The Dead Live Page 5

  An elevator opened up directly in front of Pucky. Several Springers came out, hurrying along in a business-like manner. Only one of them gave the colorful dwarf a surprised second glance but even he did not bother himself any further about the apparition. Business was more important.

  Relieved, Pucky entered the elevator. 20 seconds later he stood in the corridor running along the third floor. The only difference between this level and the 20th was the absence of company names on the doors, which instead bore Arkonidean numbers. And Pucky could read Arkonide.

  The mouse-beaver walked slowly past the doors, sampling the thought-impulses behind each one. Many of the rooms, he determined, were empty. In others sat harmless individuals carrying out their daily duties and thinking of nothing suspicious. Most of them knew nothing outside their own limited fields. They concentrated only on their small tasks and were not at all aware of the overall picture.

  Perhaps on the second or first floors?

  Before the elevator returned, a door in front of Pucky opened and a man stepped out into the corridor. He was stunned to see Pucky—who immediately realized the danger he was in. This was no ordinary office worker.

  The man addressed the mouse-beaver imperiously. "What do you want here? Who are you?"

  That alone was enough to anger Pucky, who did not care to be spoken to in such a tone, but he did not let himself be carried away into doing anything rash. Instead, he introduced himself with a ceremonial bow, drawing the cloak around him in an attempt to make the gesture seem as courtly as, possible. "I am Brabul, King of Voodoo, noble Springer. I seek Mansrin, the Administrator."

  The Springer's expression grew annoyed. "The Administrator lives in the palace. Who sent you to us here?"

  "They told me at the spaceport that..."

  "Where is this Voodoo? What are its coordinates?"

  Pucky quickly lost his patience. "I wanted to speak to the Administrator and I have no interest in giving you the coordinates of Voodoo. They're none of your business."

  The Springer did not care to be addressed in such tones himself and his hand flashed out to grasp Pucky's cloak. "Listen, little man, you're getting a little too fresh for your size, so I think I'll have to run you in. Start walking—we're going to find out what the boss thinks of you. And don't do anything stupid on the way."

  Pucky overcame his justifiable desire to let the Springer float up to the ceiling or out the window. Instead, he submitted meekly and did not defend himself. He seemed a most wretched figure as he waddled off in mock terror. Only the thought that he would settle the score with this bully of a Springer gave him the strength for self-control.

  The Springer stopped before a door on the first floor. One hand held Pucky's cloak and the other pressed against the body-heat activated door-lock. The door opened silently, giving access to Room 18.

  Pucky was pushed into the room rather forcefully. He nearly stumbled when his cloak's long decorative fringes tangled with his feet. Fortunately no one noticed him use his telekinetic ability to hold himself upright.

  Then he forgot the Springer for a second because in front of him, sitting behind a broad desk, was a man he knew.

  Gregor Tropnow, the traitor.

  Although in reality 88 years old, the mutant looked considerably younger thanks to biological cell-preservation techniques—which were still no substitute for the immortality that had been denied him. His face showed strong concentration as he looked up and saw the two come in. He did not evidence any recognition at all, which was not surprising since Pucky had never been in close quarters with him before.

  "What is it?" Tropnow demanded.

  The Springer had lost all his over-bearing dominance and was almost humble as he reported: "He was sniffing around upstairs in the administration area and I thought it would be best if you took care of him. He claims he wants to speak to Mansrin."

  Tropnow nodded. "Fine. Wait outside until I call you." He did not move until the Springer had left the room, then he leaned forward and stared at Pucky.

  "Brabul of Voodoo," said Pucky gravely. "I wanted to deliver some gifts from my people to the Administrator but unfortunately I seem to have lost my way in your building."

  "So it seems," said Tropnow, beginning to put into action his hypnotic powers. His silent order to Pucky demanded that be tell the truth.

  Of course the beam of mental energy only struck the mouse-beaver's defense screen and had no effect but Pucky allowed nothing of it to show.

  "It concerns trained monkeys," said Pucky importantly.

  Tropnow gave a start. "What?" he groaned, not comprehending. "Monkeys?"

  "Yes," Pucky went on earnestly. "We've succeeded in training this rare breed. We wanted to make a gift of them to Arkon and since Volat was closer to us, I thought it would be best to..."

  Pucky perceived only relief in Tropnow's mind, relief that swallowed up all his former slight suspicions. He had to be convinced now that the colorfully clad dwarf had spoken the truth, since there could be no resistance to the suggestive power of a hypno's command. Then a thought that electrified Pucky shot through the traitor's mind: This can't be any trick of Rhodan's to find out where we've got Thora—I'm sure of that now!

  "We have nothing to do with the Administration," said Tropnow aloud with an indulgent smile. "You can find any number of taxis that will take you to Mansrin right outside on the street. Goodbye, eh... What was your name?"

  "Brabul, sir," said Pucky, trying to learn more about Thora's hiding place—but Tropnow had already forgotten about Thora. "Brabul of Voodoo."

  The mutant pushed a button and the Springer came in.

  "Show Brabul the way out. He can go."

  Pucky waddled out of the room and down the corridor toward the elevator. To his chagrin, the Springer followed to accompany him. As Pucky had no intention of leaving the lion's den just yet, this was somewhat irritating. He stopped suddenly and threw the bewildered Springer a contemptuous look, growling bitterly: "Begone, son of a senile worm! Did you not hear that I am free to go where I please? And I take no pleasure in your company!"

  The Springer was muscular and almost six feet tall. A red beard fringed his chin and boldness and a desire for action merged in his eyes. Surprise had overpowered him only for a second and now his true character had broken through, winning the upper hand.

  This ridiculous dwarf... what was this pathetic little creature trying to do—insult him? No true Springer would take that from a dwarf!

  He leaped forward and grabbed Pucky with both hands. "I'll kill you, you mangy midget!" he threatened in rage, pulling Pucky closer. The immediate contact was alright with the mouse-beaver, who concentrated and teleported.

  The Springer was still holding him tightly as he materialized in that same split-second on the plateau in the jungle. The close bodily contact had allowed the Springer to make the long journey in a disembodied state. Naturally he was not aware of just what had happened to him and his surprise at instantly finding himself in a totally different place must have been complete.

  "What am I?" choked Pucky angrily, pushing the astonished Springer away. "A mangy midget? You're one to talk, you flea-brained gorilla! You'll find out who I am, just wait!"

  Pucky let loose a shrill whistle and Rhodan emerged from one of the beehives, followed closely by Noir. A grey shadow streaked across the open area and congealed into the form of Kittikat, who greeted Pucky with a joyful whine and the Springer with a growl.

  "Don't just stand there gawking," said Pucky, pushing his prisoner forward, "move!My boss would like to talk with you—and I'd advise you to tell him the truth."

  The Springer stared in fright at the still-growling Katanian but started walking nonetheless. Pucky remained a little behind, stroking Kittikat.

  Rhodan watched with interest as the involuntary visitor stumbled towards him and stopped in front of him. He read nothing in his thoughts but total confusion. The Springer still could not understand how he had come here. It did not follow th
e natural order of things.

  Before the Springer could open his mouth to ask the obvious question, the tall man with the stern yet open and honest face stepped forward. And the question that man directed to him was so blunt and surprising that he had to answer it before he could even think of a lie.

  "Where is Thora, the woman Tropnow abducted?"

  "In the cellar room..."

  • • •

  Rhodan took Noir by the hand. Between them stood Pucky with his arms wrapped around each of the men. The contact would be enough to enable all three to dematerialize.

  "Now!" said Rhodan.

  Pucky concentrated on the Administrator's palace and sprang.

  They were in luck. As they stood on the roof of the giant building, high above the city and near the huge hypercom transmission antenna, no one else was to be seen. A stairway led below.

  They let go of one another.

  "You make sure no one disturbs me," said Rhodan. "Stay in the immediate vicinity of the communications room and be ready to intervene if necessary. We'll remain in telepathic contact."

  They had received all the information they needed from the captured Springer and thus had an exact idea of the layout of Mansrin's palace.

  Rhodan hesitated by the door of the com-room. He had no weapons. If he were to meet resistance, what should he do? The use of force was repugnant to him, so he would have to depend on the suggestive look in his eyes and his persuasive words. Steeling himself, he threw the door open.

  Hypno-training had acquainted him with the arrangement of a hypercom transmitter and he could operate one without difficulty. Almost all of the connections were made automatically and the only real problem was in setting up the proper sending coordinates and knowing the call signal for the party one was trying to reach.

  Only a single man was on duty, sitting idly in a chair and reading. He looked up as Rhodan came in and his eyes narrowed. From an external standpoint and ignoring certain small differences, Rhodan did not differ much from either an Arkonide or a Springer.

  "What do you want?" asked the com-operator uncertainly. "Who sent you?"

  Rhodan looked at him directly. "Orders from the Administrator: set up a direct contact with the Robot Regent on Arkon. It's urgent!"

  Rhodan hoped the operator would set up the connection for him and save him the trouble but the man remained suspicious for no discernible reason.

  "Do you have a written order?" he demanded.

  Rhodan shook his head and increased the suggestive power of his eyes. "We have an emergency, so it's not necessary. Now do what I said or I'll report you to the Administrator."

  Rhodan's suggestive gaze had its effect. The operator went to the massive control board and switched on the power. With a few pulling of switches and pressing of buttons he had activated the transmitter and the receiver. Vidscreens glowed into life. Rhodan stepped a bit to one side, just out of range of a hidden camera. It was not necessary for the Robot Regent to see and recognize him. Let the positronic Regent worry why the calling party did not choose to show himself.

  "Station Volat, System Heperais here. Administrator Mansrin calling the Regent. Over."

  In the meantime, Rhodan telepathically called Pucky to come in. The mouse-beaver entered through the doorway and nodded. He understood. He walked up behind the unsuspecting hypercom operator, laid an arm on his body—and the two of them vanished without a trace. 10 seconds later the mouse-beaver rematerialized. Without the operator.

  "I locked him up in the basement," he twittered happily. "It'll be at least two hours before anyone finds him there and even then he's going to be hard-pressed to come up with any reasonable excuse to explain how he got there. Nobody's going to believe ghosts kidnapped him from his post."

  Rhodan gestured. "Go back outside. You and Noir make sure no one comes into this room during the next few minutes. The Robot Brain must not be made suspicious!"

  Pucky disappeared.

  Then came the reply to the transmitted signals.

  The vidscreen glowed and Rhodan once more saw the familiar 'face' of the Regent: an enormous dome of pure steel, the largest positronicon in the universe. It stood in its great hall nearly 30,000 light-years away and ruled the interstellar empire. The com-waves raced through hyperspace and transmitted its image in less than a thousandth of a second.

  Along with its mechanical voice.

  "Regent of Arkon here. What is it, Volat?"

  Rhodan, out of range of the camera, said: "Alarm, Regent! A group of rebels has revolted against the Imperium! Administrator Mansrin requests the support of a small battlefleet!"

  Short pause. Then the question: "Your image is not being received. Who is speaking?"

  "The Communications Duty Officer, Regent. The equipment is defective and the image-transmitter no longer functions properly. Volat needs help urgently!"

  Again a short pause. Then the answer: "The fleet will be sent once it completes some other important tasks. Arrival in 24 hours. Incidentally, the image of your communications-room is being transmitted here perfectly. I can determine no defect."

  Rhodan went cold. He had not reckoned with the Brain's strict logic and his excuse had not been very well thought out. He decided to stake everything on one last trick. With one hand he gripped the main current switch from the side and said: "I'm speaking over an auxiliary unit. The rebels... help... !"

  Then he yanked the switch down. The equipment shut off automatically and the videoscreen image dissolved. The loudspeaker went dead.

  That would give the Robot Brain something to think about.

  Rhodan smiled coldly as he went to the door. He opened it and looked out into the hall.

  Noir and Pucky stood around, unoccupied. No one had come to bother Rhodan. "Let's go!" he said, a smile still on his face. "We've exactly 24 hours to take over the rebels' headquarters. The Regent of Arkon won't stand for any revolts against the Imperium, so when this is all over, everyone will believe that Arkon stepped in to keep order. No one will suspect we were pulling the strings." He took Pucky and Noir by paw and hand respectively for the contact needed for teleportation. "Why shouldn't we let Arkon do some work for us? Haven't we already done enough work for Arkon?"

  Pucky whistled in agreement and showed his incisor tooth.

  That was the last thing Rhodan saw before he once more stood on the rocky plateau in the jungle—and, in materializing, nearly stepped on Kittikat's tail.

  4/ DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR

  The final briefing session took place that same evening.

  "It would be a lot simpler if I'd just spring right into the middle of that traitors' nest and bring Thora out by myself," Pucky declared for the 10th time. He was sitting on the ground with his back against Kittikat's soft belly. The cat had stretched out comfortably and was purring gently, sounding indeed like a small motor.

  "There's more involved than just that" Rhodan repeated, also for the 10th time. "My first concern is rendering the two traitors harmless and making it look like the work of the Robot Regent."

  Rhodan paused. Pucky's expression was deadly serious, which was unusual for the light-hearted mouse-beaver. Rhodan continued.

  "When the Arkonidean battlefleet arrives to put down the rebels, it must be quite obvious that there are such rebels on Volat. And as of today, no one knows it yet. Now if a small war has broken out in the trade center complex, the Arkonidean officers will react quickly. Hopefully, Mansrin will join them. Therefore it must seem as if Tropnow and Yatuhin are rebelling against the Imperium."

  "And Arkon's troops will proceed to take care of them," said Noir in agreement. He sat next to Lloyd, who had recovered nicely and was chafing at the bit to pay back all he had suffered. "We're killing two birds with one stone," Noir went on, "We'll be rid of our enemies without anyone learning whose enemies they were.

  "If they keep their mouths shut...!" muttered Pucky. Rhodan's voice was earnest. "They won't have the slightest opportunity to spill their secret. You'll s
ee to that, Pucky."

  Pucky's expression was pained. "It's always me! And I'm the pacifist! I can't kill anybody..."

  "Who said anything about killing?" Rhodan demanded. "You'll deliver the mutants to us. Noir will slap a hypno-block on them to make them forget everything and the rest we'll see to once we're back home on Terra."

  Pucky was mollified and Noir appeared satisfied.

  Rhodan picked up from where he had left off. "Tomorrow, towards noon, we'll force our way into the building with the help of Lloyd's Volatians. At about the same time, the Arkonide fleet will be landing. I'll alarm Mansrin then, who will react quickly and send the Arkonidean troops to us. And, in the general confusion, we'll grab the mutants and free Thora. So that's my plan, more or less. Any further suggestions?"

  "I've got a question," said Lloyd. "Will we be coming back here to the plateau?"

  "Yes, of course," said Rhodan. "Anything we do will be done from here."

  "My Gazelle is hidden near the city. If it's found in the meantime—what then?"

  "Don't worry," Rhodan told him. "Capt. Markus and I have agreed on a distress signal. Anyway, there's not much chance of the ship being discovered."

  Lloyd hesitated, then realized perhaps his thoughts had already been read. He glanced quickly at Kuri Oneré, who sat somewhat off to the side, and whispered: "But what will become of Kuri? If it hadn't been for her..."

  Rhodan smiled, understanding completely. "Kuri will go with us back to Earth. Thora will be happy to have a new and loyal friend. Any more questions?"

  Fellmer Lloyd breathed more easily.

  He had no more questions.

  • • •

  A new day had broken over Kuklon. As usual, it was a warm and sunny day, no different from any other day of that summer. Yet something would happen that day to make it a memorable one.