*  *  *  *

   Ten years previously Brazo Alkher had been the youngest officer of the Fantasy, the 200-meter space sphere with the first linear propulsion system. Now, 10 years later, he still looked like a lanky young man. Also he had not lost his air of modesty and reserve. Outwardly he seemed the exact opposite of the hero or daredevil type. Even a close observer would never have taken this Captain for a coldly calculating and fearless man or one who could act with the precision of a machine when the occasion called for it. In the entire Solar Spacefleet there was no better fire control officer to be found. More than once Alkher had proven his qualities but then he would switch back to routine without taking the slightest advantage of his exemplary performances.
   He came in and sat down with Rhodan, Bell and Mercant. Rhodan offered him a cigarette and a light, which the youthful-looking officer accepted.
   "Alkher, I called you in here to find out if you would be willing to volunteer for a mission. And in this case I'm laying stress on the word volunteer."
   Brazo looked in sharp surprise at his chief. Before he could reply, Rhodan added a qualification.
   "It has to do with a suicide type of assignment—so think it over, my friend."
   As quick as a shot from a pistol the Captain answered, "Sir, for me there's nothing to think over. You had my commitment for the mission when I came in here."
   "Nevertheless I haven't accepted it yet, Alkher. You don't know where the action's supposed to take you. The commando detail is to consist of 10 men. Your 'horse' will be a converted Regent ship from the Arkonide robot fleet. It will be a cruiser type. The mission target area is in intergalactic space in the vicinity of the sun 'Outside.' The objective: to establish contact with the Posbis. That means—the attempt shall be made to let yourselves be captured by a fragment ship."
   When Rhodan made this last statement, Brazo Alkher turned pale. His breathing became heavier as he sat there immobilized. It required several moments for the young captain to find his voice again. "Sir..." But a gesture from Rhodan silenced him.
   The First Administrator spoke to him almost in a fatherly tone. "Brazo, you know nobody's going to accuse you of cowardice if you take back the commitment you were so willing to make before. You know that the Posbis are serious business. Robots possessing semi-life qualities can be more treacherous than the most dangerous individual. And you also know that the Posbis see in every human an enemy who must be destroyed. The smallest hitch in the operation can mean curtains for you, even though the Theodorich will be there in a holding position in intergalactic space. The Theodorich isn't capable of miracles."
   "So have a fresh cigarette and think over your decision. I'd be surprised if you told me right now that you're cancelling out—but by the time you think it over I expect you to say that."
   Alkher went to the window and looked down at the vast expanse of Base 4-II. Over to the left and standing somewhat apart from the other ships on its double circle of landing struts was the Theodorich—the most modern vessel in the Solar Space fleet, towering 1500 meters into the cold, airless sky of the moon.
   Brazo felt the eyes of the others on him but he was also aware of his own growing agitation. There was one sentence that kept ringing in his ears: the attempt shall be made to let yourselves be captured by a fragment ship. That meant: once captured, to disappear with the fragment ship into intercosmic space between the galaxies. That meant: the Theodorich would not be able to follow the course of the fragment ship because the Posbis could enter hyper space without creating any warp shocks. That meant: a one-way ticket-to go voluntarily into death!
   Suddenly Brazo turned to the three men. "Well?" he heard the Chief ask him.
   Brazo took a long, deep breath. When he started to speak he thought there was a lump in his throat. He cleared it audibly, took another deep breath and then said: "Sir, I volunteer—and please be assured I mean it's voluntary on my part."
   His expression was too earnest to give any hint that he was ironically repeating Rhodan's own phraseology. Rhodan went over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Brazo, just to say thanks would be inappropriate." Brazo felt the strong pressure of his hand on his shoulder. Then they both went back to the other two men.
   Rhodan checked his watch. "I can shove my next appointment over to tomorrow. That will give me another 45 minutes. So get everything off your chest, Brazo. Ask any questions—request whatever you think is necessary. Remember that 9 other men will go with you on this mission. You can be thinking who might be ready to volunteer. Take a look at the Regent ship that's been converted for this operation. If there's anything you don't like about it, get in touch with me and we'll discuss the matter."
   "In this case you'd better shove all modesty and reserve into the background. Just remember the old saying that human life is beyond price. You must make your preparations accordingly because you'll be in charge of this commando run. Other than myself you will be carrying the greatest responsibility for it. Do we understand each other, Brazo?"
   There was a gleam in Alkher's eyes when he looked at his chief and answered in military tones: "Sir, we understand each other perfectly."

  *  *  *  *

   The 10 volunteers underwent hypno-training. By means of Arkonide hypnotic processes they absorbed everything that specialists had reported concerning the Posbis. The Alta-663 stood ready for takeoff in the shadow of the Theodorich, flagship of the Solar Fleet.
   In the towering administration building of Terrania, Perry received the 10-man commando detail for the last time. Two mutants were among them: Wuriu Sengu the trans-matter seer and Tama Yokida the psycho-kineticist. Alkher had figured he could get by without a telepath or a hypno-suggester. Using hypnotic techniques on the nerve plasma of the Posbis hadn't shown any results so far. The scientists had tried to explain this failure on the basis of the probable fact that the nerve tissue was synthetic. They also pointed out that the emotion-releasing plasma was missing four elementary components which were the actual basis for the formation of nerve cells. Just why the plasma material was still some kind of nerve tissue in spite of this shortcoming they couldn't explain.
   Rhodan brought these various incomprehensible items to the attention of the commandos once more. Then he brought up a subject which hadn't even been touched upon in the hypno-schooling session: Are you the true life form?
   "Our positronic computers couldn't give us any information on that Posbi signal. For the big brain on Venus that sentence is as mysterious as is it for us. That there is a key or a code hidden in that question is something that's fairly certain by now. Today Mechanica is nothing but a fading atomic cloud. But that's no more important to us than if the planet still existed. The only important thing is the fact that after the Laurins showed up over Mechanica the fragment ships also put in an appearance.
   "Judging from that it's easy to conclude that there was some connection between Mechanica and the Posbis. The destructive attack on the planet by the Laurin ships was answered by the fragment ships. This fact indicates that Mechanica was under Posbi observation. But God only knows whether they were monitoring radios or energy emanations or what. Positronically controlled robots only have one way of reacting. Even the Posbis are robots with positronic brains, in spite of their nerve plasma. In their data registers is the knowledge that Mechanica is either existent or non-existent. And that's a fact we have to hang our action on.
   "It will be your task to go out into intercosmic space to the Outside sector, from which point you will send out symbolic radio impulses. We have a series of tapes available on which we've recorded the call signals of the harvest ship. With the help of the positronicon on Venus and the simultaneous translator we have worked out the call signals which will make the Alta-663 appear to be a returning seed ship. It will hail Mechanica and announce that it is heavily damaged in its machinery sector. However, the nature of the machine damage will not be specified. Keep that point in mind. Don't endanger yourselves by attempting to pass out technical data that the Posbis could recognize as being in error. But if you should be questioned I can't advise you what to answer. The only thing that remains is for me to wish you luck!" And with that he terminated his talk.
   Brazo Alkher stood up and answered for his companions. "Sir, we won't be there alone! We'll know the Theodorich will be waiting somewhere nearby. We all thank you for the trust you're placing in us. We'll try to do our best. May we say goodbye to you, sir?"
   The thunder of titanic engines penetrated the soundproofing of the Administration building. A battle formation of heavy cruisers backed by five super battleships was taking off for the revolt-ridden Arkon Imperium. Except for emergency reserve units the great port of Terrania was empty—that is with the exception also of the Theodorich and the Alta-663 whose engines were warming up.
   Perry Rhodan shook hands with each of the ten men—and all ten of them felt how difficult it was for Rhodan to see them go. Without further words they left the office. For some time after the door had closed behind them, Rhodan continued to stare at it.

  *  *  *  *

   Arkon 3 lay behind them. A modern Terran destroyer group was escorting them until they were ready to make their first transition. When that time approached, the escort sent its parting signal over the telecom.
   The transition countdown had started. Half an hour prior to this, Brazo Alkher had already switched from manual to robotic control. The ship's positronicon contained all galactic data necessary to guide it across intercosmic space to the Outside System. The great gulf between star cluster M-13 and the star called Outside was 51,000 light years across.
   The metallic voice of the positronicon crackled over the speaker. "X minus 30!" Half a minute to go for the first transition, of which there would be many.
   Alkher looked around him in the Control Center. Three other men were present. The remaining seven had gone to their quarters. Certainly this group couldn't complain about overcrowding on board the Alta-663.
   His thoughts returned to Arkon 3 where they had made a 2-day stop-over. A large special team of Terran scientists had come storming on board and had peremptorily chased Brazo and his men out of the Control Central. During a non-stop work cycle they had thoroughly retested all the new equipment that had been installed on the moon. The scientists, technicians and engineers knew what they were doing but they did not know the converted Regent ship's assignment. Their curious questions went unanswered. The commando group remained silent.
   Then one of the experts on individual cell radiations discovered the little Swoon-built mental-absorbers. At first glance he recognized their function and he brought one of the tiny devices to Alkher. "Now come on, Captain, and tell me what this is all about. Three multi-mental-absorbers with an unheard of capacity! These little things are definitely the work of the cucumber people on Mars, right?"
   "If you known Mr. Lawrence, why do you ask?" Brazo had answered. And with that he had gone into his cabin and closed the door.
   The supplementary inspection had lasted two long Arkon days and nights. Although many pieces of the new equipment were subjected to overloads up to 100% above normal operating ranges there were no breakdowns. The acceptance inspectors were visibly proud of the precision work of their colleagues on the moon and they finally gave the Alta-663 a clearance.
   "X minus two," said the positronicon.
   The first transition followed, just as Alkhers heard Van Moder complain: "This damn transition pain! It hits you right in the neck..!"
   The Alta-663 was back in the normal space-time continuum as if it had never left it. But in a fraction of a second the stars on the viewscreen had changed their positions. The newly formed constellations were an optical proof that the jump had succeeded.
   The light cruiser raced toward the rim of the Milky Way at 0.8 light speed. The men had 15 minutes before the next transition. Most of them were no longer accustomed to the old-style impulse-engine transitions. Linear propulsion flights did not produce the shock of dematerialization and materialization where the pulling pains could even cause unconsciousness.
   At 24 years of age, Van Moders was the youngest member of the team. He was stockily built and had a pugilist's face, or at least one thought of this when looking at his flattened nose. Any suggestions that he might correct this blemish with a small plastic surgery operation had always been rejected with humorous sarcasm. "Why should I put on a regular nose like everybody else's?" he would usually ask. "At least mine relieves the monotony, and whoever doesn't like it doesn't have to look at it."
   After the first transition, he sat up in his seat and unfastened his safety straps. Then he went to Alkher. "How many of these jumps do we still have to make, Captain?"
   "18 more, Van."
   "Why 18? Why not just l0? Can't this old crate take it anymore?" Van Moders had only flown on linear-drive ships previously. For him and his age-group peers, spaceships with impulse propulsion were way outdated.
   "Sure it could do it but I'm not forgetting our time plan. I don't want to go into the area of the Outside sun without backup. The Theodorich will rendezvous with us at a certain time."
   Van Moders, professional designation was "robot specialist." It was seldom that anyone obtained that title at only 24 years of age. At the age of 16 years and 4 months he had registered for the course in robot science at Springfield College, and within 3½ years he received his diploma. At that time he was not yet 20 when other young men of his age group were still wondering what careers they should choose. Van Moders did not have to concern himself with the problem. He had already pocketed an offer from the Administration, inviting him into the service of the Science Section of the Solar Fleet.
   He had served two years so far and now he was part of the operation, "Outside." He had volunteered along with the others, little expecting that his application would he accepted, until a few days previously he had been hauled out of another project and ordered to see the Chief.
   "Too bad," he commented to Alkher. "I was in the middle of some important work when they gave me this assignment. I was really getting close to whether the hypertronic linkage was medially or radially tangential. A fascinating question that I would have liked to answer for myself. What's the matter, sir?"
   "Were you just speaking Terranian, Moders?" Brazo was not joking.
   The other broke out laughing but then apologized in some embarrassment. "I wasn't trying to be impressive, Captain. But robot technology has developed much faster than the language. We often discover something so new that there is no expression for it. As an example, a positronic 4826-Gamma compares to U-109 in the ratio of 1.008 Sigma-Kappa squared over 4 tronics... In that one sentence you have five concepts expressed in numbers and symbols. Why? Because there still aren't any words for them. When you're deep in the middle of it all you lose the impression that it's a foreign language. But what I was just telling you that astonished you so much could also be interesting to you. It happens to deal with the Posbis."
   Alkher glanced at the panel chronometer. They still had 5 minutes before the next jump. He nodded but after Moders had spoken a few sentences he stopped him. "It won't work, Moders. Again I didn't understand a word. I don't think we'll get very far that way."
   "But it's important for you to known Captain!" Van Moders insisted. "And all the other men, too!"
   "Didn't you just say that you left this whole question unanswered at your work bench when you were called away?"
   "That's right—but can you imagine how important just one question can be, Captain? Just let me have time to think it over. There must be a way of explaining a complex robotic problem in everyday language. I think..."
   "Hold it for later. In two minutes we go into transition. Don't forget to strap yourself in." With that, he activated his own automatic safety straps.
   The hyperjump came and the next one and the one after that but Van Moders failed to couch his ideas in ordinary language. He gave up and turned to other tasks. The Alta-663 picked up the first hypercom signals from the relay stations which were located along the rim of the Milky Way although still surrounded by stars. The Regent ship answered their challenges automatically but Wuriu Sengu kept watch at the hypercom board nevertheless. Meanwhile other men performed their duties in the engine and power rooms.
   After 18 hours the Alta-663 rematerialized from its 6th transition. The telekinetic mutant Tama Yokida took over the watch in the Control Central. With him was Osborne who had been teaching at the Hercules War College on the icebound planet, Pluto. The small spherical spaceship continued toward the edge of the galaxy at a steady velocity of 75% light speed. The other 8 members of the commando team had gone to their cabins to sleep.
   8 hours later, almost to the minute, the hypercom of the Alta-663 picked up a trace signal from the superbattleship Theodorich. It was the agreed signal which told them that the flagship had left Terrania and was starting its linear-flight entry into semispace.
   The hypercom had relayed the tracing signal into the ship's positronic computer. The latter went to work and made corrections for a tiny error of 10 milliseconds of arc and on that basis it calculated a complete new schedule, at the same time figuring coordinates for the hyperjumps yet to be made. 4 minutes and 8 seconds after reception of the Theodorich's signal, the computer automatically advised the flagship that the synchronization of the two ships' movements had been reestablished.
   On the panel of the positronic console a green light flashed briefly. It was the signal that told Brazo Alkher that the first part of their daring operation would soon begin.

  *  *  *  *

   10 men in the Control Central groaned in unison as they emerged from transition. They looked up at the great panob screen which was the main "window" of the Alta-663. When they searched for the familiar cold glitter of near and distant suns they saw instead a giant section of stellar concentration which was that part of the galaxy they were about to leave. In an opposite direction yawned the great maw of intercosmic space, the shoreless gulf between the island universes.
   This was a black hole without stars—without suns, planets, satellites or comets. This was the Abyss...
   The speed indicator of the Alta-663 showed a velocity of 87% light speed. The impulse engines set up a louder howl. The ship was preparing itself for the next hyperjump while 10 men waited for the signal beam of the Theodorich. 10 pairs of eyes were fixed upon the big chronometer.
   When the digital numbers clicked to hours 13:95, ship decimal time, a brief sharp blip-sound came from the hyper speaker: the pulse-burst message from the Theodorich! The positronicon flashed green. It had processed the message with lightning swiftness and was now giving a clear signal. A second green lamp blinked on, which indicated that the established calculations must not be changed.
   Below in the ship the transformers began to howl and an all-pervading thunder of the main power banks was heard as they were suddenly loaded with current demand. The hull of the Alta-663 began to vibrate like a bell. All the ship's heavy equipment—generators, converters, power banks and transformers-were being called upon to furnish the required energy for the final jump.
   Again the countdown was running.
   The hyper-transition followed and 10 men grimaced in pain.
   The panoramic screens revealed that they had left the galaxy behind them. It was like a tilted halo, a great glistening spiral hovering motionlessly in the lightless abyss... It was only with an effort that Rhodan's volunteers were able to turn their eyes from the scene.
   Wuriu Sengu took one quick look at his control panel and announced: "The Theodorich is out there!"
   The fully automatic program of the positronics had caused the hypercom to beam out a pulse-burst tracer—a millisecond compression of signal data. On Wuriu's oscilloscope he could see the natural amplitudes of the wave pattern that had gone into the hypercom blip.
   Sensing that Brazo Alkher was watching him he lifted his head. The two men exchanged silent glances. There was something reassuring in the knowledge that the Theodorich had gone into a holding position some 200 light years away. More encouraging than this, however, was the fact that the Chief was personally on board the super battleship.
   But suddenly Alkher was also aware of the uncanny stillness in the Control Central. Not a word was spoken by anyone. The only sound was the clicking of relays.
   He swung about in his pilot seat to the tracking board. "Alright, let's have the range now to the Outside System! Check over the constants! Warm up the Posbi equipment! Get to your stations and confirm!"
   With that the normal routine was reestablished. The Control Central sprang to life. Brazo heard the confirmations and data coming back to him but he merely registered them automatically. He was facing the first great decision—one that could possibly lead to their deaths. No one had been able to tell him whether or not the Posbis were capable of detecting warp shocks. Their own fragment ships, weirdly cubical and measuring 2000 meters in diameter, could reenter the normal continuum without causing any structural warps in the ether at all.
   "No," he said suddenly. "We'll approach Outside just under light speed—at 0.91... Alec, how long would that take us?"
   Sigurd Alec had formerly been 1st officer on board a merchant spaceship. He turned the question over to the ship's computer. He had hardly fed in the data before the answer was there: "47.64 hours, standard time."
   "Thank you. Then we'll fly to Outside at 0.91 light speed, gentlemen. Sengu, get off a scrambled pulse message to the Chief. What's wrong?"
   The mutant did not look up. He was staring in amazement at the newly installed super-powerful hypercom. "That just isn't possible! I've never experienced anything like this. The hypercom has stopped working!"
   After 10 minutes there was no further doubt about it. Van Moders had removed the outer console cover and gone to work on it with a number of testing instruments. Now he was saying for the third time: "Damn—if that isn't a sorry mess!"
   Osborne reminded them that they had emergency sets on board which had a range of 5000 light years.
   "So?" It was the first time Alkher had used a harsh tone. Then he remembered that Osborne was not an active member of the Solar Fleet. He was merely the head teacher at the war college on Pluto. So he added in a milder tone: "Osborne, we haven't any way of knowing how far we'll be from the Theodorich. That's why the main hypercom has to be working... Moders, can you at least tell me what's defective in that thing?"
   "Can do—but I won't be able to repair the damage, Alkher. The final stage frequency transformer in the 3rd hyper circuit has failed. That knocks out the whole system. It can't be fixed. The only way would be to replace it."
   "Then do it! " Brazo ordered.
   Van Moders straightened up from his crouched position and looked at Alkher, shaking his head. "I call it a transformer but it isn't one in the regular sense, with winding, core, insulation and so forth..."
   "All the same, replace it!" Alkher interrupted impatiently.
   "Could be, but—" There was a helpless note of mockery in Moders' voice." Normally, frequency transformers just don't fail. So we're not going to find any spares in the inventory."
   But Brazo Alkher knew better than anyone else what costly preparations had been made for this operation. Nor had he forgotten Perry Rhodan's declaration that human life was priceless. He activated the stores section of the positronicon and asked where a frequency transformer could be found in the electronics spares."
   "C3, shelf 17, two spares," came the answer. The three coded symbols were unmistakable on the punched strip that had immediately popped out of the device.
   Within half an hour the hypercom of the Alta-663 was working again. Wuriu Sengu sent out a scrambled pulse message to the Theodorich. With telegraphic brevity, Rhodan was advised that the Alta-663 would approach the Outside System at 0.91 light speed and that it would reach the target area within approximately 47 hours.
   A few minutes later the answer came from the flagship: "Proceed on your own cognizance. Radio silence. Follow instructions exactly. Luck! Signed: Rhodan."
   "We can't have enough of that," commented Alkher, but it took no prophet to say it...

  *  *  *  *

   The star known as Outside was a dark-red, dimly shining eye in the void between the galaxies, a dying sun with two lifeless planets. Its third satellite, the second in sequence, was now only a dimming gas cloud whose nuclear emissions had lost much of their energy.
   The Alta-663 was operating under top alert conditions. All preparations had been made so that the crew could move within a few seconds into the halfdome shelters in the Control Central. The 3 powerful group mental-absorbers had been warmed up and only waited to be switched on. A half dozen times, Alkher and his commandos had mutually tested out everything. They all knew that none of them must break down, fail or make a mistake.
   The small space sphere was in free fall at a distance of 8 light minutes from the sun, Outside. Its dull-red glow on the panob screens brought a gloomy light into the Control Central. The innermost desert planet was fairly visible because of its relatively good surface reflection but optically the outer planet could not be seen.
   For an hour now the Alta-663's positronically-controlled transmitter had been sending out the symbol signals that had been composed and formatted by Earth's best crypto experts aided by the l0,000-year-old Arkonide positronicon on Venus. The specialists had not considered their task to be especially difficult because they had the original communications of the robotic seed and harvest vessels to go by.
   Brazo Alkher displayed an admirable calm. His decisions were made with a lightning swiftness, and while the others were still grappling with a problem he was already issuing concise and clear commands.
   They had all changed their uniforms and were now wearing their bulky and rather uninspiring flight suits which were actually outmoded SHK models. At the moment their transparent helmets were tipped back on their necks. Their heating and air regulating units had not yet been activated. Each man carried two small items of extra equipment on his back. One was the individual mental-absorber built by the Swoon on Mars. This prevented any emanation of brain wave impulses which might otherwise be detected. The other item was a small micro-transmitter device which was able to send out positronically-controlled impulses so that they could masquerade as robots.
   Once more Brazo Alkher checked out the secret switchover circuit of the robotic control. For this purpose he had to enter the righthand half-dome cupola. Here he sat at the panel and went through his checkout. The purpose of the special switchover feature was to enable Alkher to pilot the ship from this cupola even if the robotic controls were on.
   There had been a big squabble over this installation among the specialists of Terra. Some of them had claimed that the Posbis were entirely incapable of detecting the difference between a robot-controlled ship and one that was being manually piloted. Others of course had taken the opposite view and had stuck to their guns until Rhodan's word of decision had put an end to the unfruitful quarrel.
   Satisfied, Alkher set all the corresponding controls to zero and returned to the Control Central again. The hours drifted by while the Alta-663 continued to broadcast the call of the robot harvest ship. The non-existent world of Mechanica was being hailed, and the message was given out that the ship had suffered mechanical damages.
   Then after more than 4 hours the positronicon altered the signal. Although the range of symbols did not allow much room for expansion, the slight change added an acute note of emergency to the constant call. But to be able to recognize the impulses as such, one had to be thoroughly familiar with positronic logic. The only one qualified to do this among the 10 members of the crew was Van Moders.
   "If even that doesn't bring the Posbis," he said, "then I don't know of any other way to lure them out of their hiding place. What we're broadcasting now is the most urgent type of call that a positronic brain can generate."
   He was suddenly electrified by another thought. He turned to Alkher. "Do you still remember what I was telling you about hypertronic linkage?" When Alkher nodded, he went on. "Now I can explain it to you, Brazo. I'm sure you'll get it. I don't even have to go back to my lab bench for the answer now. Good Lord! The linkage is neither medial nor radial! Hold it, Alkher—I'll explain it to you."
   "Hypertronic linkage is the connection between positronic circuits and nerve plasma. Whether it means anything to the Posbis or not is beside the point but what matters to us is that these bio-robots learn something from us every time we make contact. The more often the contact is made, the more their learning increases. They come to know more about us and thus they become more dangerous. This learning capacity is what distinguishes them—and when I think of how rough they can get with the invisible Laurins that's proof enough to me that they do learn as they go."
   Captain Alkher had listened with increasing interest but he was still slightly sceptical. "Moders, you're not asking us to swallow that, are you? From what I've been told, robot technology is one of the most complex sciences around, and so you're going to solve a vital problem like that with just a flip of the wrist?"
   Van Moders looked pensively at Alkher. "You have a valid point, especially since you don't know me. Right now I can visualize the thousands of circuit leads of the hypertronic linkage. The important leads and the unimportant ones are in there right next to each other. No matter what line an expert is in, his job is to recognize the important things right away. Captain, do you understand what I'm getting at?" There was a note of fear in his voice.
   "Of course," answered Brazo. "But I have to instinctively reject such a horrible idea. You must be wrong, Moders! What you're proposing is unthinkable!"
   "I only wish I were wrong about it," said Moders.
   Not a man dared to move in the Control Central. No one wanted to miss a word.
   "Now I also know why I volunteered for this mission," Moders continued. "When I was examining one of the bio-robots I must have unconsciously grasped the significance of the hypertronic linkage. It means that if we don't master them soon enough, in time the Posbis will have us against the wall. Then they'll be like us, plus having positronic brains! And what that means I don't have to tell you."
   "Crazy!" said Sigurd Alec behind Moders' back but it wasn't with much conviction.
   "Maybe I'm crazy—like volunteering for this whole operation, for instance. But if I had to make up my mind again I'd still do the same thing. Now I've got to know if the Posbis can really become that dangerous to us. I want to study them in their own environment. I hope they show themselves soon."
   "And let's hope you're crazier than right!" said Tama Yokida who had remained silent so far.
   "Don't blame me," said Moders glumly. "Do you think this knowledge is something I'm happy about?"

  *  *  *  *

   "There they are!" cried Mike Tellurn as he reached instinctively for the energy gun at his belt.
   The Alta-663 was still sending out its hypercom call, hailing Mechanica and reporting machine damage as before. The only sounds to be heard in the small Control Central of the converted ship were the muffled rumbling of machinery, the normal ticking and buzzing of equipment, and the clicking of relays.
   The 10 crewmen had witnessed the emergence of a fragmented cubical object of the void—a cube measuring 2000 meters on a side, which came to a stop within 500 km of their position. The weak light from the sun, Outside, would have hardly been able to make the largest spaceship visible but in this case this monster glitteringly reflected the dim rays from its projections and bulges and weirdly distorted planes and angles and bizarre turrets and towers. The automatic magnification of the optical viewer brought the fragment ship in so close that it appeared to be hovering next to the Alta-663.
   Brazo Alkher had not allowed himself to be shaken by the sudden appearance of the Posbi vessel. As the best weapons officer in the Solar Fleet he had often sat behind the master gunner console and single-handedly fought off many a deadly attack. So under present circumstances he demonstrated cool decisiveness.
   He pressed a button on the auxiliary transmitter panel and instantly the pulse-burst message was received by the Theodorich. It informed Perry Rhodan that a fragment ship had appeared in the vicinity of the Alta-663.
   The small spherical spacer took no apparent notice of the cube ship. Alkher took this risk intentionally even though it was contrary to robot reaction and their supposedly fully automatic controls. The distress call to Mechanica continued as before.
   Mike Tillurn, a 30-year old man with Indian blood in his veins, finally recovered from his surprise as he looked suspiciously at the hyper sensor in front of him. Although the fragment ship had obviously emerged from hyper space its entrance into the normal time-space continuum had not created any warp shocks. It was a strange experience for Tillurn, even though he had been prepared by his hypno-training to expect this.
   Alkher's voice rang out. "Activate mental-absorbers!" As 10 tiny devices on their backs were activated, he added: "Sengu, take over!" The command was given to the mutant "seer" who sat in the copilot seat.
   Sengu confirmed the order while the captain disappeared into the righthand halfdome shelter. When he returned the situation had not changed. The cube-shaped spaceship still hovered in its original position at a distance of 500 km.
   "Status quo, Captain," Sengu reported, and he turned over the control of the Alta-663 to Alkher again.
   "The three group absorbers are on, Gentlemen."
   There was a tense silence in the Control Central but Brazo maintained his calm. He was watching the second hand of the clock on the control panel. The timer had started counting from the moment that the Posbi ship had appeared. At the moment it registered 117 seconds.
   "Impulse gun turret ready?"
   Tama Yokida did not raise his eyes from the small weapons console as he answered: "Ready for firing, Captain." But a strange feeling came over him when he thought of what he would be shooting at.
   Two and one half minutes...
   The automatic transmitter continued sending its symbol call toward Mechanica.
   Brazo chuckled. "The Posbis must be getting the impression that we're robots with an inflexible program pattern."
   Van Moders took this as an opportunity to repeat his incredible theory that the Posbis' emotion, producing nerve plasma enabled them to learn by experience. "Let's hope the bio-positronic monsters haven't had too much contact with the Mechanica robots. Otherwise it could be curtains for us."
   Osborne had never taken much interest in positronics and was still sceptical. "Moders, will you quit attributing more to those mechanical men than they actually are capable of? If the Posbis really have such a faculty, why haven't they made a farther thrust than they have, instead of wandering around out here in the starless void?"
   This brief conversation had served to relieve the tension in the others for the most part. As Alkher ordered everybody to be quiet they were all much calmer as they watched the end of the three minutes approach. They were sure now that nothing much could happen to them. The defense screens of the Alta-663 were strong enough to withstand the first onslaught—that is, if a concentrated bundle of heavy energy beams didn't strike the same spot on the energy envelope surrounding them.
   "Attention!" called Brazo. "This is the final countdown! Fasten your belts!"
   The second hand moved toward the 3rd minute mark.

  *  *  *  *

   The Kalup compensating converter, the heart of the linear spacedrive, hurled the Theodorich with increasing translight speed through the libration zone of semispace between the 4th and 5th dimensions. With linear driven entering or leaving the normal continuum was accomplished with no transition shock for the crew. In the Solar Fleet this unpleasant side effect was a thing of the past. Now the Terrans only used linear-drive ships whereas the Arkon Imperium had to get by with the old propulsion system. Economic and political difficulties had made it virtually impossible to convert the robot industry to the new spaceflight technology.
   The personnel of the Theodorich were in a state of alarm. The wildest rumours were flying. Men spoke of the invisible Laurina and also of the Posbis. But outside of a dozen men or so, no one knew the racing super-battleship's destination. The only thing the rest of them knew was that they were in the No Man's Land between the galaxies.
   As in the Alta-663, a countdown indicator on the great console in front of Jefe Claudrin had begun to tick off the seconds at the same time. It was now approaching the end of the 3 minutes.
   "Come in, Fire Control!" thundered the Epsalian's mighty voice over the intercom.
   "We are ready to fire, sir," came the answer.
   "OK... Prepare to fire at target object as soon as it appears in your sights! But be accurate and make it look good—just as if you had Brazo Alkher himself down there behind the weapons console!"
   "Sir, you can depend on us!"
   "Then show what you can do. That is all..."
   The countdown indicator was within 8 seconds of the 3-minute mark.
   Then the Kalup converter cut off and in that same moment the Theodorich dropped back into normal space. Its fantastic translight velocity changed abruptly and it now moved toward its goal at less than normal light speed. The morbid red eye of the Outside sun gleamed dully from the great panob screen in the Control Central.
   In just 2 seconds the 3 minute mark would be reached.
   Then the thunder of the Theodorich's guns were heard and the brilliant energy beams ripped through the blackness of the void. In the distance they struck their target and appeared to wreak havoc and destruction.

  *  *  *  *

   Brazo and his men did not see the oncoming flash of doom. It came too swiftly. No human eye was able to follow the course of events. Suddenly the darkness around the Alta-663 was torn asunder. Raybeams of deadly concentration brought the defense screens of the small space sphere to the point of collapse, sweeping past it by several kilometers and enveloping it in a wild, swirling confusion of glowing energy clouds.
   Then the Alta-663 was in an up roar. Hits were registered against the spherical hull. The robot alarms went off. The small vessel was thrown into a spinning motion. Somewhere some thing blew apart.
   "They're shooting us to pieces!" shouted Osborne, fully beside himself.
   Alkher realized immediately that Osborne's uncontrolled outcry would open the panic gates. As a new hit caused the ship to stagger he called out: "Quiet! Not one word!" He managed to yell above the infernal bedlam.
   The panob screen enabled the men to see the deadly holocaust they were in. The Theodorich had opened fire on the Alta-663.
   "Good Lord!" groaned Wuriu Sengu.
   The weapons officer on the Theodorich was almost overdoing it. In the Alta-663's power room 2, two of the converters blew up. The blast pressure shook the ship to its frame and the exploding energy forced its way through the outer hull, making a hole as big as a house.
   Brazo Alkher had been watching the instrument with cool detachment. When the warning lights told him the nature of the damage in power room 2, he depressed the button on the automatic transmitter. The Alta-663 sent out a distress call—but in robotic symbols!
   "Yokida-you're free to fire!" The telekineticist peered through his target optic and saw the Theodorich. Then he fired. The three impulse cannons, firing in unison, sought to resist the titanic attack. Yokida held his aim steady. His face was a frozen mask as he saw the beams spatter like water from the super-powerful screens of the flagship. The Theodorich's energy screens hardly registered the comparative pinprick, and Claudrin's instruments hardly responded to it.
   "Fire from sector green!" shouted Brazo. "The fragment ship is moving in!"
   The cubical Posbi ship had suddenly leapt into motion. It raced past the Alta-663 within just 100 km, shot toward the Theodorich and instantly opened fire with all its guns on Perry Rhodan's flagship. For a brief moment the Theodorich flared up like a tiny sun in the starless void. Its defense screens must have been loaded to maximum by the alien blast of energy but the beams glanced off. They swirled away in eddies only to be followed by other deadly beams.
   But the Theodorich was not just any ship. Its gun turrets had swung away from the Alta-663 and were aimed at the fragment ship. And now the giant ship revealed the full might of its weapons.
   "This is too real for me!" shouted Sigurd Alec. He tried to jump up but was held by his straps.
   The fragment ship also repelled the direct hits of the Theodorich while being enveloped in a pyrotechnic display of glancing energy beams. It seemed to be the end, however, for the most powerful and modern ship in the Solar Fleet. Even Brazo held his breath while he asked himself if the Chief wasn't going too far. But then he remembered that Perry Rhodan only staked everything on a single throw as a last resort.
   Suddenly the fragment ship's destructive beams were slicing at emptiness. The Theodorich had vanished into semispace between the dimensions. The super battleship had pretended to take flight. Suddenly the blackness of space swallowed it up, and in its place was the dull red eye of the star, Outside, with the mighty galactic spiral behind it. The manoeuvre had happened so fast that the Posbi ship's energy beams kept firing at nothing for several seconds.
   "Moders, is our special antenna still working? Please check it out."
   The robot expert was still entranced by the battle he had witnessed between two giant ships. He came to himself with a start and made his checkout. The special antenna was vital to them. Even at vast distances it would allow them to contact the Chief.
   Meanwhile the regular transmitter was still sending out its distress call with robotic persistence. In the course of their hypno-training, Alkher, Moders, Sengu and Yokida had received special instructions concerning positronic thought processes and behaviour patterns of the robots. But during this instruction it had been pointed out to them that practically nothing was known about how they might act in a contact with alien robots.
   This could work to their advantage as well as to their disadvantage, especially if the Posbis were well acquainted with the robots of Mechanica.
   "Special antenna in order, sir," announced Moders. "But if these instruments are right they're telling us the Alta-663 is a bucket of junk. A fifth of the ship has either been blasted or melted away by energy beams. This old crate isn't going to take us very far."
   It was a signal to Alkher to check out their "emergency exit" as soon as possible, which was the arc-gate transmitter. Wuriu had just taken over the controls with an assistant when a strange voice suddenly rang out. It was an electronic voice and it came from the simultaneous translator.
   "Are you the true life form?"
   10 men looked up at the loudspeaker. And all 10 of them held their breaths. Each man knew that the 2nd phase of their suicide mission had just begun.

  *  *  *  *

   For the 12th time the simultaneous translator had received the intercepted radio symbols, decoded them and converted them into words: "Are you the true life form?" The constantly repeated question, coming at fixed intervals, plainly revealed that the interrogator was a robot.
   However, Brazo knew that even with a robot he couldn't overplay the waiting game. He moved his hand slowly and finally turned a control lever. Their transmitter was now on the Posbi wavelength.
   He looked toward the microphone and said: "We are the true life form." It was immaterial whether he accented his voice or not. He could have even sung the message. The translator reduced it to symbols and relayed it to the transmitter which beamed out the format of impulses that was delivered to it.
   Alkher reached to his left and turned off the ship's big transmitter. The Alta-663's distress signal was silenced. Now only the transceiver tied to the interpreter was operating. What would happen next? The men looked at each other questioningly.
   "The true life reveals its form. Tell us yours so that we can help you."
   Captain Alkher had expected something like this. It emphasized his helplessness. How was he supposed to respond to this request? What was the Posbi concept of form? Or had the simultaneous translator perhaps falsely decoded a symbol?
   Through his suit, Alkher felt the pressure of a hand on his shoulder. When he turned his head he saw Van Moders standing beside him. The latter was holding up the index finger of his left hand. The captain stared at the robot expert uncertainly. Moders' lips formed the word: "one!" He made an all-inclusive gesture with his hand...
   "Tell us your form so that we can help you!" came the robot message again.
   Van Moders' urgent nod made Alkhers dare to answer but he did it with a sense of foreboding. "I am the ship—the ship is my form!" His voice sounded strange even to himself.
   "We will make a hyperpath. Make the necessary preparations."
   What in the world was a "hyperpath?" What was the robot trying to say?
   Tama Yokida left his position hurriedly and came over to Brazo. Switching off the microphone he blurted out: "Hyperpath, Brazo... Hyper is 'over'—and path is a 'passage'... It must mean they're making an overpass or a bridge to us but then I might be wrong..."
   Alkher sighed grimly. "All we need is a few more riddles like that to solve." But now he had to answer according to the translator's terminology. "You will find me open but the hyperpath will shatter if you are not the true life form."
   "We are the true form, One. Defend the true life which alone deserves defending!"
   Was there an emotional note here, even though the translator was incapable of expressing it? It seemed that the strange phraseology of the second sentence was an unmistakable expression of cordiality or sincerity.
"Defend the true life which alone deserves defending!" Brazo blindly repeated the phrase. He fervently hoped that the com station on the fragment ship would shut off.
   But the Posbi wasn't so inclined. "Preservation to you, One, and strength to your life, O great one, now in the protection of Mehek. Why do we not find you open? Are you too damaged to open yourself, One?"
   So now the Alta-663 had acquired a robot name from the Posbis. But Alkher had no time to think much about it. He was trying to open the main lock of the space sphere. The glaring red light on the control panel told the story. The Theodorich had been all too thorough in its work on the Alta-663. The main lock door could no longer be activated.
   With the microphone turned off again, Brazo looked around. "Retreat behind the dome shells! Moders and Yokida—plant your hot caps!"
   He was the only one still seated. He had to answer the fragment ship and inform the Posbis that the outer lock hatch couldn't be opened. Behind him, Moders and Yokida were planting the so-called hot caps next to fairly dispensable equipment and instruments. The capsules were small energy bombs with a restricted burning range but they gave off short bursts of temperature exceeding 10,000 degrees Centigrade.
   When he heard the first cap start hissing he spoke into the microphone. "This is One... I am no longer able to open myself."
   The answer returned immediately. "This we have observed. We will open you from outside."
   "Are you also the true life?" Brazo hoped that the translator would be able to symbolize the word "also."
   The response came with an incredible note of sincerity but which could only be translated in context. "One, know that with the true life comes also the protection of Mehek, and nothing is mightier than Mehek himself. But—" The simultaneous translator even simulated a pause. The experts of Terra had developed an unbelievable piece of equipment. "We are sensing strong energy radiations. We are coming, One. That is all."
   Brazo quickly shut off the microphone. He wouldn't have been able to stay where he was much longer. The Posbis had just detected the released heat energy of the hot caps. If the claims of the biopositronic being named Mehek were valid, then the other robots of his race would make a redoubled effort now to enter the Alta-663.
   The translator had also been designed for this special phase of the mission. As Alkher manipulated its controls he appeared to be turning it off. However, he actually switched it from the normal power circuit to a small device that was concealed in the complicated assembly and disguised as a blocking relay. Once the Posbis were on board and in the Control Central, the translator would be needed more than ever so that they could continue to communicate with the biopositronic robots by means of their micro-transceivers.
   A careful inspection of the Control Central revealed to him that a number of pieces of equipment had been destroyed already by the hot caps. None of them were vital to the safety of the mission. The deliberate destruction here would enable the commandos to watch the Posbis over remote video and find out how altruistic and beneficent they were with regard to damaged parts of the ship.
   Brazo was the last one to enter the righthand cupola shelter. The metal halfdome appeared to be designed to prevent powerful emissions from entering the Control Central. A number of detection instruments on its outer surface served to strengthen this impression.
   Alkher watched carefully to see that the entrance slot closed behind him. Their hiding place was now absolutely screened so that the Posbis would not pick up any human emanations. He turned to look at Wuriu Sengu, the transmatter seer. The latter's parapsychic faculties enabled him to see into and through any kind of matter.
   "They're already on board, Brazo," he announced. "I count 15... 16... no—18 robots altogether. They all look different from each other. Each one seems to be designed for a specific task. Most of them are hurrying to the part of the ship that suffered battle damage. Three are coming up in the antigrav lift. They should be entering the Control Central pretty soon now."
   Over the internal intercom system the 5 men concealed in the lefthand cupola had been able to hear him. Alkher turned on the observation system and 3 monitor screens were activated. One of them showed the door of the Control Central opening. The 3 Posbis Sengu had seen now entered the control room of the Alta-663. Each of them was a typical crew member of a fragment ship. Their appearance had nothing in common with Arkon or Terran robots.
   Van Moders was standing close to Alkhers. "Just look at that, will you?" He pointed in amazement at the center screen.
   One of the Posbis was kneeling in front of a damaged rectifier unit. His hands had become cutters but he was not crudely cutting the melted parts from the intact portions. He carefully looked for welding seams. and then made the separation. Now he held a melted clump of metal in his hand. The way he placed it on the deck in front of him seemed to express human sensitivity.
   Alkher and Sengu were also breathing excitedly. Brazo was momentarily distracted with the seer nudged him.
   "I can see the other 15 of them working in the machine rooms. I think that if they could cry over the destruction there they'd all be doing it!"
   The largest of the 3 Posbis was standing in front of the main control panel. He took no interest in what his two colleagues were doing. His weird-looking lenticular optics scanned the switch board. Now and then his 3-fingered metal hand would stroke the smooth surfaces almost affectionately, or he would touch the indicators and levers and dials with careful consideration.
   A whispered exclamation was heard over the intercom from the other cupola: "Uncanny!"
   What the Posbi was doing now was a bit more fascinating. Brazo had been watching his every movement and now when he saw him start moving controls a chill went through him. The Posbi was checking out all controls of the Alta-663. He was checking to see what was still operable on the ship and what had been actually damaged by the raybeam attack.
   "If he fools too much with our symbol transformer he'll discover everything that our experts were so sure of themselves about. Then we'll be thru!" Brazo was not alone in this opinion.
   Moders nodded glumly as if in agreement. But the mutant had something of more importance to tell them.
   "The fragment ship is making a cautious approach. It's no more than 100 meters from us. Now it's closing in. Good Lord! Its surface is as big as an emergency spaceport!"
   Using his para-faculties, Wuriu Sengu could see through the walls and decks and the hull of their ship and observe the alien vessel. The vertical face of the giant cube revealed a deep indentation. It sank into the interior more than 300 meters. The apparently receding walls were covered with knoblike shapes as big as houses. What purpose they served Sengu could not venture to say. His para-sight continued to scan the scene. He was particularly interested in the floor of the indentation. although absolutely alien in shape it was mirror smooth and could have accommodated 8 to 10 ships the size of the Alta-663. And now the fragment ship was almost imperceptibly moving closer while the gaping hole looked over the smaller space sphere.
   "We—we're going to make a landing, Alkher!" Sengu described what he was seeing.
   A slight shudder went through the ship. There was no defense screen to protect them now. After the attack by the Theodorich, Alkher had not built up a new field. This was to convince the Posbis of their helplessness. The Alta-663 rolled back and forth like a ball since its landing struts were not extended.
   Suddenly Alkher realized that it was high time to inform Rhodan of their experiences with the Posbis so far. He had an uneasy feeling that it would soon be too late to do so.
   "Moders, keep watching the monitors. Sengu, you know what to do." He sat down at the switchboard and turned on the encoder.
   Under their cupolas they could operate normally. The three super-powerful group absorbers prevented their brainwaves from entering the Control Central and thus the Posbis were not able to detect any organic emanations. Strictly speaking, their hideout was an auxiliary control room of the ship.
   Brazo used the feed-in buttons of the encoder like a typewriter. He had hoped to report everything in about 20 sentences but it required more than 50. There were too many details that were indispensable for Rhodan to know about. He found he had to repeat the strange conversation with the Posbi word for word.
   "So..." he said to himself after having been unaware of events around him for several minutes. After he operated a number of switches the encoder transferred his text to the frequency-divider which put it into pulse-burst form. From there it went to the scrambler and although the text had already been compressed into less than a millisecond duration the scrambler broke the format into 13 different sections before it was pulsed into the transmitter. The prepared signal was beamed into space from the special antenna that Brazo had tested after the mock attack by the Theodorich.
   "Let's hope the Posbis don't know too much about secret codes," he said while he shut down the equipment again.
   "It's hard to believe," Van Moders was saying nearby. "These 3 robots are making repairs so fast and with such precision that you'd think they had built this ship. So far I haven't been able to figure out where they conjure up those spare parts from. Sengu, can you see how they do it?"
   "Of course," said the seer calmly. "The Posbis aren't magicians. They create the spares out of the melted parts themselves. And they're making some alterations. I don't quite understand it yet but I think that they're simplifying us they go." Meanwhile he had taken another look at the recess where the Alta-663 had landed. One of the many house-sized protuberances on the walls had taken on another shade of colour. In the same moment he heard Brazo cry out.
   "What the devil! Our ship is in a magnetic field that would make the strongest tractor beam seem like nothing! There—look at the magnetometer. It's mined!"
   The seer told him what he had observed and was still seeing.
   "Hm-m..." said Brazo. "I think a light is dawning as to what these fragment ships are supposed to be. They're general purpose vessels. But isn't it a little spooky that they haven't made any more attempts to talk to 'One?'"
   It was a question no one could answer. The small ship's inertial absorbers began to howl. The ten men were terrified, expecting the absorbers to explode, until suddenly the frightful howling subsided. Everything was abruptly as quiet as before.
   No one knew what had happened—all except the mutant, Sengu.
   "I can't see our galaxy anymore! It's vanished just us if we had broken into hyperspace!"

  *  *  *  *

   Brazo Alkher rubbed his eyes as if he were having a bad dream but what he was looking at wouldn't go away. "That could drive a man insane!" cried Mike Tillurn, closing his eyes.
   "That's magnificent!" said Van Moders, obviously inspired.
   "You think so?" asked Brazo sarcastically. He considered what they were looking at to be neither insane nor magnificent but horrible.
   When they had come out of hyperspace with the fragment ship, he had risked turning on the special video system that had been secretly installed in the outer hull of the Arkon ship. Its activation had also caused the first tracking signal to be sent out. He and his men were placing their hopes on the great number of relay stations along the outer perimeter of the galaxy which were there to increase the security of the Sol System.
   All stations had been ordered by the Earth's Fleet High Command to keep a hypercom receiver and a tracking antenna continuously tuned to the Alta-663's telecom frequency. Reception of the signals would then provide the input data necessary to determine where Alkher's group could be found.
   But Alkher and his men did not suspect that the first impulse had only been picked up by two of the stations and in both cases imperfectly. Moreover, at the moment they had other worries to contend with. Apparently the Theodorich's bombardment had knocked out the entire special viewing system on their outer hull.
   At least Tama Yokida began to fear this at first because the viewscreens remained black and didn't even reveal a remote tip of the galactic spiral. It was only when he took into account Sengu's extra seeing faculties that he discovered why the system had seemed to be inoperative. The recess in the side of the fragment ship was turned away from the galaxy in an opposite direction.
   The 18 Posbis had left the Alta-663, apparently having been recalled by the commander of the fragment ship. Then the men had had to wait. Their eyes were drawn again and again to the black viewscreens and the longer they looked the more they suspected that they might be overlooking something or that perhaps they were the victims of an error in their thinking.
   When Brazo started suddenly to work with the frequency selector, Moders watched him with interest. "You going to shoot through the whole range, Alkher—from ultraviolet, 10 to the -6 clear to 10 to the -2?" The tone of his question indicated that he didn't expect an answer.
   Brazo only nodded briefly. He concentrated on the mixer. This special apparatus enabled him to operate the special observation system in the invisible ranges of light. He could even measure the individual wavelengths of light received. When he reached the middle range of the infrared band the 4 small viewscreens began to show something.
   "A planet!" somebody whispered.
   Once the automatic focus had adjusted itself to this frequency the object became unmistakable—a celestial body in the lightless intercosmic void! It was a planet that had been torn eons ago from its life-giving mother star and was now drifting through the abyss of time and space. It was only visible in the infrared light range—merely as a ball. But the ball was coming at them with amazing swiftness. The goal of the fragment ship lay before them.
   Sigurd Alec spoke up. "Sir, should I start the planetary analysis?"
   "Do that, Alec. I think we're out of danger at the moment. But hurry it up—we're really making a fast approach."
   The unknown planet loomed ahead in the all-engulfing darkness. While Sigurd Alec busied himself gathering data on the mystery world beneath them, Van Moders puzzled over the question of why they could only observe it in the infrared range. He suggested to Brazo that he should try the normal light range again.
   "There'd be no point to it, Moders," retorted the captain while he pointed to three of his instruments. One of them had a log scale which not only represented the wavelengths in centimetres but also the frequency plus the quantum energy in electron volts. Just now the glowing indicator was wavering in the region of 10 EV. "In this region of intergalactic space the infrared band dominates. If our visual organs were naturally responsive to infrared we'd see ourselves in a dazzle of brilliant light. There! Do you see that? The first surface contours are coming into view. Doesn't that look like a giant mountain chain...?"
   Sigurd Alec Was ready with his fast survey and he interrupted Brazo. "Diameter of the planet is roughly 15,000 km but gravity is only 1.21 g. Rotation rate hardly measurable. Looks like the 'day' there might be a couple hundred years in length. But are you ready for this, men? This world has an atmosphere! No, not frozen—in gaseous form. I'll let somebody else figure how that's possible!"
   Alkher didn't venture to doubt Alec's readings. "What's the average temperature at ground level? Did you get anything on that, Alec?"
   "I did. It seems to vary between 87.8 and 89.6 Fahrenheit. Down there is a greenhouse climate in an atmosphere that's entirely suited to us, except that the Argon percentage of 2.2 is amazingly high."
   "Argon?" queried Van Moders as if he hadn't quite understood. "Good Lord! Do you realize that argon is a positronic catalyst?"
   "Moders," said Brazo in a mild tone of reproach, "we're neither physicists nor robot experts."
   Moders explained further. "That's why I spared you the real name-Argoncid. About 30 years ago it was only a legendary substance to Arkon science. But suddenly we Terrans found a way on our own to produce the cid. We knew from the Arkonides that it would have semi-activating characteristics. Immediately we performed experiments with positronic brains using Argoncid. The results were amazing. The positronicons began to develop an energy output that was unrelated to their programming, but unfortunately only for a short length of time. The more they came in so-called semi-contact with the Argoncid, the more immune they became to it. No economic or scientific advantages came from those experiments. In fact even today we're still in the dark as to why the Argoncid has an activating effect on positronicons."
   "But Argon still isn't Argoncid, Moders," argued Alkher.
   "True, but meanwhile the Solar Imperium has discovered three worlds where the air mantles shown among other things, more than 2% of Argon. Precise analysis has shown that on all three worlds there is also Argoncid present. This demonstrated that Argoncid is also produced in Nature. That's why I wouldn't be surprised to find that Argoncid is also present on this crazy planet."
   "Do you recall the name of Mehek?" asked Brazo. "The one the Posbis mentioned? Don't you think that the allusions to his power indicate that we're about to meet up with some kind of intelligences?"
   The robot scientist dodged the question. He only looked at the four viewscreens and said in a low tone: "Let's wait and see."
   So they waited. They waited while they flew one orbit around the unknown world with the fragment ship. Mike Tillurn had come over from the other halfdome shelter. There half of the commando crew had sat and watched the viewscreens while gripped by a sense of foreboding.
   "It's enough to make you lose your mind," said Tillurn.
   A bizarre, surrealistic scene was revealed to the 10 men over the infrared waveband. The details continued to emerge more clearly: cubic structures more than 100 meters on a side, towers like the spines of a pintworm of the planet of Muzr, other towers been askew in their upper portions, and also flat structures lying crookedly as if someone had thrown them to the ground with no foundations. Wormlike structures, none of them less than 50 meters in diameter, were draped across this landscape, sometimes entering the ground and then reappearing several kilometers away. There were streets discernible but they seemed to have been drawn with a ruler. Nowhere was there an intersection or a turn to be seen.
   Their carrier ship continued down ward but what was surprising was that it didn't diminish its high rate of speed. No matter how closely the men of the Alta-663 observed the scene below, they could not discover a sign of movement anywhere.
   "And nowhere a single ray of light," said Wuriu Sengu. "A gruesome world where we are blind—but the Posbis can see in their darkness..."
   "Where do you see robots, Wuriu?" asked Brazo.
   "Everywhere below us—in every hall and chamber, in every tower and building. I've given up trying to count them."
   "We're landing!" The call came from the other cupola.
   Now the fragment ship was braking its speed with uncanny swiftness. At first the boxlike ship seemed to drop like a stone but within less than 100 meters of the ground the fragment ship suddenly slowed its pace and floated down toward its destination like a balloon. The landing was made without the slightest jar.
   The fragment ship had brought the men to the ground on the edge of a gigantic landing field. On three sides of them was a yawning blackness which could only be penetrated by means of infrared vision. The fourth side was a wall of metal. An unexpected jolt went through the smaller spherical ship. The four monitor screens revealed that the fragment ship was unloading them onto the ground of the spaceport.
   Alkher decided to use that moment for sending out a trace signal. When he did so the five men exchanged wary glances.
   "What's the matter with you men over there?" came a voice from the intercom. It was Mike Tillurn who had returned to the other shelter. He had become puzzled by their silence.
   "Just sent out a trace signal. We want the Chief to know as soon as possible that we've landed on this crazy planet."
   "Let's hope the Posbis haven't taken us a half million light years away! Do you think our hypercom could bridge such a distance?"
   His question was not unjustified but Brazo was angered by his pessimism. "Tillurn, don't let me hear any questions like that! Do I make myself clear?"
   At that moment the Alta-663 was set down, again without benefit of its landing struts, and their micro transceivers came to life. The symbol transformer had converted incoming signals to words and had beamed them to the devices on their backs.
   "Mehek sends greetings to One, who claims to possess the true life. Mehek embraces you, One. He is now your master. Mehek welcomes you to Frago."
   While the impersonal voice sounded over the speakers in both the halfdome cupolas, Brazo sent out the next tracer signal. This planet named Frago where an entity lived who was supposed to be the protector of the true life form was becoming more sinister to him. At the same time he was becoming more anxious to leave the place as soon as possible.
   They had not only made contact with the Posbis but had also even landed on this robot world in starless space. On the basis of the tracking signals and a swarm of observation stations along the rim of the galaxy, it should not be long before Rhodan would be able to determine the inter-cosmic location of Frago. Once the coordinates were known, it should not be long before the Arkonide arc transmitter in their Control Central would start operating so that they could leave this crazy world.
   The simultaneous translator remained silent. Evidently the mysterious Mehek had nothing more to add to his telegraphic meeting. The nerve-racking waiting began again. It was not particularly pleasant for the men to remain in their Arkonide flight suits. They kept visiting back and forth through the secret passage. The only thing they kept their eyes on was the bank of monitor screens that gave them an infrared view of their environment.
   Dagbert Ellis the astrophysicist had remained in the background so far on the mission but now he had come in to sit down beside Brazo Alkher. He had been pondering over the greenhouse temperature of Frago. "This planet is completely abnormal, Alkher, and these Posbis may be the most abnormal things on it. For the last half hour I've been having a serious talk with Wuriu Sengu. He's made spot-checks all around within an area of 1000 km, and with his parapsychic faculties he's been able to detect a multi-level industry. It's fully automatic—controlled by the Posbis—but he couldn't find a single clue to any organic intelligence here. Alkher, I know these facts are known to you but I simply had to mention them again in order to emphasize the abnormality of Frago. This tremendous industry planet with its army of millions of semi-biological robots was probably created synthetically. In its entirety it represents a factor of power which is almost meaningless, and for that reason it's all the more dangerous to our galaxy."
   Brazo Alkher wasn't much for long-winded expositions, so he interrupted Ellis. "We've all seen a part of Frago. We can guess the power it represents but I can't go along with your claim that it's especially dangerous. The Solar Imperium should even be able to handle this race of robots."
   Ellis shook his head. "When I asked Wuriu to make those spot-checks, a frightening fact became apparent. The output of robots, including their auxiliary automatic equipment, has reached its maximum. The Posbis are up against serious storage problems."
   "Hold it!" Brazo interrupted him. Even Van Moders was showing intense interest now. "What do you mean by storage problems?"
   Ellis sounded almost depressed. "The Posbis no longer know where to put their as yet unactivated new generation. Wuriu Sengu has discovered many subterranean storerooms that are 20 km long and several km wide—each of them filled to bursting with stacked Posbis."
   Alkher became uneasy but then he laughed although a bit unconvincingly. "How can the Posbis make use of these millions of reserves if at the same time they don't have an equivalent spacefleet to handle them?"
   "Sengu isn't quite sure because the fragment ships are constructed much differently from our concept of spaceships. But aside from this uncertainty factor he fears that the major production effort is being concentrated on the building of such a fleet."
   "Well, then where are these flying-box monstrosities?" asked Alkher gruffly.
   "Sengu saw them taking off from the spaceport next to us. It was a fleet of more than 50 fragment ships. He told me that they had been launched directly off an assembly line!"
   "Where is Sengu now?"
   "He's still observing, Captain, in the other shelter. I recommend that he not be disturbed."
   Alkher turned to Moders. "What do you make of it, Van?"
   "What am I supposed to make of it? Isn't Frago in itself enough proof that we're faced with something monstrous?"
   "I don't see too much difference between Frago and the former robot world of Arkon 3 with its giant positronic brain."
   "But I do!" contradicted the robot expert. "The difference lies with the robots themselves. Let's not forget that each one of them has been partly humanized by means of organic nerve plasma, even if it is synthetically produced! Each Posbi is a self-sufficient unit and is entirely independent of any giant master brain!"
   "And you think this Mehek is the head robot over all the others, Moders? Don't you think he's some kind of organic intelligence—one that the Posbis' destructive drive isn't aimed against?"
   "I wouldn't bet on your assumption that the chief of the robots here is an organic being. What are you doing, Captain?" He had been distracted by Brazo's move to the Control panel.
   "Sending out another location signal," Alkher explained. "Ellis, you and your colleagues are giving me the sweats. I don't dare to doubt Sengu's observations. Let's hope our tracer signals are getting thru. What's with the radio traffic on this crazy planet?"
   Miller looked up from the radio console. He had also been a former 1st officer on the merchant ship Argentum. "I don't know if you'd call it radio traffic, Captain—not in the normal sense, anyway. The place is buzzing with positronic signals but I don't know if it's communications between stations or guidance impulses for the assembly lines down there. We ought to run the radio signals through the simultaneous translator..."
   Brazo dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Better not. Osborne, what about hypercom traffic? Haven't you detected any?"
   "I can't give you a definite answer because these types of waveforms... There, do you see that? Here comes one of these strange jig saw impulses!"
   Instead of answering, Brazo again activated the trace-signal switch. Moders and Ellis exchanged troubled glances. They were aware of this young Captain's reputation in the Solar Fleet. If he kept sending out signals with such reckless frequency, in spite of the danger of detection, he must consider their situation to be especially menacing, although nothing had happened so far.
   The Alta-663 still lay in the same spot on the landing field and no robot appeared to be concerned about the ship.
   "Oh-oh!" cried Osborne, staring intently at the small scope screen. "Now there's plenty of traffic—like a hundred stations working all at once!"
   "Is it communication, Osborne? Before, you couldn't give me a definite—"   Their micro-transceivers came to life but instead of words they only heard a series of incomprehensible crackling sounds, which soon ceased as abruptly as they had begun.
   "Jumping galaxies!" cried Van Modern and he pointed to the log-scale indicator that covered the electromagnetic spectrum.
   A sharply defined green point of light had suddenly appeared in the ultraviolet range. In fact it stood precisely at 10 EV, bordering on the X-ray band.
   "Close helmets—build up defense screens!" Alkher's controlled voice did not betray the agitation he suddenly felt. He realized that the Posbis had detected his tracer signal and had responded with an ultraviolet attack against the ship.
   "Still harmless," said Van Moders who had regained his calm. "But why this ultra-light bombardment?"
   Brazo laughed bitterly. "Either it's a warning to us to stop sending hypercom tracer signals, or it's the beginning of an attack."
   "You think so, Captain?" The specialist had awakened in Van Moders. The others looked at him tensely. If anyone could predict how the Posbis would act now, it would be he. But Moders also remembered that the Posbis were semi-biological machine men. They could not be judged by the behaviour patterns of normal robots. Almost reluctantly, he said: "If we weren't dealing with Posbis here I'd say we haven't anything to fear—but in this case I wouldn't venture to make a prognosis."
   Nor did he need to make one. The Alta-663 suddenly trembled. A titanic tractor beam seemed to have gripped the cruiser and in the next moment they were jerked off the ground.
   "Brazo!" The call came over the intercom from the mutant seer. "We're rushing toward a tank!"
   "Toward a what?" asked Alkher in new bewilderment.
   "A tank—a cistern or reservoir of some kind! Can't you see it on your screens? I don't have any idea what kind of liquid it contains but it's big enough to hold even a heavy cruiser!"
   Alkher hadn't taken his eyes off of the log-scale indicator. The brilliant green dot of light showing at 10 EV vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. Judging from its energy level the ultraviolet attack had more the characteristics of a decontamination treatment. Alkher started to relax but when he turned his gaze to the monitor screens his worries began in earnest.
   The Alta-663 was hovering over a gigantic basin which was filled with a bubbling fluorescent liquid. The damaged cruiser stood motionlessly 100 meters above it, held in the grip of a tractor beam. But the huge reservoir was not the only threat. The bizarre, continuous wall enclosing one side of the spaceport had changed ominously.
   In one part of the wall there was now an asymmetrical hole—a gate-way. Three monstrosities flowed out of it: giant caterpillars shaped by a madman, equipped with antennalike feelers and nodulated over their bluish gray bodies. The metallic contraptions were between 5 and 8 meters in diameter and their lengths ranged between 30 and 70 meters. They moved forward swiftly to the very edge of the basin.
   Alkher was sure the monstrous things had come for them and he looked questioningly at Van Moders, who appeared to be at a loss. The Alta-663 still hung motionlessly over the bubbling liquid in the tank, and now it was apparently the target of one of the three metal caterpillars. It raised up and leaped upward from the ground. A crashing and crackling of metal was heard through the ship as the unexplainable contraption took hold of the spherical hull.
   "Wuriu..."
   The mutant seer answered at once from the lefthand shelter. He was probing the inside of the metal Caterpillar with his parapsychic vision. "Brazo it's—it's unbelievable! This caterpillar is a flying spare parts warehouse for spaceships and it carries a couple dozen Posbis! They're coming on board through the damaged engine room section. Good Lord! How many different kinds of robots do they have on Frago?"
   Brazo smiled. He thought he could guess why the Posbis had suddenly come on board in such numbers. Probably they had been ordered to prevent "One" from sending out any more hypercom signals. At the moment, however, the robots were not as much of a worry for him as the tank below with its bubbling and scintillating liquid. He simply couldn't imagine the purpose of it.
   "Hey, are you crazy?" cried Moders, staring at him in amazement.
   In spite of the ultraviolet warning, Alkher had just sent out another trace impulse. His reply was in icy tones. "I'm still in charge of this mission, Mr. Moders!"
   It was another worry not to know how far they had come into intergalactic space. This had led Brazo to fear that in spite of all efforts the hundreds of relay stations on the periphery of the galaxy might not be able to pick up their signals. Neither Arkonide nor Terran was able to estimate the effective range of hypercom waves over distances of more than 100,000 light years.
   Since their arrival on the Posbi planet the 10-man crew had not made an attempt to determine their position. It was virtually impossible because all reference points pertaining to their home galaxy were lacking. Even the greatest positronic computer could not make calculations that only consisted of unknown factors.
   Wuriu came through the secret passage to the righthand shelter. They were running out of room so Brazo sent Sigurd Alec, Ellis and Mike Tillurn back to the other cupola. The mutant did not bring good news.
   "Brazo, the Posbis are opening up all doors and hatches on board. Heaven only knows what that could mean!"
   The control panel indicated something of the robots' actions. One red light after another flashed on. The same warning signals were also being activated in the Control Central. The Posbis were isolating the Control Central from the power plant but the hypercom was still getting current. Before the last red lamp flickered before him, Brazo sent out the last tracer signals, three of them in quick succession. Then the transmitter went dead.
   If no relay station had heard them by now, Brazo figured they might as well just twiddle their thumbs.
   "Shouldn't we switch over to our emergency converter?" inquired Moders.
   Brazo shot him a withering look. "Should we send the Posbis a telegram and tell them there's a reserve power plant on board? Maybe we should invite them to literally take the Alta-663 apart!"
   A switch snapped off. Even the special observation system and its numerous pickup cameras on the outer hull were without current now. Now Brazo was not inclined to take the slightest risk. If the Posbis were actually as smart as Moders claimed they were, and if their emotion-generating nerve plasma enabled them to learn, then the tracer signals must have given them something to think about. Wouldn't the transmission of such signals be contrary to the representations of "One" that he was the true life form?
   Now the only operable observation station in the Alta-663 was Wuriu Sengu.
   He saw the Posbis leave their ship, and he saw the metal caterpillar let loose of the hull and return to the other two, which had remained at the edge of the open tank. And now he saw their spaceship sink downward and slowly enter the bubbling fluid in the gigantic basin.
   Were they all to drown...?

  *  *  *  *

   The Alta-663 continued to sink deeper into the fluid in the tank. Sengu's mutant vision enabled him to see the scintillating broth as it entered and flooded the lower rooms of the ship. He had already guessed why the Posbis had opened all the doors and hatches on board. Evidently the liquid was supposed to wash through every compartment without hindrance. He could only keep reporting what his parapsychic senses revealed to him. The rapidity of the vessel's submergence increased. In another minute the chambers on the upper decks would be inundated.
   "Abandon ship through emergency exit!" ordered Brazo reluctantly, since he had no other recourse.
   He heard groans from the men in his helmet speaker and didn't feel well himself when he thought of the impenetrable darkness outside. Even though the energy screens around their Arkonide flight suits could shield them from the acid or whatever it was, and though their micro-converters could operate safely for months, nevertheless their air supply was limited. Once outside they would be able to breathe the local atmosphere and thus conserve their precious oxygen reserves. But at what price?
   He issued another command over his helmet radio. "Crewmen will leave cupola B at 3-second intervals!"
   5 men got into motion like links in a chain. The first one opened a round, vault-like door which was operated by a release wheel. No one noticed that the 1½-inch lock bolts failed to recede completely into their recesses. One of them was still protruding a number of inches. They crawled through the manhole into a tube that ended beneath a conical taper hatch in the upper portion of the ship. The fourth man, Mike Tillurn, did not notice that the little absorber device on his back was torn loose by the projecting bolt. He had lunged heftily into the escape tube and had not sensed the slight resistance of his combat suit.
   "Follow them!" ordered Alkher.
   He hurried through the secret passage to the other cupola and let Van Moders be the first of his group to crawl into the emergency exit.
   "Three meters!" called Wuriu Sengu. He had just announced that the acid fluid was only three meters beneath them by now.
   Brazo and Sengu watched while Tama Yokida climbed into the tube. Suddenly, Sengu saw something beneath the circular hatch and was about to bend down to see what it was when Brazo cried out over his helmet radio that the acid was rising fast.
   By the time it was Alkher's turn he was already up to his hips in the liquid. Under the illumination of the cupola it looked completely colourless and was no longer fluorescing. He crawled into the tube as if he were having a race with Sengu, whom he soon bumped into, causing the latter to accelerate his pace. Then they arrived at the upper exit. The only one who could see in this darkness now was the mutant, Wuriu Sengu. For the other 9 men the outer darkness was impenetrable. the weak light from the distant galaxy was not enough to enable them to recognize objects around them.
   "Manual contact! Don't let go under any circumstances. Antigrav fields ready to operate?" When Brazo heard nine confirming responses he gave them the power setting at which their antigravs should be synchronized.
   "Dispense with manual contact during flight but link together with your coupling lines. Keep weapons ready for firing. Sengu will lead. All set?"
   The seer urged them to hurry. "Let's get moving or we'll still be in for a dunking!"
   Hands groped in darkness. The men hooked their tie-lines to each other, and finally they all signalled their readiness.
   "Lift off! Go!"
   At Alkher's command, they all turned on their antigrav units and rose upwards into the darkness. They followed Sengu who had closed his eyes so as to be guided solely by his parapsychic vision. He flew with them over the three metal caterpillars on the edge of the basin and headed toward the asymmetrical wall. He was just about to order a landing again when a mechanical voice rattled in their helmet phones.
   "You are not the true life form!"
   In addition to their individual absorbers each man also carried one of the small special Swoon transceivers in which was installed a simultaneous translator. In comparison to the larger translator in the Control Central of the Alta-663 the micro devices were merely a makeshift help for emergencies and were not intended for any extended conversations with the robots. However, the phrase they had heard was repeated four times and since its grammatical structure was not complex, the miniature symbol transformers easily converted it into words: "You are not the true life form!"
   Brazo Alkher suspected that one of the portable absorbers must have stopped working. "The Posbis have detected us!" he warned his companions. "Check out your absorbers and find out which one isn't working!"
   Wuriu Sengu called out: "Hit your emergency buttons for a fast landing! Ye gods—this crazy wall has openings all over it now!"
   "My mental-absorber is gone!" announced Mike Tillurn in a tone of horror.
   Brazo's tone was impressively calm. "Wuriu, where can we hide?"
   But Tillurn was equal to the occasion. "I can't come with you," he said. "I'll only lead the Posbis to you..."
   "Shut up, Mike!" retorted Brazo emphatically. "Wuriu, where—?"
   "Watch out, we're landing!" warned the seer at the last moment as they raced toward the ground.
   The darkness of Frago was pierced by a sharp beam of light as Alkher turned on the spotlight of his suit. They all saw the landing place in time and managed to absorb the impact with their legs.
   "Spotlights on!" he ordered. "Set your deflector fields at maximum!"
   When they became invisible the one disadvantage was that they couldn't see each other except by looking at each others, light source.
   "Some small fragment ships are approaching!" Sengu had no recourse but to tell them the bad news. It would have been senseless to ask what direction they were coming from.
   Van Moders suddenly saw three Posbis in the beam of his spotlight. As a robot expert he was fully aware that they were able to see in normal light as well as in infra red. They were equipped with a device which concentrated the minimal light from the distant galaxies and enabled them to observe their surroundings perfectly. He aimed his hand disintegrator at them and the utility robots vanished.
   "We have to get out of here!" Alkher ordered.
   The beams of their lights were now illuminating the high and indescribable metal wall. They found ample confirmation of Sengu's claim that there were openings in it every where.
   "Watch out!" warned Sengu. "The little fragment ships are over us!"    "Follow me!" said Alkher. "Destroy any robots that get in our way!"
   As they raced toward the warped and twisted wall, Moders suddenly wondered what was wrong with him. He couldnt feel his legs. A paralysis crept up his body.
   "I can't make it!" cried somebody else over the helmet radio.
   "Just another 10 meters!" Alkher's voice thundered in their headphones. "Stick it out! Grit your—" He was interrupted as a dozen Posbis streamed out of a giant opening in the wall.
   Three disintegrator and four impulse beams got rid of the mechanical creatures. Meanwhile, Mike Tillurn collapsed, unconscious, and Sengu tripped over him. Since Mike Tillurn's thought impulses were not screened off, he had been the target of a heavy concentration of paralysis beams.
   When Wuriu scrambled up he saw Alkher darting into the opening. Instinctively he grasped Tillurn, heaved him over his shoulder, and staggered onward with him. But he had only taken a few steps before he stumbled and collapsed. He knew where the paralysis attack was coming from. The first of the small fragment ships was only 1000 meters overhead and was now plunging downward toward them. Suddenly a bright spotlight was glaring at him and he thought the end had come but then he realized that Tama Yokida was snatching them into the opening by means of his tele kinetic powers.
   The usually self-possessed telekineticist was shouting: "Onward, Sengu! Take Tillurn along with you!"
   "All of a sudden Wuriu felt his paralysis leave him. 30 meters ahead of him he could see Yokida running between weird-looking mechanical depots and distributing points. He had no time to look about him further. Still carrying Tillurn over his shoulder, he sought to overtake Yokida.
   Brazo Alkher felt he must be moving through a nightmare. On Earth's moon he had become accustomed to seeing technical monstrosities but what he saw here was some kind of madness. Not even the ground itself was flat. For the 3rd time he had to change his course because a pit opened before him. Out of the last one emerged an apparatus that was round but indented with twisted towers projecting from it. In the gigantic indentations were tubes of some kind. He ran around the vertical shaft while widening the beam of his spotlight to maximum.
   "Alkher—take a left!" It was Van Moders' voice in his headphones. He sounded elated. "Come on—hurry it up!"
   Brazo turned abruptly and cursed when he was confronted by a gigantic contraption of some kind. When he ran around it his light beam revealed the figure of the positronic specialist. He was standing by a conveyor belt, fairly dancing like a madman.
   "What is it, Moders?" asked Alkher calmly.
   Moders pointed to the gelatinous material that was emerging from a machine and dropping onto the conveyor, which was curved to form an endless moving container. "Nerve plasma, Alkher! The bio-substance of the Posbis! Where's that jinx, Mike Tillurn?"
   Everybody heard him over the helmet radio. A panting voice answered. It was Sengu.
   "I'm coming! Tillurn is here but he's paralysed!"
   He came staggering along and Osborne and Sigurd Alec ran toward him to relieve him of his unconscious burden. Brazo opened Tillurn's helmet. He had realized at once why Van Moders had danced for joy at sight of the nerve plasma. Mike's face was contorted from his paralysis shock.
   "He'll soon be able to move," prophesied the robot expert as he dipped his hands into the jellylike mass.
   "Come on, the rest of you!" ordered Alkher. "Dip up this goop and stuff it into Tillurn's suit!"
   Wuriu Sengu stood guard and with half an ear he heard the telekineticist shouting: "Lay off of that! This is where I come in!"
   With his telekinetic power, Tama Yokida removed a bundle of the plasma as thick as an arm from the endless container belt. With his parapsychic ability he formed it in chunks and pressed them into Tillurn's flight suit.
   "But we have to bring him to consciousness, Brazo!" warned Moders. "Otherwise we'll bungle it. His helmet has to be filled with the stuff as well, so he'll have to breathe through his emergency tube. He can only do that if he's awake..."
   Sengu gave a warning: "Watch out! One of the little fragment ships has come into the hall here. It seems to have traced us. It's coming directly toward us!"
   Tama Yokida had an idea. He had comprehended why Tillurn had to be surrounded by the synthetic nerve plasma. The tissue's own impulses were to mix with Tillurn's thought-waves, and although the camouflage would not be perfect it would still confuse the extremely sensitive Posbi tracers. That way there'd be little chance of their knowing that they were dealing with a fully organic entity.
   Now the fragment vessel approached and was about to rob them of their last chance.
   Tama's idea was as effective a it was simple. "Turn on Tillurn's air supply—hurry it up!" he cried. "Then close his helmet and I'll place him in the nerve plasma. I'll hold on to him so he won't be carried away..."
   "OK!" Brazo's voice rattled back as he turned on Tillurn's oxygen and snapped his helmet in place.
   Tama Yokida seized his unconscious companion with his telekinetic forces and dropped him into the moving container—but he held him in place in the fluid.
   Sengu's voice came over the helmet radios. "Lights out or we'll give ourselves away!"
   Suddenly it was dark. Frago's normal condition of blackness enveloped them. From time to time, Sengu reported their situation.
   Suddenly Tama spoke again. "Tillurn is coming to! He's already tried to get out of his bathtub!"
   Then Sengu announced that their hovering nemesis was going away at last.
   10 minutes later Tillurn was in full possession of himself and received instructions as to what he must do. Still immersed in the plasma he grunted back that he had the emergency breather tube in his mouth, whereupon he opened his helmet. By means of telekinesis, Tama Yokida pumped more plasma into the hollow spaces between the walls of the helmet and Tillurn's head. When no more air bubbles emerged from the gelatinous mass, he was allowed to get out of his eerie bath. Now completely surrounded by the bio-synthetic material he could no longer be traced by the Posbis in spite of having lost his mental-absorber.
   More than an hour had passed since their hasty departure from the Alta-663. For the first time, Brazo Alkher found time to ask Sengu if the spaceship was still immersed in the acid bath. The seer concentrated in order to find out.
   "Captain!" he exclaimed. "The Posbis are repairing it! No, it isn't in the bath anymore. But now I know why they immersed the ship in the first place. The fluid is a metal-regenerator..."
   But Alkher wasn't interested in such details at the moment. "What does it look like in the Control Central? Did they force open the two halfdome shelters? Are the Posbis fooling with the Akon transmitter?"
   It took a moment for Sengu to answer. "I see four Posbis in the Control Central. Those robots are really treating those pieces of equipment with tender loving care—the ones we destroyed with the hot caps. It's uncanny the care they take in putting in the spare parts."
   "Sengu, don't get lost in the details. I've asked three questions and I'm waiting for an answer!"
   "They haven't touched the two cupolas, Captain. So far the Akon transmitter hasn't been noticed. As I said—they only concern themselves with the damaged portions. There are about 100 robots busy down in the engine and power rooms. The three metal caterpillars are twined around the ship in a double row."
   "And where is the ship now?"
   "Right next to the fluid tank."
   "OK, then lead us there. It's high time we got out of here. I'm worried about Van Moders, warning that the Posbis are eager to learn. Is the emergency exit still open?"
   "It's open."
   "Then let's go—but keep your searchbeams off. We don't want to parade out there like a Mardi Gras..."

  *  *  *  *

   At a distance of 12,000 light years the Theodorich returned to the 4-D continuum. The Arkon Imperium now lay 8O,000 light years behind it. All persons on board the super battleship who were authorized to be in the Control Central were present. The news had gone through the entire ship that an attempt had been made to contact the Alta-663 more than an hour ago with the powerful Akon transmitter and that it had failed.
   Mousebeaver Pucky, the only guest on board, had also put in an appearance but no one saw the little fellow who had materialized in one of the darkest corners between two large instrument cabinets. Nevertheless from this vantage point he could see the transmitter without having to crane his neck.
   Lt. Massou activated the transmitter again, and once more it seemed to explode. Again a contact with the Alta-663 had failed to occur. Bell was ready to tear his stubbly hair. Jefe Claudrin clenched his mighty fists in frustration. Perry Rhodan stood before the device and appeared to be unmoved.
   Suddenly, however, the Chief looked at Massou. "Try it again in 15 minutes, Lieutenant."
   "Yes sir, another try in 15 minutes!" Massou could not understand how the Chief could be moved to smile at this moment.
   But then he didn't have telepathic sensitivities like Rhodan who had just sensed the presence of Pucky in the Control Central. In fact Rhodan walked directly toward the mousebeaver's hiding place.
   "Come on out, little one!" he ordered, oblivious to the wondering looks of the other men.
   Pucky didn't budge. Perry crouched down and then met his gaze. The mousebeaver's eyes had lost their glitter and brightness. There was no sign of his gleaming incisor tooth.
   "You refuse to speak to me, Pucky?"
   No answer.
   "You mean you're never going to talk to me, little one, even if I apologize to you in all formality?" In the Control Central the officers could only listen in amazement. The Chief was apologizing in front of everybody? And of all people, to Pucky?
   "Pucky, all us humans make mistakes—we're not demigods—and often we do our friends an injustice although not with any really bad intentions. And then it's all the more wonderful when the friend forgives us. They say the art of forgiving has to be learned just us much us the art of apologizing, and right now I'm apologizing, my little friend..."
   Then came a plaintive squeaking from the shadows between the two cabinets. "Why do you talk so much, Perry? I had that drubbing coming to me... but now here you go blaming me for the fact that you have to apologize to me when actually I'm the one who's supposed to be making the apologies. Anyway, I don't dare even show myself to Bell..."
   Bell thundered out across the Control Central: "Come on out of there, you garden dwarf, and let yourself be seen! All we need today on top of everything else is a whimpering mousebeaver..." It sounded worse than it was meant to be. No one laughed. They all saw Pucky creep out of his hiding place and timorously offer his little hand to the Chief.
   "Perry," he chirped, "I'll never say anything to you as mean as that again, but if Iltu hadn't been so brazen, maybe none of this—"
   Rhodan interrupted him, pretending to be severe. "Lt. Puck, where are your rank insignia and the emblem of the Solar Imperium? May I suggest that the next time you appear for duty you do so in regulation uniform?" With a furtive smirk he added softly. "You little lady killer!"
   With a shrill chirp, Pucky disappeared from the Control Central. In Rhodan's cabin he reached for the insignia and the emblem which were still on the desk. His incisor tooth gleamed in full glory as his sparkling eyes regarded these badges of distinction.

  *  *  *  *

   The righthand halfdome in the Alta-663 opened. Through the widening slit emerged an impulse weapon. The energy beam hissed forth and destroyed a robot. It swept onward and a second robot fell before it. The two remaining robots sensed the danger and turned on the spot, only to run into the destructive fire from Alkher's portable beamer.
   Some of the instruments were also destroyed in the process but that made little difference now. With his free hand Brazo made a signal behind him, and Van Moders and Wuriu Sengu began to throw switches on the control panel. The auxiliary converter in their hiding place jumped to maximum power. The small positronic computer supplied the twin projectors of the transmitter with hyper-energy. Moders pulled the synchronization lever and a green light flashed in front of Sengu. The connection with the transmitter in their Control Central was established.
   Brazo Alkher was already standing in front of the apparatus. He had to wait until the warm-up cycle had completed itself. Evidently he was not thinking of the numerous Posbis in the lower 3rd of the damaged ship.
   But Sengu was watching them with his special vision and he nudged Moders. "Our action has been detected! How the devil can the Posbis know that something's wrong up here?"
   "Are they coming?" asked Moders.
   "From three sides all at once! I have to tell Alkher. Alert the others, Moders!"
   When Alkhers was told he calmly issued orders. "Open fire with every weapon we've got. We have to hold them back until the Theodorich makes transmitter contact with us!"
   None of them suspected that they would have to wait 13 minutes longer. The robots came and the earthmen fought with the courage of desperation. If it had not been for Brazo Alkher's calm supervision during every second of the battle the robots might have overrun them, because even Yokida's telekinetic powers could not work miracles.
   Sengu shouted above the infernal noise of exploding robots. "Fragment ships! Eight of them approaching... the big ones ...!"
   Brazo wasn't alone in thinking that this was the end. Next to him, Osborne suddenly fell. He swung his disintegrator to his right and hit a robot that was twice the size of any he had seen so far.
   "Osborne!" he called to the man at his feet.
   "Glancing shot, Captain," gasped Osborne, "I'll hold out. Don't worry about me."
   Behind Alkher, Sigurd Alec called out: "Contact! There's the Theodorich!"
   Of course the Theodorich wasn't there but the transmitter was in contact now. The gate to freedom was open. Their emergency exit was functioning, and what was more important: Perry Rhodan now knew the position of Frago.
   Osborne, being wounded, was the first to disappear in the darkness between the two energy beams that formed an arch above it. Brazo Alkher was the last man to enter the transmitter and three combat robots barely missed hitting him with their beams, which he took to be a final salute from Frago.
   The next step brought him into the vast Control Central of the Theodorich. Behind him the transmitter turned off. He had covered a distance of 12,000 light years in that single step. The last few hours of danger and tension had tautened Alkher's features markedly but he began to relax as he stepped before the Chief and reported: "Sir, mission returned from the planet of darkness."
   "My thanks to all of you," said Rhodan simply.
   As the Chief of the Solar Imperium stood at attention and saluted the brave men, Reginald Bell and Jefe Claudrin followed his example—in addition to Lt. Puck.
   Naturally this one couldn't restrain himself. "Nice to have you back." he chirped happily.

The world of the Posbis has been found and explored by the Terran commandos, to the extent that such an exploration was possible. The findings of the brief investigation were frightening enough in themselves but when one also considers that the Posbis have not yet begun to unfurl their full power, the worst is to be expected in the future for all races of the galaxy . . .

Kurt Mahr, the author of the next Perry Rhodan adventure describes still another frightening discovery in FORTRESS IN TIME . . .