by Perry Rhodan
From his hiding place John Marshall forced the Ara agent to tell the truth again and Huxul was quite unaware that he had thus lost his effectiveness as a secret agent. He described the routine checking by Tolimon's huge positronic brain and how in reviewing Ixt's file it had discovered that some of the information was not consistent. "Since then, yesterday, I've had to bother myself with this laughably trivial matter," Huxul concluded, "when it would interest me far more to find out who stole the latest method for preserving Immunity Serum X-1076 in spite of the robot guards in Serum Works G-F 45. There's never been anything like this thievery, Rohun! And I had to give up that case so I could sniff after an animal dealer named Ixt! Of course, there's nothing you can tell me about this Ixt, right?"
Rohun answered with the most honest face he could muster. "Not a thing." Then he shook Huxul's hand goodbye. There are people one would rather see leaving than coming and Huxul was definitely in the former category. Rohun was much relieved to see him go.
Presently, Marshall and Rohun sat facing each other once more.
"I'd really like to buy the details of that preservation method," Marshall said.
Rohun shook his head. "My agents and I have had absolutely nothing to do with it. But I think I do know who 'obtained' it. Shall I get in touch with the other 'interested party' for you, Ixt? And how much are you willing to pay for the data?"
"I won't go higher than 15,000," Marshall answered. "When will I know if the other party is willing to sell?"
"Tomorrow," said Rohun.
"Fine," agreed Marshall. "And tomorrow I'm also going to have need of an identical twin. For that I'm going to get another disguise. You still have three make-up artists in your service, so let them know their job is duplicating my face so well I can't tell the difference myself."
"Do you have a dangerous operation in mind?" asked Rohun with an unhappy suspicion the answer would be yes. He was gradually finding Ixt's initiative distressing.
"Huxul is going to show up at my store tomorrow," Marshall replied, "and he'll try to return the hiobargulloo pair. At the same time, he'll also try to make a recording of my brainwaves with his 'cage'."
Now Rohun leaped to his feet. The grey-haired man had suddenly become frightened and he shook his head in protest. "Why did you emphasize 'cage' like that, Ixt?"
"Because Huxul will come with a special cage that is indeed designed to muffle the hiobargulloos' ghastly howling—but that's not all: it will also contain a brainwave recorder..."
Rohun's eyes flashed. "And then what will happen?"
John Marshall smiled. "After he goes back to his office, he's going to tear his hair out trying to figure out why his device didn't record my brainwaves. And be cause he doesn't want another reprimand from his bosses he'll turn in a faked recording."
"Can you see into the future?" Rohun asked suspiciously. "Ixt, you're starting to scare me. When I think of how friendly Huxul became all of a sudden... What did you do to him while you were hiding under my bunk?"
"What could I have done?" demanded Marshall, avoiding Rohun's question. "Who will you send out tomorrow to take my place?"
"Otznam. He's about your build. Ixt, you're playing a dangerous game. Why don't you tell me for once just what you want on Tolimon? Are you trying to free somebody from the Galactic Zoo? If that's it, then let me warn you—the Aras have the zoo completely sealed off. Why don't you explain your plans to me? Don't you trust me and my agents, Ixt?"
"I just don't want to put you into any danger, Rohun. It's going to get dangerous enough as it is and the less you and your men know, the better for all of us."
Half an hour later John Marshall left Springer captain Rohun's cylindrical spaceship, satisfied with the results of his visit to the Galactic Trader. After taking all precautions, he reached his hideout in Trulan's enormous slum some two hours later.
3/ TRICKING AN ARA
TOLIMON, THE second planet removed from Revnur's Star, received so much light and heat from its mother sun that the average noon temperature was 110 in the shade—measured in Trulan, Tolimon's capital, and not in the area set aside by the Aras for an incredibly huge zoo.
In a vast desert of sand and gravel crossed only by a barren and dusty mountain range, the galactic doctors had constructed a prodigy for which there was no counterpart anywhere else in the galaxy.
A region almost the size of Texas had been reshaped into a zoo in which the specimens brought to it could live in environments artificially simulating their natural habitats. No effort had been spared to reduce the psychological effect of being held prisoner on the inhabitants.
Laury Marten, dark-haired, beautiful, 23-years-old and a daughter of Ralf Marten and Anne Sloane, entered the zoo for the first time by way of a road closed to the general public.
The Administration had already registered her arrival. After a quick check to confirm her identity as the Arkonide girl Arga Silm, she had been allowed to cross the energy barrier. A friendly Ara had put a car at her disposal, drawing her attention to its automatic direction-finder.
The Ara had never seen such a charming Arkonide. He found himself continually admiring her oval face and almond-shaped eyes. His attentions were not lost on Laury, who had been trained as an agent in Rhodan's Mutant Corps. One of the first things every agent learned was the importance of being aware of the impression one made on the people he or she encountered.
As a telepath, Laury could read the Aras' thoughts like the words in an open book. Lo Pirr, as he was called, was as open to her as any other Ara and she was satisfied with the impression she had made on him.
Perhaps she might often ran into him in the future. Laury Marten acted as charmingly as she could without being too obvious about it, hoping to make herself unforgettable to Lo Pirr.
As her car sped down the road, she could sense him watching her.
• • •
Trulan, at once the capital of Tolimon and location of the largest spaceport on the planet, gave in its confusion the appearance of a city that had grown too quickly.
John Marshall had been living in the city disguised as a galactic trader for eight months now, yet the impression still struck him every time he saw it, as though he were seeing Trulan for the first time once more.
Not only was Tolimon a melting pot of the galactic races, it was also a stepping stone on the way to uncharted reaches in the universe. The power of the Arkonide Imperium ended at Revnur's Star. Tolimon was the last world in this sector ruled by the positronic brain on Arkon.
John Marshall could understand why the Aras required a mammoth computer to keep even a superficial control over the masses of aliens congregating on Tolimon. Vast numbers of strangers landed on Tolimon, stayed for weeks or days, conducted business (legal or otherwise), concluded deals (legal or otherwise) and then vanished without a trace into the depths of the Milky Way.
Prankish chance had caught him in the gears of the infallible computer. There had apparently been a mistake somewhere in his falsified identification papers, no doubt thanks to some incompetent back on Earth. Marshall still saw no reason to be unduly concerned.
Even in the guise of a galactic trader, John Marshall looked like a man of 35. He felt no older and yet... He was in fact 94 years old.
The cell-renewal process of the planet Wanderer, the world of the Immortal Unknown, had accomplished this biological miracle. One treatment, which defied Earthly understanding, halted all cell degeneration completely for more than six decades. Marshall's age was only a set of numbers, quite unrelated to his actual physical condition. An Earth doctor examining his body with the primitive methods available to him would not have thought John's age even possible for someone so young-looking and healthy.
But were there not similar miracles on this world, Tolimon?
Eternal life, for example?
He thought about it as he left the beam transporter at the edge of the city and entered the slums.
The afternoon heat was almost a physical presence in
the narrow streets and alleys. A stench permeated the air and the deeper John Marshall penetrated the slums the greater became the poverty and filth.
Then he turned and disappeared into a soup kitchen, making his way to the restroom. There were three exits to be found here—and Marshall was not the only one who took advantage of the fact to mislead any pursuit. An unkempt-looking Arkonide who had come in before him glanced nervously around, left through the second door and took off through an inner courtyard.
Marshall took the third exit. He entered a dark and musty corridor, plunged into an antigravity lift and shot up eight floors. There he made an about-face and let the 'down' tube drop him three levels.
The corridor here was deserted and Marshall went in the third room on the left. An old man in rags—quite a contrast to the ultra-modem antigravitor!—was lying on a couch. He turned at Marshall's entrance and grinned trustingly at him. Marshall laid a banknote on a table and went into an adjoining room without saying anything. There he quickly changed his clothes: he put his good suit into an artfully constructed hiding-place, then donned some old clothing. A reflective-ray mirror showed him that he now looked like a Springer who was down on his luck.
He placed both hands against the empty space of wall between the door and the dresser. It swung back noiselessly, opening onto a narrow hall. Marshall went in.
An antigrav shaft just wide enough to accommodate a broad-shouldered Springer carried him down into the cellar. Confident of his goal even in the gloom the faint light of illumination globes failed to dispel, Marshall manoeuvred between the rubbish and ordure until he reached a staircase.
The three dozen steps led him in a winding path upwards. At the top step Marshall paused to listen for a moment Then he pushed a rack of old clothes to one side and stepped through, finding himself in the aisle of a secondhand clothing shop.
Like a man unable to decide on a purchase, Marshall left the open-air business with pretended uncertainty. Sudf, the bearded shop owner, watched him go from a concealed hiding-place.
Marshall stepped out onto the street that, three doors deeper in the slums, ran past the entrance to that rather peculiar soup kitchen. A short distance later he stood before the crumbling front of the house in which he maintained his hideout. As he turned he glanced towards the end of the street. There he saw the needle-thin steel shaft that, rising 900 feet into the air and towering above all the roofs, served as a monument to the 'Great Moh'. The flaming Arkonide letters spelling out the word 'Moh' at the small, seamless base, testified to the structure's purpose.
Moh had been a medical genius who had lost his life some 3000 years before after experimenting on himself. He was honored on Tolimon as on all other Ara worlds as an almost godlike being.
Marshall's quarters on the 15th floor looked as sordid as all the other apartments along the half-darkened ball. However, the door had been reinforced with thin Arkonide steel, making it somewhat more than just the entrance to a dimly lit room.
Ingenious security measures made any attempted forced entry impossible.
As John approached the door he met a barely perceptible impulse that prickled his skin. That was the signal that no one had tried to break in while he was out. He shut off the barrier and waited until the door swung back. Then he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
First Marshall opened the small skylight and then walked over to the sink where he let the hot water run. From there he went to the couch, lay down, crossed his hands behind his head and, pleased with himself, whistled the tune of some song then popular among the Springers.
At that moment the hypercom unit built into the ceiling began to function. The recording attachment clicked on at the same time.
The hot water still streamed out of the faucet.
The skylight could not be closed.
The acoustic signal was necessary to activate the Hypercom. Its tiny loudspeaker was located in Marshall's watch, which he wore on his left arm.
John Marshall heard the hypercom emit a short signal. He had to take a deep breath.
The Chief was on the broiling planet Hellgate, waiting for news about the success of the mutants' work.
Marshall pondered briefly.
Just as one tiny device built into his watchcase was a loudspeaker, so another just as tiny mechanism was there too, functioning as a microphone. Marshall pressed a hardly noticeable knob on the casing, setting into motion both the coder and the sender.
John Marshall reported Laury Marten's first success in eight sentences. He did not mention that the Ara secret service was on his tail.
Then he turned off the hot water and closed the skylight. The pressed knob on his watch was allowed to spring back to its original position. Thus were all the signs covered up that might have led to the discovery of the concealed Hypercom.
Marshall sat pensively on the edge of the couch. Under no circumstances did he dare risk this hideout. The room was his last connection with Perry Rhodan.
Just as he was about to leave his quarters, Marshall picked up an impulse from Laury Marten. He stood still, his hand still stretched to the door. Then his face seemed to light up for a moment as his lips formed the word, "Finally!"
• • •
The direction-finder built into the land-going vehicle had helped Laury Marten find the binn enclosure quickly in spite of the great distance but the energy barrier around it still stood insurmountable before her.
She looked around for a frogh, shuddering at the memory of the first time she had ever seen one of the 18-foot-long serpent-creatures.
It was still a matter of some effort for her to regard the froghs as intelligent beings and not just as disgustingly ugly animals. Many froghs spoke not only perfect Intercosmo but various Arkonide dialects as well; among themselves they communicated with the rich vocabulary of their mother tongue. The froghs were the Aras' most devoted friends—and the zoo inmates' most feared guards. No intelligent creature confined in the zoo had ever succeeded in escaping: the froghs caught the escapee every time.
Laury Marten walked slowly along the energy barrier. She could not understand why a frogh had not yet appeared to inquire after her wishes. Then she climbed a slight rise, looked around and saw a serpent-creature in conversation with a young Ara.
The Ara felt Laury Marten's gaze, turned and looked at her in surprise.
At the same time, the frogh slid quickly over to her and politely asked what she wanted in a voice that sounded uncannily human. She requested that it open the energy barrier for a moment so that she could go in and search for two suitable binns.
The frogh raised the first third of its seemingly muscle less snake-like body and regarded her with its staring eyes. Meanwhile, the Ara had joined the two.
The slender Ara with the wise face—economical in his every movement, restrained in his expression and the first Ara that Laury had ever met who spoke such perfect Arkonide—interested her and she saw to it that an interesting conversation was soon in progress.
He listened politely when she told him that she was studying zoology. When she told him that she was on Tolimon to prepare for her final examinations, he wished her luck on the tests. But when she spoke in calculated innocence of necrosis and expressed her doubt that a dead portion of a living body could be restored to life by 'Activators', the Ara suddenly showed more than just polite attention. How could the galactic physician suspect that this young woman, educated by the best Arkonide hypno-training methods, was an expert not only in Zoology but in medicine as well, at home with an astonishingly comprehensive theoretical knowledge?
The Ara introduced himself as Man Regg.
Laury Marten played her game further. She read his mind and saw that she could not take the initiative. Any important suggestions would have to come from Man Regg himself.
The Ara Man Regg was not just one of the hundred thousand physicians on this planet, Man Regg was the Ara, the man responsible for production of the life-prolonging serum!
Laury Marten wove her deception carefully. She said things just seconds after he had thought them but in her own words. When he had doubts about a matter, her doubts were a little greater. When he was absolutely positive about something, she spoke on the subject with somewhat less conviction.
And he fell for it! One of the greatest minds on Tolimon had proved inferior to the telepathic power of a young woman from Earth!
When he asked where and with whom she worked, Laury Marten read his mind and learned that he had the intention of having this amazingly brilliant woman transferred to his own research staff.
Laury Marten suddenly turned to face the Frogh. The serpent creature's staring gaze had made her uncomfortable. One terrible thought burned in her brain—Are froghs also telepathic?She realized in horror that she did not know!
But then Man Regg asked her if she would like to finish her preparation for the examinations under his direction.
Laury Marten saw the manufacturing methods for the life-prolonging serum as good as in her hands. She was hard pressed to keep the triumph from showing in her eyes.
"Good, Arga Silm," said Man Regg. "I'll take care of everything else. I'm certain I'll be seeing you tomorrow in X-p."
After driving back to the zoo boundary with two small, tame binns in her car, she took a return flight to Trulan. En route she beamed a report of her success to John Marshall.