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  Fellmer Lloyd and his Volatians reached Room 18 in double-time and the seer arrived just in time to see Pucky materialize again. Noir was standing by the door while Rhodan and Thora were in the background by the window.

  "Well?" asked Rhodan. Nothing more.

  Lloyd gave the Volatians a wave—they returned the gesture and threw their weapons into the room. Then they walked away as though they were no longer concerned with what had happened—which was in fact the case. Some of them went back into the reading room and sat down. Others went to various floors and inquired in the offices there about finding work. The Volatians were doing only what they otherwise would have done on a normal day. Since news of the excitement on the lower levels had not yet spread to all corners of the building, the Volatians' sudden interest in employment attracted no attention.

  "Everything went as we planned," Lloyd announced, pulling the heat-damaged door shut behind him. The lock closed with an audible click, leading Pucky to the observation that people here knew how to make locks that would hold up under anything.

  "So the rebels clashed with the authorities, then?" asked Rhodan, wanting to make sure.

  "They were so stupid," Lloyd grinned. "Now there won't be the slightest doubt that a group of rebels was plotting to overthrow Arkon's rule here. True, the authorities will try in vain to find the actual conspirators but that doesn't matter anymore."

  Rhodan remembered the second traitor and asked Pucky: "Where did you take Yatuhin?"

  "To a place he can't escape from alive—the peak of a rock formation. I can bring him back any time."

  "Good. It's time we got out of here, then. Thora first. Take her to the plateau, Pucky."

  The mouse-beaver was back 10 seconds late?. "Kuri's looking after her, Chief. Who's next?"

  Noir was the one to go on the following trip. Pucky took only one man at a time, trying not to strain himself on the great spring. Since each teleportation took only, a few seconds to accomplish, time played little role.

  Then Fellmer Lloyd returned in that so simple manner to where the adventure had begun, the plateau where dwelt the Omniscient Mother.

  Rhodan waited patiently for Pucky's return.

  Although only a few seconds elapsed before Pucky came back, the time seemed to drag on forever. Something was going on out in the corridor, however. There were shouts and then the hissing of impulse beamers. Someone yelled and threw himself against the door. Perhaps the burned surface had been noticed, arousing suspicion.

  Pucky materialized and grinned. "Kittikat just wouldn't let me leave," he said, explaining the delay.

  "Frisky little devil—wanted to play with me."

  Rhodan remained serious. "10 more seconds and they'll break in. Who's out there? Police?"

  "Should I go out and look?"

  "Never mind—we've got to get out of here! Our task is done."

  Pucky took Rhodan's hand. "Not quite. Should we go get Yatuhin now or leave him for later?"

  "To the plateau first—and hurry!" Rhodan answered.

  Even as the mouse-beaver concentrated and the energy-field built up around them, the door shook from a heavy blow and fell inwards. A man toppled into the room, stumbled over the weapons lying on the floor and fell against the wall. There he stayed and stared at the two figures just then dissolving into thin air.

  Rhodan had seen how the door had fallen away, then everything swam in front of his eyes. He could see only the massive body smashing into the room like a cannonball. If the colossus wasn't blind, he would see a miracle take place before his eyes.

  Even before Rhodan slipped into the fifth dimension, a shout rang in his ears, a voice that he had heard before. It was a rumbling, deep bass voice that woke memories, calling:

  "RHODAN!"

  Then the darkness closed in.

  And then it was light again. He stood on the plateau. He let go of Pucky but the voice still echoed in his ears.

  "Did you see him, Pucky? Who was that? He recognized me."

  The mouse-beaver was no help. "I didn't have time to look—I was too busy with the spring. Should I go back and look?"

  "Pucky, he recognized me!"

  Pucky's eyes went wide. "He recognized you? That's impossible. Who would know you on Volat?"

  "He called my name, Pucky!" Rhodan was completely at a loss to explain it. He mulled over The deep, rumbling voice, wondering where he had heard it before. Again and again his mind returned to the past, back 20, 30, 40 years. 50 years.

  The massive figure, almost as wide as it was tall... A fellow weighing as much as a half ton or more... The full beard...

  A Mounder? Of course, a Mounder, that was the answer! One of the Galactic Traders' special fighting troops. Only a Mounder could have broken down that steel door.

  But he had recognized Rhodan and called him by name.

  Most of the Mounders Rhodan had known were dead, a majority having fallen in the last battle for 'Terra'. Only one had not been there, having been intelligent enough to hold back.

  Talamon!

  Now Rhodan knew. It had been Talamon who had burst into Tropnow's room. It had probably been by pure chance for it was doubtful that the Mounders had anything to do with the conspiracy. Almost certainly he had been engaged in business on Volat, had noticed the shooting and had gone to look into it.

  Whereupon he saw Rhodan disappear.

  Thus he now knew that Perry Rhodan, the most dangerous man in the universe, was not dead but alive. He would not keep that secret to himself.

  "Should I go back and knock out Fatty?" Pucky asked, following Rhodan's thoughts. "If he talks..."

  But once again Rhodan was calm and cool. "No, Pucky," he said slowly and thoughtfully. "Stay here. When the Robot Regent finds out I'm alive, we're ready for it. So let's leave it up to Talamon."

  "And if he talks...?" Pucky broke off but thoughts seethed in his mind. War the peaceful period for the Earth over at last? Would Rhodan bend to the will of a robot mastermind? Would the Earth again be the target of ambitious attacks?

  Rhodan shook his head. "Nothing of the sort, Pucky. We're strong enough to take on Arkon and its allies but I don't think it will come to war. We'll wait and see. In any event, the action on Volat is finished."

  "Yes—once we've taken care of Nomo."

  Only now did Rhodan think of the captive again. "Go get him, Pucky."

  Rhodan did not wait for Pucky to dematerialize. Instead, he walked towards the huts where the others were waiting for him. Kuri stood by Thora, whose smile refreshed Rhodan. She was still beautiful, this proud Arkonide—woman of another world, yet married to him, a son of the planet Earth.

  Noir and Lloyd wiped the sweat from their brows. "Why doesn't Pucky take me to my Gazelle?" asked Lloyd. "On foot I'd need several days to reach it—if I found it at all."

  As Rhodan was about to answer, a high voice shrilled behind him. Pucky had returned. Alone.

  "Yatuhin is dead!" he exclaimed—and he seemed genuinely shocked. "He jumped off the rock! More than 100 yards..."

  Noir and Lloyd turned to one another to talk about it but Rhodan stood oddly quiet. "I thought as much," he said at length. "Nomo was Japanese and followed the ancient customs of his people. He chose to die by his own hand. If he had found something to do it with, I'm sure he would have actually committed Harakiri."

  No one said another word.

  Rhodan looked up into the sky. Clouds from the north were passing overhead. It had gotten cooler.

  • • •

  Talamon was still numbed by the shock.

  He stared without comprehending at the spot where a fraction of a second before had stood a man the entire galaxy had thought dead for decades.

  He knew he had not deceived himself!

  That had been Perry Rhodan—and with him had been that odd little animal who seemed to accompany him everywhere and to be the master of astounding talents. The sudden disappearance into thin air had been the best proof. Talamon still remembered well the leg
ends people had told a half century before about Rhodan and his band of sorcerers. With the help of his strange men Rhodan had almost succeeded in rocking the foundations of the Arkonide Imperium.

  Then the Earth and Perry Rhodan had been annihilated in a massive attack by the Springers.

  Or so it had been assumed, up to now.

  Talamon gave a start. Why did he stand around doing nothing? Shouldn't the universe be warned? Shouldn't the Robot Brain on Arkon be informed that Perry Rhodan still lived?

  And the events here on Volat...

  Talamon suddenly began to understand how certain seemingly unrelated things fell together. Of course it was Rhodan behind the events that sent the Administrator's police to the trade center—although just what he hoped to gain by that remained for the moment unclear.

  For all his clumsy appearance, the Mounder moved with surprising speed and nimbleness. He left the ominous Room 18 with hurrying steps, without having noticed the corpse behind the desk. He had to find cover near the building's exit when men shooting wildly ran past, trying to reach the elevators. The police were in hot pursuit and passed without seeing the Mounder.

  Breathing easier, Talamon reached the exit. He was going to dash to his waiting vehicle—then stopped short.

  He stared with wide eyes down the street towards the spaceport. A regiment of battle-robots, weapons poised, approached in exact march formation, striding in rumbling step. At the head of the formation came three men. Two Talamon did not know but he recognized the 3rd: Mansrin, the Administrator.

  He paused for a moment, then strode to meet the three Arkonides. In the preceding decades the old prejudices against Arkonide rule and the Robot Brain had died away. The Regent had proved that it could govern better and more logically than a man. The unity of the Imperium had been re-established and even the smallest revolt was mercilessly crushed by whatever force available. It was thus the Mounder's duty to inform Arkon's official representative of what he had seen.

  Mansrin slowed up as he saw the Mounder approaching. He spoke a few words to Arona, who immediately gave his robots the order to halt. Curiously, the three men watched the mighty Springer running towards them, waving his arms.

  "I am Talamon!" he gasped when he came up, breathing so heavily that at first he was unable to say anything more.

  Arona became impatient. "What is it? You're holding us up!"

  Talamon could see that he owed the. Arkonides a swift explanation. "Your presence is no longer needed in the Trade Center over there," he said. "If I'm not mistaken, Arkon sent you?"

  "I am Commander Arona," came the proud reply. "The Robot Regent sent me to establish order on Volat."

  Talamon could not keep back a smile. "There's a lot of that going around today," he said mockingly. "Administrator Mansrin acted quickly but I'll wager that he didn't know what was going on."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," said Mansrin.

  Now Talamon's smile seemed more thoughtful. "I'd be glad to believe you, Mansrin, but let me just tell you what's been happening so that you can see—"

  "We don't have time for that!" Arona said sharply. "Arkon will be waiting for a report from me that the rebellion has been crushed."

  Talamon was astounded. "What rebellion? Do you mean that little scuffle over in the Trade Center? Don't be ridiculous, Commander. I could take care of those five or six 'rebels' myself. But there's a lot more than that involved. Listen to me well: I finished some business with a friend here and was just going to leave the building when I heard the shooting. I wanted to see what it was all about and ended up in a room where I saw something that made my hair stand on end."

  Mansrin made an involuntary stroke through his own hair, glistening white in the sun, before he said in annoyment: "Well, tell us then, Talamon! What did you see?"

  Talamon paused dramatically, then replied slowly and with emphasis: "I saw Perry Rhodan the Terran!"

  Arona had evidently never heard of Rhodan: his face remained expressionless. Nor did Lt. Ro show any signs of surprise.

  It was different for Administrator Mansrin.

  The highest official on Volat looked as if someone had struck him. "Rhodan...?" he stammered. "Talamon, you've gone crazy!"

  "Is that what you think?" asked Talamon. "True, I can't prove it was Rhodan because he disappeared completely just as I was coming into the room. But I saw him plainly and with him was a peculiar animal that played no small role 50 years ago. And Rhodan himself—men, I know Rhodan personally. It couldn't have been anyone else."

  "But Rhodan is dead! " exclaimed Mansrin in desperation.

  "Yes, we all thought so," said Talamon, unmoved, "and the Terran was content to let us go on thinking that. But he hasn't been asleep all this time, you can be sure of that. His sudden appearance should be a warning to us. We must inform the Regent immediately."

  Arona regarded his robots. "I'll see about the revolt first." He spoke some orders into his transmitter and the army moved out once more. "We'll meet later, Mansrin."

  Mansrin remained, indecisive, with Talamon. "Do you really think we should tell the Robot Brain? What if you were wrong?"

  "I'm not wrong, Administrator, Talamon declared. "I can trust my eyes, even if I am getting old. Come with me—we'll take my car."

  Ten minutes later the two dissimilar men entered the hypercom station in Mansrin's palace and the connection with Arkon was quickly set up.

  "I'd like to speak with the Regent myself," said Talamon. "That way I'll bear all the responsibility and not you. Agreed?"

  "Of course," said Mansrin, relieved.

  The familiar metal dome appeared on the vidscreen and the hard, metallic voice said: "Arkon speaking. Go ahead, Volat."

  Talamon stepped before the camera. "This is the Springer Talamon, Mounder clan, speaking. I am acting in accord with the Administrator. The revolt has been crushed and we can assume it was a diversionary manoeuvre whose purpose is unknown. I have an important announcement to make: Perry Rhodan is alive. I saw the Terran with my own eyes here on Volat not half an hour ago."

  There was a short pause, then the cold voice spoke: "From where you now stand, a man spoke to me yesterday. I could not see him because he was just out of camera range. His voice awoke memories in me. Wait, Talamon: I am checking in my memory banks."

  The picture remained but the sound died.

  "What's it doing?" Mansrin whispered.

  "It's not hard to guess," Talamon replied. "A voice seemed familiar to the Regent. If it has ever heard that voice before, it will find it recorded in its memory banks. A comparison will be made and..."

  "Regent of Arkon here, Talamon. Your eyes did not deceive you. The man who spoke with me yesterday was Rhodan the Terran. I made the inexcusable mistake of not, checking on it immediately."

  So the Robot Brain made mistakes, too. Talamon felt slightly disturbed by the fact, although it soothed his human feelings. "And... does the Earth still exist?"

  "That is not certain, Talamon. Possibly Rhodan escaped when the Earth was destroyed. I recall at that time he slipped into hyperspace in his ship, the Titan, after the battle, and was not heard from again."

  "In any case," said Talamon, "Rhodan is still alive. By warning Arkon, I've done my duty. What happens now?"

  "I shall decide at the proper time," the Regent answered. "Arona is to return with his fleet, as I presume his task is finished on Volat."

  "I'll see that Arona takes off soon," said Mansrin, joining the exchange for a matter he felt concerned him.

  The Robot Brain confirmed and signed off.

  Talamon still looked at the blank vidscreen. "That pile of scrap metal could have at least thanked us," he murmured, displeased. "When all is said and done, it concern sits existence."

  "And if Rhodan is still alive," said Mansrin, "ours."

  "He's still alive, Mansrin—that's certain!" added Talamon leaving the com-station with a determined walk.

  Mansrin followed. "How long do you plan to rem
ain on Volat, Talamon? You surely have more business here?"

  "Oh, business here, business there," the Mounder rumbled. "I'm going to get on my ship as fast as possible and take a nice giant leap through hyperspace. I want a goodly distance between Rhodan and myself."

  "Do you think he's still here?" asked Mansrin.

  "I don't much care—I'm still going to get out of here. I'm afraid we'll all hear much too soon from Perry Rhodan. I don't feel comfortable with the thought that he's had so many decades to prepare for a new confrontation with us. As I said before, I don't think he's been sleeping all this time."

  The Administrator did not answer. He suddenly looked very unhappy.

  Volat had been such a nice, quiet assignment.

  The two men split up. Talamon hurried off into the direction of the spaceport while Mansrin went back into his office. There he was met by the police commander, who had been waiting for him. The officer reported that the revolt had been put down and that all the participants had been taken prisoner. "What should we do with them?" he inquired.

  "Arona, commander of the Arkonide fleet, will have to decide," answered Mansrin, divesting himself of the responsibility. "Until he does, keep them in safe custody."

  And so it happened that quite a number of persons, originally recruited to attack the Earth and destroy it, suddenly and unexpectedly wound up on Arkon, suspected of being Rhodan's secret allies.

  They posed some riddles even for the Robot Brain.

  • • •

  Some of the men signed up by Yatuhin and Tropnow avoided the doubtful pleasure of a compulsory trip to Arkon because at the time of the revolt they were not in Kuklon but in a rather small jungle clearing between the city and the plateau. The place was off the beaten paths and could be reached on foot only with difficulty.

  The men's mission: stand watch over the gleaming silver discus-shaped spacecraft lying hidden beneath the tree branches at the clearing's edge.

  They performed their duty without especial efficiency for besides them a second ring of sentries had been posted a little over a mile away. The second group would report the approach of any intelligent beings.