Khrest remained stockstill and avoided the slightest noise. To shoot would draw the attention of the Unither to him and he was in no position to defend himself against two enemies.

The animals moved slowly in the unaccustomed brightness of daylight. They furiously snapped at any object barring their way. Now that Khrest saw these monsters with his own eyes he understood why Ufgar had held them in such awe. The gruesome column snaked past the Arkonide and out into the open.

No Earthling or Arkonide could stand up indefinitely under such punishing nervous and physical strains. Sooner or later they were bound to collapse from its effects and Khrest felt that he had reached that point.

Liszog stood stunned for a moment. He realized that he had been outwitted and the disappointment was so great that it almost paralysed him. But then his natural reflexes started to function again. He jumped back behind cover and was safe again. The Arkonide had retreated deeper into that ma.s.s of crushed debris. If he wanted to get out there was only one way-past Liszog. The outcast Unither watched intently for any suspicious movements or sounds.

Dark clouds had appeared and the sky looked overcast, threatening to rain. Liszog was used to wet weather because there was plenty of water on Unith. But these clouds looked ominous. A wind began to blow, raising squalls on the lake. Soon it howled through the ruins of the Kaszill in a dissonant song. A song of death, Liszog thought with a shudder.

He was not superst.i.tious, having abandoned all religion at an early age. A faint smile appeared on his face but it was no more than a habitual reaction that had nothing to do with his real feelings.

The first raindrops fell on the wreck. They bounced like silvery pearls from the hull before they burst, clung for a moment to the metal and ran down like tears. Before long the entire surface glistened in the rain.

A weird noise roused him from his contemplations. His hand, which ended in 5 stubby fingers, clamped tightly around his thermo-beamer. Let his rival try to break out!

But it was not the Arkonide he beheld with widened eyes, it was a ghastly procession of round bodies creeping toward him. They were the ugliest creatures he had ever seen. Seized by panic he spewed fire from his thermo-beamer.

Khrest saw cascades of light pour over the floor and he was showered by sparks. The smell of seared flesh permeated the air. But the fireworks soon ceased. Khrest heard a wild, agonized scream. Dense smoke wafted through the ship, causing him to cough painfully. He tried in vain to see through the veil. Suddenly the skies opened up in a cloudburst and a smouldering fire gave off a charred odour.

Khrest suspected that the Unither had fired at the horned burrowers and, judging from the scream he had heard, the raging beasts had retaliated with a vengeance. It was a death the Arkonide would not wish on his most depraved enemy.

Wind drove the smoke into his eyes and filled them with tears. A stinging pain seemed to burst his lungs. It was impossible for him to hold out any longer in the ship. Although he would run the risk of being a.s.saulted by a pack of belligerent horned burrowers, it looked like the lesser evil at the moment. Puffing and coughing, Khrest worked his way out of the unbearable spot into the open air.

He stumbled over the cadavers of several burned animals but failed to see any that were still alive. He inhaled the fresh air and began to breathe easier. His torn tunic fluttered in the wind and he was drenched by the cold rain. His surroundings were shrouded in a dim grey light.

Then he noticed the Unither. He lay p.r.o.ne on the rubble of the Kaszill's engines less than 15 meters from Khrest. He was hardly recognizable.

The Arkonide stared in consternation. The Unither moved. It was alive. He had lost his weapon and his big green eyes stared at Khrest with an expression of dull resignation.

Khrest kept standing in the rain, an emaciated old man with a heavy weapon in his hand that almost suggested a caricature.

Liszog began to slip down from the engine ring, leaving a dark trail of blood on the wet surface.

"Stay where you are!" Khrest warned in Interkosmo.

The Unither crawled toward him. There was a quiet obstinacy in his movements, as it he could go on forever. His round eyes stared wide open.

"Stop!" Khrest repeated his call, strengthening his order with the unmistakable gesture of raising his raygun.

His opponent seemed to be dazed and refused to listen. He kept advancing toward Khrest like a sleepwalker. The rain ran over his face and greyish skin. His eyes had a mad, feverish gleam.

The weapon in Khrest's hand seemed to weigh a ton. The old man took one step back and thought: I can't simply shoot him down. Why doesn't that thing stop?

The wind grew to a storm. It howled and whistled through the shambles of the s.p.a.ceship and rattled eerily through loose metal plates.

Liszog persisted in a steady pace and almost touched Khrest. He flexed his trunk and the thermo-beamer in Khrest's hand trembled.

The Arkonide could not bring himself to open fire. His foe moved against him like a helpless zombie. It would require but a mere touch of the trigger to repulse him but Khrest felt incapable of shooting a defenceless man.

He lowered his weapon, although Liszog stood only two steps away. He had finally paused in his advance. Khrest was still fearful that he would close the last gap to overpower him. The old man could hear his own rasping breath. Then he noticed a sad look in Liszog's eyes, which expressed to him lost hope of a goal ardently aspired.

Suddenly Liszog's broad robust figure doubled up and crashed to the ground, where it remained motionless.

Only then Khrest saw the grisly wounds the horned burrower had inflicted on his enemy. His retreat to the engine ring had come too late. Liszog was horribly dead.

Ufgar had mentioned in his report that it would frequently rain for days on the second planet of the yellow sun. He had made his observation in one concise sentence. There was nothing further in it to prepare an old man with waning strength for the hardship and toil he had to cope with in his struggle for possession of a s.p.a.ceship. Ufgar was a young and bold discoverer, not a degenerate Arkonide of the presentime. He had leaped from his s.p.a.ceship, unfurled the flag of Arkon and let it flutter in the wind before he set out to explore the planet with his men.

Khrest had no flag. He would not have known which emblem it ought to show, that of the Great Imperium or of the tiny system comprising 10 planets which was proudly called Solar Imperium by the Earthlings.

There was nothing left in Khrest of the Arkonide ruling race's arrogance as he limped away from Liszog. But he had retained his personal pride. He was glad that he had survived the battle without resorting to force. He was determined to fight hard and without yielding for the s.p.a.cejet but had no desire to employ means distasteful to him.

The windstorm had become so fierce that Khrest had to lean heavily against it to make headway. As long as the storm raged, it was senseless to attempt reaching his ship. He was much too weak to withstand the strain. He would be much safer now in the ship of the Unithers.

He was too tired to think clearly and he staggered like a spastic into the Kaszill. Outside the storm mounted in fury and the rain poured down on the vessel in sheets. Khrest hardly heard it. He collapsed on the floor.

Now there were only two intelligent beings on Khrest's Planet, both striving for the same goal, resolved not to relent. They were the same in this regard but there was a big difference between them. One was an ancient Arkonide and the other a Unither in the prime of his life. In their desperate fight to the finish everything else paled into insignificance. It was of little importance in this contest that Khrest was a scientist and Golath a thief. The stronger one was destined to win-or the smarter.

The vortex of Khrest's thoughts ebbed away in obscure emotions and his nerves began to lose their tension. Then he lost track of his environment. The old man had fallen asleep.

400 ADVENTURES FROM NOW.

There's action in the Plutonian Orbit

8/ NOT ALL ALIENS ARE NECESSARILY ENEMIES.

On the 24th of January, Khrest had again become the subject of a discussion at Terrania.

Reginald Bell, Rhodan's tubby deputy who was called Fatso by his friends, came barrelling down the corridor. His stocky figure didn't slow down when it reached the door of Rhodan's private office. He pushed the door Open and barged into the room, sputtering in disgust.

"I knew it could only be you," Rhodan received him calmly.

For a moment Bell was taken aback, then he said with a grin: "Since when can you keep track of me by telepathy?"

"Nonsense," Rhodan rejected the question of his friend. "To keep tabs on you is the last thing I want to do and you know it. But there's only one person who would dare to make such an entrance without even bothering to knock first."

Bell's face flushed, less from embarra.s.sment than indignation. He was an extremely intelligent man, but with a stormy temper of the highest magnitude, who loved to play tricks on his friends. "That crazy Mangelmann has been pestering me out there for a full hour. Do you know what that nut wants?" Bell blurted.

"He came to talk about Khrest's monument," Rhodan replied. "I asked him to come."

"You did what?" Bell asked flabbergasted. "That skondola! from the rest home for the deranged couldn't carve a garden decoration-let alone create a monument for the old scientist."

Rhodan gave him a disapproving look. "Mangelmann is the most gifted sculptor of our time. You should know that. And if we ever have any need for a garden decoration I won't have any trouble finding a model." The administrator left no doubt whom he meant.

Bell became serious. "How do we know that Khrest would agree to have a monument?" he asked. "He is an unpretentious man who does everything strictly as a matter of course. I can hardly believe that it would be in keeping with the ideas of the old Arkonide if we were to a.s.sign such a task to Mangelmann."

Perry Rhodan nodded. His grey eyes seemed to reflect his true age, not the age his body represented. "I'm sure Khrest would object," he agreed. "However we don't erect a memorial for him but for us. It is important to perpetually remind mankind that extraterrestrial beings can be our friends and that not all alien beings must be regarded as enemies.

"I share your opinion," Bell said. "Shall I tell the man to come in?"

"Of course," Rhodan replied.

Mangelmann entered: a small, crumpledlooking man who seemed lost in his shapeless jacket. His face had a grey colour and it was difficult to guess his age. He was polite and calm and his voice had a resonant ring.

Rhodan showed him two large pictures. "Can you work from these?" he inquired.

Mangelmann studied the pictures and looked up in confusion. "But this is..." he began hesitantly.

"Yes, it's him," Bell interjected from the sidelines.

Rhodan rose from his chair and walked around the desk and looked at the pictures over the shoulder of the sculptor. "I regret that Khrest is unable to sit for you," Rhodan explained. "Certain circ.u.mstances have prevented it."

"I understand," Mangelmann answered softly.

"No, he isn't dead," the administrator a.s.sured.

The artist shifted the pictures between his hands, trying to make up his mind. "Well, sir," he finally consented, "I'm honoured and I accept the a.s.signment."

"We won't require you to finish it at a particular date but we expect you to do your best. We want you to set everything else aside and create a statue of Khrest in stone. You can consult with Bell about the dimensions. Your reward will be determined by our satisfaction with your work."

Mangelmann got up. His movements seemed nervous and jerky. They shook hands and Bell showed him to the door.

"A good man," Rhodan said after he was gone.

"You rank everybody on a fixed scale," Bell muttered glumly. "You rate people as good, bad, intelligent and so on. Every man is neatly put into his place."

"But I have trouble finding a spot for you," Rhodan shot back. "You don't seem to fit into human categories."

"That's because I'm something special," Bell answered with deep conviction.

Khrest's name was not mentioned again that day. But the following day they talked about nothing else except the fate of the ancient Arkonide.

500 ADVENTURES FROM NOW.

We arrive at the Day of Decision

9/ KHREST'S DESPERATE SACRIFICE.

Almost all oxygen breathers in the Galaxy require regular periods of rest and Golath was no exception. It had become a problem for him to overcome his fatigue. His life could depend on being awake or asleep. He had built a shield against the rain but the storm had swept it away and he was exposed to the rain all night.

Neither Liszog nor Zerft had returned and it would have been unwise to look for them. Whatever happened, he could not abandon his place. Perhaps the Arkonide was already waiting up on the slope, hoping that Golath would leave the vicinity of the ship for a moment.

The Unither did not really believe that the old man could have succeeded in defeating Zerft and Liszog. He was more apt to a.s.sume that the latter two had killed each other by their deadly rivalry. On the other hand Zerft might have persuaded the youth to join him in his search for Khrest in the forest. Liszog had failed to come back with the missing parts Golath needed for the completion of his force-field generator.

Golath leaned his back against the last branch left of his rainroof. His body was stiff from the cold. From time to time he ran around the ship to keep his blood circulating. He had been forced to clean his trunk already once in the old primitive manner and he almost died of shame although n.o.body was there to watch him. He had wrapped leaves around a stick like an uncivilized barbarian and suffered agonies as he compared it with the luxurious automatic cleaning apparatus he was used to.

The wind battered and howled in his ears while torrents of water nearly drowned him. The soil was so muddy and soft that his feet sank in. The wet ground gave little support to his 300 lb. body.

The gale created mountainous waves on the lake. Golath was unable to see them because he was in total darkness. However he could hear them roll in and crash thunderously against the sh.o.r.e. Once the wind blew in a small, monkey-like animal. It was thrown against Golath and clutched his chest, screeching helplessly. Golath pulled it off with his trunk and tossed it away but the cries of the creature still jarred his ears.

Then he fell asleep but was plagued by violent dreams. A piercing noise woke him up and caused him to tremble in fear. It was the branch which had broken under his weight.

The night seemed endless. Several times Golath thought the Arkonide had arrived, only to realize that he had been fooled by the roar of the storm. Although he considered it highly unlikely that the old man could brave such a hurricane, the possibility that his foe could suddenly appear on the scene robbed him of his sleep.

That night Golath cursed the tribunal of his judges. He was driven to thoughts of revenge. If he succeeded in gaining control of the Arkonide ship he would return triumphantly to Unith and retaliate mercilessly against all those who were responsible for his punishment.

As the hours dragged on, Golath became more and more embittered. At first he felt merely sorry for himself. But the conviction that he was the victim of a gross injustice grew stronger all the time till it left no room for rational conclusions. He was filled with hate and blind fury against any threat that could prevent him from extricating himself from his critical situation. But he had no possibility of venting his wrath and it acc.u.mulated inside him like water rising in a basin and overflowing. His animal instincts came to the fore and his emotions gained the upperhand in his mental state. He no longer felt the effects of the rain and the wind, nor his wretched tiredness. He waited for Khrest with the intensity of a beast of prey, feeling in his bones that a fatal decision was nearing a climax.

Dawn came only very slowly and there was not a patch of sky devoid of dark clouds.

Golath shook himself. He was ready for the fight with the Arkonide. Let the old man dare show his face

When Khrest awoke he dragged himself out of the Kaszill's airlock and got on his way. The storm had slackened but the rain persisted, drenching the land, and big puddles formed everywhere.

Khrest bent down and ma.s.saged his swollen ankle. After waking up at daybreak it had taken him some time to pull himself together. His weakened body rebelled. Khrest knew that he was sick. During the night he had been disturbed by many feverish dreams. He lacked the strength to fight off his cold. Strangely enough his feeble state failed to discourage him. He had mustered more self-a.s.surance than he would have thought possible under the bleak circ.u.mstances.

He mobilized his scant resources by sheer willpower, challenging death itself. Not once did the idea occur to him that he was making a sacrifice. He simply felt duty bound to save the s.p.a.cejet.

He departed from the ship of the Unithers and sloshed through the desolate expanse of mud and water. A strange fire glinted in his reddish eyes. He never became aware that he could fall victim to his strenuous exertions. Was it his fever that prevented the voice of reason from reaching the level of consciousness?

Time and again he gathered his strength and walked on in his limping gait, splashing water with every step. Within minutes he was soaking wet again.