The Rebels of Tuglan Read online

  Bell had arrived at this point in his deliberation when he was struck by a sudden insight. His mouth became a thin line, his eyes narrowed to a slit.

  "Of course!" he yelled as the three were about to jump onto the first antigrav lift, which then plunged them rapidly down into the depths of the space vessel. "A mouse-beaver! I should have known it at once."

  They stepped off the antigrav lift and onto a moving walkway. The kitchen came into sight. They were still quite far away when they became aware of something unusual going on there. Men were running about, all excited; the cooks were swinging their big spoons like a club, trying to drive the radio personnel and the technicians from their domain.

  Rhodan and Bell pushed their way through the crowd and entered the kitchen. The big glittering kettles were deserted; no one seemed to bother about getting the next meal ready. Instead, an excited group of men had gathered at the other end of the big galley, talking, laughing, gesticulating wildly. Indescribable chaos reigned, but nothing indicated that there was an immediate threat to anyone's safety.

  The head cook discovered Rhodan and hurried toward him. "That damn beast!" he shouted. "It must have slipped on board while we were loading on the boxes with our provisions. If I get my hands on the guy who's responsible for this, I'll..." He accompanied his words by whirling a huge soup ladle over his head.

  Rhodan raised his hand. "Quiet! Shut up! Have you all flipped your lids?"

  "That damned mouse-beaver!" gasped the breathless head cook, who had finally reached Rhodan. "It sneaked in, and look at it! Gobbling down our food!"

  The heavy-set cook pushed the onlookers aside, using his fat belly cleverly to butt the people out of the way, so that Rhodan and his friends could pass through a narrow gangway. They came to a heavy door with a sign, Freezer Locker, where the crowd was thickest. The door was open.

  The mouse-beaver sat on its fat behind amidst a pile of frozen fruit. It held something skilfully in its front paws and nibbled at it with obvious delight. From time to time it would look up, blink at the onlookers as if to say: Tastes mighty fine, folks - much obliged for the treat!

  Rhodan regarded the scene, undecided what to do about it.

  There was no doubt in his mind that the mouse-beaver must have shifted the controls just before the Stardust had gone into transition. The little fellow simply had obeyed an uncontrollable impulse of its playful nature when it had messed around indiscriminately with the coordinates. Its telekinetic abilities were quite sufficient for that. Its action had thus endangered the lives of all aboard and must be punished. Furthermore, it was a stowaway. And in such case the laws of space travel provide extreme punishment; ejection from the ship without a spacesuit!

  On the other hand, the mouse-beaver had not acted with evil intentions. It was a basic fault of its race to indulge in play at any time and anywhere.

  But the law demanded punishment for the wrongdoer. Even one as charming as the furry little rodent.

  Bell stood next to Rhodan and stared at the strange creature which displayed no signs of fear. It did not suffer from a bad conscience and probably had an idea that its droll appearance added considerably in improving the mood of these two-legged beings.

  The mouse-beaver grinned and showed its single large incisor tooth. It was such a funny sight that several of the amazed men burst out laughing. Only Bell did not feel like laughing. This beast had caused them no end of trouble and had endangered all their lives by displacing the Stardust from its proper course. Now they were in some unknown part of the universe. Not even the mouse-beaver's cute looks could alter anything there.

  Before Rhodan could intervene, Bell rushed toward the jolly rodent and grabbed it by the scruff of its neck. He jerked it upward with one violent move, screaming at it: "You filthy beast! Not enough that you steered our ship into some sticky part of the Milky Way - you have the gall to stuff your face with our strawberries! That's the limit! We'll kick you out of here and let you float through the vacuum outside! But first you'll get a taste not only of our food, but of a sound licking!"

  And before anyone could prevent it he soundly smacked the screeching little fellow's broad backside with his hand.

  In the same instant, something strange took place. The mouse-beaver wrangled itself free from Bell's grip and dropped to the floor. With one mighty leap it dived into the freezer locker and took cover. There it squatted on its sore bottom, eyeing Bell all the while with close scrutiny - and this is when Bell started to float in the air.

  He seemed to have lost all weight, and drifted off like a balloon, past the dumbfounded head cook, in the direction of the big pots on the stove.

  In vain did Bell try to kick his legs in order to change his direction. His hands groped wildly around but nothing was near enough that he could have held onto it. The powerful telekinetic currents, generated in the mouse-beaver's brain, kept pushing Bell on and on.

  The head cook almost had heart failure when Bell stopped just above the soup kettle. The thick broth simmered gently, dangerously close to Bell's bottom. Another inch and he would get badly burned!

  But fortunately Bell kept drifting on toward another big pot. Despite Bell's valiant, desperate efforts, violent thrashing of his arms, he sank lower and lower into the big kettle. As luck had it, the pot was filled with water - cold water. There the man sat in the pot, his head peering pitifully above the rim. Rhodan, who had followed the incident with secret pleasure, started to laugh out loud.

  The rest of the men followed suit, and the poor fellow, looking much like a missionary in a natives' stew pot, was quickly surrounded by the entire kitchen personnel and the crew.

  "What a place to take a bath, Reggie!" shouted someone disrespectfully from the background. Rhodan came over and rescued his friend from his predicament. Dripping and shaking like a wet pup, Bell stood shivering beside the cooking pot.

  Meanwhile, the mouse-beaver sat undisturbed amidst the frozen fruit piles, munching away at its heart's content. After all, who could be sure how long these two-legged creatures would tolerate its presence here?

  "You'd best go to your cabin, Reg," said Rhodan. "And if you should meet John Marshall on your way there, send him here. And in the future I would recommend you not to wallop our stowaway. As you see, it's defending itself quite effectively."

  "Do you intend letting it stay on the Stardust?" snarled Bell, but he knew at once that even he would be unable to do away with the little fellow in cold blood. "If it keeps on playing tricks like that..."

  "This is why I want to see Marshall. Perhaps he can manage to establish communication with the mouse-beaver. Just tell him to come here, will you?"

  Bell started to move and left a long wet trail behind. Rhodan returned to the freezer locker.

  The mouse-beaver looked at him with large, expectant eyes. In its delicate hands it held a piece of fruit which it was nibbling, somewhat embarrassedly, it seemed. Its big round ears vibrated gently.

  It looks at me like a dog, thought Rhodan, and felt a wave of sudden compassion well up in him. This creature was the product of another, strange planet. It did not originate on Earth. It was alien, it was otherworldly. Yet, he liked it.

  It was an inexplicable feeling of sympathy, based solely on the droll appearance of the unlimited guest. Who could say, maybe the big, pleading eyes had a part in it. They seemed to say: please, don't harm me!

  Against his will, Rhodan had to smile at the little fellow. The mouse-beaver returned the smile, grinned and bared his one and only tooth. At that moment the creature ceased to be an 'it' and became a 'he.' Rhodan knew they had become friends, but little did he realize that his friendship would turn out to be very close and lasting. For the mouse-beaver was not only a telekineticist... but that's another story.

  John Marshall, the First telepath of the mutant corps, came into the galley. Bell had prepared him for what to expect. Therefore he was not especially surprised to find the mouse-beaver in the kitchen. He suppressed a smile as he asked R
hodan: "So that's the little guy who helped Bell to an extra bath today?"

  "If I'm not mistaken, Bell won't hear the end of that story for many years to come," replied Rhodan with a chuckle, then pointed to the munching guest in the freezer locker. "Try to establish contact with him. Perhaps you can read his thoughts - if any. More important still - try to communicate our thoughts to him. Will that be possible?"

  John Marshall nodded his head in assent. "Absolutely! Of course, all will depend on how his brain will react. Any indications as to his intelligence?"

  "I should think so. He has mastered telekinesis, a pure mental force. We can presume, therefore, that his brain is well developed, especially well. Go ahead and try!"

  Hardly a few seconds had passed when Marshall was seized by an extraordinary excitement. He nodded his head several times and spoke to the mouse-beaver, who listened attentively. Then the grinning tooth showed again in the wide-awake face. The creature squeaked a few times, quite amused, before replacing the partially eaten fruit in a box. He raised himself up on his hind legs and walked solemnly from the freezer room toward Perry Rhodan.

  "He wants to greet you," said Marshall. "He has had no trouble understanding me. His thoughts are easy to read and he can read ours if he activates a part of his brain that has gone unused till now. He has the makings of an excellent esper."

  Rhodan bent down to shake hands with the mouse-beaver. "We'll call you... Emby... for the time being," he said cordially. And he carefully took hold of the creature's delicate little hands. "If you understand what I'm saying, just nod your head."

  "Emby" indicated his comprehension at once.

  "So you can understand my words; that's fine! Too bad it's not so easy the other way around, since I'm not a telepath. But you'll learn our language. This man here will help you with it." And he pointed to Marshall.

  Once again Emby nodded his head and uttered a few shrill cries, obviously to express his delight. He whirled around and around and suddenly started to walk up the wall and onto the ceiling. There he performed an aerial somersault and returned to the ground.

  "Very nice," praised Rhodan, but raised a warning forefinger. "However, in the future you must not play unless I give you permission to. Come along with me, I'd like to explain to you the mischief and trouble you've caused us. Afterward you can return here and eat as much as you want."

  The Stardust raced into the system of the Laton sun at the simple speed of light, crossing first the orbit of the outermost planet. The thirty-eighth planet, a gigantic ice world, passed by leisurely. Then the thirty-seventh planet, also uninhabited. The spaceship kept thrusting toward Tuglan, a world belonging to the great star realm of the Arkonides.

  Rhodan, Khrest, Thora, Bell and John Marshall were gathered in the Command Center. Emby sat obediently in a corner of the room, trying to sort out the many thought streams that impinged upon him. He realized that his playfulness had caused a most unpleasant situation for his two-legged friends. They had forbidden any further fun games. Later on, after they would land somewhere, he would be permitted to play at his heart's content.

  He would make sure to remember that promise. "You're afraid, aren't you?" Thora asked sharply. Her eyes flashed a challenge at Rhodan. Bell, who had changed into a dry, freshly-pressed uniform, mumbled something incomprehensible, but otherwise refrained from speaking. "Do you really believe I'm not aware how reluctantly you respond to our proposals? You're afraid the commissioner on Tuglan might send a report to Arkon - and that would mean the end of your eternal hide-and-seek game."

  They're talking about games, thought Emby. "Nonsense!" countered Rhodan and cast an imploring glance in Khrest's direction. "Why don't you, for once, try to understand my position? And if you can't do that, then remember our agreement: first of all we shall find the planet of eternal life, then we'll fly to Arkon. But not one minute sooner! Khrest is willing to abide by this agreement - I expect the same from you."

  "What has all of that to do with Tuglan?"

  "Quite simple: I don't want the Arkonide high commissioner to find out anything about Terra. No more and no less. Therefore I must have your word of honor that you won't give him any information about us and Earth. We'll pretend to be the inhabitants of some colony of the galactic empire. We'll play a harmless game of deception."

  Emby pricked up his round ears. Here they went again, these two-legged creatures, talking about playing and games. Were they also as fond of games as he himself? They seemed to grow more likeable by the minute. Too bad they had forbidden him to play!

  Why not try it again?

  Over there, those sparkling instruments!

  Rhodan spun around so fast that he almost knocked Bell over and into the wall next to him. The hyperwave transmitter started up on its own. Lights lit up, small videoscreens began to glow. The impulsators generated meaningless signals, fed them into the central station where they were transformed and beamed out into space.

  With one mighty leap Rhodan reached the switchboard and slammed down a lever. The broadcast was interrupted immediately but it must nevertheless have been received somewhere already for the receiver continued working independently a while longer. It fed a code signal into the loudspeaker. On one of the vids appeared the picture of the metallic face typical of an Arkonide robot. Suddenly the image vanished as Rhodan depressed another lever into the off-position.

  Rhodan swung around swiftly and walked slowly toward Emby.

  The mouse-beaver cowered in fright and began chirping in his incomprehensible language. His big, round eyes looked imploringly at Rhodan, with the mute promise to be truly obedient from now on. A large tear rolled down the little fellow's hairy cheek.

  Bell pushed his chin out aggressively and shook his fist threateningly at the playful wrongdoer.

  Rhodan came to a halt in front of Emby. "Marshall, I'd like to know why he did that just now! He understands me, but I can't make out what he's saying. What does he have to offer in his defense?"

  The telepath bent down to the little fellow and peered into his round, sad eyes.

  "Well?" he urged the mouse-beaver. A few seconds later he straightened up. "He promises never to repeat this game. He says we were talking all the time about playing, so he thought it would be all right for him to start up again with his favorite occupation."

  Rhodan turned to the stowaway from Vagabond. "If you ever move any object here without my permission, I'll have you thrown out of this ship! Got that? Do you realize what you did? You've drawn the attention of some unknown race onto us and they aren't as friendly as we are. Quite possibly they'll kill you if we meet up with them. Just watch out from now on! Behave yourself and stay in your corner! Bell, keep an eye on him!"

  "Why me of all people?"

  "You must make friends with Emby. The sooner you get used to him - or vice versa - the better for all of us. I think this fellow will become a valuable member of our mutant corps."

  "The mutant corps?" gasped Bell. "This maverick Mickey Mouse is supposed to become a part of our crack corps? That's too much for me..."

  He broke off his protest as his feet left the ground, hovering a few inches above the floor. Just a few seconds, then he touched down again very gently. Emby wanted to give him a gentle reminder. Bell fought against his pride, then said: "Okay, then... for all I care. He might be useful if he behaves. Is that a deal, Emby?"

  The mouse-beaver nodded his head very seriously.

  Rhodan stifled a grin and turned to Khrest. "Our situation is changed now, since someone has noticed our presence here. The intensity of their signal leads me to assume that it came from a station inside this system."

  Khrest observed: "I can't see that this should change anything but the only thing I'm worried about is how to explain your presence to them. The Arkonide commissioners have detailed lists of all our colonies, and your race isn't contained in them."

  Bell turned around. "Then we'll simply change ourselves into Arkonides."

  Rhodan did not reply
. He just stared at Bell. Khrest spoke up. "Not a bad idea. It can't do any harm besides, it'll be fun. But how can we go about it?"

  "We have our medics aboard, they can help us. They can fit us with red contact lenses so that our eyes will look like those of albinoes. It will be easy to dye our hair white. That's all we need."

  "Dye our hair white?" stammered Bell.

  "It will be only temporary," Khrest reassured him. "Also, there's another reason which makes this masquerade advisable. I had the opportunity to read up on the Laton system in our ship's library. The natives, the Tuglanians, have always offered passive resistance. I'd suggest, therefore, that we pretend to come there as a review board. Our representative in Tuglan will certainly go along with us; it's in his own best interest."

  Rhodan frowned. "You lose sight of our original destination and purpose for this trip, to find the planet of eternal life, Khrest."

  Khrest smiled indulgently. "This interlude might prove very advantageous for you and Terra, Rhodan. Show us how colonial races should be dealt with! Demonstrate that you can handle even totally unexpected situations, for we certainly have no idea what will await us on Tuglan. However, if the station that answered our broadcast signal should really turn out to be our hyperwave station on Tuglan everything should be in the best of order there. Nevertheless..."

  Rhodan understood what Khrest wanted. Perhaps he was right with his suggestion. He nodded his consent.

  "All right, Khrest. Bell, inform Doctor Manoli to get his makeup kit ready for us! I'm willing to put on a terrific act!"

  4/ TREACHERY ON TUGLAN

  It did not make sense to Alban.

  'How could they have heard about it so quickly!" he kept repeating to his younger brother. "The battleship must have come the same instant the Arkonide radio station blew up. Do you have any idea who's behind the bombing attack, Daros?"