The Terra and Centurion and 10 mutants defend the Earth against the might of the Springer
and Mounder Clans.

 The Centurion is captured, Tiff and McClears head out in a Gazelle but they are also
captured.




                            is this the end for the Earth & Perry Rhodan
                                        all will be revealed in–




                             The Red Eye of Betelgeuse


                                 1/ BLASTOFF FOR BETELGEUSE



 TWO ALIEN ENTITIES in the entire Universe—one semihuman, the other completely
inhuman—believedthey knew the location of the planet Earth, besides the Arkonides Khrest and Thora
and the mouse-beaver from the world called Vagabond.

 Khrest, Thora and Pucky, of course, really knew; the other two— Well, one was a Galactic Trader of
the Mounder clan. Green of skin and measuring a good 6 feet in height and almost the same in width, he
was the undisputed lord and master of a considerable spaceship fleet. Topthor.

 The second entity travelled aboard Topthor’s flagship, the same space vessel with which he had
attempted to attack Earth when it had been accidentally discovered many months previously. However,
neither Topthor nor ‘the other’ knew that Perry Rhodan’s mutants had long since altered the position
coördinates data in the memory banks. ‘The other’ was the positronic brain aboard the Mounder’s ship.

Occupying the supposed position of the Earth now was the third planet of the giant star Betelgeuse,
272-light-years distant from the terrestrial solar system. This fact was to lead to a world-shattering
mistake—a carefully engineered error for 2 great stellar races, although their greatest adversary, a certain
Terranian named Perry Rhodan was, as a result, to disappear forever from the scene along with his home
planet.

Exactly as plotted by Rhodan.



                                                  ****
Humanity had finally come of age. Man had made of his planet a near Utopia only dreamed of a few
generations earlier by visionaries like Wells, Bellamy, Gernsback, Ernst von Loig.

 World government had long since ceased to be a social fantasy, the impossible dream of science fiction
prophets and global-minded statesmen. Border lines and customs barriers had fallen. Homer G. Adams,
the Finance Minister of Terra, had introduced a common unit of currency: the Solar. The former great
powers and the small nations had their representative seats in the Great Council of the World
Government, which met at regular intervals inTerrania , the world capital.

 The danger of war was now as dead as the dinosaur. Money which had previously been squandered
insanely and incessantly on the senseless competition for national military ‘security’ now served to
construct a gigantic spacefleet for the protection of mankind as a planetary unit.



                                                    ****



 Located in the heart of the Gobi Desert, Terrania was the scene of great activity. As the central core of
United Earth, the city of a million inhabitants awaited the report of its first citizen, finally home from space
after an absence of half a year. No one knew what had transpired during those 6 months but everyone
suspected that only events of critical importance could have kept Perry Rhodan so long away from Earth.

 Chief Engineer Kowalski and electronic technician Harper had their evening free and were seated
expectantly before the TV screen in the common living quarters which they shared with 2 other
colleagues who were on the night shift. The station identification picture showed interstellar space with the
Milky Way in the background; in the foreground, the shadow outline of a torpedo-shaped ship. Only the
single wordTerrania identified the source of transmission.

 Every Earthman, Earthwoman and Earthchild was aware that an event of major importance was
impending. Virtually no one would miss this broadcast for World Government was to speak to the
population of the entire planet.

Perhaps the most important man on Earth or off it—the Administrator himself—would address the
united natives of his home world personally.

 "He just got back today," said Kowalski and Harper knew who he meant. They had both seen the
mighty spherical spaceship land, such a ship as the Earth had never before beheld. The giant vessel had
an approximate diameter of one mile. The nameTitan stood out on its hull of Arkonide steel. "I’m
anxious to hear the news he’s going to give us."

 He referred to Perry Rhodan, the man who had united the Earth and brought it to the status of a great
galactic power. Perhaps he was the only living human who had no enemies, at least not on the Earth or
among humankind. Beyond, in the far reaches of interstellar space, however…

"We’ll soon find out," Harper rejoined, as he lounged in his chair. "At least one thing hasn’t changed: the
delays for station identification are still a part of television!—Ah! Now it begins!"

The glittering Milky Way faded from the screen to be replaced by the face of a man who was known to
everyone. This was Col. Albrecht Klein, Rhodan’s second-in-command. During the absence of the
Administrator he acted in the interest of the New Power and conducted the affairs of the World
Government, energetically supported by Allan D. Mercant.

 "Friends! Terranians!" Col. Klein made an effective pause and looked into the camera with a friendly
smile—thereby looking into the eyes of more than 2 billion humans. "Perry Rhodan has returned from his
expedition into outer space and will briefly inform you concerning the more important events that were
involved. A fuller report will be forthcoming in the next few days. And so I ask your indulgence if the
Administrator is brief. I now turn you over to Perry Rhodan." Col. Klein smiled and moved to one side,
disappearing momentarily from the TV screen’s field of vision.

 "Well, so far, that was fairly short and painless," observed Harper, looking on with interest as the
receding camera picked up Klein again and then revealed the assembly hall in which the delegates of the
World Government Council were seated around a horseshoe-shaped table. "There—that’s him!"

 Kowalski nodded. He had known Rhodan for a long time. The smartly tailored uniform of the spacefleet
accentuated his lean figure as he arose with a slight smile and walked to the speaker’s podium. He shook
hands with Col. Klein, then stood before the camera, which brought his image to all parts of the world,
even into smallest villages of the farthest continents. Simultaneously, his words were translated by
interpreters into the language of each country in which the sound and image were being received. By this
means, each person could understand his words, even though he spoke in English.

 "Terranians!" Although he continued to smile, Rhodan’s voice sounded slightly strained. In his grey eyes
gleamed the timelessness of infinite space, which had become his second home. However, this quality did
not radiate from him as before, but seemed rather to be suppressed by an overriding expression of
anxiety. "During the past 6 months, very much has come to pass, both here on Earth and in the far
reaches of space. You will all recall that we launched an expedition in search of the Arkonide Empire,
which exists at a distance of 34,000 light-years in the star cluster M-13. Well, we found Arkon, the chief
stellar system, but we experienced a sharp disappointment: 6 years prior to our arrival, the Arkonides
had been superseded by an inconceivably tremendous positronic brain, which now rules a stellar empire
larger than anything that has ever existed in the known part of the galaxy." Rhodan made a slight pause to
let the effect of his words sink in. The camera swung away from him slightly and revealed a close-up of
the two Arkonides, Khrest and Thora.

 Harper let out a low whistle. "That Thora is really way out. She’s thin and she’s tall and her white hair
and red eyes don’t send me very much. You know, she isn’t actually beautiful—but there’s a certain
fascination about her that’s hard to resist…"

 Rhodan appeared on the screen again. "We succeeded in appropriating from the Empire its largest
battleship, theTitan . Owing to attacks by outside enemies, the robot brain perceived that it was being
menaced and so it allied itself with us. We gave assistance to the Regent of the Arkonide Empire and
won its trust—insofar as the word may be used with reference to a machine. In the course of our
operations, the fact became increasingly clear that Earth and the Empire possessed a very considerable
enemy—namely, the Springers. You have already heard of this humanoid race which is an offshoot of the
Arkonides. They are also known as the Galactic Traders. They were the ones who at one time attacked
the Earth and were repulsed. The Mounder, Topthor, still knows the position of Earth—at least, he
believes he knows it, he and the positronic brain on board his ship.

 "But there is still someone else who wishes very much to know where the Earth may be found: the
gigantic robot brain of Arkon. Fellow Terranians, our world knows no more dangerous enemy than this
robot brain, which will permit no other major power to exist in its vicinity. And Terra is in the process of
becoming a major galactic power!"

 Rhodan was interrupted by applause from the delegates. He thanked them with a nod of his head and
continued. "The robot brain of Arkon consists mainly of ice-cold logic and a complete lack of
compromise. It sees in us only a welcome assistance which it may employ at will in order to be of service
to its own interests. However, the Earth is not interested in being a colony of Arkon."

 There was a new burst of applause. Harper and Kowalski also clapped enthusiastically. Khrest and
Thora again became visible on the viewing screen. They sat motionlessly in their places, apparently
suppressing any outward expression of emotion. In Khrest’s eyes there was a momentary gleam but no
one would have ventured to say whether this were a sign of vexation or not. Thora did not take her eyes
from Rhodan for a single second. Her gaze was fixed on his lips as though expecting a revelation from
them.

 Rhodan waited until the applause subsided. "I emphasize the ice-cold logic of the robot brain. If it were
to learn of our intention not to continue as its servants, it would strike without pity and destroy us—if it
knew where the Earth is located. But it does not know where in the infinity of space our solar system is
located. It still does not know that."

 "And Topthor can’t give it away because we have changed the registers of his small positronic computer
on board his ship and given it a false memory. If today Topthor were to ask his robot navigator for the
position of the Earth, he would receive the answer that Earth is the third planet of the giant sun Betelgeuse
in Orion, 272 light-years distant from here.

 "It is my plan that the Galactic Traders—perhaps even the robot brain of Arkon—should annihilate this
third planet and thus believe firmly that they have destroyed the Earth. According to the Arkonide
catalogues, this third planet is uninhabited. But we will arrange that it appears otherwise. In this manner,
Earth will officially cease to exist. Only then will we have time to build our space fleet uninterruptedly, so
we may one day contact Arkon and place before it our conditions—and certainly not as mere subsidiary
allies but at the very least as partners with equal rights."

 There was more applause, even from the two Arkonides, who were also not in favour of a robot as the
ruler of their Empire.

 Harper mumbled, "Rhodan has his plans, alright—and are they ever wild! But I can understand that
there isn’t any other possibility. We just disappear from the scene until we’ve become stronger."

 "Well, it sounds simple enough," replied Kowalski and looked at his watch. "He made it short and
painless and confronted us practically with established facts. I’m anxious to see that full report they said
would be coming through later. That will be a real adventure to read. Half a year in outer space is a long
time."

 He didn’t suspect how close he had come to the truth. Harper was about to answer but Rhodan
continued speaking.

 "Terranians! I have confided my plan to you so that you may understand our activities later. Even this
week, two of our heavy cruisers will take off in the direction of Orion in order to give an uninhabited
planet the appearance of being inhabited. It is a fair certainty that the Mounder, Topthor, will then not
wait long in destroying the hated ‘Earth’. He shall have his wish!" Rhodan raised his hand in greeting and
signalled to the camera. The picture faded and theTerrania symbol returned.
Kowalski got up and turned off the television. He looked at Harper. "Well, what do you think about it?
Don’t you think he’s been pretty thorough in the way he’s figured this thing out?"

 "I don’t know if it’s been as thorough as all that," muttered Harper doubtfully. "No matter how
sophisticated or infallible a calculation may be, there can always be one small error—and then you’ve
had it!"

"Nonsense!" Kowalski was actually indignant. "Perry Rhodan doesn’t make mistakes!"

 It was a rash overstatement, since no infallible an had yet been born. Rhodan had already made errors in
the past. Of course, he had always been able to either repair the damage or to turn them somehow to his
advantage.

 Harper nodded and rose to his feet. "It’s possible, Kowalski, but this time I just happen to have a feeling
that he’s making one. Maybe I’m wrong, and I certainly hope so, but I’ll tell you this, old friend! If
there’s a mistake in the calculations this time, then God help us!"

Kowalski didn’t answer. He watched his friend silently as he disappeared into the next room.

 The chief engineer from Poland shrugged his shoulders. What could go wrong if these Traders came with
their fleet and destroyed an uninhabited world that they took for the Earth and which was almost 300
light-years away? Yes, what possibly could go wrong…?



                                                  ****



"This injustice cries out to high Heaven and I’m putting in a complaint!"

 The voice was very high-pitched and shrill, its tone not only peevish but also full of reproach and anger.
But it appeared to make very little impression on Rhodan, who smiled softly and appeasingly stroked the
reddish brown fur at the nape of the speaker’s neck.

 "But Pucky—why so furious? Haven’t you honestly earned a leave of absence? I’m going to stay here
too."

 But Pucky chose to be vehement. He sat beside Rhodan on one of the chairs, drawn up to his full height,
which only amounted, however, to about 3 feet. The large ears gave evidence of a sensitive hearing, the
sharp snout an outstanding sense of smell and the broad hind portions with their spoon-shaped thick tail
advertised very little enthusiasm for long walks. But walking wasn’t very necessary for Pucky, because
he was a teleporter, and he could transport himself at any time to any chosen location. In addition, he
possessed the gift of thought-reading and was accordingly a telepath. With his mental powers, he could
move matter without touching it, a faculty which was known as telekinesis. Pucky was so universally
gifted that upon first meeting him no one could believe it.

"Alright!" he pouted, and grinned indignantly with his single incisor tooth, which he would rather have
occupied with raw carrots. "But 10 mutants are going along. I’m the only one left out."

"My decision is final," said Rhodan. He thus swept every one of Pucky’s objections away and turned to
the assembled crewmen, who had watched the by-play with varying degrees of enthusiasm. "Maj.
Deringhouse will take over command of theCenturion ; Maj. McClears, theTerra . Both cruisers have a
standard crew complement of 400 men and are equipped with hyper-compensators. This will prevent
anyone from tracking your hytrans jumps. In addition, 10 members of the Mutant Corps are taking part
in the expedition. John Marshall is the chief mutant. He has received from me an unlimited operational
authority and is only subordinate to Deringhouse."

 Next to Rhodan stood a stocky, square-built man with a red brush of hair and a broad fare. As he
shook his head almost imperceptibly, Rhodan noticed an unexpressed question in his water-blue eyes.

"What is it, Bell? Any more objections?"

 Reginald Bell was Rhodan’s best friend and closest confidant, having also been the former Defence
Minister of the New Power. He seemed surprised at such a direct question but quickly overcame his
embarrassment. "No, everything’s quite clear—I’d just like to back up what Pucky was saying…"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

 "I don’t think it’s fair that just we two have been singled out to remain behind. What are we doing here if
the existence or non-existence of the human race is to be decided almost 300 light-years from here?
Pucky is the best parapsychic sensitive and I—I—"

"Yes?" queried Rhodan and grinned his amusement. "And you…?"

"Well, after all, I’m Pucky’s friend," was all that Bell was able to claim by way of justification.

In his seat, the mouse-beaver pricked up his ears. In his bright eyes was a gleam of pleasure. "Well, old
battle buddy, thanks very much!" he chirped happily. "Ill file that away for future reference. But I think
we’re beating our heads against the wall. The battle plan is set in cement. We’re just not going to be
needed."

 Rhodan smiled at him. "You’ve grasped the situation quite well, Pucky. Both ships are ready for takeoff
and they will start their flight to Betelgeuse tonight. Col. Deringhouse, you know the plan. Together with
McClears you will make a pretense of defending the third planet. Then, after the Galactic Traders have
attacked it several times, you are to retreat and disappear, just as soon as the enemy has completely
destroyed the third planet and not left a trace of it behind them. We’re forced to make a sacrifice of this
world but it does not have any intelligent life. The Traders won’t hesitate to consider the destruction of
the mysterious planet Terra as an accomplished fact. And even the robot brain on Arkon will be grateful
to them—considered from a purely logical point of view. Actually, it’s too bad, because I’m quite fond of
that old ‘dome head’." There was a note of deliberate irony in this latter remark.

 The two battle cruisers were spherical ships having diameters in excess of 600 feet. Their range of action
was practically unlimited. By means of transitions through hyperspace, they could cover inconceivable
distances in a matter of seconds. A considerable amount of time was taken up by the positronic
calculations of the pertinent coördinates but this was not to be compared with the short duration of the
trip itself. The armament consisted of pulse-stream projectors and other engines of annihilation, which
were of Arkonide origin. Powerful energy screens protected the spherical vessels from any attack.
Antigravity fields neutralized all inertial impacts, from deceleration manoeuvres, or during landing and
takeoff.

Khrest cleared his throat. "And then what happens?" he asked quietly.
Rhodan looked at him. "You mean after we’ve succeeded in faking the destruction of the Earth? Then
we will prepare ourselves, Khrest. It may take years to attain our goal, perhaps centuries. In any case,
we will not again make a thrust toward Arkon until we are able to announce the position of the Earth
without the slightest apprehension—an Earth that will suddenly begin to exist again. And it will be an
Earth that can dictate its conditions to the robot brain of Arkon. I think this is also in your own interests,
Khrest, Thora…"

The two Arkonides nodded in a rare gesture of mutual agreement.

 Suddenly Bell began to grin. He patted Pucky on the back, winked at Rhodan and shouted fervently,
"Our resurrection is sure going to be a surprise for certain people…!"



                                                    ****



 Rhodan, Bell, the two Arkonides and Allan D. Mercant stood at the edge of the broad spaceport area
as the two mighty spaceships prepared to take off.

 Searchlights blazed, bathing the area in a brilliant illumination. Up at the other end of the field the dark
night of the desert began. The heavens arched like a cosmic bell above the two heavy cruisers, before
which lay one of the most remarkable missions that an Earthly spaceship had ever been assigned to. In
the course of human history, many a war stratagem had been demonstrated and historians were always
pleased to record them. However, never before had a planet been represented as the Earth and
destroyed in its stead.

 Mercant was inclined to look younger than he was but Rhodan was able to detect that the former
Defence Chief of the Western world had aged somewhat in the past months. The heavy responsibility
that now rested on his shoulders consumed a lot of his energy. The crown of blond hair encircling his bald
head was showing its first silvery threads. "There they go!" he announced. "And hopefully, to return again
soon." While speaking, he took care not to step on a crawling night beetle. In spite of his notorious
harshness in the performance of his duties, Mercant was a friend of animals and lower creatures of
nature’s domain. Or indeed, this predilection may have been owing precisely to his outer severity.
"Fortunately this time I’m not remaining behind all by myself."

 Rhodan didn’t remove his gaze from the two glistening spacespheres. "TheTitan remains on constant
standby, Mercant," he reminded him. "At the moment I receive any report of emergency from
Deringhouse, I’ll be under way."

Mercant made a wry face. "What could go wrong?"

 "You seem to forget that we are not familiar with the system of Betelgeuse. In that regard, we are relying
on the Arkonide catalogues. It’s all well and good that the third planet is uninhabited, a mere jungle world
that probably wouldn’t have developed life for millions of years, but what about the first and second
planets? What about the fourth one?"

 "Betelgeuse is a red giant. Its diameter is 400 times greater than that of our own sun. I’m surprised that
the third planet even has any vegetation—or that it is supposed to have any."
 "You are a politician, my dear Mercant, not a scientist. The dimensions of a sun are not important, or
even the intensity of its heat radiation, if the planets are sufficiently removed from it. The life zone of a
planetary system depends on the proper relationship between distances and the relative amount of
warmth radiated and received. We will soon know what surprises the second Earth may have in store for
us." He looked at his watch. "In 2 minutes take off."

 Bell was remarkably quiet. He stood there motionlessly in the night and gazed across at theCenturion
and theTerra . Rhodan surmised what was bothering him. Bell would love to be part of the action when it
came to playing tricks on the Galactic Traders but he had to remain behind on Earth.

One minute to takeoff.

Khrest broke the silence. "If the plan succeeds, then Terra will have won more than just a battle."

"That’s the purpose of the whole undertaking," said Rhodan.

The seconds ticked away. Nothing could now interrupt the course of events, nor did anyone wish to.

"Now!" murmured Khrest.

 The two giant metal spheres rose silently and soared slowly away into the dark sky. The searchlights
followed them for awhile, until their glistening hulls passed beyond their range and disappeared into the
vast emptiness.

 Rhodan sighed. "Well, that’s it. Now there’s nothing else we can do but wait it out. Let’s hope that our
calculations work out smoothly—because the tiniest displacement of a decimal could be disastrous."

Khrest, Thora and Mercant nodded.

Only Bell growled discontentedly. "Mathematics are my weak point—maybe I should have gone along
with them after all."

 Rhodan smiled at him reproachfully. "And spoil everything? No, it’s probably best for you to stay here
and make your mistakes."

 Which didn’t help to improve Bell’s mood, especially since he wanted to take out his anger on Pucky
and was not able to find him.




                                    2/ INVISIBLE SPIDER’S WEB



 As theCenturion rematerialised, Maj. Deringhouse saw something that made him forget his painful
reactions to the hypertransition. He was stationed in the observation cupola which was located in the
equatorial area of the spherical spaceship. The transparent dome made all videoscreens unnecessary.
Anyone looking outward from this position received the impression that he hung suspended in space
itself.
 On his port side, he could see the sister shipTerra rematerialise. But that was not what had made the
major impact on Deringhouse, who was already familiar with a great part of the galaxy; it was the star
that greeted the two ships as they sped toward it with the speed of light

Betelgeuse!

 The great sun floated there in the midst of the infinite universe like the yellowish-red eye of a giant, larger
and mightier than all the stars that Deringhouse had ever observed. The others paled before the massive
dull gleam of the giant as though they were ashamed of their own modest brightness.

 So this was Betelgeuse, actually a red giantess. If one were to put her in the place of Earth’s Sun, her
fiery rim would reach beyond the orbit of Mars. She was cooler than Sol but this factor was
compensated for by her incredible dimensions. Designated as an abnormally variable star, her surface
temperature was in the neighbourhood of 4,500° Fahrenheit. Fourteen planets were supposed to be
circling Betelgeuse, of which the third world was to take over the role of the Earth. Because even if
Topthor had forgotten many things, there is one thing that he certainly would not have forgotten: that the
Earth was the third planet of a solar system. Naturally he would soon recognize his mistake, because how
could a Galactic Trader mistake Betelgeuse for the sun? But—as Rhodan had smilingly assured
everyone—then it would be too late for him to correct the mistake.

A feeling of anxiety crept over Deringhouse as he stared into the red eye of the giant. Previously he had
not given much weight to such things as presentiment or foreboding but this time things appeared to be
different somehow. Perhaps it was due to the unique nature of the plan. Or perhaps due to many
unknown factors in the equation. At any rate, Deringhouse had to employ all of his determination in order
not to fall prey to his doubts.

Anyhow, what good was fear or trepidation at this point?

He shook himself and got up. Drawn to his full height, he went out of the observatory and permitted
himself to be transported by the personnel carrier belt to the Control Central, where his first officer,
Capt. Lamanche, was already waiting for him.

 "The last transition has been completed," announced the older officer, superfluously. "Our goal lies within
two light-days of theCenturion ."

 "Thank you," acknowledged Deringhouse as he observed the panoramic gallery of videoscreens. With a
lifelike clarity they reproduced the ship’s surrounding environment, unless one were using the special
magnification feature. Such was not the case now.

"Did everything go alright?"

"Yes, sir. Also with theTerra . McClears is waiting for your instructions."

 Deringhouse nodded his satisfaction. The uncertainties of a few moments before disappeared. "Set up
the intership communication," he ordered calmly.

 While he waited for the telecom videoscreen to warm up, he tried to remember everything he knew
about the solar system that lay before him. It wasn’t very much. One thing for certain: the 3rd planet was
uninhabited. Only on the 4th planet was there supposed to be some sort of primitive life, according to the
indications in the star catalogue. Other catalogue information included the fact that the surface was for the
most part covered with water, which was a hindrance to the development of actually intelligent races.
Well, those were statements which could be factual—but by the same token they could also be outdated
by now. No one had any idea of when the Arkonides had once visited the system of Betelgeuse and
catalogued it. That could have been many thousands of years ago.

Maj. McClears appeared on the screen. "Well, here we are!" He confirmed the fact as though he had
discovered a new universe. "That’s a pretty tremendous sun out there, don’t you think?"

 "It’s a pretty big brute," replied Maj. Deringhouse curtly. Involuntarily his gaze wandered to the adjacent
viewscreen, where the reddish eye seemed to be watching him with a glimmering intent. "Its gravitational
field must be unimaginable."

 "Nothing to worry about if we observe the prescribed distance limitations, Deringhouse. The 3rd planet
is a couple of billion miles distant from that flaming surface."

"What do you think about our going over to take a look at the 4th planet first?"

"Why?"

"Because it has life on it; primitive, we’ll have to admit, but life nevertheless."

McClears glanced briefly at his data sheets. "The 3rd planet is directly ahead of us while the 4th is on the
other side of the sun. It’d be quite a detour. And besides that, it’s the 3rd planet that we…"

 "Alright, McClears, let’s make a compromise. We’ll take a quick look at the 3rd planet and then fly
ahead to the 4th. I’d like to know who’s living in our neighbourhood if the 3rd planet is going to be
attacked by the Springers."

"I’ll buy that, Deringhouse. Do we remain under light velocity?"

 "Yes. I don’t want to use any hyper-transits here because I’d like to look this system over more
leisurely. The Springers think they’ll find the Earth here. Maybe they’ve already been here ahead of us
and have sent their ships here. We have to be careful. Maybe we should separate."

 Deringhouse knew that the Springers were their greatest enemy on the rocky road to peace in the
universe. Properly considered, the Springers could not be judged exactly as a warring race. They were
traders, nothing more. But certainly they were traders with a very self-willed perspective of things,
possessing a hard determination to tolerate no competition. They were prepared to deal and trade with
all comers but only on their conditions. Whoever threatened their monopoly would be unceremoniously
eliminated. For this reason, there were also the Mounders, who were their special police force.

 And now Rhodan was in the process of turning the tables. He looked upon peaceful and fair commercial
practices as a guarantee of a successful coexistence of the various races. But because of this attitude, he
automatically became the most dangerous opponent of the Springers, who did not possess any specific
planet of their own and were actually at home everywhere in the galaxy. Such a struggle was capable of
lasting for centuries. However, by means of Rhodan’s present strategy, it could also end abruptly and
then…

"Separate?" asked McClears, interrupting Deringhouse’s train of thought. "Why that? It isn’t necessary."

Deringhouse gave in. "Alright, skip it. So we’ll stay together," he said. "We’ll drift around in the vicinity
of the 3rd planet in order to make a brief observation. Then we’ll go nonstop to the 4th planet. Instead of
going around Betelgeuse, I would suggest two short hypertransitions. I’ll give you the exact coördinates.
So carry on, McClears. We’ll maintain communications."

The telecom screen went blank but both communications control centres remained in contact.

 Deringhouse turned to Capt. Lamanche. "Maintain the present course. I’m going back to the observation
chamber. Tell Marshall I’d like to talk to him."

Lamanche nodded and depressed an intercom button.

 Deringhouse left the Control Central and 5 minutes later entered the transparent-walled cupola again.
Although no light had been turned on, the room radiated a reddish illumination. The outer planets of the
system had long since been put behind theCenturion in the depths of space. They were giant ice worlds
plodding along their lonely orbits in an eternal twilight, naked of any form of life.

 The 5th planet stood far off on the starboard side, a red-gleaming giant twice the size of Jupiter. The
spectro-analyses had shown that it was outside the life zone of Betelgeuse. Deringhouse seated himself,
deeply impressed. He stared ahead into the vast emptiness of the giant system. Even at the speed of light,
it would require weeks if one were to traverse its diameter.

 Betelgeuse had become larger but it was still light days away. If Deringhouse wanted to face it, he had to
admit that this closer view had not altered original impressions. He had imagined the giant star to be like
this whenever he had looked at it previously in the home skies of Earth, in the constellation of Orion.
Even as seen from the Earth, that red eye had shown angrily and threateningly through the vast reaches of
infinity. Across the light-centuries of space, it had worked its effect upon the beholder. And inasmuch as
Betelgeuse varied considerably in its brightness, it always appeared to the careful observer as though the
red eye were blinking at him across the abyss—although no one had ventured to say whether this was
supposed to be a friendly wink, as was customary among friends, or a terrible threat, a warning:Watch
out, Earthworm!

Take it easy, Betelgeuse
—he thought bitterly.We don’t want anything from you, only one of your children…

Was that not an answering blink from Betelgeuse…?

Behind him, the door slid into the bulkhead wall and then closed again.

 "You wanted to speak to me, Major?" John Marshall had entered the cupola. Naturally his question was
completely superfluous because Marshall was a telepath and already knew what the commander was
thinking. But he took care, always, to underplay his unusual faculties.

Deringhouse nodded without turning around. "Sit down, Marshall. Over here, please. What do you think
of Betelgeuse?"

 Marshall sat down and looked into the empty space between the planets for long moments in silence.
Finally his gaze remained fixed upon the red-gleaming giant sun. "Betelgeuse is going to become a turning
point in human history," he murmured, lost in thought. "Rhodan could not have found a more appropriate
star."

Deringhouse did not answer. He stared silently into the sun whose rays were filtered through the
multi-laminar glasslike material and were rendered harmless. The red sun radiated hotly but not with
sufficient brightness to blind the eyes.

 "Don’t you feel that way?" asked the telepath in an attempt to confirm his own feelings, although he
already knew the answer. "Quite," agreed the Major. "I think as you do but Betelgeuse doesn’t look very
peaceful. Her aspect reminds me of Mars—and Mankind made Mars its god of war."

 "Well, that’s true, Major, but you know yourself that later that was born out to be erroneous. Mars is a
friendly world—nothing to be compared to the flaming Hell in front of us. Perhaps its appearance is also
deceiving."

"Let’s hope so," grumbled Deringhouse but he didn’t sound too confident about it. Then, making a
visible effort to pull himself together, he said, "Why do we concern ourselves with Betelgeuse at all? We
don’t want anything from the big old red giantess—we’re only interested in the third planet."

Marshall smiled softly at the manner in which his direct supervisor attempted to put aside his own
premonitions. "And the fourth," he reminded him.

 "Yes, of course, that one especially. The catalogue lists primitive life there. The surface is supposed to
consist of 90% water. We’ll take a look at the single continent and cross over the island chains, then
come back to the third planet to wait for the Springers. I’ll bet you Topthor is thinking the time is about
ripe for attacking the Earth. But he’s going to wonder…"

 "I’d rather hope that he won’t have any time for wondering," remarked Marshall sceptically. "If he sees
too quickly that he has the wrong solar system in front of him, Rhodan’s plan is going to go up in smoke."

Deringhouse shook his head grimly. "We’ll just take care that he doesn’t have time to think."



                                                   ****



 It was a world similar to Venus. Slowly and at low altitude, the two cruisers swept along over the
surface of the third planet. Three great continents lay in a gigantic, primitive sea, covered by thick,
primeval forests, which were only broken by broad, wide plateaus. The peaks of rugged mountains
towered into the drifting clouds. Between lay broad valleys.

 It seemed improbable that there would be no form of sensible life here but no matter how hard they
searched for it, they did not find the slightest trace. Naturally this could not be completely determined up
here from this height but one thing was certain: intelligent life did not dwell upon the third planet of
Betelgeuse.

McClears’ face appeared on the screen of the telecom. "So here you have Terra 2," he said, only
partially satisfied. "Actually, it’s too bad, don’t you think? It could be put to good use."

 "I gather you’re referring to colonization," replied Deringhouse. He nodded slowly. "You’re probably
right about that but what Rhodan has in mind is more important—even more important than the existence
of this planet."
 "Before we take up guard duty here, you—ah—wanted to look over the fourth planet," suggested
McClears. "Do you think it’s necessary that I come along? Or do you think maybe it’ll be better for me
to stay here with theTerra ?"

 Deringhouse considered this for a moment and then nodded. "Maybe it’s not a bad idea if we separate
just now," he admitted. "I’ll be back in 20 hours. I don’t think it’ll be necessary to spend any more time
looking at that water world. As soon as any Springer ship appears in this system, we’ll meet at Terra 2
and carry on according to plan. Our Com stations will remain in contact with each other."

McClears breathed an obvious sigh of relief. "In the meanwhile, I can take more time to look over Terra
2." It seemed almost as though he were consoling Deringhouse. "As soon as you return, you’ll receive a
detailed report. Do you think it’s necessary to set up a base?"

 "On Terra 2?" Deringhouse shook his head. "No, that will not be necessary. If the Springers attack, they
must not catch us on the surface of the planet. That would be too dangerous." He pondered the question
a moment. "If you want to, you can launch a Gazelle class scoutship. It’ll be better for you to remain,
however, out in space with theTerra . Do you go along with my thinking?"

 McClears indicated his agreement. After an exchange of further instructions, information and good
advice, Deringhouse made his departure and put theCenturion on a new course. He broke through the
thick cloud cover of the third planet and hurtled outward into space.

The first short hypertransition brought the ship into a position from which both planets in question could
be laterally on either side of the giant sun. On the right, the brightly gleaming cloud cover of Terra 2 could
be seen, while to the left the 4th planet shimmered in an almost unnatural blue-rose light. The planet
hovered in the vastness of the void like a drop of sea-water.

 While the nav-computer calculated the coördinates for a second hypertransition, Deringhouse regarded
this giant ‘water drop’. Beside him sat John Marshall while Capt. Lamanche busied himself with the
controls.

"It has a pleasant appearance," remarked Marshall, who was reflecting the Major’s thoughts.

Deringhouse nodded. "It’s like a blue diamond, irradiated by a reddish light—a magnificent sight. A
name like Betelgeuse 4 sounds a little too prosaic for such a wonder of the universe. How about calling it
Akvomondo?"

"The Water World? Why not? The name certainly fits."

"So, Akvo it is!" said Deringhouse. "I’m anxious to see what we will find there."

"Probably water," peeped a thin little voice, somewhat timorously, out of a corner of the control room.

 Deringhouse turned slowly toward the source of this voice, trying to accustom his eyes to the
semi-darkness there, but John Marshall had whirled around as though bitten by a snake. Pucky crouched
in the corner and manufactured an embarrassed grin with his single incisor tooth, the while his soft brown
eyes seemed to smile imploringly, as though asking for forgiveness.

"You!" gasped Deringhouse and almost fell out of his seat.

"Yes, I," confirmed Pucky, and turned his attention to John Marshall, who was still sitting motionless,
staring at this unexpected apparition. "Don’t forget to take in some air, Johnny. The human body can’t
hold out much longer than 3 minutes without oxygen—and it would be a pity to cause you to—"

"How did you get here?"

 Pucky leaned back and supported himself against the bulkhead, visibly relieved. "You may not be ready
for this but I came here on board theCenturion ."

 "Now don’t talk nonsense, Pucky. I brought 9 people with me from the Corps. You were not among
them."

 "Actually, you brought 10 with you but you didn’t know it," the mouse-beaver lamely explained.
"Naturally, Rhodan doesn’t know anything about it, either. He’s going to be thunderstruck when he finds
out."

 Marshall got up slowly and walked over to Pucky. "I’m afraid you’re going to be struck with more than
thunder, my disobedient little friend. Do you always have to go against regulations? So you sneaked on
board.—When did you do it?"

"Sneaked is not the correct expression—I naturally teleported on board while you were still inTerrania .
This is the first time I’ve had the nerve to show myself. You aren’t really mad at me, are you, John?"

 Marshall stared at the miscreant, who pleaded with his brown, hound-dog eyes. His rusty brown pelt lay
flat against him, which demonstrated his peaceful attitude. The incisor tooth had long since disappeared
behind the lips of his sharp snout. Pucky was not grinning any more, which could mean almost anything.

 It was difficult for Marshall to keep a straight face. "You’ll have to settle this with Rhodan, Pucky. He’s
the one who will have to punish you for your insubordination. I can’t even put you in irons, because how
can you imprison a teleporter?"

"Yes—ah—I’ve already asked myself that," Pucky murmured softly.

 Marshall swallowed almost convulsively. Deringhouse let out a really weird groan and then turned again
to the viewing screen, as if he would have nothing more to do with the entire affair. The mouse-beaver
belonged to the Mutant Corps, which was led by Marshall. Therefore, Pucky was Marshall’s concern.

"Very well," sighed the telepath. "We will hold this situation in abeyance until Rhodan decides what is to
be done. I’m afraid you’re going to have to be taught a lesson."

 "If I can make myself useful here, maybe it won’t go so badly," said Pucky, hopefully, with a return of his
usual self-confidence. He hopped forward a few steps and looked past Deringhouse at the viewscreen.
"So that’s the 4th planet. What’s the matter with it?"

"Nothing is wrong with it!" Deringhouse turned and looked angrily at Pucky. "What’s supposed to be
wrong with it?"

 Startled, the mouse-beaver drew back. "I only thought…" he chirped, "because you were staring at it
so—" Pucky had an ingenuous habit of butting into all things and all places without regard to rank or age.
He may have justified the habit on the basis of the fact that everyone treated him that way—because after
all it seldom occurred to anyone to say "excuse me" to a mouse-beaver, or "sir" or "if you please…"
 "I happen to be pondering over it," said Deringhouse, reprimandingly. "And I’m waiting for the go ahead
for our next hypertransit. I do presume that it is still permissible to reflect, ponder and deliberate, or—?"

Pucky stood his ground. He glanced briefly at Marshall. "Oh, it’s permissible, alright, Major, although it
has been the cause of a great deal of folly and nonsense, as is certainly borne out by human history,
which I had the more or less dubious pleasure of studying while I was on the Earth, in order to—"

"Knock it off!" shouted Deringhouse. "Who’s been teaching you that soapbox elocution? I don’t think
you ever intended to end that sentence."

"Well, that’s the way Bell always talks when he wants to express himself properly," replied the
mouse-beaver defensively. "Naturally, he has also imparted other things to me, but—"

 "Yes, I’ve heard about them," mumbled Deringhouse, and concentrated once more on the viewscreen.
"Bell isn’t the highest man of letters and he’s about as subtle as a bull."

For a moment, Pucky appeared to be somewhat perplexed. Then his incisor tooth gleamed briefly as he
hopped back into the corner of the room, avoiding Marshall by a wide margin.

 The telepath looked at him in mock sympathy. "I wouldn’t want to be in your skin, Pucky, if Rhodan
shows up here. This time he would hardly be as lenient with you as he was on Aralon."

"He’ll practice a little leniency, alright," growled Pucky with an unusually deep tone of voice, "if I save all
of you from certain destruction." He balled himself together on the deck as if ready to go to sleep. "The
way I see it, it won’t be hard for us to fall into some dangerous trap, and then you may find me to be very
useful." Having spoken his piece, he closed his eyes.

Marshall stared down at him for a few seconds, then sighed and returned to his seat next to the controls.
Lamanche, meanwhile, had been wise enough to stay out of the situation, choosing not to add to the
demoralization of either side.

 "Well, Deringhouse, what do you say? Do you think we’d better notify Rhodan about this? Maybe
they’ve noticed Pucky is missing back home and they’ll be worried about him."

A heartfelt sigh emerged from the corner.

 Deringhouse winked at Marshall. "Worried? Who could possibly worry about such a disobedient
mousebeaver? I’ll bet you no one has even missed him. It won’t even occur to anybody that he isn’t
around any more."

"Huh?" The question emerged from the corner, slightly restrained but nevertheless audible.

"That’s right" retorted Deringhouse, who was playing his ace card now. "No one is going to miss you."

 Pucky waddled forward out of the corner, his incisor tooth gleaming in an expression of new challenge
and enterprise. Before Deringhouse, the mouse-beaver drew himself up to his full height. "So, you say
nobody will miss me? And would you like to make a bet on it? Good! Let’s make a wager! Let’s
say—for 200 carrots and 3 hours of back-scratching… "

"For… 3 hours—what?" Deringhouse appeared to be completely at a loss.
"Quite simple: scratching my back, preferably at the nape of my neck," explained the mouse-beaver
pleasantly. "I submit myself to it sometimes as much as a half hour at a time. I remember once that Bell
was stuck for 5 hours—"

 "Yes, I also heard about that," the Major interrupted him, while running a hand through his sparse hair,
"but I’m not taken in by your tricks so easily. You bet with anybody you please but not with me!" He
turned to Lamanche. "Well, what do you say? Are we ready?"

"The coördinates have been established," said the Frenchman. "We can transit."

Pucky hopped back into his corner. When the opportunity presented itself, he would remind
Deringhouse of the wager…



                                                   ****



 As they emerged from hyperspace and returned to the more trustworthy space-time-continuum, the
planet Akvo was hardly two light-minutes distant from them. The instantly-activated deceleration strongly
reduced the flight velocity of theCenturion . Deringhouse cut in his manual override in order to have the
ship completely in his control.

 The blue planet continued to grow in size. Its appearance was strangely unique. It did, in very fact,
appear to be one giant drop of water, floating weightlessly in the universe and illuminated by a giant
rose-coloured lamp. By now, Betelgeuse had acquired the apparent diameter of Earth’s own sun but it
was billions of miles removed. It’s light required many hours to traverse the intervening distance.

 Deringhouse switched on the intercom and established a connection with the ship’s laboratory. "Meier!
This is Control Central. During our approach flight to this planetary body ahead of us, I want you to set
up a complete instrumental probe. I need the constitution of the atmosphere, the rotation data as well as
the orbital data and the annual and seasonal data that’s related to it. Shoot me the results up here as fast
as you can."

"Wilco, Commander!" came the answer.

Deringhouse cut off and turned to Marshall. "I’m anxious to see those results."

 The telepath waved his hand in a questioning gesture. "Major, I don’t quite understand your interest in
this planet. You’re the commander and I shouldn’t mix into your affairs but if you permit me the
question—why are you so interested in this fourth planet when our assignment is supposed to be
concerned with decoying the Springers into a destruction of the third one?"

 "It may be nothing but curiosity," admitted Deringhouse. "But I’m also thinking of our own security. The
first observations ever made of the Betelgeuse system only bring up the possibility of two planets having
intelligent life—the third and the fourth. If the third is doomed to destruction, I’d like to know at least if
the fourth one might be suitable for later operations. I think you can understand that, Marshall. It adds up
to this: our overall safety and security demands that we become as completely informed as possible
concerning conditions in this system. I believe I can accept the responsibility for the slight delay involved.
We won’t miss the main action. If the Springers show up, we’ll be informed immediately by McClears."
 The telepath was able to observe that Deringhouse spoke exactly what was in his mind. He nodded
slowly. "I’m in accord with you, Major. Do you also intend to land on Akvo?"

 "That depends on the circumstances. If we pick up any signs of intelligent life, I will naturally attempt to
establish a communication." A buzzer sounded. "Excuse me—that’s the lab. We’ll know in a few
moments now what the conditions are on Akvo." He pressed a switch and announced: "Control Central."

 "Meier here, laboratory. Results as far as we’ve gone are as follows: the 4th planet has a 48-hour day,
the orbital revolution around Betelgeuse requires 270 Earth-years, change of seasons is consequently
almost unnoticeably slow, and is insignificant, anyway, because hardly any ecliptic angle is measurable.
The atmosphere is breathable. It’s a little light on oxygen, and steamy. One landmass about the size of
Europe is the only continent and then there are a number of smaller islands. Otherwise, the surface
consists entirely of water. The ocean is not particularly deep. That’s about all of it at the moment.

"Thank you, Meier."

 Deringhouse remained silent for awhile and stared at the videoscreen. The bluish planet had become
larger and now almost filled the entire field of vision. In the reddish sunshine the outlines of the single land
surface stood out plainly and seemed to lie in lonely isolation on the great watery waste of the planet. If
there were intelligences there, they would have to live principally from the sea and its products. Ship
navigation would be extremely limited because why cross the sea if there was no shore to reach? A
completely unknown type of civilization must have developed itself here. Deringhouse was extremely
curious about it.

He finally made a decision. "We’ll look for a good landing place on the continent. They could hardly
know anything about space travel here."

"Who do you mean—they?" asked Marshall, pointedly.

He did not receive an answer…

 TheCenturion circumnavigated the water planet one time. Flying very low, it swept along over the
endless blue wastes and then once more approached the coastline of the continent. Isolated advanced
archipelagos failed to show the slightest trace of civilization. Overgrown with dense forests, they were
reminiscent of the paradise islands of Earthly southern seas. Wide-sweeping sandy inlets and bays invited
one to tarry awhile but Deringhouse was not in the least inclined at the moment to take a holiday. What
he was searching for was alien intelligences. Akvo could not be without life.

 The first evidence that appeared to support Deringhouse’s contention was a low-profile dome-like
structure located in the immediate vicinity of the coast, not more than a mile from the beach. The water
must have been very calm at this location because the sea bottom could be seen quite clearly. The upper
portion of the cupola structure rose out of the water, revealing a platform and balustrade. Porthole-like
windows encircled the building, the bottom half of which lay under the water and certainly reached the
ocean floor.

TheCenturion slowed its flight.

Deringhouse stared at the phenomenon. "Well, now!" was all he could think of to say at the moment.

John Marshall joined him in observing the dome-shaped structure. As usual, Lamanche remained
unmoved by the event. He tended the controls and made sure that the heavy cruiser remained on its
course.

 "A noteworthy development!" observed the telepath. "What I can’t figure out is why they built that thing
in the water when they have plenty of room there on the land."

 Deringhouse looked ahead at the nearby coast. "You’ve got a point there. There’s nothing like this that I
can recognize on land. At the least I would have expected a city at a location like this but I only see
primeval forest and a coastline made up partly of sand and partly of rocky headlands—but otherwise,
nothing. It’s peculiar, really—very peculiar…"

 The domed structure fell behind them as they arrived at the coast and followed it a few miles. Beneath
them lay nothing but untouched land, which did not reveal any sign of artificial or synthetic development.
The terrain ascended gently, showing low mountain chains, broad river valleys, giant prairies and
savannas and endless forests. But no signs of a civilization could be discovered.

 "That’s very strange," said Deringhouse, expressing his thoughts aloud as though to himself. "There’s
only one continent on this planet and you’d think the inhabitants would have used up every square foot of
land by now. You’d expect to see throngs of people down there, like in our capital cities. And what do
we find? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Where are these characters hiding themselves?"

"If we hadn’t seen that cupola back there, I’d swear the place was uninhabited," remarked Marshall.

"The cupola, however, does exist," said Deringhouse pointedly. "There’s life on Akvo, that’s certain.
And we’re going to find it."

 Having expressed himself, he leaned back as though lost in his own reflections, and this suited Marshall.
He gave Lamanche a friendly nod as he left the Control Central. Behind him waddled Pucky, who had
read his thoughts. Marshall took the shortest route into that part of the ship where the other 9 mutants
were quartered.

The door of the Control Central had hardly closed when Deringhouse stirred out of his mental
preoccupation. Without removing his gaze from the videoscreen, he leaned forward abruptly and said to
his first officer, "What is your assessment, Lamanche?"

The Frenchman absently swept his hand across several controls on the console before him. He shrugged
his shoulders and then expressed himself somewhat guardedly. "We don’t know yet what that cupola is.
For all we know, it could be a wrecked spaceship—we haven’t yet taken a good look at that thing. It
would support my own theory that there isn’t any intelligent life here."

 This explanation did not seem to satisfy Deringhouse at all. He snorted disdainfully. "A wrecked
spaceship—hah! The cupola is a building. That’s for certain. The only remaining question is, why—" He
became silent suddenly. Lamanche looked up and followed the gaze of his commander.

 On the videoscreen, the surface below was clearly visible. In natural colour, it drifted slowly over the
convex surface of the screen. Then Lamanche also saw the low dome-shaped elevations on the edge of
the broad plateau that lifted toward them out of the plain below. The small structures glistened with a
reddish reflection of the sun, as though made of metal. Their obvious fabrication was evidenced not only
by their individual shapes but also by their overall arrangement.

TheCenturion started to land…
                                                  ****



A great hullabaloo of shouts and greetings went up as Marshall and Pucky entered the wardroom of the
Mutant Corps.

"Wow, what a surprise!" came a happy cry from Ras Tschubai, the Afroterranian teleporter. "So maybe
you’re the secret weapon in this operation?"

 "He’s a secret, alright," grumbled Marshall with ominous undertones. "The little scamp sneaked on board
and simply came along—against explicit orders from Rhodan."

The smile of the Africa-born mutant faded in sudden shocked concern. "Oh oh! In that case, I wouldn’t
want to be in your skin, Pucky!"

 "I don’t know about that!" giggled young Betty Toufry. "He seems to have a pretty thick pelt on him!"
She bent down to stroke Pucky, who submitted to it with visible signs of comfort. He was very fond of
the little telepath, who was very much on rapport with him in the sense of paranormal faculties because
Betty was also a telekineticist. "Rhodan will forgive you, Pucky!"

"He will if you put in a good word for me, I’m sure," Pucky nodded with renewed confidence.

The Japanese ‘listener’, Doitsu Ataka, shook his head. "You’re talking about discipline. Let him do
whatever he wants. I’m inclined to agree with him. At least things aren’t going to be dull around here any
more. Pucky is always a lot of fun."

Marshall glanced disapprovingly at the Japanese. The fellow mentioned discipline in one breath and
violated it in the next.

 But Pucky knew how to turn the situation to his advantage. "Right you are, Ataka!" he called out
happily. "Who knows how much time we have yet to live—why shouldn’t we make merry? Anyway,
Rhodan would just have us all die—naturally, in a figurative sense—so let’s die figuratively—but at least
let’s do it merrily. What I suggest is an endurance scratching contest and I’ll be pleased to place myself at
your disposal…"

 Marshall deemed it expedient to change the subject. "Everybody listen closely!" he called out, putting a
stop to the general laughter. "On this planet, which the Commander has baptized with the name Akvo,
we’ve just discovered the first signs of intelligent life. We are going to land. No one knows what we will
find but one thing is certain: it has nothing to do with our actual assignment."

 Unfortunately it was an illogical closing phrase but Marshall realized it only sometime later—as did
everyone else. Now, for the moment, there was no time left to think.

The emergency alarm shrilled through the ship.

 Marshall stood for a moment as though paralysed. He seemed to be listening inside himself and then a
shock ran through his body. "Deringhouse!" he groaned. "What happened? Your thoughts! They’re
muddled and confused…"

 A buzzer sounded. The viewscreen lit up on the intercom, which connected to all departments of the
ship. The commander’s face appeared, perplexed and troubled.

 "Attention, all hands!" he shouted in hard, almost brittle tones. "This is a top alert! Man all weapon
stations at once! Somebody has taken over the controls of theCenturion ! We’re landing!" He paused
briefly as though considering. "Marshall! Keep your mutants on standby. We may need their help!"

"What’s the matter with the ship?" cried Marshall. "Have you already tried—"

"It’s useless. We’ve been trapped in a powerful tractor beam. It knocks out all our controls. Frankly,
Marshall, I’m not intending to strike back at the aliens. I want first to wait and see what they want from
us."

 "Don’t you think it’s amazing that a race would be here with the technical development and means to
take over a ship like theCenturion when we didn’t see the least sign of their activity on the surface of
Akvo?"

 Deringhouse attempted a weak smile. "That’s exactly what I want to find out. What we are experiencing
is paradoxical and impossible. No, I wouldn’t be too much surprised if an advanced civilization existed
here on this world. But…"

Marshall felt the deck tremble under his feet. Then came a harder shock which almost toppled him over.
And finally—silence…

 On the viewing screen, Deringhouse was seen to glance off to one side before he turned back once
more to his audience. "Yes," he said tonelessly, "we have landed. We are in the middle of a rocky
plateau. Shining metal dome structures surround us but I can’t make out any weapons. Also, neither
humans nor any other kind of life forms are discernible. We have to wait it out until the unknown people
are ready to establish contact with us. I want everyone to remember this: we are not defenceless,
gentlemen. At the first or least indication of hostile action on the part of the opposition, we will strike
without compunction but we will not be the ones to start the war. You will not open fire without my
orders."

 Marshall listened as the various weapons positions reported their readiness and went on alert standby.
He gave a few instructions to his mutants and then left the wardroom in order to proceed to the control
room, where a better overall view of the situation could be obtained. And if necessary he could also
direct any required mutant action from that point.

 Deringhouse stood erect and ready before the panorama view gallery and observed theCenturion’s
surroundings. He gave Marshall only a quick glance and did not permit his presence to interrupt his
thoughts. Lamanche hunched a little to one side over the controls of the energy screens, which were not
yet activated.

 Deringhouse murmured aloud to himself, uncertainly: "There’s just no chance that they’d know where we
came from, even if they turn out to possess hypersensors. TheCenturion and theTerra are equipped
with the necessary hyper-compensators. Nobody can track our transition jumps. At least that’s a
consolation."

"In spite of all that, they still dragged us down out of the sky," warned the telepath.
 "So what if they did? We submitted to it, Marshall. All right, I’ll admit that for the moment we were
powerless and had to go along with it. I would say right now that we’ve got the stuff to destroy their
installation. On the other hand, why should we? I want to know what they look like and who they are."
He looked again at the viewscreen and Marshall followed his gaze.

 The heavy cruiser rested on a broad plateau. The first of the metal dome structures stood at a distance
of 300 yards, obscuring the edge of the forest behind it. On the horizon shimmered the tops of distant
mountains in the heat of noonday. The second dome lay farther to the right—then the third, the fourth and
so on. They formed a circle in the middle of which theCenturion was located.

 Lamanche awoke from his lethargy. "It’s a veritable trap—an invisible spider’s web," he declared
sullenly. "We’re sitting right in the cross-hairs of the captive beam that’s holding us down. I wouldn’t
have thought these islanders could come up with something like this. Why don’t they show themselves?"

 "They probably have their reasons," replied the Commander. He stared intently at a specific point on the
edge of the forest. "But I believe our curiosity is about to be satisfied. There comes a ground vehicle."

 Now the two other men saw it. A grey-coloured object separated itself from the shadow of the strangely
formed giant trees and rolled out slowly onto the plain. Deringhouse activated the magnification of the
viewing screen and now they saw it more clearly. It was a type of armoured vehicle, even though it was
without a gun turret. In the place of the latter was a curved cupola composed of transparent material.
This type of transport equipment often used to explore unknown worlds, especially where the
atmosphere was considered either unsuitable or dangerous. Behind the transparency of the cupola, the
hazy outlines of several figures could be seen. The distance was still too great to be able to pick out
details.

Deringhouse turned around and looked at Marshall. "Well, what do you say? Still no thought impulses?"

 "Some, but they are insignificant. They are screening themselves, so it appears they have already had
contact with telepaths. They may be telepaths, themselves, and understand the necessary security
measures they have to take, to restrict the radiation of their own brain waves."

 Deringhouse fingered the vernier adjustment knob on the magnifier and said nothing. There was a sudden
new gleam in his eye as he observed the approaching vehicle. For a moment it seemed that he wanted to
express something but then he thought better of it and remained silent.

Marshall noted that the Commander’s hands trembled slightly. He sent out a telepathic command:Pucky!
Teleport immediately to the Control Central!

The mental command was hardly finished before the air shimmered in the middle of the room—and the
mousebeaver suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He had heard Marshall and had come immediately.

"What’s, up?" he twittered, as ready for action as ever.

 "We are just now making contact with the alien people, Pucky. Unfortunately, their thoughts are being
screened off. We have to know with whom we are dealing. Could you perhaps—?"

 "Could Iperhaps , he says!" piped Pucky enthusiastically. But he added with an impudent grin, "But how
about you putting in a good word with the Chief, if I—"
"That’s blatant blackmail!" put in Deringhouse without turning around. "But you’re on! Even I will protect
you if you can succeed in telling me, within the next 10 seconds, who it is that’s coming at us in that
ground vehicle. I may be mistaken but somehow there’s something familiar in those blurry figures…"

 Marshall started visibly. "Familiar—you say? I had the same impression from those weak thought
impulses. Could it be coincidence?"

"Why argue about it?" asked Pucky. "I only have 5 seconds more. Until then…" The air shimmered once
more. The spot in which he had just been standing was empty.

 Two seconds later he was back. His face reflected unbounded amazement. With his ears held rigidly
high and the nape of his neck bristling, he sank down on his broad hind parts and utilized his wide beaver
tail as a support. "Wow! Who would believe it?!" he groaned, then let out a shrill whistle. "Who would
have thought that the world was so small? What am I saying—the world? Theuniverse is small!"

 "What’s the matter with you?" scolded Deringhouse. He tore his gaze momentarily from the viewscreen.
"Stop driving us up the wall! What do they look like?"

"Speak up, Pucky!" urged Marshall also. He could no longer suppress a very strange presentiment. He
began to suspect that they were in for an unpleasant surprise. "Did you see them?"

 The mouse-beaver nodded slowly. "I materialized right between them in the ground car. Out of
precaution I held my breath, because you never can be sure whether the atmosphere in a strange place
like that is good for the lungs. But my fears were groundless. They breathe the same air as we do and
they sure looked amazed when they saw me…"

 "For God’s sake!" roared Deringhouse, suddenly reddening with impatience. "I want to know what they
look like! Are they water people or not?"

 "Whatever gave you that idea?" Pucky rejoined with irritating calmness. "Do you believe that intelligent
fish could have set up a defence base here on the land? That’s quite a nonsense!"

"Pucky! ! !" Deringhouse stretched out the name with a note of dire warning. "Perhaps you don’t realize
how important it is but I beseech you once more to answer my question—once and for all!What do the
aliens look like? And what do you mean by your remark that the universe is small?"

 The mouse-beaver did not change his manner; he only shoved out his incisor tooth slightly to show that
he was still cool and collected. "I don’t know if you’re going to be ready for this—but they look like the
Topides. And if I may express myself more clearly, without disillusioning you too much: I’d like to swear
that they are Topides!"

–Topides…!

 To Deringhouse and Marshall, it was as though an icy hand had grasped their shoulders. It was true that
almost 10 years had passed since they had encountered these highly developed and extremely intelligent
reptiles in the system of Vega but the skirmish with them was still fresh in the memory of both men. The
human-sized Topides possessed two legs and two arms, which they knew well how to use. Their hands
were equipped with 6 agile fingers. The body was covered with a scaly, brownish-black skin. The head
remained that of a giant reptile. Dark, protruding, chameleon-like eyes appeared to see everything within
an angle of 180°.
"Topides!"

What were Topides doing here in the Betelgeuse System?

 Deringhouse took a deep breath. "That’s just about all we needed! Do these crocodiles have to stick
their snouts in everywhere?"

 "They have their own little stellar empire," reflected Marshall tensely. "If I’m not mistaken, somewhere in
the constellation of Orion. And so, even in this region…"

"Yes, more than 800 light-years distant from Earth. That’s still a considerable distance from here."

"What difference does that make?" retorted Marshall. "In any case, it’s in the same direction. I wouldn’t
be surprised if they had a defence base here."

"On an uninhabited world? Why?"

Pucky had listened to the conversation with bowed head but now he shook his head wonderingly and
piped up with a shrill voice, "Why cudgel your brains about it? Ask them yourselves what they’re doing
here!—Here they come!"

 Deringhouse swung around and looked at the viewscreen. The domed vehicle had come to a stop less
than 100 feet from theCenturion . Undoubtedly the reptiles had already concluded that this was an
Arkonide battleship. Perhaps the circumstance might be put to some advantage.

 The cupola of the ground vehicle opened and 3 reptilian creatures stepped down from it. They wore a
kind of uniform which only partially obscured the scaly bodies. Not one of them was without his raygun,
fastened in holsters on their belts. Their manner of approach reflected a certain arrogance. Apparently all
sides in this encounter were depending heavily on their own superiority but Marshall knew only too well
that the Topides, by their nature, did not know fear, and even in the most hopeless situations were
accustomed to fight to the last drop of blood. The driving fear of their own dictator was greater than the
fear of death itself.

 "They certainly have nerve!" marvelled Deringhouse, who had come to know the Topides when he was
commander of a detachment of more manoeuvrable space interceptors. "They simply take up a stand
right under our gun muzzles and wait to see what we’re going to do. We could convert them to atoms…"

"…which wouldn’t be much use to anybody," Lamanche permitted himself to observe.

"Do you want me to send those lizards running?" volunteered Pucky, eagerly.

 "Are you out of your mind?" inquired Deringhouse. "I want to know what they’re up to on this planet
and what they want from us. Marshall, you will accompany me. Let’s take a look at these characters.
Hopefully, there’s no one among them who will recognize us."

"That’s improbable. We look as much like each other in our own race as they do to us in theirs. I
wouldn’t be able to differentiate between them. But what will we tell them if they ask us who we are?"

Deringhouse slowly nodded an acknowledgement of the problem and then issued a few instructions to
Lamanche, while he walked to the door with Marshall. "Under no circumstance must they find out that
we areTerranians . We will explain to them that we belong to one of the Springer clans. Hopefully, they
will believe that, even though the Springers normally don’t use spherical spaceships. Besides, I think it
might be favourable to us, because they aren’t on good speaking terms with the Arkonides and they
know that the Springers don’t particularly qualify as particular friends of the Empire either."

 Pucky hopped along behind the two men and was heard to remark, "I suspect that the plot is beginning
to thicken. Now, the way I see it…"

 Lamanche watched them go and said to himself, "Gene, my boy, if this thing works, I’ll eat 3 fighter
robots for lunch—without mustard!"

Whereupon Pucky, who had just reached the door, turned around and warned him: "Without mustard?
Okay, we’ll hold you to that…!"




                                         3/ LORDS OF AKVO



 As the main exit lock of theCenturion opened, more than 150 feet above the ground, John Marshall felt
an unpleasant tingling up and down his spine. He knew, of course, that at this moment more than 200
pairs of eyes were fixed on the Topides and more than two dozen hands were at the controls of the
heavy-calibre pulse-beam projector cannons.

But he also knew, with an equal certainty that this could be of little use to him if he were dead.

 The silvery glistening escalator ladder emerged from the lock and extended downward. Deringhouse
placed his right hand testingly on the butt of his weapon, as if to convince himself that it was loose and
ready. Then, with a slight nod of his head, he stepped on the first rung of the ladder, which began to glide
downward automatically.

Marshall followed him.

 The 3 reptilian creatures stood motionlessly before the giant ship and waited self-confidently for the two
men whom they apparently considered to be their prisoners. Their black, round eyes gleamed with an
insidious expectation. The physical appearance of the men hardly seemed to surprise them.

 Marshall recalled what happened that time in the Vega System. There theTerranians had their first
encounter with the reptilian race. Rhodan had taken the great Arkonide battleship from them, the
Stardust 2 , which was a half-mile in diameter, and gradually they had succeeded in driving off the
Topides. From then on there had been peace.

And now here they were faced with them again, although in another role. At least that’s the way
Deringhouse planned it.

 The talon-like hands of the Topides also lay upon their weapons. Marshall probed their thoughts and
read only a mixture of curiosity and keen alertness. They appeared to feel very sure of themselves.

 As Deringhouse sprang lightly from the descending ladder rang and walked toward the waiting reptiles,
an invisible wall of rising tension seemed to erect itself between humans and Topides. The Major came to
a stop within 10 yards of the Topides. His right hand still rested on the butt of his portable pulse-beamer.
A thin smile played about his lips. He was sufficiently acquainted with the mentality of the reptilian
creatures not to have to fear an attack at this time.

Marshall remained several yards behind Deringhouse and attempted to scan the thoughts of their
opponents in order to determine their intent. But the results were negligible.

 Before the twoTerranians could speak the first word, the middle Topide said to them in purest
Intercosmo, "You happen to be in our sovereign territory and you are hereby requested to submit to our
regulations and instructions. Nothing will happen to you if you offer no resistance.Tono? Who are you?"

 Deringhouse did not show any surprise. "We did not intend to land in your sovereign territory. We were
forced to do so. I am a Springer and we belong to the clan of Gatzel."

 The Topide nodded. "That’s what we thought, stranger. However, your ship is of Arkonide
construction. We are very familiar with that type."

"That’s right," replied Deringhouse, calmly. "It’s the heavy cruiser class. We took it from the Arkonides,
when they were giving us a bad time. Do you have any objections to that?"

 Now the Topide smiled but it was not particularly cheerful. "No, we have absolutely no objection to
that. The Arkonides can hardly be called our friends. What do you want in this system? There’s nothing
of commerce here and, if there were, we could take care of it ourselves."

 Deringhouse shrugged his shoulders. "We were on a routine flight when we discovered this planet. We
thought perhaps it might bear some kind of life on it and we started to explore it. We didn’t find anything
except these unusual cupolas."

"They belong to our defence system," explained the Topide. "This water planet was discovered by us
years ago and we took possession of it. It serves as a support base."

 "As long as nobody shows any resistance to it, that seems perfectly reasonable," Deringhouse admitted
cautiously. "And inasmuch as it doesn’t appear as though there are any native inhabitants…"

 The Topide continued to smile. "There are natives," he said, testily. "They are reconciled to our
ascendancy over them." He paused briefly and then added, "Besides, what alternative did they have?"

 Deringhouse could no longer suppress his amazement. "Native inhabitants—on this world? We did not
see a trace of them during our flight."

 "You apparently don’t have any equipment that would enable you to observe the life that is under the
surface of the water—or do you?"

 A shock of realization came to Deringhouse and Marshall. Naturally, on a world like this, any
intelligences—if they existed at all—would have had to develop in the water, and when the Topides saw
fit to establish a base here, beings were involved who had to be considered in some manner. Marshall
thought about the large, dome-shaped structure that somebody had built on the coast. It’s design was
contradictory to the habits of the Topides and so it had in all probability been constructed in the water so
that the inhabitants of the sea could make contact with their overlords.

The overall picture began to form slowly in Marshall’s brain.
 "I am called Al-Khor," said the middle Topide. "I am commander over the base on this part of the
continent. May I ask you now to turn over your weapons? I should not wish to have us come into conflict
with the Springers due to an indiscreet action. As soon as I release your ship, you will have your
weapons returned to you."

 Deringhouse hesitated. A profusion of thoughts raced through his mind and he sought in vain to put them
in order. He cast a searching side-glance at Marshall and the telepath nodded his approval. He had long
since known that the Topides actually attached a great deal of importance to the maintenance of peaceful
relationships between themselves and the Springers.

"Alright," replied Deringhouse and drew his weapon from his belt. "We will abide by your requirements."

 One of the reptiles took the weapon from him in his sharp talons and observed it with interest. Marshall
also surrendered his raygun.

"In return," suggested Deringhouse, "please give us the assurance that you will not hold us against our will
but that we will be free at any time to ask for the return of our weapons and to depart from this planet."

Al-Khor smiled again, "We are happy to give you such assurance. No one will stand in your way if you
wish to forego the benefits of our hospitality and if you place no value on it. But first, I think we should
have a little talk. Certainly you have a few things to tell us, and believe me—on such a lonely base as this
water world, life is very tedious and boring. Come along, please."

Deringhouse hesitated. "What about my crew? I wouldn’t like to have any indiscreet action on their
part…"

 "We have no objection to your instructing your people," interrupted Al-Khor. "Give them the good
advice to remain in the ship and not to attempt anything."

 Deringhouse nodded and turned on the tiny transmitter on his armband. "Lamanche," he said in English.
"We are pretending to go along with the conditions of the Topides. Get hold of McClears and tell him to
get over here and stand by for further orders. For the time being, there is no acute danger. That is all."

"Wilco," was the brief reply.

Al-Khor blinked his chameleon eyes suspiciously. "Why don’t you speak in Intercosmo?"

"My second-in-command is still very young, Al-Khor. He only understands the dialect of my clan. I told
him that he should keep himself calm and wait for our return."

The Topide appeared to be satisfied. With an inviting gesture, he indicated the open door of the domed
vehicle, thus allowing his involuntary guests to go first.

 Even as the ground vehicle set itself in motion, Marshall established silent contact with Pucky and
familiarized him with Deringhouse’s plan, which he had read in the latter’s thoughts.



                                                  ****
 Maj. McClears always operated in a completely logical manner and therefore he normally acted as
Deringhouse would in his place—except that he differed from his commander in regard to personal
safety.

When he received the alarming report from Lamanche, he uttered a mighty oath at first and then
proceeded to reflect upon the general situation. What would have happened if Deringhouse had not made
a flight to the fourth planet?

 The answer to that seemed quite simple: they would have waited here at their leisure on the 3rd planet
until the Springers made an appearance; they would have attacked, retreated and carried on as if the
Earth were being defended. The continuous exchange of individual battles would have created the
impression that a whole fleet of heavy cruisers was involved, which could not be destroyed under any
circumstances. In time, it would have occurred to the Springers to drop a gravitation bomb on the home
world of theTerranians and thus wipe out the planet forever. So far, good! But—on the 4th planet were
the Topides!"

That was the salient point of the argument!

 So now the thoughts and speculations of Maj. McClears were slipping inadvertently into the same
channels as those of his friend Deringhouse. Therefore, he had to take a course of action that endangered
his own security. Later, when Rhodan recalled this event, he would have to admit that any sensible man
would not have been able to act in any other manner, provided that he subordinated his own safety to
that of the Earth.

 And so it turned out that McClears’ deceptive manoeuvre served to initiate the most ingenious of all the
unpremeditated moves in the game of Empire that Perry Rhodan had ever undertaken. He did precisely
what was necessary to give the semblance of truth to the lie that Deringhouse had told the Topides. His
thoughts were racing while he ordered the communications officer to call Lt. Tifflor back to the ship.

 Tiff was the most capable among the new generation of officers being groomed to take the place of the
old top cadre in Rhodan’s organization. At this particular moment he was occupied with the Gazelle in
observing surface details. The flying disc—100 feet in diameter and approximately 60 feet thick—was
the ideal scoutship for this type of operation. He received the transmitted message just as he had landed
upon a plain and was about to disembark. He decided with reluctance to respond to the order and return
to theTerra and he wasn’t in too cheerful a mood when he entered the Control Central and faced
McClears.

"It’s a wonderful planet down there but unfortunately there isn’t any animal life. It’s inexplicable to me
because I can’t think of any hypothesis to cover the situation. Okay—so you called me back. I presume
you had some, thing on your mind."

 "The understatement of the year!" grumbled McClears. He had not yet brought his complicated train of
thoughts to a definite conclusion but in a sense his plan was set. "Deringhouse has landed on the fourth
planet. He calls it Akvo."

"That’s not surprising—or is it?"

McClears kept his voice level. "Unfortunately, he wasn’t the first one to take a liking to that water world,
Lt. Tifflor. There were others who preceded him; namely, the Topides…"
 "Topides?" Tiff tried to recall the name. He had been too young at the time and only knew Rhodan then
by hearsay but dimly he recalled the original film that he had seen concerning the invasion of the reptiles in
the Vega System. "You don’t mean those crocodile creatures who wanted to destroy the Earth and
clashed with the Ferrons by mistake?"

"That’s exactly who I mean," nodded McClears, patiently.

"What are they doing in these parts?"

 "I haven’t the slightest idea. All I’ve got is a short announcement from Deringhouse that the Topides
have forced theCenturion to a landing and have taken the commander prisoner. We’ve received
instructions to fly to Akvo and there to await further orders."

"How is Deringhouse going to give out new orders when he’s been taken prisoner?" Tiff wanted to
know. "Or is this capture some kind of a cover-up?"

 "It could be exactly that. At any rate, were going to take a closer look at Akvo. I’m not very happy
about having the Topides in the immediate vicinity. But if they are there already, then we have to try to
tam their presence to our advantage somehow. I’m assuming that Deringhouse is thinking along those
lines, himself, because he’d have to have a dam good reason to permit himself to be taken prisoner so
easily."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"Yes, I do. I’ll admit they’re a little vague right now but hear me out…"

 And McClears laid out his plan to Tiff. After only the first sentence, the lieutenant caught on. A fleeting
smile touched his lips but he did not interrupt the older officer. The latter continued his explanation and
meanwhile had theTerra take off. After the second transition, when Akvo gleamed in the viewscreens, he
ended his briefing with the words: "And so I believe that we can kill two birds with one stone. If I only
knew how I could transmit my plan, so that Deringhouse would be aware of it, I’m convinced that he
would give his approval immediately and request further orders from Rhodan. But without his approval, I
cannot set up radio communications with the Earth."

"What about the mutants?" suggested Tiff.

 "It’s a possibility," conceded McClears. "Unfortunately, we don’t have any telepaths on board theTerra
, so I don’t see any other alternative than to operate independently of Deringhouse. We’ll keep theTerra
orbiting at a considerable distance from Akvo and only the Gazelle will go down to the surface."

"That’s quite a risk."

 "It’s one we’ll have to take," said the major, resignedly. "Deringhouse is going to have to play dumb in
case he finds out that we have been overpowered in a brief but heavy encounter. I just hope that he
won’t take it seriously and really worry about us."

"And I hope," added Tiff, sceptically, "that if he does have such worries, they really will be groundless."

"Join the crowd," said McClears.
                                                 ****



 Surrounded by the other mutants, Pucky crouched on the divan in the wardroom and permitted himself
to be pampered. In return, he informed them, from time to time, concerning the events which Marshall
transmitted to him telepathically. Also, Lamanche, who had taken over the command of theCenturion ,
was in audio contact with the conversation by means of the intercom. The setup worked better than any
other electronic arrangement that might have been devised.

 "They are getting along fairly well with Deringhouse and Marshall," said Pucky and he indicated to Betty
Toufry a place on his back that he wanted scratched. "Apparently the Topides are pretty serious about
starting good relationships with the Springers. Up till now the two races haven’t had much to do with
each other. As Marshall has been able to read in the thoughts of our Commander, he doesn’t intend to
butter up the relationship too heavily. Can any of you follow that?"

 "Not I." Ras Tschubai shook his head and looked beseechingly at Ataka. "The better they can make the
relationship between them, it would seem that our chances would be so much the better to blast out of
here all in one piece."

"So?" said Pucky with irony. "What would we accomplish by disappearing from the scene?"

"What do you mean by that?"

 "Well, what I mean is, where does it get us if the Topides make a honeymoon with the Springers and
allow us to leave? Does that have any positive influence or effect on the actual assignment that Rhodan
has given us? Don’t forget that the Springers want to destroy the third planet of this system because they
think it’s the Earth. And here on the fourth planet sit the Topides. Now then—does that start to turn on a
light bulb for anybody?"

No particular light came on for Ras Tschubai but perhaps for Lamanche, who sat in the Control Centre,
not taking his eyes from the viewing screens and at the same time listening to the conversation in the
wardroom of the mutants.

He cleared his throat audibly, pondered the situation intently for a few moments and then stood up and
opened the door to the Communications Central. "Still no report from McClears?" he inquired.

 The officer on duty shook his head. "Not during the past half hour, sir. TheTerra went into a wide orbit
and is quiet. Our receiver continues on open standby."

"Keep me informed of any activity."

"Yes, sir."

 Lamanche acknowledged with a nod and returned to his own position, where he began again to ponder
intensively over the entire situation. In some strange manner, his speculations began to move in the same
direction as those of Deringhouse and McClears, which was proof of the theory that logically thinking
brains always arrive at the same conclusions.
                                                  ****



 The Gazelle departed from the mothership,Terra , and hurtled downward in a vertical drop. Lt. Tifflor
levelled the spaceship off only when within about a mile of the surface of Akvo and then went into a glide
pattern. The atmosphere whistled with the passage of the disc-shaped vehicle but offered little resistance.

 McClears and Tiff sat in the small control room with all viewscreens turned on. Once they thought they
saw a shimmering, dome-shaped structure in the water next to the coast of the large, single continent but
they ignored it. The Gazelle moved more slowly as it continued to lose altitude and acted like the advance
guard of an expedition, such as one that might have been assigned to the task of investigating an
unexplored planet. The 2 men waited tensely for the first reaction of the Topides and they didn’t have
long to wait. Near the summit of a mountain there was a sudden flare. The viewscreen picked up a sleek
projectile that increased its velocity in a vertical climb and was apparently precisely calculated to cross
the path of the Gazelle at the proper moment.

Without doubt, a ground-to-air missile.

 Tiff activated the defence screen and a few seconds later a flaming detonation and barely perceptible jar
announced that the attack of the Topides had been scattered to the winds in the true sense of the word.

A second projectile suffered the same result.

"What now?" asked Tiff.

"Quite simple, Lieutenant. Now we’ll look the situation over more closely, as though we were curious
Springers." He adjusted the course and turned the helm over to Tiff. "Circle that mountain and get down
a little lower. Keep the screen activated and in the meantime I’ll drop a few harmless high-explosive
bombs on them, so that they will know that we’ve got something on board that is dangerous—but
naturally nottoo dangerous."

 Tiff nodded and grinned. The reptiles would undoubtedly fall for the booby trap and try to take these
relatively harmless enemies alive. And that was the plan that McClears had developed.

10 seconds later, below in the primitive forest near the foot of the mountain, several bombs detonated.
The shrapnel tore holes in the thick vegetation but hardly caused any other damage.

 And within another 10 seconds the controls of the Gazelle refused to respond. Tiff struggled in some
bewilderment to bring the small spaceship under his control again but he did not succeed. Slowly and
steadily, the scoutship lowered and finally landed with a sharp jolt in a broad clearing that was hardly a
mile from the coast. From what Tiff could determine, they had landed exactly in the middle of a circle that
was formed by small, glistening metal domes.

 McClears rubbed his hands. "Everything is working out as smooth as pie. The lizards will be happy to
have made such a good catch. We’ll leave our 8 crewmen on board while we pretend to surrender to the
enemy."

"Let’s hope they don’t kill us on the spot."
 "Don’t worry about that. It goes against their type of mentality. I told you the Topides are extremely
curious. They’ll want to know absolutely with whom they are dealing and why we came. So we’ll let
them find out. And then they’ll be astonished at the activity they’re going to develop around here."

 "Take it easy," advised Tiff sceptically. He was perturbed when he thought of what Deringhouse’s
reaction would be to their arbitrary action here.

And Rhodan, above all…!

 A ground vehicle approached the Gazelle and came to a stop. Two Topides got out and observed their
war booty. Out of one of the metal domes the dark muzzle of an energy cannon emerged threateningly,
aimed itself at the Gazelle and waited.

 "Okay, let’s go," said McClears and nodded to a young captain to whom he had delegated the
command of the Gazelle. "Come on, Tiff. The plot thickens. And just remember: we are the advance
guard of the Springers. The main force is on its way!"

The two Topides watched the two men calmly as they emerged fearlessly from the hatch and sprang
down to the surface. Behind them, the exit closed hermetically. And seconds later the high-energy
defence screen was activated again. Admittedly, the Topides could hold the space vehicle captive and
hinder its takeoff but it was now impossible for them to destroy the ship or to force an entry into it. The
8-man crew was fully secured from the clutches of the reptile race.

 When the Topides requested them to surrender their weapons, McClears did not give his up so easily.
They had to be taken from him by force and he didn’t miss a chance to strike one of the flat, crocodile
skulls powerfully with his fist, which caused him more pain than it did the reptile. And for that reason, it
didn’t have much of an effect.

 The action was adequate and the reaction was what was to be expected. However, whereas
Deringhouse had been considered as a possible ally, McClears and Tiff were immediately declared to be
prisoners. But McClears didn’t allow himself to be intimidated by that. While he and the young lieutenant
were shoved into the narrow confines of the ground vehicle and were bumped along over a bad road
near the coast, he spouted dire threats against the Topides and promised bloody revenge. His
comportment, in view of the not-so-rosy situation, was a bit impractical and so finally the dull-seeming
reptile creatures ceased to pay any attention to his ravings. McClears finally gave it up and hoped that
he’d soon meet with a more intelligent example of this unpleasant race.

It was a wish that was soon fulfilled but not in a way to bring him any personal advantage.

 The road ended on the coast under some high trees and camouflaged by the thick canopy of foliage
there was a low-rambling building constructed of gleaming metal. Topides appeared to know of no other
building material. The two prisoners were brought into a room, locked in and left to their own resources
for the time being.

 A brief investigation by McClears convinced him that there would not be any way out of the room
without some outside help. Therefore he squatted down on the floor in a corner and began to meditate on
the situation.

 On the other hand, Tifflor thought of his micro body-transmitter. The coin-sized ‘thing’—it could be
called nothing else since no human scientist actually understood its true nature—had been planted in his
right renal membrane.

 Any telepath whose level of para-sensitivity was ‘resonant’ to Tifflor’s body-transmitter was capable of
tracking the ‘telepathic bearing transmitter’, Julian Tifflor, over a distance of two light-years and thus they
were able to determine his location. Through this means, it was naturally possible to also pick up Tifflor’s
thought impulses, if the distance were not too great. So Tiff could be relatively certain that anything he
thought of with sufficient intensity would reach the telepath, John Marshall. In addition, he was also
equipped with a micro-transmitter in his larynx.

The only thing Tiff could not do was receive…



                                                    ****



 Al-Khor was fairly agitated as he entered the cell in which the two prisoners were being held. A deadly
hate gleamed in his bulging round eyes. Only a last spark of circumspection prevented him from executing
the two alleged Springers on the spot.

 "Repeat once more what you said to my subordinate officers," he challenged McClears harshly and
stationed himself in the doorway so that the two guards accompanying him would be free to fire their
weapons. "I promise you that you will not be punished if you speak the truth but I must know what
happened."

The major shrugged his shoulders. "Don’t take your second officers too seriously. They must have
misunderstood. What do you mean, anyway?"

"You know very well what I mean, Springer. Moreover, you should know that you are not the only
prisoners that we’ve taken. We’ve captured a heavy cruiser and we have in our power a certain Maj.
Deringhouse."

 According to the plan, McClears put on an act of being horrified by this announcement and even
became pale, which Tiff observed in secret admiration. He sprang to his feet and came a few steps
toward the Topides. The guards raised their weapons threateningly. Al-Khor remained fearlessly where
he was and did not move one inch.

"If your testimony is valid, your lives will be spared!"

McClears cast a quick glance at Tiff, who nodded affirmation. He could rely on the fact that Marshall
was receiving the tracer impulses. "What are your questions?" he challenged Al-Khor.

"What is the meaning of your threat that others would follow to wreak revenge. Also, you told my
people something about an impending invasion by your clan."

 McClears gnashed his teeth dramatically. A small drop of blood appeared on his lower lip. "In my
anger… Well, what’s the use of holding anything back? I don’t see any reason to remain silent about
something that you’re going to find out about anyway. The Springers suspected the existence of a
stronghold in this system that belongs to their deadliest enemy. You aren’t familiar with them, so their
name isn’t relevant to this discussion. Anyway, the Mounders were alerted. You probably know that the
Mounders are the special police force of the Springers. The combined forces of the Mounders are going
to attack and destroy the third and fourth planets of this system without any prior parlay or negotiation.
So I can only give you the good advice to get out of here as fast as you can."

"Hah!" snorted Al-Khor uncertainly. "This is a trick!"

McClears began to roar with laughter. He laughed until tears appeared in his eyes. Then, in a gesture of
vast amusement, he clapped the Topide on both of his scaly shoulders.

"A trick? My dear friend, I swear to you by all my ancestors that I speak the truth! The Springers are
preparing to depopulate this entire system without leaving a trace. Nothing can hinder them from their
purpose—that I promise you!"

 "Nothing?" roared Al-Khor in sudden rage. There was an insidious gleam in his eyes. "You mean nothing
can hold up the Springers? I think that perhaps there is something. If they find out that we consider the
fourth planet as our own property, no one would dare…"

"Why not?"

 "Because…" Al-Khor hesitated. "Well, because the Galactic Traders have no reason to open hostilities
against us. They don’t have a good relationship with the Empire and we don’t either. Why shouldn’t we
cooperate with one another?"

 "For a very simple reason, my dear friend," McClears explained with apparent delight. "Because of
course we have to assume that you are allied with our enemy, who has a military base in this system—in
fact, has practically populated it."

Now it was Al-Khor’s turn to laugh. "The water creatures—your deadly enemies? That’s ridiculous! It’s
not only absurd but also even…

"Water creatures?" inquired McClears, cautiously. "I don’t understand what you mean."

 "On this planet there is a comparatively intelligent race that appears very infrequently on the land and
also makes no claim to it. That’s why we could set up our stations without hindrance. They only exist in
the water and it’s on the bottom of the ocean that they have to build their cities. But other than that there
is nothing in this system that would represent a threat of any kind. If you don’t refer to these water
creatures then your Springers are the victims of a gross error."

 "Our information is quite reliable," insisted McClears, while shaking his head in denial. "I have been
instructed quite thoroughly and specifically concerning the plans of our patriarchs. In these briefings it has
been asserted that the Topides have a weak military base on the fourth planet, the presence of which
need not be taken into consideration. You can see that even negotiations will not help you any further.
Our leaders consider you to be allies of our deadly enemies."

"In the name of the galactic gods!" cried the Topide. "Now once and for all, tell me who this mysterious
deadly enemy is!"

McClears declined. "I’m not authorized to reveal it," he said.

"In that case we can force you to tell us!"
 "You haven’t got time," advised the major calmly. "Our fighting units can strike at any moment—and
then it would be too late for you."

 Al-Khor let out a hiss of rage. He signalled to his guards and tamed around and left the cell. With a dull
thud, the door slid into its slot.

 McClears looked at Tiff, who had quietly repeated the entire conversation and thus had transmitted it all
to Marshall and Pucky. "Well?" he asked, triumphantly.

Tiff shrugged his shoulders. "Let’s hope," he said sceptically, "that they will react to all this precisely as
we would expect rational but militarily efficient beings to react."

McClears grinned. "That they will do—you can depend on it!"

 Unfortunately there was no possibility of confirming this because only 10 minutes later they were picked
up for transporting elsewhere. They were taken in a small vehicle directly to the coast, loaded on board a
flat boat and brought to one of the steel, dome-shaped islands. This was the same cupola that they had
seen before from the air. Deringhouse had probably also noticed its presence here. Using a ladder
fastened to the wall, they climbed up the low superstructure, which was encircled by a railing. An
elevator brought them finally into the depths of the structure. A Topide whom they hadn’t seen before
leading the way. He was heavily armed and of a fierce disposition.

McClears was not thinking of escape any more than Tiff. They were both dominated by a single thought:
would their ruse not fail to work its effect?

 The room was equipped with glass walls which faced the sea on all sides. Here one could enjoy an
unobstructed view of a world that lay 5 to 6 fathoms under the surface of the water. Built-in air locks
indicated that one could penetrate the open sea from here without letting water penetrate the below-sea
level chamber. Or also the opposite: one could enter the cupola from the sea and this seemed to be the
only reasonable purpose for the entire installation.

The Topide stopped in front of a door. He opened it and stepped back. "Here’s your new prison," he
hissed. "You remain here until everything is over with."

 "What do you mean—over with?" McClears asked. But he didn’t get an answer. Shrugging his
shoulders, he entered the chamber, followed by Tiff, who quickly spoke into his laryngeal transmitter.
The door glided shut and they were alone.

Alone—where?

 Only the door seemed to be made of opaque material. Otherwise they seemed to be floating in
emptiness—in the middle of the ocean, the nearby bottom of which dully reflected the light of day. But
the truth dawned on them quickly: they had been placed in a cell that was under the dome structure or on
its lower edge. This transparent cell floated in the ocean. Except for the side where the door was, they
were surrounded on all sides by water.

 McClears sat down in a corner on the transparent floor and to him it seemed as though he crouched on
the water itself. Curiously he looked around. "Well now, that’s very interesting," he remarked,
sarcastically. "We’re supposed to study oceanography until they drown us!"

Tiff shuddered slightly. "You mean—they’re going to kill us?"
 "Don’t be silly! I don’t mean that literally but you did hear them say that intelligent fish or something of
the sort are supposed to exist here. I guess we’re supposed to look at them—but don’t ask me why. On
the other hand, it could be these fish are supposed to look us over and learn what Springers look like.
It’s a crazy situation."

"If I only knew whether or not Marshall has had a chance to pass on my information to Deringhouse.
Deringhouse is, after all, no telepath but at least Pucky must know where we are."

 The water was bright blue, mixed with a rosy glow from the light of Betelgeuse. At this place the ocean
was not more than 10 fathoms deep. Now, after their eyes had accustomed themselves to the strange
twilight of their surroundings, they could easily see the ocean bottom, which was perhaps another 4
fathoms underneath the transparent floor of their unusual prison cell.

 Strange water plants swayed there in rhythm with an invisible current. Colourful fish shot through the
scene in decorative swarms, as if pursued by an unseen enemy. In between hovered a few frail,
transparent creatures, which moved with a slow dignity, reminiscent of Earthly jellyfish. Farther ahead the
bottom dropped suddenly away and the water became dark blue and endless.

Then it was that Tiff emitted a cry of astonishment. Staring with widened eyes, he pointed into the deep
blue of the sea.

McClears followed his startled gaze and for the first time human eyes beheld the rightful lords of the
water planet…




                                     4/ EIGHT LIVES AT STAKE



In the meantime other affairs came to a head. Deringhouse could hardly recognize Al-Khor as the latter
ordered them brought before him.

 "Why have you told me nothing about the imminent attack of your clan?" asked the Topide in sinister
tones. His reptilian eyes gleamed ominously. "You should have considered it an obligation to do so."

 "Obligation?" replied Deringhouse in amazement. "Is it perhaps then your obligation to keep me here
against my will?"

"You are not being forced into the status of prisoners."

"But nevertheless, we are, aren’t we? Will you perhaps deny that our ship…"

 "That’s the other matter I wanted to question you about." Al-Khor watched Deringhouse suspiciously.
"What were you telling me—whom did you take it from? The Arkonides?"

Marshall swiftly read the thoughts of the Topide and knew why the question was being asked. Hopefully
Deringhouse would catch on quickly enough. Otherwise he’d have to warn him.
 "That’s right. From the Arkonides," admitted the major cautiously, "but I naturally don’t know whether
the Arkonides captured it from somebody else before that. Why do you ask?"

 Al-Khor nodded, apparently reassured. "That is probable, because the name that’s painted in black
letters on the hull is not in the Arkonide language. Anyway, let’s drop that. We have placed the
commander of the other ship under tight security. I’m seriously considering what I should do with you."

"Let us go," suggested Deringhouse. "What do you get out of keeping us here?"

 "Hostages," retorted Al-Khor short and to the point. "You will be here with your people when the
Springers come to destroy this world and perhaps—under my surveillance—you will place yourselves in
contact with the attackers before then in order to warn them."

"That wouldn’t be of much use," conjectured Deringhouse, truthfully enough. "They wouldn’t listen to
me."

"Then you will die along with us!"

 "Fine!" The major forced a smile. "Then at least in that respect we would be more or less allied with
each other, wouldn’t you say?"

 Al-Khor did not answer. Without a word he left the prison cell that now served theTerranians as a
temporary home.

Marshall frowned. "I don’t like it," be announced, "and my mutants have been unhappy for some time
now. Pucky has been raving to get into the action. I can hardly hold him back any more."

"He won’t have to wait long," said Deringhouse consolingly and stared at the blank wall of the
undecorated room. "What’s with McClears?"

"He’s sitting with Tiff in a glass prison cell under the ocean."

 Deringhouse smiled. "Well, that way at least they’re not being bored to death," he observed.
"Okay—let’s get with it. Give the mouse-beaver our position. Let him zero in and join us. Let’s shake up
these crocodiles with a real scare. They’ve certainly earned it."

 Two minutes later, Pucky materialized with a happy grin and made the narrow cell more crowded. He
brought two freshly loaded rayguns and several atomic hand grenades which, although not much larger
than the average walnut, were capable of a devastating effect. He himself wore an impulse beamer in his
belt, the weight of which was giving him quite a problem.

"So here we are!" he twittered. "Let’s give them a show!"

"Hold on a moment!" warned Deringhouse. He turned to Marshall, who was in the process of signalling
him while listening inwardly, telepathically. In the same second, Pucky’s mouse-like physiognomy took
on an almost devout expression. He seemed to have forgotten his spirit of enterprise.

Deringhouse waited patiently. He knew that both of the telepaths were receiving an important piece of
news from Tiff.
                                                  ****



McClears emitted a hoarse cry of amazement and alarm.

 A squadron of underwater torpedoes raced toward the, glass cell in arrowhead formation, as if about to
blast the entire domed structure into the air. The slender bodies were perhaps 5 feet long and glistened
like silver in the reddish light coming down from the surface 10 fathoms above them. From the stem
portions of the weird missiles streamed white jets of compressed water, which quickly dissipated and
faded away.

Only upon a second examination was McClears aware of his error.

 These were no synthetically created torpedoes but living creatures, seal-like, with wide-open mouths,
small eyes and low-lying oval-shaped ears. Now the speed of the small detachment diminished. Out of
pouches in their skins emerged slender arms with finely jointed hands. The compressed water jets at their
tails faded out. The animals—were they animals?—came to a stop.

They swam curiously around the glass cage and observed the two occupants with intelligent eyes. One
of them came close and pressed its face against the transparent wall. McClears gazed directly into the
questioning eyes.

And then he also sensed the vibrations.

Tiff finally reported to Marshall and Pucky.

 "So that’s what they look like—the little fishmen," mumbled McClears, mostly to himself. "They came at
us like rockets—their locomotion isn’t by regular swimming movements. Instead they have their own
system. Probably some kind of recoil or reaction. They swallow water, compress it inside themselves and
then jet it out behind them. Good heavens!—they’re living underwater rockets!" He pressed his right
hand flat against the separating glass wall. "They generate waves of vibration," he added, thoughtfully.
"Maybe some kind of means of communication. If we could only understand…"

Tiff heard him and transmitted the description onward. Marshall received it and reported, in turn, to
Deringhouse.

"Ataka!" said Pucky.

 Deringhouse nodded. "Maybe you’re right, Pucky. The Japanese ‘earman’ can pick up sound waves
that no normal human ears can discern. Also ultra-sound. If these fishmen aren’t telepaths, and it doesn’t
seem to be the case, maybe they do communicate by means of vibrations or sounds in the ultra-range.
Ataka can detect them. Besides, his perceptive faculties are combined with a sort of unconscious
telepathy, so that it’s probable that he might be able to understand the alien sounds. Pucky, bring Ataka
here."

The mouse-beaver straightened up. "This is a pretty narrow pad, isn’t it, Major?"

"You won’t be here very long. We will break out and free McClears. The masquerade is over. We
don’t have to impose on our lizard friends any longer."
"Thanks to the eternal gods!" squealed Pucky.

"Why is that? What’s on your mind?" inquired Deringhouse apprehensively.

 The mouse-beaver revelled for a moment in memory of his telekinetic feats of the past. "Well, I’ve
tossed around a few robots and saurians in my time," he said, "but a crocodile—that’s kind of new to my
trade!"

A second later, he disappeared.

 "It’s true that the Topides are going to be surprised to find us suddenly carrying weapons but we
shouldn’t underestimate them. If it’s necessary, they can die without the flicker of an eyelash. There’s
only one point where they’re sensitive: they’re superstitious."

"Then Pucky is certainly in the right place, Major."

 "You can say that again," Deringhouse agreed. "The rascal is only too well aware of it. You know, after
all, according to the book, I should have locked him in the brig."

 "There’s no prison cell that can hold him," said Marshall, repeating a well-known fact. "In many
respects, Pucky is a true prodigy."

 The air flickered about them and then the mouse-beaver and Ataka formed before their eyes. The
Japanese made himself as thin as possible but they could hardly move be cause of the narrow restrictions
of their quarters and the ventilation also left something to be desired.

"It’s as bad as a phone booth!" carped Pucky disdainfully.

"Not for long," said Deringhouse emphatically. "Can you open the lock on the door?"

 The mouse-beaver hopped over to the metal door panel and examined the inserted bolt mechanism,
which it was not possible to manipulate directly—at least not manually. But the mouse-beaver had an
invisible set of fingers at his disposal, in the form of telekinetic currents of force.

 The invisible tendrils of energy emanating from his small but incredibly capable brain penetrated behind
the smooth metal and explored the intricacies of the mechanism. Then, with a soft click, the bolt sprang
open. Deringhouse stepped forward and pushed the door outward.

 "Well done, Pucky!" he complimented him and drew his raygun. "And now to stir up a little panic among
the lizards! Anyway, they’ll have their hands full activating their defences against the imminent attack of
the Springers. I grant them that they won’t have very long to wait."

 "But at least long enough until we’re back to safety and can join the action," Marshall warned, guarding
against over-optimism. "Pucky, are you picking it up? There are Topides nearby."

"Yes, there’s a whole crowd of them—up there behind that door."

They stood in a long, slightly curving passageway that obviously led along the outer rim of a
dome-shaped structure. A row of doors led away into the distance. On the other side of the passage
were windows. Beyond lay a primeval, tropical landscape with mountains and forests. On the horizon
shimmered the broad surface of the ocean. The sinking sun was close to the dividing line between water
and sky.

Deringhouse stopped near the door that Pucky had indicated. "Here?" he asked, wishing to be sure.

 Marshall and Pucky nodded in rare agreement. Deringhouse lifted his weapon, stepped slightly to one
side and activated the firing button. The fine beam of pure energy struck the frame of the door, melted the
metal and moved downward in a welding action. Immediately the swiftly moving mass created a thick
welding seam. It would certainly take hours for anyone to open the door. It was only to be hoped that in
the room behind it there was not an exit.

"They’re sitting neatly in the trap," praised Ataka with shining eyes.

"I’d rather have put them through a couple of flying loops," put in Pucky. "Flying reptiles would make
quite a circus!"

"Wait your turn," advised Deringhouse and led the way.

 The others followed. Pucky brought up the rear, because when he was not teleporting, his short legs
always upset his calculations, as far as locomotion was concerned. In order to suppress his vexation, he
whistled loudly and shrilly to himself as though not a Topide existed.

The passage ended at a door which was standing ajar. Behind it was no chamber at all but freedom.
However, what kind of freedom was it? Under these circumstances, was there anything that could be
done with it? They were still in the camp of the reptiles.

Deringhouse took a firm grip on his weapon and pushed the door open. Inasmuch as he did it rather
violently, the Topide sentry outside was almost catapulted belly first onto the ground but he caught
himself and turned around with a grunting sound. In his eyes was the equivalent of a reproach.

 The reproachfulness transformed itself into alarm as he saw Deringhouse, Marshall and Ataka. Then
shock became amazement when he saw Pucky. Pucky took offence at the other’s amazement, which
only Marshall was able to grasp, because he was also a telepath and was able to comprehend the first
mental reaction of the guard, the same as Pucky.

"What—?" sizzled the mouse-beaver in his rage and he almost choked. "You call me—vermin? Then
you’re a kite…!"

And the Topide flew like a kite.

 Telekinetic force currents lifted him from the ground and sent him vertically upward into the air. He let
out several shrill cries of alarm that no one heard. Pucky’s flare of anger soon burned itself out and he
lowered the unfortunate Topide, who had lost his weapons as a result of his involuntary jump. Thus
divested of everything but fear, he was deposited on the flat roof of the dome-shaped building. There the
reptile hunched close to the edge of the roof and stared down, uncomprehendingly, at the 3 men in
whose midst was a small, furry creature that seemed very similar to the giant rats in the canals back
home.

"Vermin—of all things!" snorted Pucky again and strutted right out into the open as if he had never heard
of the word "danger".
 In a shed at one side of the main structure, Deringhouse recognized a couple of the ground vehicles,
whose operation he had providentially observed, so it would not be difficult to put such a vehicle to use in
making their escape. Of course, Pucky could have transported them one at a time to theCenturion but
then possibly this would give the Topides a little too much to think about. Everything had to look so
normal that no one would get suspicious.

 "Over there—the ground cars!" Deringhouse called after Pucky. "Let’s take one of them! But first, let’s
take care of some general confusion."

 The rest was not too difficult, because the leaders of the Topides were locked in and appeared for the
moment to have no other immediate worry than to break out of the welded door. Marshall threw two of
the small bombs into the building and raced after Deringhouse and Ataka, who were busy getting to the
cars.

 With a flaming detonation, the dome-shaped building shattered into many pieces which, having become
molten, simply melted down. Out of a nearby entrance a few of the unwounded Topides came storming
and began to shoot wildly about with their hand weapons. That was a welcome signal for Pucky to give
them his best attention.

While the 3 men were attempting to get one of the larger ground vehicles into operation, the
mouse-beaver started to ‘play’, as be called it when he had the opportunity to apply his telekinetic gifts at
will.

 The reptiles did not know what was happening to them. They suddenly lost their footing and began to
float in the air. No one suspected the little furry animal to be the cause of this miracle, except Al-Khor
who was making a few connections in his mind. The leader of the Base Command sailed weightlessly
along above the tops of several trees without any visible means of propulsion, while be recognized in the
mouse-beaver the curious apparition that had popped up in the ground car for several seconds earlier
that morning.

 What was happening was not natural! But Al-Khor did not know personal fear. This wonder creature
was made of flesh and blood and therefore had to be vulnerable. He still possessed a raygun. In spite of
this more than ridiculous situation, he aimed at the tiny creature in the middle of the rubble-strewn
forecourt and pressed the trigger button.

The result was something other than what Al-Khor had expected.

 Since he was the same as weightless, the recoil of the energy beam accelerated him sharply into the sky.
Noting the astounding action of the Topide, Pucky gave impetus to Al-Khor’s flight. After putting him
through a few somersaults, he finally set him, down on the top of a tree that was over 150 feet high and
whose lowest branches came only within 60 feet of the ground. The Topide would have to figure how he
was going to get down.

To their horror, the other reptiles collided in the middle of the air and made a hopeless tangle. No one
dared to shoot for fear of endangering the other.

In the meantime, Deringhouse rolled the ground vehicle out of the shed. A further hand grenade got rid
of the remaining ground cars in one blinding flash of destruction. The Topides would have to walk. That
was precisely what they despised doing the most.

"Let them down!" shouted Marshall and motioned to Pucky, who crouched happily in the sparse grass
and formed the reptiles into a circle a hundred feet above the ruins of the dome. "They’ve had enough!"

 "But I haven’t yet!" shrieked Pucky, letting the Topides fall 30 feet before bringing them to an abrupt halt
in midair.

 "So I notice!" Marshall scolded and gave Deringhouse several instructions. The ground vehicle rolled
alongside Pucky and stopped. "I’ll have to do something about that!" He leaned down from a side door
and gripped Pucky by the nape of the neck. He lifted the mousebeaver up and, with a firm grip, brought
him into the dome-shaped cabin. "And now do what I told you to!"

For a brief moment Pucky wavered, then grunted angrily and looked up at the terrified Topides, who
waited motionlessly, and for the most part without weapons, to see what the uncanny power would do
with them now. Then he sighed resignedly and gave his brain a corresponding command.

 The Topides went into a squadron-like flight formation and then hurtled away with a reckless
acceleration to disappear on the other side of the treetops. Pucky gazed for a few more seconds after
them, then sighed once more and turned to Marshall. "So?"

"What’s the matter with you? You aren’t supposed to let them fall!"

"They haven’t fallen, Master. They’re sitting somewhere in the trees and building nests for their young
ones, in case they don’t prefer to climb down. But of course that’s also possible." The mouse-beaver’s
bad mood was obvious. "So what do you want me to do now?"

Marshall took a deep breath. The worst was over. "We rescue McClears. He’s in a worse situation than
we are. He only has Tiff with him."

 Pucky listened within his mind. "The distance is exactly 22.6 miles southeast. Should I make a jump over
there?"

 "Not yet. And when you do, you have to take Ataka with you; he’s going to try to make contact with
the Akvons."

"Akvons?"

 "Yes, that’s what we call the fishmen. Deringhouse bad the idea. In the coming fight, I don’t want any
innocent forms of life to suffer. Nobody wants that."

"What’s happening to theCenturion ?"

 Deringhouse had steered the ground vehicle onto a narrow road that led in the direction of the coast. He
adjusted his small armband transmitter, which the Topides had not taken from him because there had
been no time to do so.

 "Capt. Lamanche will have to show us what he can do," said the major. "We will drive to the coast and
start an action to rescue McClears while theCenturion deactivates that tractor beam and also comes to
the coast. We’ll join each other then. In any case, I want to avoid anything that will make us look
supernatural to the Topides. They know only too well that the Springers fight with traditional weapons
and equipment. We must not arouse unusual suspicion—and that goes especially for you, Pucky!"

"Am I a supernatural being?" asked the mouse-beaver anxiously.
 Deringhouse didn’t go into that one. He established communication with Lamanche. "Captain, my
instructions are for you to give a brief warning and then bring your guns into play and destroy the metal
domes that are now surrounding theCenturion . It’s my thought that they are probably the generators for
the traction beam. And then clear out. Track us if we are on the coast. I’ll then give you further
instructions."

 "Roger!" came Lamanche’s voice, cool and impersonal as ever. "Anyhow, it’s a miserable thing to sit
around without any action like a mother hen on her eggs. The mutants are burning up, wanting to show
those lizards a thing or two."

"The mutants, above all, will remain in the background. The Topides know that Rhodan has a Mutant
Corps but the Topides must believe that they are dealing with normal Springers. Is that clear?"

"Roger again, sir," returned Lamanche, somewhat offended. "We will meet on the coast."

Deringhouse stared for a few seconds at the suddenly silent receiver. Then he grinned briefly and put the
vehicle in motion.

 The route he followed could hardly be called a road but at least it indicated a direction. The
dome-shaped vehicle was well equipped with shock-absorbers and springs but the abnormal shape of
the seats, which were not built for human anatomy, forced a cramped position during the trip.

 The terrain sloped downward and after a half-hour the coast came into sight. To the right and the left
there was hardly an opening in the primitive forest, in whose undergrowth no hand, either human or
inhuman, had yet penetrated. The road curved slightly to the left and headed toward a point which could
not be far from the place from which one could reach the metal island, a mile or so across the water,
where McClears and Tiff were held prisoners. But the road reached the seacoast even sooner. Here the
primeval forest could not find sufficient nourishment in the sandy soil, so that a broader, more wide-open
strip was created. The road led along this directly toward the cast.

 Deringhouse drove the car under the protective branches of a giant tree and cut off the engine. The
humming ceased and for a moment the 3 men heard nothing other than the roar of the surf and the
movement of the wind in the leaves of the trees. The primitive landscape stretched calmly and peacefully
before them. The sea stretched away into endless distance—it would be necessary to circumnavigate the
globe to reach land again. The billows rolled toward the coast and broke far off shore to then come
hurtling toward the sandy beach in a foaming flood. Then leisurely the water washed back into its own
element.

 "Here I’d like to put up some tents," murmured Ataka dreamily, "like on an uninhabited south sea
island…"

 "Appearances are deceiving," retorted Deringhouse and he pointed at an angle into the sky. They
followed his gaze. A small, glistening aircraft object raced across the crystal clear dome of the sky and
moments later was lost to view. "That’s a patrol flight. They probably don’t know yet what has
happened. If we’re lucky, the communications equipment at their base has been destroyed."

 Marshall turned to the Japanese. "Do you think you could make contact with the Akvon’s from this
point? Otherwise you’d have to be teleported with Pucky into McClears’ prison. It would be better if the
action to set them free were started from here, in order not to raise any suspicions. The Topides have to
believe that we are Springers, without any supernatural faculties."
 Ataka nodded and came forward out of the shadows of the trees. "If Tiff described it correctly, they
communicate by means of sound waves. I’ll try to pick up a contact—in the water. So—what I’m going
to do is take a bath!" He dropped his uniform jacket onto the beach, got rid of his trousers and sauntered
to the roaring surf like a soldier on furlough.

Pucky watched him enviously. "He has all the luck!" he chirped. "I wouldn’t mind a cool bath right now
myself."

 "Maybe you’ll get to bathe much sooner than you’d like to!" said Deringhouse. "Or above all—more
than you’d like to!"

 "He can’t hear you with the noise of the surf," replied the mouse-beaver evasively. He watched as Ataka
leapt over the first combers. But he had to work his way out almost 50 yards before the water reached
to his chest. The waves lifted him now with an even cadence and he waved happily back toward the
shore.

"Where does he think he is, on leave or something?" cried Pucky jealously.

Suddenly, Ataka disappeared.

 In one moment his head was clearly visible and in the next moment it was gone. He remained out of sight
for almost a minute before his laughing face bobbed up again. He waved both of his arms excitedly.

 "He can hear the Akvons." Marshall passed along the message of the Japanese. "But he understands
nothing. He may be receiving an overwhelming confusion of information. At any rate, we know now that
they have a means of communication."

"Just barely!" was Deringhouse’s evaluation. "What now?"

"Maybe the Akvons are telepaths," said Pucky hopefully.

"Not very probable," put in Marshall, "but we’ll soon find out."

Ataka signalled again. Now he dove under once more. When he reappeared, Marshall became excited.

He’s reporting stronger impulses. He has been detected. And now…"

They saw it themselves.

 Out there, 200 yards from the beach, the surface of the water was cut by 4 or 5 V-shaped ripples,
which converged upon Ataka, who had become motionless. The waves reached to his neck but
sometimes only came to his navel.

 The 5 silvery trails circled him and then their foamy wakes subsided. A sleek, seal-like body emerged
from the water in front of Ataka and began to gesticulate with its very movable arms. Its oval mouth was
clearly discernible.

"Akvons!" said Marshall. "Just as Tiff described them. Now the question is, whether or not Ataka
understands them." He hesitated a second, then nodded. "Contact has been made, but… Pucky, jump
over to theCenturion and fetch André Noir!"
"Noir?" queried Deringhouse. "What do we need with a hypnotist? Do we want to force the Akvons to
our will?"

"No, but with his help we can make ourselves understood to them. The fishmen are not telepaths and
nobody understands their language. Noir can implant a suggestion of our intentions."

"Good!" Deringhouse agreed. "But be careful, Pucky. Keep in mind that Lamanche is already…" He cut
off abruptly.

 The mouse-beaver had disappeared already. Only his tracks in the sand, which ended abruptly, signified
that he had even existed here.

Deringhouse cursed. "He doesn’t even wait until I finish giving a command!"

"But he did!" Marshall grinned. "After all, you know, he reads thoughts. And we have little time to
waste."

 Meanwhile, Ataka had continued to communicate with the fishmen but apparently without results. He
continued to point toward the land and began gradually and slowly to approach the shore. The Akvons
followed him hesitantly.

 Deringhouse and Marshall watched intently. When the Japanese reached the beach and turned around,
the Akvons were still there and appeared to be standing up. The water reached only to the lower portion
of their bodies, the scaly skin of which glistened silvery in the light of the lowering sun. Deringhouse
would have given much to know if they possessed feet as well.

 Ataka beckoned to his new friends. In a slow and ungainly manner, they came in closer. And then it was
seen that the Akvons did not have legs but instead a strong, flat swimming tail with which they guided
their underwater travel.

 Marshall sharpened his telepathic ears and concentrated. "Their thought impulses are strong enough. I
can receive their mental currents. Just barely but perceivable. If only Noir were here! I’d like to know
what’s taking Pucky so long!"

 Ataka pointed up onto the beach where Deringhouse and Marshall were standing. The Akvons, raised
their shining eyes to the two men, who must have looked as strange to them as did they to the humans.

 "They can endure 2 or 3 hours of exposure out of water," muttered Marshall. "One of them was just
thinking of this. They are peaceable but have no idea of how we came to their world. Hm-m-m. They
don’t think very much of the Topides. They believe that we are their allies. It’s time that we straightened
them out on that."

At this very moment Pucky materialized with André Noir.

 "Just got out of there before Lamanche took off. He sure gave the Topides a hot foot—their whole
tractor-beam installation is down the sink!"

 Deringhouse sighed. "If I’m not mistaken, that’s more of the speech contamination you’ve picked up
from Bell. All right, Noir, now’s your chance to show us what you’ve learned. Marshall will serve as your
receiver, so you two get to work and establish communication with the Akvons."
And the communication occurred!

 Marshall picked up the thought impulses and translated them vocally. Then André Noir caused answers
to appear in the brains of the fishmen, in the form of thought-pictures which were clearly understood.
Admittedly it was an intricate method but nevertheless it produced practical results.

"You are strangers on our world?"

"Yes, we have come from the stars, where we too have a home."

"And why have you come here?"

 Deringhouse, who directed the interview, permitted the reply: "In order to warn you and to help you. But
permit us to ask a question: are the 4-limbed reptiles your friends? Did you give them your permission to
live on the land that belongs to you?"

 The answer returned immediately: "No, they didn’t ask us. Many days and nights ago they came here
and built their houses. How could they ask us anything? We don’t understand them and they don’t
understand us."

"And you would prefer it if they were to go back where they came from?"

"Yes, that would be better. But how can we drive them away? We have no weapons."

"Do you want us to help you?"

A slight pause followed this question. Then the Akvon’s reply proved that they were smart indeed—and
distrustful.

"And what do you wish in return for that?"

Deringhouse smiled: "Only one thing: your friendship. We will carry on trade with you, we will exchange
goods and we will build a small defence base on the land so that the reptile people cannot return here."

"The reptiles have never traded with us. Very well, we are in agreement. We shall report to our leaders."

 Deringhouse got back to the main item. "There is one thing more: the reptiles have taken two of our
friends prisoner. We wish to set them free but it will be difficult without your help. Will you help us?"

"We know about the captives. They are in the water castle of the reptiles. Can you live under water?"

"No, we need air to breathe. Under water we would die."

"Air?" came the thought-impulse; and then: "Very well, we shall keep that in mind. Wait for us in this
place until early tomorrow morning. Perhaps we may find a solution."

"If our great ship comes here," replied Deringhouse, "we will also have a solution. But very well: we will
meet tomorrow in this place when the sun has risen. We shall wait for you."

"We’ll be here!" promised the Akvons. They waved once more to the men, observed the mouse-beaver
curiously for several seconds and then disappeared into their natural element.

 For a little while the silvery streaks of their bodies could be seen and then they were lost from sight as
the fish-beings dove down and hurried away into the depths of the sea.

 Pucky watched them go. He licked dry lips with his tongue. "They’ve got it pretty good down there," he
chirped. "Do you think maybe they never get thirsty…?"

 Deringhouse looked at the horizon. Huge and red, Betelgeuse was getting ready to sink behind the vast
tides of the ocean. The sky took on a mixed colouration of rose, green and violet. Like a curtain of fire,
the heavens seemed to reveal a truly unearthly drama.

"Tomorrow," said Deringhouse. "Tomorrow we will know more."

"Do we stay here?" Marshall wanted to know.

"Yes, we’ll sleep in the ground car."

The telepath shook his head. "Not necessary. "I’ll go with Pucky now and fetch McClears’ Gazelle. We
have the whole night to accomplish it."

Deringhouse nodded slowly. "Okay with me. Then Ataka and I can take a swim at our leisure, until you
get back. You too, Noir?"

 Pucky cast a desperate glance at Marshall but when the latter shook his head sternly he went over to the
telepath, put his little arms around him, whistled way off key—and disappeared with him.

The fives of 8 men were at stake.




                                 5/ FATE OF THE METAL ISLAND



 Before it had become actually dark, the Gazelle landed next to the camouflaged ground car with
Marshall and Pucky on board. The manoeuvre had been made just in the nick of time because the
Topides had broadcast a major alert as a result of the destruction of the first stronghold and the terrifying
action of theCenturion , which converted the entire plateau into a mass of glowing lava before it
disappeared. Their fighter craft came from all parts of the water world and assembled on a point of the
continent that wasn’t more than 30 miles distant from the metal island.

 An attack had just been made on the Gazelle, which the crew had been able to repulse. Before the
second and stronger attack was begun, Pucky and Marshall had appeared. The small ship then took off
and disappeared into the twilight. By flying fast and low, it soon escaped the pursuers’ tracking beams.

 Deringhouse had the scoutship tucked away into a covered clearing in the forest so that it could not be
easily detected from above. A short radio contact with theTerra sufficed to let them know their position.
It had finally become dark when Deringhouse communicated with theCenturion .
"Ahoy, Lamanche! Where are you?"

"In orbit, sir. We’re standing by for the next attack order."

 "That may be awhile yet. You stay upstairs and keep in contact with theTerra . Defend yourselves
against all Topide attacks. But stay where you are. Here below we have a few things to take care of."

"Message understood, sir. In case you need any help…"

"Relax, Lamanche. Or should I say—never fear, Pucky is here! Over and out!"

He shut down the transmitter equipment and exited the ship, jumping down to the soft sand below. In the
process, he almost stepped on Pucky’s tail.

 Squatting there in a well-behaved and docile posture, the mouse-beaver observed the darkened sky and
the first gleaming stars which formed curiously shaped and unknown constellations such as had never
been observed from the Earth.

"Hey now, what are you doing here? I thought you wanted to take a swim…"

 The mouse-beaver’s incisor tooth gleamed in the starlight. "And that I shall—now. Maybe I can at least
leave you guys for half an hour."

"What do you mean by that? Do you think that without you we’d never make it?"

 Pucky waddled away and left a very remarkable track in the fine sand. He crouched down 30 feet away
and looked around. "Yeah-h!" he drawled out in his twittering voice. "If you didn’t have Pucky
along…!!?? I think maybe I’ll collect those 200 carrots, after all, don’t you think?"

Having delivered this, he disappeared with a daring dive into the oncoming rollers.

 But Deringhouse shook his head reproachfully. He had suspected that he’d been bugged by Pucky’s
telepathic tendrils…



                                                  ****



The sun rose blood red above the primeval forest and prepared a gloriously colourful reception for the
day.

Marshall, who bad the last watch, stood close to the wash of the waves and looked out toward the
horizon of the sea. He was looking for the already familiar silvery streaks that would announce the arrival
of dawn.

 The night had passed quietly. Nothing new had been reported by the constantly manned communications
station of the Gazelle, where they had all slept. Of course a lively radio traffic was going on between the
various ground stations and ships of the Topides but most of the dispatches were coded. After some
time, the small positronic computer on board had succeeded in breaking the code but very little was
gained by it. The Topides were taking up new positions, that was all.

 Marshall was aware of the first faint thought-impulses of the fishmen before he could see any sign of
them. However, he soon made out their silvery streaks on the horizon. They were still far out but they
approached with unbelievable swiftness. They were evidently swimming in organized echelons because
the formation was in the shape of a giant wedge which pointed directly at the shore.

As far as he could figure it, about 50 Akvons were approaching.

 The V-shaped silvery ripples faded within 20 yards of the sandy beach. The leader appeared and
awkwardly made his way to Marshall. The others remained in the deeper water. Only their sleek heads
bobbed on the surface. Curious eyes observed the men searchingly.

"We have come as promised," came the Akvon’s thought. "But we didn’t find any way to make it
possible for you to live under water."

For at least 20 seconds now, Marshall had been calling Pucky mentally. He breathed a sigh of relief
when he finally received an answer.

"I’m still asleep," the mouse-beaver signalled back. "What the heck’s the matter now?"

"Send me André Noir, on the double! The Akvons are here!"

 There was no answer but a few moments later Pucky materialized right next to Marshall, who jumped
involuntarily. At the same time, Noir appeared half-dressed in the Gazelle’s open hatch. He climbed
down and came forward at a run.

Communication with the water people was established:

 "It is unnecessary to trouble yourselves about it because we have a means of remaining under water for
long periods of time," said Marshall. "We have special suits that enable us to live in the outer void of the
universe and airless space is more hostile to us than the ocean."

"Then can you come with us?"

"If you are strong enough to tow us, because we don’t swim very well."

"When?"

"Have patience for just a short while. We have to make some preparations."

 Half an hour later, in the shallow sea on the coast of the single continent of Betelgeuse 4, the fishmen
witnessed and took part in such a unique and utterly strange spectacle that they would never in their lives
forget it.

 Wearing hermetically-sealed spacesuits, Marshall and Noir were stretched out flat, each on the scaly
back of an Akvon, and let themselves be carried through the greenish twilight of the underwater world. A
third figure, somewhat smaller, reclined on the back of a third Akvon: Pucky! A vanguard of 20 fishmen
swam ahead of them and the rest followed in order to cover the rear of the flotilla.

Undoubtedly the one who was enjoying this the most was Pucky. His custom-made special spacesuit
fitted him as though it had been poured onto him. The large view window of the helmet enabled him to
see clearly on all sides and, inasmuch as the water here was not deep, for the first time known to anyone
the mouse-beaver beheld the mysterious world that lay beneath the surface of the ocean.

 Low, sandy dunes stretched out below, presenting a veritable flower garden with their growth of
colourful seaweed. In between them shot small iridescent fish, which seemed to be seeking refuge from
the roaring convoy passing over them. Vision was limited to the right and left. Above glimmered
something like an orange-red lantern: the sun.

 The swiftness of their travel was astonishing. Now both of the men realized also that the Akvons were, in
fact, living recoil rockets. With their mouths they sucked in a constant stream of water, then placed it
under pressure in the middle of their bodies by means of a special organ and jetted it out at high velocity
from a stem tube under the guiding tail fins.

 The thrust must have been enormous because Marshall was convinced that the Akvons were only
swimming at about half their capability out of consideration for their new allies

 High above the stratosphere, the 2 heavy cruisers followed their orbits in freefall. Their radio
communication centres were on open standby for the reception of any messages. They waited.

 Deringhouse also waited, with the Gazelle. The scoutship still lay undetected under the heavy roof of
foliage provided by the tropical forest. If necessary, it was ready at any moment to take off and go into
battle. Marshall only had to press the red button of his tiny transmitter; the bearing signal would ensure
that he and his companions could be located.

And last but not least, McClears and Tiff still waited. They sat in their transparent prison cell without
knowing whether or not anyone had picked up their signals at all…



                                                   ****



 After several fruitless attempts, Al-Khor succeeded in placing firm ground once more under his feet. He
had slid down the smooth trunk of the tree, bruised, scraped and lacerated his skin, and had fallen the
last 15 feet or so. In so doing, he sprained his heavy, scaly tail, which was extremely painful.

 Limping on one leg and cursing to himself, he steered a course for some distance through the thick
underbrush. After a search, he found his raygun and finally stood on the edge of the clearing, in which the
station had once existed. Now it was no longer a question of a station but of ruins.

The ‘Springers’ hand grenades had worked their full effect. The cupola lay in a heap of rubble, the
ground cars were destroyed and the troops were either dead, wounded or carried off.

Carried off through the air!

 Naturally, Al-Khor reflected upon that phenomenon and he arrived at the local conclusion that the
Springers must have developed some sort of device that nullified gravity at any desired moment and
which then enabled them to move, any objects around in the field of weightlessness as they pleased. For
the incident he had experienced, there was no other explanation. At least no natural explanation; and
Al-Khor defended himself against considering any other kind.

 He searched through the rains and rubble and finally located a ground car that was partially intact. He
was pleased to find that its radio set still functioned. He called the troop garrison headquarters and
received an immediate recognition signal.

"This is Al-Khor speaking, Section Commander of South Coast. The Springer captives were able to
break free and destroy our station. I request immediate assistance. Send me a ship."

 The answer was not very encouraging. "We are in top red alert, Al-Khor, and we can’t spare any of the
few ships we have. Try to make it through to Headquarters on your own. There is danger that the
Springers are getting reinforcements and will attack us."

"Whom do you thin you are telling all this to?" shouted Al-Khor furiously. "In the final analysis it is I who
brought this entire situation to your attention and…"

"We shall expect you at Headquarters."

 The receiver clicked. Al-Khor cursed indignantly and smashed the transceiver equipment with a single
blow of his scale-armoured right fist… They could just figure out for themselves how they were going to
take care of the Springers. He had time.

 Then he dug into the supplies of food provisions on board the domed vehicle and treated himself to a
leisurely supper. As he prepared his camp and decided to spend the night here, it was dark already.

 As the grey dawn approached, he woke up half-frozen. Somewhat later, he was grateful for the warmth
of the rising sun, which rendered his limbs tractable again. After an ample breakfast, he started the engine
and rolled across the strewn rubble to the narrow road, which led in the direction of the coast and to
Headquarters.

A twinge of conscience compelled him…

 Without knowing it, he rumbled along sometime later past the hiding place of the Gazelle. He struck a
course to the East and finally approached the steel island off the coast in which the Topide officer staff
was quartered and in which their councils of war were held.

 A boat brought Al-Khor to his colleagues, who were amazed to see him but nevertheless received him
with reserve. It appeared as if they held the escape of the prisoners against him and held him responsible
for the planned action of the Springers, purely because he had discovered them in the first place.

Without paying him any more heed, they continued their council of war.

 Wor-Loek, Supreme Commander and Al-Khor’s superior officer, was speaking. "So we appear to be
in agreement that we will attempt to fight off the imminent attack of the Springers, alone and without
assistance."

"That is sheer nonsense!" declared Al-Khor quite loudly before he had even sat down. "We could hardly
make a greater mistake!"

 Wor-Loek started visibly and acquired an ominous expression. Must he be contradicted specifically by
the one who had so miserably failed? If the Dictator back home found out about what happened,
Al-Khor would be finished anyway. A shadow of disgrace certainly fell upon himself, as well, the
Supreme Commander of the water world.

 "So?" questioned Wor-Loek, testily. "You say I am making a mistake? Perhaps you will be good
enough to comment a bit further on that point and to explain your justifications?"

 Al-Khor drew a deep breath. "Isn’t it enough for you, that only two of these Springers blasted our
station out of existence, after escaping from a securely locked cell? There was no possible defence
against them because they possess a device with which they control the force of gravity. Also I am
harbouring a suspicion that they are going to attack the water world with an overwhelming striking force
that will wipe us out completely after a very short engagement, if we are too proud to request
reinforcements from the home planet."

 There was a stir of reaction among the Topides. Now Al-Khor’s words were not being taken quite so
lightly. But Wor-Loek refused to be swayed.

"Who is telling you that such an attack will be brought against us?"

 "You know it as well as I do, Wor-Loek. It’s your own pride that lets you countenance our destruction
rather than call for help. You’d love to be a hero. I, however—and most of my colleagues—would much
rather remain alive."

A murmur of agreement emerged from the assembly. Wor-Loek searched about him among the others
but he encountered only threatening looks.

"Then I take it you are in favour of admitting our weakness to the Dictator?"

"Yes, since we are blameless in the matter. And I even think we’ll be doing our empire a favour…"

 Of course they were not doing that in any sense of the word but how was Al-Khor to know? No one
could tell. Not even Rhodan.

 "Favour, you say?" Wor-Loek drew himself up and glanced across toward the door where two guards
stood motionlessly with safety catches open on their hand beamers. "I am of another opinion and I
believe you have failed us. Now you want to make excuses for it. That is mutiny and I will make you
answerable for it. Guards! Al-Khor is under arrest! Take him to the prison under the water. Al-Khor you
will surrender your weapons."

 Al-Khor stood there several seconds as if paralysed but then his body became animated. In a lightning
swift move, he drew his weapon and aimed it at the Supreme Commander. "I am under arrest? And I am
to surrender my weapons? That is against all reason. Take back that insane order. We are close to a time
when we have to stand together if we do not wish to go to our destruction."

Wor-Loek relied on his authority, which included decision over life and death. "My decision stands.
Guards, take Al-Khor into custody and I hereby strip him of all military honours."

 Now Al-Khor did not hesitate. With a single, well-aimed shot, he cut down his opponent, who fell to the
floor as if struck by lighting. Then he turned to the guards and ordered them to return to their places.
Within, he trembled in a turmoil of emotion, but outwardly he was amazingly calm.

"Topides, we are now without a leader, but the main point is to make our decisions quickly. I stand by
my proposal, to place ourselves immediately in communication with our home planet and make clear to
the Dictator what has happened—and what is still going to happen if reinforcements are not sent as
quickly as possible. An invasion by the Springers is imminent. They suspect the existence of an enemy
stronghold in this system and are determined to destroy the third and fourth planets. However, we wish
to colonize the water world and later the jungle world also, since we hold rights of prior possession. We
have not seen any signs of an enemy in this system—other than the Springers, themselves. I am asking for
your concurrence so that I can make contact with our home planet at once."

 The heavy raygun still rested in his hand but the muzzle pointed to the floor. Perhaps it was the sight of
the dangerous weapon and the awareness of Al-Khor’s uncompromising nature, which he had only now
demonstrated, that moved all officers present to come to a unanimous agreement

 One of them stood up and said: "We are without a supreme commander. Therefore I move that Al-Khor
take over Wor-Loek’s position from this moment on."

Again there was no objection.

 Al-Khor was thus the new commander of the water world and he took charge immediately. He turned
to one of the officers. "Have the hyper-transmitter operator make contact at once with home base. I will
be in the Communications Central in a few moments and will speak personally with the Dictator.
However, the rest of you…" He again looked at all of them. "Proceed at once to your respective stations
and ships and wait for further orders. The water planet is in a state of war…"

 Someone in the background asked: "What happens to the prisoners who are down below in a water
cell?"

 Al-Khor nodded. "I’m glad you reminded me of that. They have to be rendered harmless before they
also escape."

"Perhaps they could give us useful information concerning the forthcoming invasion…"

"No, we’ve run out of time… Besides, they’ve said everything that we want to know. They are too
dangerous to be permitted to live. Arrange for the swiftest possible execution."

 The Topide in the back row gave a curt confirmation but he remained seated in order to wait for the
conference to end.

Which was precisely the wrong thing to do…



                                                  ****



 Tiff thought constantly of the things he wanted to be sure to transmit to John Marshall. In spite of the
best of intentions and the greatest dedication to the task, it was the best he could do, since he was not an
actual telepath. But he nursed the hope that Marshall was reading his thoughts—that the body-transmitter
would serve as an excellent tracking device…

McClears squatted in the comer on the transparent floor and stared reflectively at the sea bottom below,
which he could now make out plainly in the full light of day. The weird fish creatures had disappeared
again and so swiftly that it seemed they had been called away. The major’s faint hope vanished. It turned
out he could expect no help from them. But in any case, to what avail? Deringhouse and the mutants must
surely be on their way by now to rescue him and Tiff.

The main thing was that the Topides were convinced of an imminent attack by the Springers and they
were initiating the appropriate defence preparations.

 So it had been worth the sacrifice. But McClears confessed to himself quite frankly that he was not
going to sacrifice his life. He was a man of honour and a friend of Rhodan but he was no suicide. Only
insane people were suicidal or self-sacrificing heroes!

"There’s nothing to see, Tiff. Since last evening, no more of them have shown themselves. Do you think
maybe they’ve lost interest in us?"

"Major, we don’t know what their relationship is to the Topides. Perhaps they’ve received instructions
not to allow themselves to be seen here anymore in the vicinity."

"So why do they lock us in a glass prison under the ocean? So that maybe the fish people can observe
us after all."

"Do we know that for sure?" asked Tiff doubtfully. "Let’s wait and see what happens."

 That was easier said than done. Since the day before they had squatted here below, idly waiting. No
further examination or inquiry had ensued and they had also been given nothing to eat or to drink.
Fortunately, McClears found a few tablets left in his pocket which were capable of helping against the
strongest pangs of hunger and which minimized thirst.

 Suddenly they heard footsteps approaching. They sensed the vibration of them clearly and they stood
up. They felt that it would be better to face the reptiles on their feet. It may have been also a
subconscious warning that moved them to do so.

 When the two Topides opened the door and stepped into the room, the two Earthmen knew
immediately what was intended for them. This was clearly evidenced by the others’ grimly narrowed eyes
and the rayguns pointed at them.

"They’re going to execute us!" whispered Tiff and he quickly thought further:Help us, Marshall, Pucky!
We don’t have much time left. Our position is: the metal island off the coast, 10 fathoms below
water level. They are demanding that we leave our cell. Quick, hurry it up!

 It was bright outside in the corridor. The brilliant illumination emitted by the ceiling and walls blinded
them. The two Topides thrust their gun barrels into the backs of the prisoners and urged them forward.
With grimly set expressions, McClears and Tiff moved onward to an unknown destination.

 The passageway made a sharp turn and ended in front of a grey metal door. The hand-wheel for turning
the bolt mechanism indicated that this must be the door to an airlock.

Or to a water-lock…

One of the guards turned the wheel. Slowly the door swung back and revealed the chamber beyond.
"Trex!" said the Topide in Arkonide. "Go! And have fun!"

 McClears remained where he was. Tiff moved forward while sending out his constant mental distress
signals. He described their situation and hoped that their friends would not keep them waiting long. In
fact, it was now high time.

"You, too!"

McClears didn’t budge. Each second won was priceless.

"What’s going to happen to us?" he asked.

 The lizard’s mouth drew itself into the semblance of a grin. "Al-Khor, the new Commander, has
sentenced you to death. You will not suffer long. Drowning is fast."

"Why should we die? Haven’t we told you everything that was important to you?"

"We didn’t like the verdict," explained the Topide. "But I know that it was just. You’ve caused enough
damage. A ground station has gone up in smoke, the other prisoners have gotten away, a number of
Topides have been killed. You have earned a death sentence, so now get going!"

McClears did not give up. "Are we responsible for the operation of the other Springers? We didn’t
order the invasion…"

"That’s enough conversation, Springer. Go!"

He aimed the raygun at the major. McClears was finally sure that not another second of time could be
gained. He turned and stepped into the narrow room where Tiff was waiting for him.

 "When they let the water in," he whispered, even while the heavy door was closing, "they’ll have to let
the outer lock door open. Then we can swim out!"

"I’m afraid," retorted Tiff despairingly, "that they’ll take enough time about it to let us drown first.
They’re shrewd enough to take that into their calculations. We can only hold our breaths, nothing more.
And of course—hope!"

McClears didn’t answer.

 On the seaward side of the room, a narrow slit appeared next to the floor, which admitted water into the
lock. The opening widened swiftly and the water rose correspondingly higher. It soon came to their
chests.

"The opening!" cried Tiff excitedly. "If it only comes up a little bit more, we can get through…"

 But the vertically sliding lock door remained where it was. The water level continued to rise without
interruption, reaching now to their throats.

 "Breathe in!" shouted McClears. "Hold your breath, dive and try to get under it. Maybe there’s some
spot wider than another. Lots of luck, Tiff! We might just make it!"

In a sudden burst, the water broke into the lock.
Within a single second it rose to the ceiling and filled up the entire chamber. McClears and Tiff held their
breaths and sank to the floor. They felt the water pressure; their ears started to ring and the lack of
oxygen cramped their movements.

 McClears’ groping fingers reached the upper edge of the door crevice. He pulled himself down and then
touched something that was alive and moving.

 Were it not for the water, what came out of him would have been a yell, but instead his overstrained
lungs surrendered their stored up air in a soundless gurgle.

In a few seconds more, he would be finished…



                                                  ****



The advanced guard of the Akvons slowed their pace and regrouped.

What’s wrong?asked André Noir by means of a hypnotic thought picture.

Marshall and Pucky promptly received an answer: "The water fortress of the aliens. We have arrived.
They have special doors that lead into them from out here."

In the same moment the first distress call from Tiff was received. Pucky traced it and thought to
Marshall:Not 30 feet in front of us. Should I make a jump?

No, wait! Perhaps we can help without the Topides noticing it!

 Before them in the eternal twilight of the sea, the walls of the synthetic island shimmered. They stood on
rounded support pilings and ended a good 10 fathoms below the surface of the water. The airlocks were
evidenced by a row of narrow hatch slots. From here on, the Akvons were in the realm of the Topides, if
circumstances so required it.

Now we will fetch them out!

Marshall nodded inside his helmet. It was a strange sensation to sit on the slender body of one of these
mermen as though on a horse.

Get their bearings, Pucky!

 The mouse-beaver, who under different circumstances would be having a whale of a time on this
submarine excursion, guided his mount closer along the grey wall of the metal island. He pulled to a stop
in front of one of the indented airlock doors.

 Here it is! They are being brought in. Tiff is already in the chamber. McClears is still outside
talking.

Marshall was already aware of this… and more…
 Above on the platform are guards with energy weapons. In case McClears and Tiff make it to the
surface…

 As a suggestive hypnotist, Noir was of course not much of a telepath but he could understand the
thought-impulses of Pucky and Marshall and by this means he was given instructions. Immediately he
translated these into directions for the Akvons to follow. The little fishmen who were without riders
suddenly exploded away as though on a commando charge. They swam up to the surface and began to
romp and play there, according to their custom. They shot with lightning speed here and there like so
many arrows; they roiled up the water, they hurtled yards high into the bright sunlight and then fell
splashing back into their element.

The half dozen Topides lowered their weapons. This was a sight to which they were accustomed.

 Pucky thought:Tiff is signalling that the water is being let in. After a few seconds:The opening slot
is too narrow to let McClears and Tiff pass through.

Marshall answered:Open it, Pucky!

 The mouse-beaver swam ahead still closer to the steel prison chamber and concentrated on the
restrained sliding door of the lock. Slowly its lower edge began to move upward. Admittedly, this
allowed the water to move faster into the lock but the opening became large enough to admit a man.
Hopefully the two victims of the death sentence would realize this in time.

They were aware of it.

 Pucky guided his Akvon slightly downward and reached into the open crevice. He was able to grab hold
of a groping arm and to tug McClears through the aperture. The major’s eyes were half opened but
seemed not to perceive very much around him. A large air bubble emerged from his mouth and rose
swiftly toward the surface.

 Quick, Marshall. He can only last 10 seconds. Bring him far enough away from here and then up
to the surface. You can always dive under again.

Marshall took charge of McClears, who did not resist and listlessly permitted anything to be done with
him. Noir relayed the order to the Akvon. It was only with difficulty that Marshall was able to hang on
with McClears, so tremendous was the acceleration with which they now shot away through a wall of
water that seemed to become viscous in its resistance to their swift passage.

 Pucky waited not another second. He pressed through the narrow opening in the airlock chamber and
immediately saw Tiff, who had given up his attempts to escape and floated up to the ceiling where not a
single cubic inch of air remained.

 Pucky shoved up from the floor and was able to grab Tiff’s feet. The weight of the spacesuit allowed
him to sink down again. As fast as he could, he pushed Tiff, who was already half-unconscious, out into
the sea. The waiting Akvon, who was Pucky’s little ‘seahorse’, quickly took over. The fishman grasped
the unconscious body, pulled it close to him and raced away without bothering about the mouse-beaver.
The latter hesitated a moment, then turned around and swam back into the airlock.

 The two Topides who had imprisoned Tiff and McClears still stood before the door of the lock and
conversed with one another. At the end of 10 minutes the outer lock gate was to be closed and the water
was to be pumped out of the chamber. It was not yet time.

 They did not notice that the locking wheel on the door was being turned as though by an invisible hand.
Then the door burst open. And with it surged a watery deluge that flooded over the completely surprised
reptiles and swept them away with it.

 Pucky had opened the outer door completely so that the entire portion of the station below water level
was inundated. Reptiles in this area either drowned or were able to save themselves in the last moment
and bring the alarming news to the upper story, where the officers were still assembled and in their
council of war.

The water rose up to the platform and the metal island was thus rendered useless as a base of
operations.

Pucky slipped once more through the outer opening into the ocean and began to put some distance
between himself and this area. The close proximity of the island was now fairly dangerous.

 He picked up the mental impulses from Marshall, who had come to the surface with McClears, several
hundred yards away. The Topides on the platform were far too occupied to concern themselves with
what was going on in the ocean. The island was, of course, unsinkable, but it was three-quarters
inundated.

 Pucky could have teleported himself but swimming under water was too much fun to be deprived of so
soon. McClears and Tiff were safe now, which was clearly indicated by Marshall’s thought-waves. The
Akvons had reassembled and were taking care of removing the rescued personnel from the danger zone
as swiftly as possible.

 The mouse-beaver went deeper and swept along over the gorgeously coloured sea bottom. Once he
encountered a larger fish but it took one look at this astonishing creature and darted for safety as fast as it
could. Pucky grinned happily, watching it go.

And so it was that he arrived on the beach by the Gazelle two hours later than the others.

He had taken his long awaited bath—but of course without getting wet…




                                6/ TOPIDES & TERRANS—ALLIES?



 Perry Rhodan was in the midst of a conference with Khrest and Thora concerning possibilities of
Interstellar colonization when he was interrupted by a sharp buzzing sound. He started for a second, then
pressed a button on his wrist communicator. "Rhodan here. What is it?"

"Hyper-communication from Betelgeuse, sir. Do you want me to take it?"

"Advise Reginald Bell and hold it. I’ll be there myself."

Khrest and Thora saw him hurry from the room before they could ask a question. They got up and
followed at a more leisurely pace. They, too, were interested in knowing what had happened out there
272 light-years from Earth.

 In a few minutes the elevator brought Rhodan to the Com Central hyperspace communications section.
Communications Officer Eilman stood stiffly at attention and announced: "Maj. Deringhouse,Centurion ,
Betelgeuse System, requests top priority transmission for an important message. Distance, 272
light-years, Betelgeuse…"

 Rhodan waved him off defensively. "My dear Eilman, I’ll admit you’re the chief brass-pounder around
here but why you have to warm over old hash is beyond me. If you can’t give me news, it’s better to
invent some. Now what’s with Deringhouse?"

"He will be on in exactly 30 seconds."

Rhodan nodded and seated himself at the receiver console. At the same moment, Bell entered, glanced
briefly at Eilman and sat down next to Rhodan. "Now I’m really anxious," he said.

"That’s two of us!" returned Rhodan. "Where else could he be?"

 "I’ll sure straighten that one’s furry hide for him!" promised Bell and thus revealed that they were
referring to Pucky—whom they had worried about to an extreme ever since the takeoff of the two heavy
cruisers.

"Let’s wait and see," ordered Rhodan calmly. Before him, a green signal lamp flashed on. Then a
distance-distorted voice emerged from the loudspeaker.

"Deringhouse here. CallingTerrania …"

 "On the other end," said Rhodan. "It’s good to hear your voice again, Deringhouse. Before you begin,
there’s a question: have you seen Pucky anywhere?"

There was a short pause. Then Deringhouse answered, "Pucky is with us, sir."

"Good. Now give us your report. Have the Springers shown up?"

 "It all depends on how you look at it, sir. We are the Springers. At least for the Topides. Besides, the
real Springers…"

"Come again, Deringhouse! Did you say Topides…?"

Deringhouse gave his report. Rhodan and Bell listened with grave expressions. They didn’t interrupt the
major even once and he finally finished and gave a summarization:

 "So that was our plan and we each arrived at it completely independent of the other. I trust you will be in
accord with our concept of the situation. Naturally, it would have been easy to destroy the ground
stations and ships of the Topides with the help of theCenturion and theTerra but that wouldn’t have
gotten us anywhere. But this way we have a chance to kill two birds with one stone. Of considerable
importance is the fact, in regard to all this, that the Topide commander, a certain Al-Khor, has sent out
an emergency call to his home planet a few hours ago. He is requesting of the Dictator and ruler of the
Topide stellar empire that help be sent in order to rescue the Betelgeuse System from the clutches of the
Springers. The Dictator is deathly concerned about the Springers’ planned raid. He’s promised Al-Khor
that he’s going to dispatch a strong war fleet at once. That’s what we’re waiting for now…"

 Rhodan looked at Bell, who stared uncomprehendingly at the loudspeaker as though he were expecting
a revelation. Then he raid: "That’s excellent, Deringhouse. If your plan works out—and I’d like to bet
that it will—we will achieve our original objective without lifting a finger. The attacking Springers will
mistake the bitterly defensive ships of the Topides for those of the Earth or for its allies. On the other
hand, the Topides will be perfectly correct in recognizing the Springers for what they are: the actual
Springers. Their only error will be in mistaking their motive as an attack directed at themselves. We only
have to take care that the two sides don’t get a chance to clear up the mistake. Unfortunately, I have
received no communication from Talamon, the one Mounder chief who is favourably disposed toward
us. So I don’t really know if he’s going to take part in the attack. If he’s smart, he’ll stay out of it."

Deringhouse’s voice broke into the ensuing slight pause: "Your orders for us, sir?"

 Rhodan smiled suddenly. "Wait it out, Deringhouse. The best thing is for you to retreat to the third planet
and act as though it’s the Earth. Maybe you can succeed in attracting some of the Topides in that
direction also. That way, the third planet will be more convincing in its role ofTerra ."

"Understood, sir! Further reports as fast as new developments occur."

 "I’ll be there soon," promised Rhodan, "so that we can prepare a warm reception for our friends. This
time the Topides will be our allies—it’s just unfortunate they won’t know it!—Before you sign off,
Deringhouse: have you placed our insubordinate, Pucky, in solitary confinement?"

 Deringhouse hemmed and hawed, then reluctantly confessed: "I’m sorry, sir, but we urgently needed the
little—er, the lieutenant—on this mission. Frankly, we wouldn’t have made it without Pucky. Am I
permitted to make an observation, sir?"

"Observe away!" Rhodan’s smile broadened and Bell nodded eagerly.

 Deringhouse sighed audibly. "Pucky shouldn’t be judged too harshly, sir. It was pure patriotic zeal that
motivated him and not any insubordination for selfish reasons. Naturally I more or less raked him over the
coals for what he did but then, under fire, he came through with flying colours. He even saved the lives of
McClears and Tiff. Nobody else could have done that. So you see, in spite of…"

"Alright, Deringhouse, you’ve made your point. Tell Pucky his misbehaviour will be condoned this time
but also inform him he’s not to see a single carrot for the next 6 months."

"Mm-m-m…"

"You wanted to say something else, major?"

"Sir… I don’t think Pucky’s going to be very happy about that."

 "I’m sure he isn’t! Bugs Bunny was a carrot-hater compared to Pucky. It’s my hope hell miss them
enough to learn a lesson."

"I doubt it, sir. I have a confession to make… You see, there was this bet and I lost it…"

 Bell exploded with laughter. He knew the kind of bets hisbête noir snared people into. Plucky, the
carrot-freak-nick! Several sadder but wiser betters had already paid off a small fortune in the crunchy
vegetable—not to mention finger paralysis from back scratching.

 "Very well," said Perry, laughing now himself. "Maybe he’ll finally get his fill of his favourite food and
relaxation. Just take care that he doesn’t bust his belly—we still need him in the fight to come against the
Springers and Topides. Signing off, Deringhouse. Our best to the crew—and Pucky! Over and out."

 After the static in the loudspeaker died, Rhodan and Bell stared at each other for some time. The overall
situation was one of deadly seriousness but neither man could repress a wry smile.

 Only Chief Communications Officer Eilman maintained a grave expression. He could not empathize with
this kind of humour. Also, he did not possess sufficient imagination to visualize the picture which floated
before the minds’ eyes of Rhodan and Bell:

 Robots dragging sacks and crates full of carrots out of the storerooms of theCenturion and into Pucky’s
cabin, where the smug mouse-beaver lay on the divan as majestically as a pasha of old and permitted
Maj. Deringhouse to work off his first hour of back-scratching.

 One must avoid betting with Pucky—ever—unless one were a masochist psychologically seeking
self-punishment, unless one nursed a neurotic need to lose 100% of the time.

 Anyone with a sense of humour would have agreed that it was regrettable that Perry and Reg were not
also aware of the luncheon that loser Lamanche had volunteered to consume as an acknowledgment of
Pucky’s acumen: a meal fit only for a man with a cast iron stomach: 3 fighter robots.

Withoutmustard.




                                             CONTENTS



                              1/ BLASTOFF FOR BETELGEUSE



                                  2/ INVISIBLE SPIDER’S WEB



                                        3/ LORDS OF AKVO
                             4/ EIGHT LIVES AT STAKE



                          5/ FATE OF THE METAL ISLAND



                        6/ TOPIDES & TERRANS—ALLIES?



                          THE SHIP OF THINGS TO COME



                                RED EYE OF BETELGEUSE



                                Copyright © Ace Books 1973



                                     All Rights Reserved.




                            THE SHIP OF THINGS TO COME



The Topides. Lizard-men. Former enemies of mankind.

 Now, to the great surprise of Perry Rhodan, the Topides are discovered to be maintaining
military bases in the Betelgeuse system… and Perry is quick to take advantage of this fact,
incorporate it as part and parcel of his gigantic diversionary manoeuvre.

But—will the Topides, actually play their proper role when the enemy spacefleets of the
Springers and Aras appear?

 And Topthor—the patriarch of the Mounders who has actually seen Earth’s sun with his own
greedy eyes: will he not realize immediately that the positronicon aboard his ship has
steered him in the wrong direction, guided him to a false destination, the moment that he
sees Betelgeuse? For no intelligent being could ever mistake the giant star for Sol of
Earth’s solar system.

What then, when Topthor sees through the deception?
Topthor is the key figure in the ensuing conflict, so dramatically recorded in the diary of
Perry Rhodan in the next episode of the series known as



                                      THE EARTH DIES

                                               by

                                         Clark Darlton