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  Here it was dark and he had to turn on his small hand lamp in order not to miss the place he was looking for. Then, finally, he stood before the secret door. There was no sign of such an opening in the smooth rock wall but a slight pressure with the flat of the hand was enough to cause the wall panel to slide suddenly aside. Garak was bathed in light as the door closed again behind him.

  He stood in a spacious rock chamber that had been subdivided by low walls. Zalites sat there or stood about and looked toward him curiously. In fact one of them approached him.

  "Well, Toffner...? How did you do?"

  The man did not speak the usual Zalite language, which was a slight variation of Arkonide, but instead spoke purest English. And now all at once Garak had become Toffner. In fact, Jeremy Toffner was a cosmic agent from the Earth.

  "So far so good, Major. Our friend Hhogka in Larg has organized a caravan and is sending it this way through the desert. It started out day before yesterday and ought to reach the cave by today. After going through the, regular mountain pass it has to go north a hundred kilometers. They're waiting for us in that boxed-in canyon.

  Maj. Rosberg was a Solar Intelligence specialist for transmitter installations. Now he nodded, satisfied. "That's great! I sent out my hypercom dispatch to the California yesterday. The cruiser is on standby for us, and so tomorrow morning, Earth time, it ought to be delivering the stuff we asked for. That's also tomorrow morning, Zalite time, incidentally."

  In these few words the major outlined a very comprehensive program that was not without its dangers. It was true that the California would only emerge from transition for a period of one minute and it only needed to switch on its five matter transmitters in order to transmit the materials requested but this one strategic minute could lead to a catastrophe. All space around Zalit had been blocked off by Arkon ships.

  Something moved in the back of the subterranean chamber and then someone approached. This 'someone' was just one meter tall, was covered with a rust-brown pelt of hair, looked like a giant mouse and was also provided with the wide, flat tail of a beaver.

  This creature straightened to its full height before the two men and spoke to them in a squeaky voice. "Then don't you think it's about time that we turned on the transmitter's receiving station in the cave?"

  Maj. Rosberg and Toffner nodded in mutual agreement.

  "That's right, Pucky," said Rosberg to the remarkable creature, who spoke flawless English. "But early tomorrow morning will do just as well. You can make your jump then with the three men."

  The term 'jump' referred to Pucky's mutant capability of teleporting. But in addition to this the mouse-beaver was also a telepath as well as a top expert in telekinesis. In actuality he was the most talented parapsychic in the Solar Imperium—and he took no little pride in the fact. Pucky wobbled his big ears, revealed his incisor tooth in a friendly grin and retired to his corner of the room with a waddling strut that was characteristic of him.

  Toffner watched him with amusement. "If we didn't have Pucky we'd lose a lot of time," he commented. "And everything would also become more dangerous."

  "Rhodan must have his reasons for leaving Pucky behind with us," said Rosberg, confirming the other's sentiments. He went with Toffner to a table where they both sat down on a rough-hewn bench. "Betty Toufry advises us that some big transport ships will be taking off for Arkon in the next few days. Let's hope they get to go with this shipment."

  'They' referred to Rhodan and his 150-man team. Disguised as Zalites, they were presently in the Arkonide's mobilization camp. They had succeeded in obtaining key positions of duty and rank among the new conscriptees and now they waited to embark for Arkon along with the regular Zalite draftees, who of course were by no means volunteers. The impending transfer of troops placed Arkon somewhat in the position of ancient Troy on Earth, because Rhodan and his men were the conquerors who figuratively remained hidden within the belly of the 'wooden horse'.

  "Why shouldn't they go this time?"

  "Today they shipped out 50,000 troops, Toffner, and Rhodan and his men were not among them. Do you have any idea of the size of this operation?" As Toffner remained silent, Rosberg changed the subject: "What did Hhogka have to say about your proposition?"

  I went to him as soon as I arrived in Larg. At first he was sceptical but what convinced him was the good job we did on the fake I.D. passes, which even carry the signature of Calus. The caravan is at the cave today and by tomorrow it can be all loaded and get under way to Tagnor. We should be able to expect its arrival in three days."

  "And that's the crisis!" put in Rosberg. "We have to join it before it's stopped by the robots at the edge of the city. Maybe we'll grab an Arkonide officer to help us. We have the necessary means at our disposal so that we can lay a hypnoblock on him. Then he'll do exactly what we want him to do. Maybe we should get hold of the fellow we've treated already, the one you encountered a few days ago outside in the passage. Try tomorrow to find him in Tagnor and bring him here. Using him it'll be a cinch to get the caravan into the city. Then under cover of night it should be easy to guide it down here in the catacombs."

  Toffner rested his chin on both hands with his elbows propped up on the wooden tabletop. "I've been the only Earthman on Zalit for the past three years and although I'll admit it was lonesome duty I always felt comparatively secure. Today I'm no longer alone—but don't think I haven't felt safer."

  "Toffner, you know that the robot Brain—the Regent of the Arkonide Empire—is planning to destroy the Earth. "Rhodan wants to steal the march on him by making a preventive attack. It's the only choice he has if he wants to save the Earth."

  "I know," acknowledged Toffner.

  But for the rest of the day he was somewhat silent.

  • • •

  A fire actually was burning inside the cave. Rhog made out nine Zalites in its flickering glow. Some of them were lying on blankets along the wall and they sat up as he stumbled in over the threshold and came to a stop. Others sat directly around the fire and looked up at him curiously.

  "Just take a look at what I found outside," said the man who had brought Rhog into the cave. "He says he found this place by accident. He's also armed with an Arkonide hand-beamer. Suspicious, don't you think?"

  A bearded Zalite got up slowly and came to the prisoner. "Who are you?" he asked.

  Before answering, Rhog looked carefully around. He couldn't quite figure out what kind of a situation he'd stumbled upon by chance. This did not appear to be any normal caravan. In the center of the wide cave was a remarkable object. It consisted of two principal parts—a metal block base that appeared to be very inert and heavy, and a cage. It truly looked like a cage but at his first glance Rhog knew it had to be something else. The glistening power cables connecting the cage to its base were enough to lead one to this conclusion.

  I am Rhog, from Larg," he said finally. "My vehicle broke down and I've been walking about 20 kilometers, until I found this canyon. I don't understand..."

  "Larg? We're also from Larg. Wouldn't we have had to overtake you en route?"

  "Maybe we missed each other."

  "Hm-m-m. Not very likely." The bearded one seemed to be thinking it over. Then he held out his hand. "Do you have papers?"

  Rhog hesitated. It was unusual for a Zalite to ask for his pass. However, they must have their reasons and he did not care to attract any more attention or raise any more suspicion. So he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pass. The bearded one took it and carefully examined it.

  Finally he held it up against the firelight and shook his head a few times. Then he handed it back to Rhog. "Why was your birth date altered, Rhog?"

  Rhog tensed with alarm. Now everything was lost, if this caravan had anything to do with the Arkonides. But lying seemed to be useless. Anyway, he didn't have to tell the purpose of his trip to Tagnor.

  He finally replied as calmly as possible. "I wanted to get out of being drafted. If I look old to them they may leav
e me alone."

  "Could be," the bearded man nodded and he sat down again by the fire. "Come and sit down here. Let's talk a little bit more."

  The man who had captured Rhog disappeared outside into the night in order to take up his rounds again. Rhog sat down next to the bearded one. The other Zalites had lain down again as though they were not concerned with the matter. Only three other men crouched by the fire. They stared into the darting flames and seemed to want to leave the whole affair in the hands of the bearded man, who must have been acting more or less as their leader.

  And the latter was short and to the point: "So now let's have the truth, if I may."

  Rhog realized that he didn't have any choice if he did not want to make his situation unnecessarily difficult. "Can I trust you?"

  "That I'll guarantee," replied the other, nodding.

  Rhog looked into his eyes and believed that he could believe the bearded one. He did not look like a traitor. "I'm a fugitive from the Arkonides—so now you know!"

  "I figured that much, my friend. But of course there's the question of why you want to go from Larg to Tagnor. There it's the most dangerous of all, for you."

  "In Tagnor I have friends, which I don't have in Larg. They can take me into hiding with them. Sooner or later the Arkonides will have enough soldiers and they'll finally leave Zalit May I ask you something also?"

  When the bearded one only nodded silently, Rhog continued: "Who are you? Is this a plain, everyday kind of caravan? How come you're not afraid of being stopped by the Arkonides or getting shoved into service in their space fleet?"

  "Who says we don’t face such a risk?"

  "Are you going to Tagnor?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you are in danger!" asserted Rhog. "You don't think the Arkonides would ever fail to notice such a prize catch of able-bodied men, do you?"

  The bearded one thought a moment and then confessed: "Naturally we'd be conspicuous but we have good I.D. papers—better than yours, at any rate. They show that we've already been processed by the enlistment commission and have been found to be unfit for service. So nothing can happen to us."

  Rhog leaned toward the other with new interest. "So you are also part of a resistance movement?" A new confidence and trust gleamed in his eyes. "You have an organization behind you that can produce false papers."

  The man with the beard rummaged in his pocket and finally produced a heavily stamped document. "This signature here..." He indicated a name written under the largest stamp. "That's not false. Signed by Admiral Calus himself."

  "I don't understand that," mumbled Rhog disconcertedly.

  "You don't have to," retorted the bearded Zalite. "Main thing is, we'll take you with us to Tagnor. Of course it all depends on the three men that we'll meet here tomorrow. If they have no objections, you may come with us.

  "Three men? Who are they?"

  "You shouldn't ask so many questions," admonished the other man. "You know the old saying: ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies. You'd better look for a place to lie down and catch some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a rough day. We have to load up our land freighters and you can give us a hand with it."

  Rhog looked around in the cave. Other than the curious cage-like affair in the middle, he could see nothing that might be loaded onto the carriers. Outside in the night he had only observed the vehicles, themselves. If they were empty and unloaded, then where the devil was the cargo that was supposed to go into them? Something wasn't right here. But what? Did it concern him at all?

  The bearded one seemed to perceive his doubtful concern. His face brightened with a cheerful grin. "Don't rack your brains about it, my friend, you'll need them for tomorrow. You know if a man is going to really wonder about something he needs a head on his shoulders to do it with!"

  Rhog could appreciate the logic of the statement and he finally curled up on the rocky ground to get some sleep. Whatever adventure might lie ahead of him, at least he was safe here in the cave, and no Hhrack was going to tear him apart.

  • • •

  At just about this same time, six men sat at a table in a brightly lit room and whispered to each other. They spoke so softly that no one could have heard a word even two meters away. This precaution was appropriate to their surroundings since they were in a building that was located in the area of the spaceport of Tagnor, which was in Arkonide hands.

  Although they all looked like Zalites, they were Terrans.

  Perry Rhodan's hair glistened with a coppery sheen in the light of the lamps. His skin was like that of an American Indian. The biochemists of his special task force had done their best to change him and his combat commandoes into genuine Arkonide descendants, since the Zalites were the descendants of former colonists of the Imperium. Thanks primarily to the biochemical techs, Rhodan and his 150-man team were able to billet among the other drafted Zalites without being detected.

  To his right sat Reginald Bell, somewhat short and heavyset but nonetheless an apparently genuine Zalite. To his left was Capt. Hubert Gorlat, with a quite normal native appearance. At present he was a Zalite captain who had presented himself to the Arkonides as a volunteer in the fleet of the Robot Regent. The other three men were Ras Tschubai the African teleporter, telepath John Marshall and Professor Eric Manoli.

  Rhodan was saying: "... won't be very long now. The Regent is adamant about getting the troops into advanced training and not letting them sit around here on Zalit. We'll either go with the next transshipment or the one after that."

  "Too bad Calus can't do anything about it," muttered Bell with a twinkle in his eyes. "He's been such a helpful fellow otherwise."

  Rhodan gave him a warning look. It was superfluous, however, because if any one of their many secrets would be revealed, all of them would be lost. Nevertheless their secret concerning Calus, in regard to his person or identity, was the most vital of all.

  "Osega must not arouse the slightest suspicion," Rhodan whispered. "He's our biggest power piece in this whole galactic chess game, which makes him more or less the King, you might say. If he gets checkmated our mission will be wrecked."

  "Osega plays the role of the Arkonide Admiral very well," Rhodan conceded. "In the meantime the real Calus must be sweating blood down there under the arena. He probably never dreamed he could be replaced by a double."

  "Nobody dreamed of it," grinned Bell. "Neither the Arkonides nor the Zalites—and it's a good thing!"

  "One day the Zalites will understand a lot of things, once they find out about it," said Gorlat. "I think maybe it's time for Ras to go."

  Rhodan looked at his watch and nodded. "It's the time we've agreed on. OK, Ras, you can pay a visit to Calus now, so that we may find out when we can count on shipping out of here. We can't let down our line of communication. He should be alone by now in his room in the Zarlt's palace—you're familiar with the location."

  The teleporter got to his feet. "Any other instructions, sir?" he asked of Rhodan.

  "None so far. At least you could ask Osega if the Regent is still holding back on details concerning his plans. After all, the leading officers of his fleet should be able to share the naked truth with him. That's all I can think of for now."

  Ras Tschubai nodded and went into a corner of the room to concentrate on making his 'jump'. The others watched him openly. It was always fascinating to see a teleporter disappear. For Ras himself the procedure wasn't too much of a strain because he was familiar with his target area. He visualized Calus' room until he saw it almost tangibly in front of him, and at the same time dematerialized.

  Almost simultaneously the visualization became reality. The walls of the room, the large desk, the bed, Calus himself—all seemed to materialize before him whereas it was he, himself, who had materialized. It was of course in the same second in which he had disappeared from Rhodan's view.

  Calus was slightly startled but then he smiled. The biochem group had turned the Earthly Sgt. Roger Osega into a genuine Arkonide. No one wo
uld have recognized him in this disguise. Even the real Calus had been given the shock of his life when he first saw his mirror image before him, only to be kidnapped and taken away into the catacombs.

  "You are punctual, Ras," said Osega, checking his watch. "But you could have saved yourself the trip. No news yet."

  "The next troop ship? When does it leave?"

  "You boys are really in a hurry to get to Arkon—and still nobody knows what you'll be up against. You may regret it someday, being in such a big hurry."

  "Don't give me any nonsense," the African retorted, perhaps more sharply than he meant to have it sound. "The operation is committed and it can't be held up any longer. You know that as well as I do. Is there anything else? The Chief wants to know if the Regent has passed out any top drawer information yet."

  "Nothing, Ras. During the next few days there'll be a continuous traffic of troop ships for bringing the recruits to Arkon. The conscript lists are sent with the ships. I have no influence with the registry section. The only thing I know is that Rhodan's team is up for transshipment this week."

  "Thank you," Ras replied, evidently satisfied. "At least that's something. By the way, the I.D. passes bearing your signature are working miracles—I mean, that is, the signature of the real Calus, if you will pardon me! He signs anything now without hesitation. Evidently Dr. Linkmann has given him a very effective injection. I think Calus would even sign his own death sentence now.

  "If he only would!" said Osega. "Then I'd be the only Calus around."

  The African grinned in amusement. "For a sergeant I see the Admiral's rank sits pretty well with you," he kidded. "I have to get going. So it's tomorrow at the same time. Farewell, Admiral Calus, sir, noble Arkonide by the grace of the Robot Regent..."

  And so the false Calus who was smoothing Rhodan's way to Arkon was once more alone. He was a sheep in wolfs clothing—at least for the Zalites, who did not know that the man was apparently their greatest enemy was in actuality the greatest friend.