by Perry Rhodan
The electricity died. She felt an implosion into emptiness. But the men were more intensely involved than ever in their discussion—even arguments in Bell's favor.
Then came Rhodan's rebuttal. "One of our mutants would be able to sense hypnotic interference. No, Reggie, I'm more than ever convinced that we're the victims of an error in the Arkonide filing system. The ban on Honur must have been lifted long ago!"
"What about Thora's boo-boo—her lapse of memory? And how about my own?" asked Bell righteously.
Neither Perry nor Khrest had an answer.
Bell went to the door of Perry's cabin but paused at the threshold to repeat his warning. "This whole Death Valley planet spells trouble, Perry, take my word. Somewhere disaster is brewing for us. I just hope the Titan doesn't get blown out from under us!"
Perry took another look at the data from the positronicon: Honur was a harmless world. It only registered seven-tenths of 1% open for error. He took a deep breath and nodded to Khrest, who stood next to him. "The crew can leave the ship and make contact with the inhabitants. But secondary alert condition remains in effect for a third of the gun crew."
• • •
Perry Rhodan, Reginald Bell and Khrest were strangely disturbed as they looked out the door of the airlock and watched the crowd gathered around the Titan's great landing struts.
"Half-starved," Perry observed as he studied the way they devoured the food he had sent down to them. He and his companions moved down the personnel ramp and came to a stop at the bottom.
Three natives, who were unmistakably Arkonide descendants, approached them with a look of unconcealed gratitude in their deep-set eyes. Perry thought he recognized a semblance of ancient uniforms in the pitiably tattered rags that hung from their limbs but before he could ask Khrest about it the delegation kneeled before them and extracted gift offerings from their shredded clothing: blooming Honurian plants.
"Black flowers!" exclaimed Khrest in some amazement and all three of the men from the Titan seemed to edge back with a slight instinctive movement of withdrawal.
"Thank you, messengers from the stars!" Their words were hard to understand but had obviously been derived from the Arkonide language. Then to Perry's consternation they prostrated themselves before him, their thin, naked arms outstretched toward him and pushing the strange black flowers onto the ramp at his feet.
"Please stand up!" Rhodan urged. "We are no more than you!"
The natives listened curiously to the sound of his words. Had he awakened in them a memory of the past in which they had once been proud Arkonides?
Other personnel from the Titan, standing on several other landing ramps, were observing all this and paying particular attention to the astonishing black flowers. Rhodan himself was fascinated by the subtle, velvety glimmer of the dusky blooms. Even Khrest, who had seen so many unbelievable marvels on strange worlds in the course of his long life, could not take his eyes from their esoteric beauty.
Rhodan forced himself out of the spell and looked for his mutants, who had taken up a position behind him and were making their final test-probes. John Marshall gave him an almost imperceptible nod, meaning that these people checked out as absolutely harmless.
Rhodan then followed an impulse to stretch out his hand to the timorous Arkonide before him, in whose mysterious gaze was almost an expression of worship.
The Titan's crewmen descending on three of the other personnel ramps were witnesses to this and they took it for a signal to mix with the natives, who spoke a very broken dialect. It was found that with increased conversational practice, however, communication became easier. The strange inhabitants referred to themselves as 'the Approved Ones,' of which Perry and Khrest took casual note—but Bell took exception.
"That sounds like some kind of a cult to me," he grumbled. "A lot of those people have some pretty loose shingles—I'd keep an eye open!"
In spite of this, he took an active interest in their needs. The 'Approved' lived from the meager products of the Honur soil. They were very shy and humble and did not think that their small community in a nearby canyon was worthy of being seen by their visitors.
Rhodan had his robot workers break out clothing supplies for distribution among the natives. Very timorously, they approached the treasures which the robots spread on the ground before them. They seemed to be of a disposition to always allow their fellows to go ahead of them and they slowly accepted a limited amount of the clothing articles with such a lack of avidity that Rhodan almost became impatient with them.
He turned to the telepath, John Marshall. "Are all these 'Approved Ones' in a state of hypnosis or something?"
Marshall was a bit troubled that he could not formulate a clear answer. "No, sir—it's just their way. They think about as slowly as they move. In the last few minutes I haven't picked up any feelings of happiness or sadness or any kind of emotion at all, for that matter."
Rhodan perceived within himself a vague foreboding. He restated his question. "Are there any dangerous thoughts?"
"No, sir, not a single dangerous impulse. In fact, their thoughts are practically asleep. I think their thoughts get drowsy in proportion to the fullness of their stomachs."
Decadent Arkonides!—thought Rhodan. These descendants of a once glorious race had sunk to a level lower than barbarians, driven now only by the basic animal desire of filling their stomachs.
Now the crowd drifted slowly back toward the lake. They completely ignored the men from the Titan. Carrying articles of the new clothing on their arms, they moved sluggishly, foot by foot, as in a slow-motion picture. The ship's crew was startled by the silent procession. They hadn't expected this after the unique reception.
Some fairly harsh judgments were heard. "Those Honus are pretty weird—not all there, that's for sure!" They had an aversion to the term 'Approved Ones' as though it made them uneasy. They didn't realize that their commander shared their apprehension.
Because Rhodan was thinking that all this seemed a bit too harmless—too innocent... Then, too, it was a ponderable improbability that their thoughts should go to sleep just because their stomachs were full.
• • •
Two hours later the crowd was back milling about among the Titan's landing struts. Perry was in no mood to mix with them again and besides it wasn't any pleasure to carry oxygen equipment around outside in the thin, oxygen-starved atmosphere.
When he tried to find Bell on shipboard, the airlock control reported him outside. Perry summoned Khrest instead. "I'd like to make a reconnaissance flight in the Gazelle. Would you like to come along?"
Khrest nodded his pleased affirmation but pointed with a smile to the videoscreen, which pictured the outside activity down among the landing struts. "Take a look at that, Perry. Aren't those cute little animals they have?"
An inner alarm sounded in Rhodan. He flipped a switch and contacted the airlock again. "Where are the mutants?" The answer came back from Lock Control No. 8 that some of them were outside, including John Marshall.
"Advise John Marshall immediately," he ordered in no uncertain tones. "I want those animals checked out at once! Bring some of them up to the lab!"
Khrest seemed oblivious to Perry's apprehension. He laughed aloud when Bell appeared on the screen, tenderly pressing one of the little creatures against his chest. The cute little bear-like animals measured about a foot in length.
"Such wonderfully big, sad eyes," commented Khrest, mostly to himself.
Perry felt that he had had it with big sad beautiful eyes for one day. Somewhere there lurked a potential danger and now he saw its possibility in these little animals that the Honur "purified" had distributed among the crew. He personally reminded the standby gunner crews that they were still on secondary alert.
Marshall's report came in: "No thought impulses—completely harmless little bears with pink paws and funny big noses. No trace of intelligence."
Bell heard this report via his com set in his respirator and then proceeded
to add lyrical praises about his little pet, which was scrabble-pawing about his neck with little wet kisses. "This little guy talks like a parrot, Perry. He can even cuss—and he answers to the name I gave him! It's..."
Rhodan switched without comment to the lab. The results were in: "Sir, tests are completed. The little bear-like animals are completely harmless. Intelligence potential, zero. If you'll pardon the expression, sir, just plain stupid! End of report."
"Khrest!" The Arkonide started at Perry's sharp tone and gave him his attention. "I've heard the word 'harmless' around here more times in one day than I have in three solid years. Sounds like a broken record. Don't you think it's peculiar?" He would have been more satisfied if the reports on the midget bears had been less positive. He cogitated a moment, then decided. "Khrest, lets get under way. I can't relax until I've checked out every comer of this planet." He hit three intercom buttons at the same time. "Lt. Tifflor, on the double to hangar 71 Pucky—I'll meet you in the Gazelle, ready for take-off I Wuriu. Sengu...!"
"Sir!" responded the Mutant Corps' special 'seer."
"Please report immediately to hangar 7!"
Perry made one last communication. He called Bell.
"Hm-m—yes?" mumbled Reg into his mike and he listened only with half an ear to Perry's announcement concerning the reconnaissance flight over Honur in the Gazelle. "Okay," he replied patronizingly. "Take a good look at 'Death Valley' for me... Maybe you'll be as sick and tired of it as I am. At least there's some consolation in Hannibal."
"Who?" Perry wondered if he had understood him correctly.
"Hannibal, that's who. Come on, Hannibal, say 'chow hound' so Perry will know who I'm talking about!"
"Reg, report to Command Center," commanded Perry and fought with a shake of his head to suppress a chuckle.
5/ GRAVEYARD OF DEAD SPACESHIPS
The Japanese Wuriu Sengu, except for his slight build, looked like a fairly average man. Nothing betrayed his special faculty of 'seer.' Even now as he stood in the big #7 hangar next to the long-range reconnaissance craft and waited for Perry Rhodan, there was nothing about him to signify anything abnormal.
Wuriu Sengu had the astonishing ability to adjust the lenses and shape of his eyes in such a way that he could in fact look right through the molecular structure of matter. The corresponding area of his brain regulated his perception in such a manner as to enlarge intervening matter millions of times to a point of 'attenuation' so that he could see through to the target object and observe it in its normal size.
He did not flinch when the air in front of him flickered and gradually condensed into a comical-looking animal about three feet tall and appearing to be an odd mixture of mouse and beaver. This was Pucky, a lieutenant in Rhodan's Mutant Corps—even though he could not actually be called a mutant since his peculiar attributes did not represent a mutation of his own unusual species. His smooth, reddish-brown fur was always well groomed. His pointed snout gave him a 'slick' expression, backed up by a hint of uncommon intelligence in his eyes. Instead of having a proper mouse tail, his posterior section was decorated by a strong, furry beaver tail.
"Oh—you're here already, too?" Pucky remarked in Arkonide, although he could have stated the rhetorical question as well in Intercosmo or in English.
Pucky could refer to himself with pride as an 'animal' but he was endowed with a surprising amount of human intelligence in addition to some capabilities which made him a top-flight parapsychic. If required, Pucky could take his tasks seriously and execute them exactly to the finest detail. But woe betide the victim of any of his practical jokes if his extreme playfulness got the upper hand! With the exception of Perry Rhodan for whom he held an awed respect. Yet Perry was his best friend.
Almost at the same instant, Rhodan arrived with Khrest and Julian Tifflor. The young lieutenant did not cut much of a figure between the two tall men but Perry Rhodan, leader of the New Power, was well aware of his talents. He knew he could always rely on this youth.
Pucky was just telling Sengu that these little Hono bears were repugnant to him. "They stink!" he said in disgust. "Didn't you smell them, Wuriu?"
"One of these days, Pucky," the Japanese grinned, "that sensitive nose of yours is going to kill you. I don't know whether the little bears smell or—"
"Stink, Wuriu, stink!" corrected Pucky, saying the words loud enough to catch Rhodan's ear.
"Who stinks?" he asked of Pucky.
"All of them, Chief, all those little bears! I had to teleport myself away from them because I couldn't take it!"
Instantly Perry put himself in contact with Bell, who was in the Command Center.
"Yes," responded Bell. "Hey, Perry, you want to hear how Hannibal can say—"
No, Perry didn't want to hear. "What I want to know," he interrupted, "is whether or not that little Hannibal of yours stinks!"
"Does he what!? " Bell's voice fairly barked in the speaker. "Hannibal does not stink or even smell! Who started a dirty rumor like that? According to the Honos, these little guys are even housebroken. Now who started this lie about 'stinking', Perry?"
Rhodan grinned slightly. "I believe it was a friend of yours by the name of Pucky."
The speaker roared. "Pucky! As soon as I get around to it I'm going to wring that little carrot-eater's neck!"
Perry also yelled "Pucky!"—but for a different reason, and too late.
Pucky had taken temporary leave in one of his skilled teleporter jumps. His destination was made audibly clear in Rhodan's micro-speaker. Considering Pucky's other gift of powerful telekinesis, it could be assumed from the ruckus that Reginald Bell was by now suspended somewhere near the high ceiling of the Command Center and was receiving instructions in stunt flying from the mouse-beaver.
Bell was Pucky's favorite target for such playful jokes. They understood one another famously and both were always baiting each other. Bell of course always fared second best because the mouse-beaver was a strong parapsychic and Bell was only Perry's deputy.
Suddenly a shadowy form appeared in front of Perry and Pucky solidified into view. "Lt. Pucky reporting back from defensive attack mission, sir!" The mouse-beaver demonstrated a grin by exposing his shiny incisor tooth.
"What a dirty rat! " yelled Bell through the speaker.
"Hey, Fatso!" warned Pucky into Perry's micro-com. "You want some more loop-the-loops?"
The small speaker was so distorted by Bell's following tirade that the rasping clamor veiled what might have been some very challenging cusswords. Even Khrest had to laugh uproariously.
Rhodan was in good spirits as everyone boarded the Gazelle. The thickly disc-shaped fuselage was a hundred feet in diameter and 60 feet from keel-pole to top. As a long-range scout and reconnaissance ship, it could fly faster than the speed of light and had an effective range of 500 light-years. It carried a battery of high-power energy-beam weapons against pursuing spacers.
All operating gear and power units on the Gazelle had been warmed up ready for take-off for some time. Perry got into the pilot seat and activated first phase, which caused the airlock to close automatically. In second phase, the Titan's heavy outer lock hatch opened, giving the Gazelle free access to the sky. In final phase, the take-off hardly caused any vibration. The inertial field generators counteracted an otherwise lethal force of acceleration as the spacedrive units bore the Gazelle in a constant climb toward its 15,000-foot course above and beyond the lake.
• • •
The rugged mountain range with its inhospitable valleys had been left behind. Before them a broad new terrain extended and soon they discerned the beginnings of the greyish-green area they had observed from space. Julian Tifflor sat behind Perry and worked the range-azimuth scanner. Khrest kept an eye on the videoscreen and its fast-moving panorama of Honur. Nothing important had been reported yet.
Perry guided the scoutship to within 300 feet of the greenish foliage below, which stretched before them like a loosely woven carpet. Then, at 150 feet altitude, t
he Gazelle came to a halt, supported by its antigrav fields. Now they could clearly see the Honur jungle at close range.
"I'd like to know what's under the surface of all that verdure," ventured Khrest.
Wuriu Sengu now felt called upon to perform. He concentrated his vision in the desired direction and encountered few obstacles: an inch or two of Arkon steel and the green roof of foliage. "I see animals," he announced. "A whole pack. Their bodies are covered with scales. They are generally horrifying in their appearance but the most hideous part is a long drill that grows out of their heads in place of a nose!"
"A drill?" Perry asked, amazed.
"Yes—a spiral-shaped thing that turns! Wow, you should see them! They drill into the trunks of the trees. The material seems to be of a viscous, leathery consistency. Huh?—they are drilling for water. One of them has punctured a water artery in a trunk and it gushes out in a stream about a foot wide. They sure drink it fast!"
"How big are these animals?" Perry interrupted. "Would you say three feet long?"
"Three feet! Would you believe sixty, sir?" answered Wuriu.
Perry started. "Sixty! How is that possible? These umbrella-shaped trees aren't even 60 feet high, and—"
"Sir!" Wuriu Sengu stuttered in his confusion, having to contradict Perry Rhodan. "The trees are all over 300 feet high!"
"That can't be true!" argued Julian Tifflor. "Ship's altimeter registers exactly 152.4 feet from the surface!"
"That I'm going to have to check out," said Perry.
He dropped the Gazelle to a lower level until it just grazed the flat treetops, then simulated a 'hard' landing.
"Contact!" reported Tifflor.
A light tremor went through the Gazelle. Rhodan cast an inquiring glance at Khrest. Cautiously he cut the antigravs and there resulted only a slight settling shock. "How is that possible?" he asked, knowing that the full weight of the ship was resting on the treetop.