Three pencil-thin beams, spreading out as they travelled through the air, shot toward the robots. The machines failed to react in time and their positronic brains were destroyed in a matter of seconds by the infernal heat.

"Enough," Zerft commanded.

Liszog looked down at the molten ma.s.s of metal and sobbed faintly. His nerves had snapped under the strain. Zerft patted his shoulder, trying to calm him.

"That did it," Golath exclaimed. "Nothing can stop us now."

"Unless the owner of these goodies unexpectedly puts in an appearance," Zerft said.

Golath tapped the b.u.t.t of his gun. "This-and our determination-will do the trick."

Before the sun set Golath was to learn that an Arkonide was present on the same planet and his determination matched their own.

25 ADVENTURES FROM NOW.

You'll witness The Psycho Duel

3/ APPARATUS DIABOLICAL.

At first Khrest thought that the Solar System had come back again. He was in the middle of the lake when the quiet around him was abruptly broken. Khrest put his paddle down and looked up. It was still early in the morning and the sky was covered by clouds.

He glimpsed a dark cigar-shaped shadow flying at tremendous speed across the lake. The s.p.a.ceship-Khrest did not doubt for a second that it was one-performed a suicidal landing curve which marked the pilot as a maniac in the eyes of the Arkonide. The flying object crashed several 100 meters beyond the sh.o.r.e and a huge dark cloud rose from the spot.

His first reaction was to bring the quickest help to the victims of the crash. He deplored his imprudent instructions to the robots to remove the outboard motor. Khrest had no desire to race his boat and he preferred to paddle quietly out on the lake as soon as it got light. He enjoyed the calm and was happy to watch the colourful fishes playing in the clear water.

Khrest's second thought was more realistic and probably saved his life. He noted that the shape of the ship indicated it was neither a Terranian nor an Arkonide vessel. Strangers had landed and Khrest became immediately concerned, not for himself but about the s.p.a.cejet Rhodan had entrusted to him. The scientist had learned from long experience that it would be folly to consider the simultaneous arrival of strangers as a mere coincidence under the law of probability. It was much more sensible to conclude that they were raiders attracted by the radiation of the energy station serving his home.

Khrest realized that a cautious approach was warranted. His physical condition did not allow him to get involved in a dangerous adventure. He had to proceed with circ.u.mspection. Estimating the distance to his house, he figured it would take him too long to reach it even if he used the utmost speed possible for him. The strangers could be there before him. Khrest looked with dismay at the hand impulse-beamer he carried with him. In case of a serious emergency it was a rather inadequate weapon. Fortunately the s.p.a.cejet was surrounded by a protective screen which could be lifted only by the code-signal transmitter strapped to his own wrist.

The Arkonide decided not to head straight for his house. It would be much too risky to expose himself to a possible attack out in the open. He intended to go ash.o.r.e several hundred meters from the location of his house and work his way toward it stealthily. He picked up his paddle and steered his little boat around after selecting a convenient place to land.

When he had gone half the distance to the sh.o.r.e he took a short break. It bothered his conscience that he might in fact not be bothered by hostile attackers but his help would be needed by people stranded in a disaster. He had to fight off his desire to rush to the place of the crash and render aid. As strong as his compa.s.sion was, he had to put off being a Samaritan until it was safe. The races of the Galaxy treated each other with mistrust-a fact which Khrest regarded with the greatest bitterness. He considered the struggle for power between the cosmic races as a law of nature. Youthful races, such as the Terrans, who were imbued with the spirit of expansion into the outer worlds, could not be stopped in their striving for dominance. It was equally understandable to him that the older empires would resist any attempt to restrict their rule. It was due mainly to economic rivalries that made the adversaries, armed to their teeth, clash in s.p.a.ce m their battlefleets. The ambition for political influence and military might drove the most divergent races into a compet.i.tion for the most lethal armament. Those who failed to play the vicious game could expect an alien fleet to invade their planet and take it over as a new colony.

Khrest resumed his effort. He stroked the paddle in a steady rhythm of his arms. He did not carry a watch. The lone old man had no need for it. Several hours elapsed before the keel of the boat finally sc.r.a.ped the sand of the beach. Khrest climbed out and anch.o.r.ed the boat where he could find it again later on. The slope was not quite as high at the place he had picked. Nevertheless the Arkonide was out of breath after climbing up. To walk along the beach would have been too dangerous as there was no place to hide at the edge of the water. Khrest gathered his cloak for his march. For a minute the sun peered out of the clouds and bathed the land in a warm yellow light. Khrest looked back again. The boat looked tiny from above as it rocked gently on the waves.

Then he checked his impulse-beamer. It had been a long time since he held a weapon in his hands-with the intention of using it if necessary. The Arkonide had seen entire planets perish. Suffering and death had filled his life and he had gained the wisdom to regard weapons as a necessary evil. Ever since life had emerged from the primeval ooze, creatures had fought and destroyed each other. The course of evolution had generated highly intelligent beings who merely perpetuated the ferocious battle with more sophisticated means and on a more horrendous scale.

Khrest concentrated his attention on his surroundings. He advanced in a manner that would allow him to take cover instantly. He had no illusions that he could manage to enter the s.p.a.cejet unnoticed and operate the hyperradio transmitter. Khrest lost sight of his boat but his house would soon come into view. His pace hastened.

He reached the spot where the Solar System had stood. He cautiously approached the rim of the incline. He went down on his knees and crept the last few meters. His power station was 50 meters below. The ground smelled burned. Khrest's heart beat faster as he gingerly moved forward, being careful not to send rocks or loose soil down the hill.

When he had finally ventured out far enough to look down, the sight made him shudder. The two war-machines lay slumped on the ground next to the house and their metallic heads were dissolved.

But this wasn't the worst. What frightened him most were the three hefty monsters with trunks who endeavoured to get into the s.p.a.cejet!

Khrest had to close his eyes for a moment. His worst fears were surpa.s.sed by the evidence before his eyes. The three aliens ran around the disk in a high state of agitation in an obvious attempt to find a way of gaining access through the protective shield of the little s.p.a.cecraft. One of their visible efforts was a huge hole they had burned out of the ground with their thermo-beamers. Their attempt to get to the jet from underneath had failed but this did not dampen their frantic activities. They kept furiously attacking the invisible screen and tried every imaginable experiment to accomplish their purpose.

For a while Khrest watched them motionlessly. Then he drew his weapon. It was an automatic reflex, triggered by determination to save the s.p.a.cejet at all costs. He drew a bead on the alien trespa.s.sers.

Don't be a fool! His logic a.s.serted itself. You'll lose the ship as well as your life!

His tension subsided and his body trembled almost imperceptibly in a belated reaction. He lowered his weapon and retreated from his vantage point. The best he could have hoped to achieve was to knock one of them out of the battle but he would have laid himself open to their superior weapons.

You need a better weapon, he argued categorically in his mind. You know where you can find one.

It was the solution. The coa.r.s.e-looking beings were equipped with heavy thermo-beamers. The effect on his robots left no other conclusion. It was a reasonable guess that more weapons of this type could be found in their s.p.a.ceship.

The answer to his problem was to search the s.p.a.ceship of the aliens without delay. The thought occurred to him that the intruders could have left someone behind to guard their ship. Khrest looked around. The ship must have crashed not far from the forest. He strained his eyes but was unable to locate it.

It was imperative that he carried out his plan as fast as possible. He would have to disregard his physical condition. The Arkonide had promised Rhodan that he would never let the s.p.a.cejet fall into the hands of others. Little did he think at the time that he would be forced to defend it with his life.

As he ran breathlessly, he turned around from time to time. The trunk people could appear any time at the ridge of the slope if they needed some technical equipment from their ship. More than once Khrest had the uncomfortable feeling that a thermo-beamer was aimed at his back. He ignored the weakening of his legs. This was not the time to play a sick man. Although he was an exhausted old man, he had to act like a young man in his prime.

Soon he discovered the s.p.a.ceship of the transgressors. It was broken in two. Once again Khrest looked back over his shoulder across the open plain behind him. The fact that the ship was a total wreck increased his concern about his s.p.a.cejet. His opponents were w.i.l.l.y-nilly forced to capture a s.p.a.ceship if they did not want to get stuck on this planet. Khrest had no doubt they would leave no stone unturned to destroy the protective energy screen in order to gain possession of their only means of escape.

Khrest studied the section of the s.p.a.ceship which was only partially destroyed. He would be able to enter it at several places. Through the open airlock and through the hole torn at the point of impact. At the bow gaped another crack which was wide enough to let him pa.s.s through. Khrest decided to use the entrance through the airlock. He kept his impulse-beamer at the ready but n.o.body was there to challenge him when he pulled himself up to the airlock. There was enough light to orient himself. His trained eyes recognized quickly that the ship had been ripe for the junk heap even before the catastrophe occurred. He saw some lettering above the airlock but was unable to decipher the instructions.

He penetrated deeper into the ship. Some of the corridors had collapsed and others were split open. The floor was littered with debris and Khrest had to climb over it. Finally he reached a larger room which was filled with a variety of equipment. The Arkonide did not take the time to examine the function of the numerous devices as he continued his feverish search for weapons.

He stepped over a low bunk behind which some flexible spiral arms were mounted on a wall. This was as far as he got! He was seized from the rear in a bear hug. His impulse-beamer clattered to the floor. When he looked around a cry choked in his throat. His attacker was a mechanical contraption!

Two of the mysterious spiral arms had reached out from the wall and wound themselves around his body like snakes! He was irresistibly pulled down on the bunk.

A trap! he thought aghast. They've set a trap for me!

He tried to free himself from his entanglement with all his strength but quickly realized that it was hopeless. The automaton held him in a firm iron grip.

After Khrest had been pushed down on the bunk he gave up his futile resistance and stretched out his limbs. Then he was strapped in by clasps emerging from the sides of his baffling trap. His body was completely immobilized until he could move only his head.

Khrest had to watch helplessly as a pad was lowered and pressed his forehead back. He cursed his carelessness but now it was too late to do anything about his lack of foresight. He was spun in like a coc.o.o.n and forced to surrender to the machine.

Before he could fully contemplate his misery another spiral dangled over his face. It had an attachment that looked like a rod with a soft covering. A light fluid dripped from its end. Khrest thought he was having a bad dream. The gadget swung around his nose and he noticed that the dripping rod slowly rotated. The apparatus accompanied the operation with a hypnotic noise which sounded like Bzzzzzzzzzzt!

Two flimsy wires, similar to sensors, descended on Khrest's face as if searching for something. They touched his nose, which made Khrest quiver although the metal wires felt pleasantly warm. Then the sensors were retracted again but his hope that the peculiar treatment was finished was disappointed. The rotating rod came down and aimed straight for his face again, while the machine softly whirred Bzzzzzzzzzzt!

Golath extricated himself from the hole and flopped exhausted to the ground. His fury had grown so irrepressibly that his eyes flared malevolently when he stared at Zerft. He knew from the beginning that it was senseless to use this method to penetrate the screen around the ship. But Zerft had insisted on continuing the attempt.

"What's the matter?" Zerft asked, irritated.

"I'm tired," Golath replied. "We won't get anywhere this way. Perhaps we can break down that barrier with one of the energy generators aboard the Kaszill."

"It must be fairly simple," Zerft contended stubbornly. "The owner of this tiny craft can't penetrate the shield either. Therefore he has to deactivate the energy screen whenever he wants to board the ship. This can't take very long and he must know a method to lift the screen safely and rapidly."

"Sure," Golath agreed. "It's simple for him."

Zerft stared fiercely at the s.p.a.cejet as if he could conquer it by the power of his eyes alone. "What other possibilities do we have?" he asked.

"We can take some generators out of the Kaszill," Golath proposed. "Perhaps it is possible to make them absorb the energy of the protective field or concentrate it in one area and create a gap."

"Sounds reasonable," Zerft admitted. "However, we should see if Liszog finds something in the house which would open the way to the ship."

Golath's groan expressed his contempt for Zerft's deficient technical knowledge as well as Liszog's talent as a sleuth. He felt an urgent desire to give his trunk a good cleaning. It was clear to him that sooner or later it would come to a showdown between himself and Zerft. He was fed up with taking orders from that big bully who was not much more intelligent than Liszog. To be blunt, he was nothing but a common thief.

They went to look for Liszog in the house. They found him hopping around and whining in a room filled with a blue haze that made Golath cough. The young Unither held his thermo-beamer in one hand and hid the other hand under his trunk. Golath saw that it was bleeding. The stench of burning made his trunk writhe.

Zerft pulled Liszog out of the smoke and asked incensed: "At whom did you shoot?"

"I shot at a machine," Liszog explained tearfully.

Golath bristled. "At a combat robot?"

"No," Liszog replied, beginning to calm down, "it was no such thing."

"Why did you shoot at it?" Zerft wanted to know.

"It hurt me," Liszog exclaimed. "It had several push b.u.t.tons and I thought it might have something to do with the ship. So I pressed them."

"Then what happened?"

"There were a few openings and something began to hum inside. I put my hand in one of them and before I could pull it back it was already injured."

"But why did you shoot at it?" Golath asked.

Liszog looked at him with puzzled eyes and Golath couldn't help feeling something like pity for the exiled youth. "I don't know," Liszog said.

"He's cracking up," Zerft scoffed, exasperated. "He's like a nervous old woman and his stupid shooting will get us into trouble."

"I'll take a look," Golath said.

Zerft gave him the OK, not being anxious himself to get back into the smoke-filled room again. He left the house together with Liszog and they sat on the ground to wait for Golath, who came back after a few minutes.

"Well?" Zerft asked and got up.

Golath was pensive as he reported: "It really was a machine. A special machine."

Liszog c.o.c.ked his head. Maybe he had succeeded in doing a good service to his companions after all."

Zerft asked dubiously: "A special machine? For what?"

"For chopping up food," Golath explained.

Liszog was deflated and Zerft gave him a nasty look. "We have to go back to the Kaszill," Golath said calmly. "We must get some equipment and Liszog's wounds have to be bandaged, too."

For a change Zerft raised no objections. He walked first without a word and Liszog followed, downcast.

Khrest was in the unenviable position of a man who watched a strange show taking place before his eyes in which he played the main role but was unable to change the events. In the meantime the Arkonide had realized that the machine was not set as an ingenious trap for him. In his haste he had triggered the mechanism by accident but he was still baffled by the purpose of the device. The spirals and wires which dangled over his face seemed to search for something the old man apparently lacked. The robot machine would desist only after it carried out its task and Khrest had no idea what it was.

He saw only one other possibility of terminating the efforts of the machine but it could mean the termination of his life as well: the return of the men with the trunks!

Khrest expected to see one of the hulking bodies appear in the open hatch at any moment with a thermo-beamer in his hands. The scientist was unable to use physical force to free himself from his desperate situation. His strength had ebbed too much to break the metal clamps holding him down on the bench. His only hope was that the robot machine would stop its operation when it proved to be futile. There was no other way out of his dilemma that had any semblance of logic.

Bzzzzzzzzzt continued the nerve-wracking noise emanating from the contrivance. The rod spiralled down over the nose of the Arkonide, squirted a fluid and retreated. Then it was followed by the quivering wires which probed the contours of his face and the cycle was repeated.

Khrest kept worrying about the safety of the s.p.a.cejet. Perhaps the aliens had already managed to force their way into the little ship. He was burdened by a feeling of guilt when he thought of the promise he had given Perry Rhodan. How could he keep it in his frustrating situation?

Khrest was not afraid of death. He was a seasoned veteran who rationally weighed his chance's and acted accordingly. He had come to this planet to live out his declining days in peace and solitude. Now he faced death even sooner than he expected but it would be far from peaceful.

Once more he strained his weak body to the utmost in a futile effort to break his bonds. The thought that he was in danger of losing the s.p.a.cejet gave him extraordinary strength. He tensed the muscles of his arms and tried to raise his back. But to no avail.

Give up! he reasoned. Save your strength!

Khrest smiled although he was exhausted by his desperate effort. "Save my strength?" he exclaimed. "For what?"

There was only silence around him except for the buzzing of the confounded contraption which persisted in wagging its tentacles before his eyes and spraying the malodorous liquid in his face.

Soon it would be getting dark and Khrest wondered whether the trunk-men would return to their ship before nightfall. It did not require much imagination to picture the dismal consequences of their appearance.

The capacity of the machine was bound to be limited. It was likely to cease functioning when it was exhausted. Was there a possibility to increase its speed of operation and thereby end it sooner? No robot had enough energy reserves to go on forever. Khrest reviewed his knowledge of cybernetic science. The programming by an intelligent mind determined the basic principle of each machine, even the most simple one. Each robot was a.s.signed a task which it had to perform. A working robot was no more than information converted into action.

His a.n.a.lysis of the unfamiliar machine had to be determined by the inevitable results of that theory. The reaction of the machine was triggered by the command of its data of information but it was unable to differentiate between a conscious and deliberate impulse or an accidental interference with its system as happened to be the case with Khrest. The robot had only two phases. It was either at rest or it did its work. There could be no middle ground between these extremes.

It was painfully obvious to Khrest at which phase the robot functioned when it attacked him. However there had to be a surefire method to escape the diabolical apparatus by simply switching it off. But how could Khrest find out what to do if he did not even know what he had done to set off this instrument of torture?

Bzzzzzzzzzzt, the machine whirred monotonously and the Arkonide began to resent it as a personal sneer. After another hour spent in discomfort, Khrest almost wished the aliens would come back. His face was sopping wet and his hair soaked. His eyes burned and the parts of his body touching the straps were sore. His feet protruding over the bench felt like lumps of lead.

You mustn't give up now! he kept admonishing himself. You have to be mentally alert when you confront the aliens! "Confront? My foot!" Khrest whispered sarcastically. Why didn't he give in to Rhodan when he urged him to retire in the high mountains of Terra? He could have found serenity on Arkon too. Atlan, who had wrested the power from the Robot Regent, would have seen to that. He wanted to shake his head but the pad restricting his forehead prevented him from moving. He no longer regarded Arkon as his home and he would not have felt at ease in the old world. In the course of years he had become more and more alienated from the Great Imperium. His activities were devoted to the support of the Earthlings. He felt little sympathy for the degenerated Arkonides and had lost his sense of loyalty to his people. After Thora, Rhodan's wife, had died her tragic death, he had cut the last ties to his place of birth. The negative genetic effect of the Arkonide heritage on Thomas Cardif, Thora's and Perry's son, had finally caused him to turn away from Arkon.

He was startled by a noise. When he shifted his eyes he could barely see the open hatch. Were his three opponents returning? Khrest ignored the labours of the machine. What mattered now was to detect the slightest advantage if it presented itself.

The old Arkonide fixed his gaze steadfastly in the direction from where the enemy would approach. Whatever happened he wanted to do everything in his power to save the s.p.a.cejet. First he heard a rustling and shuffling sound, then stomping footsteps. Khrest maintained a cool determination despite his weakened condition. His fate was probably already sealed, yet he was not afraid. Though he was endowed with great courage it was his age that had diminished his fear of death.

The thuds came closer. The liquid dripping over Khrest's cheeks made him sneeze and close his eyes. When he opened them again, they stood before him, three stout figures with trunks, as tall as Khrest but twice as broad. They paused silently and motionlessly at the hatch and scrutinized him with big green eyes.

"h.e.l.lo," Khrest rasped.