Friend to Mankind

by Perry Rhodan

  "Yes," Golath confirmed. "It must seem like a perilous flight to the prisoner but we will do nothing to prevent his escape. We won't even be aboard the Kaszill when it happens." Liszog blinked his eyes in confusion. His face showed already the first sign of doubt that he was correct when he had restored Golath's leadership. But Golath continued.

  "We are going to hide out near the ship of the stranger. When he comes he will be in a great hurry since he must expect to be followed. He will be anxious to get as quickly as possible into his ship and leave this planet. He won't take much time to look around before switching off the protective screen. As soon as the screen has collapsed we'll jump out. He will be so surprised that it will be easy to overpower him. Once we are inside the ship all our other problems will be solved."

  "It won't work," Zerft said glumly. "What if he lifts the screen only for a short moment?"

  "All we have to do is hide close enough to the ship," Golath retorted. "Remember it will be dark and the eyes of Arkonides are not able to see in the night any more than ours are."

  "The plan is simple and it makes sense," Liszog agreed. Golath looked elated. "But it will be absolutely necessary that you restrain your squabbling for the duration?" Liszog remonstrated. "If you insist on antagonizing each other you'll ruin everything."

  "It won't be my fault," Golath said in a conciliatory tone. He extended his trunk toward Zerft and curled the tip in the traditional gesture of friendship.

  "That's alright with me," Zerft murmured reluctantly but without moving his trunk. Golath's face grew pale. It was a severe insult.

  "Why don't you give Golath your trunk?" Liszog cried accusingly.

  Zerft looked at him grimly. His eyes were still full of hate and he clenched his fists, repressing his anger. Golath lowered his trunk and refrained from saying another word.

  Liszog went to the trunk-cleaner and pulled the Arkonide up from the bench. The prisoner was so old and weak that he almost tumbled to the floor when Liszog let go of him.

  "What a grandiose plan!" Zerft snorted. "How do you expect this ancient relic to break out of here and run to his ship? I think he'll drop dead first from feebleness."

  "Don't underestimate him," Liszog warned. "He's neither young nor strong but he's no coward. He showed no fear when we confronted him. He deserves our respect because he is a brave man."

  "He's an Arkonide!" Zerft replied ominously.

  Liszog led the prisoner to a chair and the old man sat down, exhausted. Zerft eyed him with hostility.

  Golath felt his confidence growing again. Thanks to Liszog's intervention he was back in command and Zerft was laid low. Golath was smart enough to know that Zerft was his worst enemy, not the Arkonide. However, for the time being they were pulling at the same rope together and the obstreperous Unither had no choice but to knuckle under to the demands of his companions. Golath could not have cared less about the fate of the Arkonide and he had no scruples to leave him behind on the planet as long as he did not offer resistance.

  A feeling of prickly heat in his trunk brought Golath back to the present. He turned on the trunk-cleaner and stretched himself out on the bench in pleasure. The spring-loaded buckles embraced his body with gentle pressure and the soft pad floated down to hold his forehead in place. Then the rinsing spiral slid smoothly into his trunk and he relaxed with a deep breath.

  He looked at Liszog, who was in a pensive mood. Zerft fidgeted impatiently with his tattered clothes. "Keep an eye on him," Golath warned. Then he closed his eyes and swooned under the soothing massage of the rinsing arm.

  • • •

  It was a harrowing sensation for Khrest to hover continuously on the threshold of death. He knew that he was still alive merely due to the dissension that had arisen between the Unithers. He had already twice stared into the muzzles of the rayguns which threatened him with an inglorious death. At those moments Khrest thought of the promise he had given Perry Rhodan. He was resigned to the probability of being killed but the loss of the spacejet troubled him deeply.

  Now that the worst danger was over, Khrest hoped to get another chance to safeguard the spaceship. The return of the aliens to their ship was proof that they had not yet cracked the protective shield. However they would persevere in their efforts. They had to gain possession of the spacejet if they wanted to leave the planet.

  Khrest was only too well aware to what length intelligent beings could go in a desperate situation. His opponents were determined to try anything. They were strong, young and had powerful arms to boot, whereas he was alone.

  The despondent Arkonide tried to figure out what an old tired man caught in a predicament such as his could do. His body was almost completely stiff from lying immobilized for so long. He was glad when Liszog led him to a chair. His blood circulation slowly returned to its normal course and his headache subsided.

  What he had assumed to be a trap was no more than an apparatus for cleansing the trunks of his enemies. He watched incredulously when one of the Unithers reclined on the contraption and when he realized the purpose it brought an amused smile to his lips.

  The three shipwrecked people took turns submitting to the treatment of the machine. Khrest watched them quietly. To think of escape was useless now. He would have to prepare his future moves very carefully. He was determined not to repeat his hasty mistake a second time. The Arkonide stroked his hair, which had begun to dry out again.

  Night descended on the world which Perry Rhodan had called Khrest's Planet and the light in the room grew dim. Khrest felt the strain and was tired. For the first time he regretted that he was so old. What good was his mental prowess if his foes were physically superior? This time the eternal struggle between intelligence and brute force seemed to be decided in favor of the latter.

  The tallest of his captors, the one who had saved Khrest's life twice, turned to the Arkonide. "Me Golath," he announced in halting Interkosmo.

  Khrest responded politely. "My name is Khrest." He speculated apprehensively whether the shipwrecked aliens had come from a distant colony of the Arkonide empire.

  "We from Unith," Golath explained, pointing to himself and his companions. Then he poked his trunk at Khrest. "You Arkonide?" he growled.

  He is not very fond of my race, Khrest thought. Not that I can blame him.

  Golath studied Khrest thoughtfully. Khrest wondered what went on in that round crude skull. He found it difficult to discern the emotions of the alien being.

  "Give me the ship that can fly to the stars," Golath demanded without further ado.

  Khrest hoped they would not search him. It worried him that they might happen to recognize the purpose of the transmitter on his wrist. "I need it myself," he replied firmly. "You can't have it."

  Golath jammed the barrel of his thermo-beamer against Khrest's chest. The red eyes of the Arkonide looked at him calmly. Not a muscle in his lined face moved.

  "Now you will give me your ship!" Golath grunted in anticipation.

  Khrest's answer was short and clear. "No!"

  The Unither put his weapon back in his holster and rolled up his trunk. His big eyes gave no sign whether he was angry or not. He slapped Khrest on the shoulder and declared: "You are prisoner now."

  Khrest gave no answer. Obviously these desperate men had no intention of letting him go free. They would probably keep trying to persuade him with rougher methods but Khrest preferred not to think about it too much.

  Golath motioned the others with his trunk. Khrest followed them with his eyes as they left the room and locked the hatch behind them. Now he was alone again.

  The impulse-beamer! was his first thought. They failed to see it.

  Khrest quickly jumped up. The weapon had slipped under the trunk-cleaner. He retrieved it and hid it under his tunic. Then he returned to his chair.

  The room had a second exit which was also locked. The exit led to the nose of the ship where, as Khrest recalled, the hull was cracked open wide enough to allow a man to get out. Apparent
ly the Unithers had seen the damage and had barred both exits for that reason.

  Now it was completely dark. The quiet around him seemed to be deceiving. Khrest had retained a good mental picture of his surroundings and was confident that he could walk in any direction without bumping into an object again. In particular he would be sure to avoid the trunk-cleaner.

  He tensely listened to the quiet but could hear nothing except his own breath. Then he got up again and walked to the second exit. Once he stepped on some glass and the crunching noise made him wince. He paused and waited a moment. He reflected that they must have expected him to investigate his surroundings since they had neglected to tie him up.

  He cautiously continued on his way, taking his time to reach his goal. He touched the cold metal of the door and moved his hands over the smooth surface. He found the handle and took a deep breath. The handle moved under pressure and Khrest leaned against the hatch which-to his surprise—gave way under his weight.

  Everything was silent in the ship and he hesitated no longer. This was his chance. He opened the door just wide enough to pass through. Then he groped his way along the wall of the corridor which led to the nose of the ship.

  Khrest could not help smiling a little in astonishment about his easy escape. Was it possible that his foes considered him so infirm that they felt it superfluous to guard him? However he had no time to ponder the reasons for their negligence. He had to get out as quickly as possible. Once he reached the spacejet he would be safe from his enemies.

  He soon found the crack in the hull as some light penetrated the gap from outside. He drew his impulse-beamer and climbed out but there was nobody to challenge him. The Unithers seemed to be sleeping somewhere in the ship.

  "Your tough luck," Khrest murmured jubilantly and ran as fast he could in the direction of the spacejet.

  • • •

  Zerft parted the branches over the hole in the ground and impatiently looked out at the slope. It was much too dark to see anything, however. "He can't be here yet," Golath said. "He's old and slow. He probably waited some time after we left him."

  They crouched together in the hole which they had dug a few hours earlier. It was close enough to the little spaceship to enable them to attack the Arkonide the moment he lifted the protective screen. "I've got a sinking feeling that something will go wrong," Zerft grumbled in disgust.

  "Don't talk so loud!" Golath shushed him. "Do you want him to hear us?" Zerft sat down again. "Why can't I have a gun?" he asked peevishly. "I gave you my promise I won't oppose you on this job."

  Golath gazed at the huge shadow of his partner, twiddling the weapon in his hands, undecided. "Give it to him," Liszog urged him. "It will be safer for us." Golath yielded reluctantly. Zerft used his trunk to take the raygun. His unpleasant laugh made Golath cringe.

  "You may shoot only after the shield is gone," Golath reminded him sharply. "If you kill him too soon, all will be in vain."

  "Don't worry," Zerft replied. "It doesn't make that much difference to me if the Arkonide dies a few moments later."

  The cold voice made Liszog shudder. For Golath it was another proof of his ruthlessness. The soil was damp and cool and he felt chilly. His mind began to wander and he returned in thought to his life on Unith. Before he had become a thief he had pursued a respectable occupation. But then that woman with the lithe and well-shaped trunk had come into his life and everything had gone downhill from that point on. He was tantalized by the wildest temptations and became involved in affairs of which he had always disapproved. He began to steal in order to increase his income and shower the alluring woman with presents. He didn't care where he got the money and fell in with a gang of thieves with whom he shared the loot. It all came to a bad end with Zerft and Liszog. They were given the worst punishment a Unither could receive: they were deprived of their civil rights and expelled from the community of their people. Subsequently they were deported in the Kaszill with the provision that they were permitted to return only if they could render an extraordinary service to their people which would restore their honor in their home planet.

  Golath's face became distorted in distress when he thought what a fool he had been and he considered it an undeserved stroke of good luck that fate had given him the opportunity to go back to Unith with a superb new spaceship. Too bad that an old Arkonide had to die so that he could save himself. There was nothing he could do about that. The misdeeds committed by the Arkonides justified the death of the old man.

  Liszog stirred restlessly and disturbed Golath's reflections.

  "What's the matter?" Golath whispered. He tried to pierce the darkness with his eyes and listened for a sound in the surroundings in vain. It was as silent as a grave. Presumably they would hear the Arkonide before they could see him. This would suit him perfectly because the fugitive was not likely to detect them.

  "He's taking his time," Zerft said cantankerously. "Maybe he's dismantling the Kaszill while we're marking time here."

  "That wouldn't be a great loss," Golath said disdain-fully.

  "What if he can't find his way out of the Kaszill or doesn't believe he could gain his freedom?" Liszog expressed his pessimistic view.

  "He won't sit around twiddling his thumbs," Golath replied with great conviction, making a sweeping gesture which loosened some soil and made it fall on their feet. "I expect him to find the open exit sooner or later and he will realize that there is nothing to keep him from escaping through the broken front end of the ship."

  As he spoke it began to rain. At first there were only a few drops but soon it rained harder. Zerft huddled with his clothes tightly wrapped around his body.

  "It's getting cold," Liszog complained. "I hope we won't have to spend all night here in this rain."

  Golath found the rain pleasant. The water ran over his burning face. Before long the rain formed rivulets of water on the surface which spilled into their hole. The three Unithers were forced to stand all night shoulder to shoulder in their hiding place. As they waited the rain collected more and more water at the bottom of the excavation. Eventually their bodies were soaked through and through. They stopped talking to each other. Once Liszog dozed off and began snoring loudly and Golath had to wake him up with a little jab to his ribs. They strained their ears and kept waiting all night for the Arkonide. Their trunks became stiff from the cold. At times Golath himself threatened to be overcome by fatigue.

  Alas, the Arkonide never arrived. Golath's plan had spurred great hope in them but now it had failed. When the new day dawned Zerft climbed out of the hole. The soil was so muddy that he slid back several times. "Come on out!" he shouted, quaking with fury. "Look at your beautiful trap from up here, Golath!"

  Golath was too dejected to answer Zerft. They had failed to outsmart the old man.

  Zerft brandished his thermo-beamer, swinging it around like a club. He looked vicious and screamed vituperatively: "There is only one way to deal with an Arkonide. This is it!" He pointed to his gun. Then he took off in the rain and his dark brown figure soon vanished in the distance as Golath followed him with his eyes over the rim of the ditch.

  "What's he up to now?" Liszog inquired.

  "He's out to kill the old man," Golath replied tiredly. "He hates all Arkonides and what they stand for."

  Golath dug his hands into the slippery rim and pulled himself up while Liszog gave him a boost. He was wet and muddy.

  "Help me to get out," Liszog asked, stretching out his arms.

  Golath shook his trunk. "No," he refused. "One of us must stay here. It's still possible that the Arkonide will come back. You better not fall asleep."

  "I'm freezing," Liszog protested meekly.

  "It's better to suffer a little cold than get stuck on this planet forever," Golath retorted. "Don't forget that!"

  Liszog looked miserable. However he tried to make a show of bravado under the stern gaze of Golath. "Where are you going, Golath?" he asked.

  "To the Kaszill," Golath explained qu
ickly. "I'll try to remove the generators. We may have to use them to get through the screen into the spaceship."

  "Don't be long!" Liszog urged but Golath was already gone.

  Liszog uttered a faint sigh. He was plagued by rain, mud and cold. He scanned the ground in the light of the dawn, feeling lonely and deserted. The youth curled up his trunk. Suddenly he was struck by the thought that he might die in their efforts to return to Unith. The thought wormed into his mind and he was unable to shut it out.

  Who cared if he rotted on this planet? Nobody would even know about his death except Golath and Zerft and they were not activated by friendly feelings toward him. He was alone, standing in a dirty quagmire, freezing and hungry, thousands of light-years away from home.

  And if he wanted to attain his wish of seeing his home again, he would have to kill a man—an old man. Who gave him the right to do that? Despite his qualms Liszog knew that he would shoot the prisoner if necessary.

  They had to capture the ship one way or another.

  • • •

  Khrest was under the impression that he made good time on his way to his ship. Actually he made very slow headway. He frequently paused to gasp for air. His old legs didn't have the strength to carry him without rest.

  When he fell to the ground it was not because he had tripped over an obstacle, it was because his knees had weakened to the point of buckling. He took a hard fall and remained prone for some time, breathing heavily and pressing his face against the cool earth. His exhausted body was so limp that it took all his willpower to get up again. It was his greatest fear that he would die of exhaustion before he could achieve the safety of the spacejet.

  He limped along, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his ankle and wondering whether his escape had already been noticed. Perhaps they were by now in hot pursuit. Or would they furtively follow his trail till he had reached the spacecraft and pounce on him the moment he lifted the protective barrier?