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  Rhodan did not hesitate this time, either. Directly after the successful hits by the disintegrators, the thermal weapons of the battleship began to roar. The sea in front of the island was sprayed with a fanning fire of heat rays. The effective fire to secure the area for a personnel landing against the danger of the approaching Mooffs in the water developed into a continuous thunder. From here on, the Titan struck with all her terrible fangs.

  The ship sank lower. At 3600 feet over the boiling and steaming ammoniac ocean, the spacer again remained stationary. This left it still out of range of teleportation by the uncanny creatures that had been given the grimly humorous name of 'Opera Singers'.

  Out of strategic planning developed the tactical basis for the attack. To some extent the classical straight-line tactics were followed, but in this case different and far more powerful weapons were employed. Rhodan was telepathically aware of Mooffs furtively retreating. They would never get through this wall of fire.

  "Launch robots-security formation," droned Rhodan's voice over all speakers.

  3000 fighting robots, self-thinking, self-guiding, floated in the protection of their antigrav fields out of the extended ship-locks. The robot-controlled tanks followed. They began to fire while still descending. The already programmed gun emplacement openings served as the immediate target areas, from which it was the first order of the day to clear out any 'Opera Singers'.

  Two minutes after setting down the 4-armed weapon robots, the men of the commando units followed, under Maj. Chaney's command. Rhodan had reserved for himself an unrestricted mode of attack 'at opportunity'. Out of the super battleship's locks moved 400 men. They glided swiftly below, where the robots had already cleaned out the gun openings in a swift assault. Nothing was left there that the men could have considered dangerous.

  "Everson, keep the ship at a safe altitude," was Rhodan's last command before he jumped from the lock.

  The orders of individual officers rang in the crew's earphones. The gun emplacement openings were stormed by various troops. Rhodan pushed ahead with Pucky to Lt. Tifflor. The 35 men of his command were in the act of disappearing headlong into the 150-foot wide emplacement hole. Special robots followed but so far there was no sign of resistance.

  "Chief, I'll have a look around," said the mouse-beaver over the radio-com.

  Rhodan signaled him with his hand. Pucky disappeared on his second teleporting foray.

  It was a large, wide room, in which the weapons installations had all been destroyed. Two shots from the portable D-guns of the robots were sufficient to burst open the rear airlock bulkhead.

  "Hold it!" was the only warning Rhodan could shout before a wild hurricane struck…

  The high-pressure atmosphere of the giant planet shrieked into the rooms behind the gun emplacement. Anything not welded down went with it. Rhodan felt his grip loosen. His aching fingers uncurled and then he was gone. He was whirled across the floor with the other men. The tobogganing only slowed down when the pressure became equalized.

  "Don't use any heat weapons!" yelled Tifflor shrilly in the radio-com. "Explosion danger! We have a bad gas mixture here!"

  Rhodan remained in the extensive chamber. The furnishings and equipment, obviously belonging to a large laboratory, had all been heavily demolished. Again there was no living form to be found. He sought a quiet corner from which to control the individual sorties. A deep roaring and thundering came near. The men of the special commando unit were taking the lead.

  "No counter-fire, no resistance here," reported Maj. Chaney. Rhodan could see his taut features in his portable vidcom set. "Push ahead in your sector. Keep contact with me and your neighbor units."

  The attack continued. It could not be stopped any more. If there were any Aras here, they must be hopelessly outclassed by human drive and vitality. Rhodan thought of an observation that Khrest had made. According to him, Man was the only creature in the galaxy who resembled in every detail the Arkonide conquerors of the old days.

  "Singers!" came a shout into the earphones. "Lt. Hathome, Troop 16 here! We've broken into a large chamber that's swarming with the plastic monsters. They're attacking!"

  "Pull back—bolt off the nearest passage. Garand, how are you doing with the ventilation?"

  "The blowers are operating. Air analysis satisfactory. The methane-oxygen mixture in all contaminated chambers has been reduced to safety level," reported the ship's chief engineer.

  Rhodan listened to the shrill whine of the racing turbo-blowers. These special pieces of apparatus could even handle the gas density of Mooff 6. The air analysis had been taken over by special robots.

  Lt. Hathome, a veteran of the Honur engagement, ordered the senseless firing with the hand-held disintegrators to be stopped. The monsters showed no effects from it anyhow. As his men were at the point of a swift retreat, Rhodan set through the deciding command:

  "All ground force commando units are clear to fire with thermo-weapons. Danger of explosion has been eliminated. We're pumping in new air and are drawing off the dangerous mix. So let loose!"

  Hathome threw himself behind a portable impulse-projector at the last moment, just in time to fire at an approaching monstrosity. It vaporized in the weapon's flaming breath. Somewhere behind it, a man screamed, caught in the cloying grip of one of the Singers. Scant moments later, Pucky appeared. From then on, the Thing had no further chance.

  Through the general bellowing and shouting, the mouse-beaver's voice was heard. "Call me on the radio if anybody gets grabbed!" It was hellish turmoil. Every unit was on its own. The fighter robots standing outside found themselves engaged in a bitter defense battle against teleporting monsters, which the enemy had brought in by the thousands in anticipation of the landing.

  This strategy took its toll. They didn't get into the fortress any more because first they faced the blockade of the fighting machines, and secondly they had to get through the fire curtain of the Titan.

  Rhodan waited it out…

  • • •

  It had been two hours by ship time since they had penetrated into the inner premises. Outwardly, the dome with all of its chambers and halls and circular corridors appeared to be intact. Inwardly, however, it was a heap of rubble.

  Within the past minute, the first enemy contact had been made. A thin, humanoid creature had been discovered with a whitish complexion and a fragile physical structure. It was dead.

  Rhodan bent over the grey, silent face with its staring eyes. "An Ara," he announced over his radio-com. "Like we found on Honur. Where are the others?"

  "Behind that door," said Tifflor, who was exhausted. Behind the faintly shimmering protective screen of his suit, his face was a ghostly mask. "Sir, it's horrible! To your left there, that big gate-like door opens into a kind of big laboratory. A bunch of pieces of those monsters are lying around!"

  "Pieces?" repeated Rhodan.

  "Yes sir! The biologists are in there already. They say this must have been a major station for the production of synthetic life. Those kettles are still roiling and boiling!"

  Rhodan hurried wordlessly into the other room. Horrified, he stopped in his tracks. The fully automatic installation was still operating. It was something like an automobile factory where separate parts are assembled at the end of a line. But here the parts had to do with pulsating, mysteriously synthetic life, which came out of a steaming machine at the end of the hall like living rubber hoses. That which came off the end of the conveyor belts lived—but it did not think.

  The biologist, Janus van Orgter, was able to determine that undoubtedly these monstrosities could function only when guided by a strong will. Probably the galactic Medical Masters had been selling them as some sort of auxiliary power.

  Rhodan handed out an order: "Tifflor, demolish the machines and conveyor belts. Everybody out of here, scientists included."

  At the same moment they heard Pucky's cry for help. Everybody heard his high-pitched voice in their earphones.

  "I'm in the
living quarters. Quick! Hurry! The Aras are getting away in a spaceship. It's close to me. I—I can't do anymore. I'm bushed. Please come!"

  The noise of weapons and ventilating turbines was drowned in an ominous thunder. The new sound rose to a shrieking howl which, after reaching a powerful crescendo point, swiftly faded away. Rhodan was already in contact with the Ganymede. Freyt appeared on the portable screen.

  "Alright, sir, I have them in the trackers. They won't get far," he said calmly. "Have you caught any of them down there?"

  "I'm holding three Aras," groaned Pucky. "They're struggling. So come on!"

  Rhodan broke off the connection with Freyt. While in free space a small ship appeared and a broadside from the Ganymede hurtled after the stupendously swift fugitive, Tifflor's troop pressed forward again. The last partition was dissolved by disintegrators.

  In a small room, Pucky stood in front of three long, thin entities. They hung from the supporting wall of the room as though they had been glued there. They wore sturdy spacesuits, which probably protected them from the heavy atmospheric pressure of the planet. Grasping human hands tore the helpless victims from the telekinetic constraint. A little later, Wuriu Sengu reported that no more Aras were to be seen anywhere.

  It took another 5 hours for robot and human teams to complete a search through the dome. Meanwhile, the 3 captured Aras found themselves on board the Titan and in a hypno-hearing. Dr. Hayward led the examination.

  When Rhodan came up, the conclusions were revealed. Doctors Hayward and Kaerner wore benumbed expressions on their faces. Rhodan paused in mid-stride. Slowly he groped for an Arkonide contour chair, which immediately accommodated itself to his body.

  "Hopefully you're not going to tell me that this hearing has been conducted with no results?" he inquired.

  Prof. Kaerner cleared his throat. Small beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. "It was a success, sir, but one that is negative for us, if I may say so. These beings have little capacity for psychic resistance. With the hypnotic probe we have dug into every last corner of their minds."

  "And—?"

  "Negative for us, as I have said. This station was used to produce synthetic life. The fabricated monsters were being picked up regularly by the ships of the galactic Medical Masters. The local Aras hadn't the slightest thing to do with the events on the planet Honur. They even don't have the slightest suspicion that we have sick men on board. The testimony is completely trustworthy, when you consider that the Aras also have been split into a number of separate groups."

  Rhodan had buried his face in his hands. In vain —the thought hammered in his brain. We've done it all in vain!

  Kaerner continued with concern in his voice. "Sir the undertaking here was a wrong step. We were working under false premises. The Aras living here knew us well but not as a result of the poisoning—it was only through the events on Zalit. They were the ones who brought the Mooffs there and ordered them to bring about a revolt through hypnotic influences of the Zalite ruling classes. Here there is no antidote available for our sick people."

  Rhodan's hands sank loosely to his sides. His gaze drafted into far distances. "And now…?"

  "One piece of testimony we have is of, significance, nonetheless, sir," put in Hayward with an angry glance at Kaerner. "The Aras possess so-called Control Worlds, from which commerce is carried on with other races. If we are ever to find the antidote, then it will be on a certain planet that the prisoners call Aralon. There is more or less a medical-pharmaceutical wholesale center where all possible drugs and cures are in stock. In addition, a number of the Aras leaders are there. The prisoners are certain that we will find help… Just how is naturally another question."

  "If I have to I'll get it out of them, you can depend on it!" said Rhodan hoarsely. "Lock the prisoners up and see that they're cared for. The dome station will be destroyed.

  "The Mooffs?" queried Everson.

  "Let them live as they are. How can it do any harm if the puppet masters have finally disappeared?"

  "These monsters constitute a danger," growled Dr. Certch. "The plant deserves to be destroyed!"

  Rhodan's face looked worn and haggard. "Leave the Mooffs their world. They are harmless. They will never emerge from their ammonia sump unless they are brought to it by criminal elements. Let them be as they wish. Dr. Certch, you should concern yourself, please, with the possible deliberations of the Robot Brain."

  "You will go back to Arkon?" asked Dr. Certch, startled.

  "Do you know, perhaps, where we may find this Ara-planet called Aralon?" Rhodan got up wearily as Pucky appeared in the Command Center.

  "Our friend called," he explained. "That fellow, Trorth. He wants to talk to us before we take off. We'll have to go down there, Chief, because he can't live in our atmosphere."

  "Trorth…? Oh yes, I remember, Tifflor, Dr. Orgter, I'd like you to go along. Tiff, 10 men as guards—have them at the lock. I don't want to be surprised by any Mooffs."

  "The devil take the beasts!" exclaimed Everson through his teeth. "Just keep an eye open, sir…!"

  • • •

  They had floated down in their antigrav suits and then they almost panicked, pointing their guns swiftly ahead of them. The thermo-guns were about to fire. Only Pucky's shrill outcry prevented a catastrophe.

  Trorth had come alone. Lonely and forsaken he rested on his multiple pseudopod feet on the crystalline ground. His jellyfish body rocked in the wind and the large knobby eyes in the middle of the rounded head were wide open.

  7 feet high, 5 feet wide—so he stood before the men.

  He had no weapons, even as it had always been.

  Pucky uttered whimpering sounds. Under his energy shield his pink paws pressed against his big ears.

  The weak, telepathic impulses came into Rhodan's brain: Don't shoot again. You have shot enough and killed enough of us already. And why? My brothers cry. Did we not try to influence you to take off in your ship, using our total faculty, after you had landed in spite of our warning? But you went ahead and fired on us. It was terrifying. After that we did no more. Only once more I tried to call to you but you had already turned to the attack. We helped you where we could. Your friends were in peril. And so we destroyed the Unliving Ones with our unified faculty. They disappeared in bright fireballs.

  "But your underhanded activity on Zalit. How am I supposed to understand that…?" asked Rhodan. "That was the main reason why we considered you Mooffs to be bitter enemies of the Empire"

  The men's weapons had been lowered by now. Pucky translated the telepathic exchange for everyone. " Yes, I know," the Mooff answered.

  The storm increased. Orgter was reminded of his experience after the landing, when he was blown across the ground.

  We are ashamed, Trorth explained. "We can only ask for your understanding, because children do not have wisdom. I don't know if you have children; such as do not have wills of their own yet."

  "Children?" asked Rhodan. "The Mooffs on Zalit—they were your children?"

  They were misused by the Aras, who kidnapped them from us. They did not know what they were doing. I know there is no excuse for it. We have no aspirations to political power. When you came, we knew that you had a false impression of us. We have long since forgiven you. We are happy to be able to talk to beings from other stars. Yes, we know that there is an Empire, although we have never seen the stars. Many aliens have already landed here, until one day the Aras came and started breeding those creatures. They were our bitterest enemies. —So do you still wish to kill me?

  The alien perceived the mental emanations of shock and self-reproach, which churned within the men's minds.

  "I regret what happened," whispered Rhodan, "from the bottom of my heart."

  The Mooff was graciously forgiving. Forget it—forget everything that happened here. We all made mistakes—it was not possible for me to contact you sooner because you didn't believe me. We decided to continue to give you signs of our support until you g
rasped a correct understanding of our intentions. You still have need of help for I see in your unhappy minds that many of your brothers are ill. —Can we help you?

  • • •

  Man and 'the Monster' separated two hours later, Rhodan and his companions inwardly crestfallen and pained by self-recriminations, the Mooffs filled with joyous expectations. 50 of the xenomorphs wanted to come on board the Titan in order to lend support to the Terrans in their search for a cure for the Hyper Euphoria. The telepathic and hypnotic faculties of the alien entities could be of incalculable help.

  As soon as Rhodan came on board he gave an order to Dr. Garand. "Doctor, I want you to fit out some rooms in the ship. Convert them to high-pressure chambers with life-support conditions suitable for the Mooffs. Don't be so startled, I'm serious: please take care of the pressure rooms."

  Outside the hurricane howled. Close by the ship the pliable bodies of the Mooffs swayed in rhythm to the sudden gusts of the turbulent storm. Dr. Garand and his assistants watched the Peacelord stride away from them, his last words ringing in their ears: "Our friends are coming aboard as soon as conditions are ready for them. Do you understand? Our friends."

  MAN AND MONSTER

  Copyright © Ace Books 1973

  All Rights Reserved

  THE SHIP OF THINGS TO COME

  THE 'COSMIC DECOY' returns! Julian Tifflor, chosen for a dangerous interstellar mission in #21, takes the stage front & center in #37 as Perry picks him for a role in which he must pretend to turn traitor to Terrania and the principles of the New Power in order to attempt to save the lives of 700 of Rhodan's euphoria-afflicted men… and the life, which it is becoming increasingly clear, is most dear to him. Thora! Prominently figuring in the events is the mighty mouse-beaver, Pucky. While the Medical Masters of the Galaxy reveal they are not above Hitlerian tactics of experimenting on human beings to discover what makes them tick. Action & reaction abound next time around in the alarm episode known as—