzel was still flying through the air.
Actually, Muzzel fairly flew because of the force of the collision. The dachshund somersaulted twice in the air before his back crashed into a door panel and he slid down to the deck.
The lone stroller was Atlan. He bent down to look at the obviously injured animal but to his great astonishment the possonkal was already back on his four legs. Although there was a bloodied scratch across his silvery back, he seemed to give no evidence of any internal injuries. There was only a mild reproach in the gold-colored eyes.
Atlan shook his head wonderingly. Then a strange expression crept into his eyes-a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "I'm sorry, little fellow," he said, at the same time stroking the dog's wound. His fingers were reddened and he felt the living warmth of the blood that welled up in pearl-sized droplets from the fresh injury. He noted carefully that it coagulated on his finger and did not streak out through the dog's silky pelt. "Does it hurt very much, little one?"
Muzzel whined slightly as though he wished to answer. He timidly wagged his tail and sniffed Atlan's legs, which had been the cause of his heavy tumble. Then with a half-whine that was half an expressive little growl he let it be known that he wasn't mad any more at these two sources of his collision and that he was quite ready to forgive their owner.
Or at least this is what Atlan gathered. "What are you doing down here on C-deck?" the Arkonide asked while shaking his head suspiciously. "Are you playing hide and seek with Pucky again?"
Muzzel began to whine once more, this time apparently a whimper of pain. It was no wonder, since the impact of his fall must have been hard. In fact it was a wonder he hadn't broken his bones.
