Secret Mission Moluk Read online

  SITUATION PERILOUS

  PERRY RHODAN speaks: "Our position is desperate."

  "Earth's position is known."

  "The Solar Imperium is too weak to repulse any earnest attack."

  "Atlan has his own problems." A strong ally must be found. Contact with the Molecular Deformers could boomerang but it is a desperate risk that must be taken.

  "I would make a deal with the devil himself to save mankind!" declares Rhodan. And so, the machinery is set in motion that results in–

  Perry Rhodan

  Atlan And Arkon #84

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  Secret Mission: Moluk

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  1/ POSITION DESPERATE

  CYBERNETIC MACHINES-There are people who can suffer inferiority complexes just by working on them.

  They sit at the evaluation unit of a calculating machine and cannot accept the fact that a positronicon can work faster and produce more logical arguments and conclusions than a human brain ever could. Such persons simply forget that they are the ones who give the robot brain the right data and ask the right questions.

  As yet this danger did not exist for Walt Hunter. Hunter's antipathy towards positronicons was due mainly to the fact they forced him to work during the time he was on duty. Otherwise he always approached the machines with displeasure and apathy.

  One of the psychologists in Solar Defense had termed Hunter phlegmatic, which is to say lazy and sluggish. The mathematician's plumpness seemed to bear out the head doctor’s thesis.

  At that moment Hunter received a computer card by way of the pneumatic post over his seat. He picked it out of the capsule.

  "Hey, Ben!" he called bad-temperedly.

  A man sitting behind him and somewhat to one side got up and came over to him. Hunter waved the card.

  "Guess what they're up to this time!" he said.

  Ben looked at the card as though it were a well-cooked steak with onions. "Eppan," was all he said, clicking his tongue.

  Hunter dismissed the outburst of enthusiasm of his colleague with a resentful grumbling. "Naturally," he said unhappily. "The Solar Defense’s entire positronic evaluation laboratory is on the hunt for molecular transformites. At Mercants order." His cheeks inflated for a moment, giving him the appearance of an overfed hamster. "The way I heard it, good ol' Mercant had nothing better to do than send a fast cruiser with two mutants to Eppan in order to find out if this mysterious Mataal had left any traces behind."

  He manipulated some of the positronic brain's controls and instrument lights lit up.

  Ben bent over Hunter's shoulder. "Mercant's idea was thoroughly justified," he said. "The mutants found data in Mataal's palace that will tell us more about other molecular transformite spaceships."

  Relays clicked, a humming sounded and Hunter put the computer card into the slit of the programming unit. "Molecular transformite spaceships," he repeated. "Now there's a mouthful for you!"

  "In the current situation," Ben explained in the tones of a lecturer, "there is only one possibility for the Solar Imperium: winning strong friends."

  Hunter snorted contemptuously. "I can just see Rhodan walking hand in hand through the streets of Terrania with these lovely creatures. You know the kind of trouble Everson had with Mataal. If Goldstein had not been able to free himself from the shape changer's psychic hold back then, we probably wouldn't be sitting here now."

  The evaluations made to this time had already given the specialists of Solar Defense some information to go on. The mutants ordered to Eppan by Alan D. Mercant had brought along tiny metal leaves that they had discovered in searching Mataal's quarters. The false gladiator's house had stood untouched by the Eppanites themselves for they were convinced that their matador would one day return.

  It quickly developed that the thin leaves were covered with notes of some sort. With the help of translators and special positronicons, the specialists were able to translate the alien language. The first results showed that in addition to Mataal's unfortunate ship a second ship would soon take off from the unknown homeworld of the molecular transformites. Mataal's report indicated nothing of the position of his native solar system. On the other hand, there were justified hopes of finding out to what planet the second ship was destined.

  "Don't crack your brains worrying about the politics of your superiors," Ben said to Hunter. "Both Springers and Druufs have already barged into our solar system recently and you can't say that they have treated us very kindly. If we succeed in finding the shape changers and making them our allies, we'll be able to feel a lot more secure."

  Hunter's wish for security seemed to have been extinguished years before, for he only smiled ironically. The positronicon interrupted their discussion. The evaluation sector was setting itself into operation.

  Hunter pressed several buttons. The machine was now in the process of turning the data they had fed into it into a logical conclusion.

  "It concerns location determining," Hunter commented. "Mercant would like to know with what certainty the machine can calculate the cosmic position of the planet to which the second shape changer ship is flying." Almost lovingly he caressed the plastic edge of the positronicon.

  Two hours later he held the results in his hands. It was of astounding precision even for a robot computing-machine of that sort.

  The mechanical brain had determined the planetary destination with 95.639% certainty.

  The man's large bald head was wreathed by a crown of gold-blond hair. The man was small and his face showed a good-natured expression.

  His was a lively, slender figure, radiating optimism from its very being. He stopped in front of a broad door. "Mercant here," he said into the wall microphone. "May I come in?"

  "By all means," sounded a commanding voice.

  Allan D. Mercant knew that man with whom he would be standing face to face in a few seconds would be greatly troubled with worry. He opened the door and walked in.

  "Hello," Perry Rhodan greeted him, smiling weakly.

  Although it was a hot day in August, the Administrator wore his uniform in accordance with regulations. This man, a legend even in his own lifetime, would never exploit any advantage he had over his men. Rhodan sat behind a desk. At a considerably smaller desk some distance away a young cadet had leaped up and snapped to attention at Mercant's appearance.

  Mercant nodded to him and the young man sat down. In his face was something of the breathlessness that affects normal people when encountering famous people. Rhodan and Mercant... Later, the cadet would consider himself unusually lucky in having been in the same room with those men, once he'd had a chance to think about it.

  For a moment, Rhodan's and Mercant's glances met in mutual respect and genuine friendship.

  Mercant laid a briefcase on the desk.

  "You may be seated," said the Administrator. In the presence of third parties they were formal to one another.

  The Defense chief thanked Rhodan and sat down. "It concerns Eppan," he said, pointing to the briefcase. "You no doubt remember the commando mission led by Col. Everson, sir. The young telepath Goldstein rescued the guppy crew then."

  Rhodan's angular, almost gaunt face assumed a thoughtful expression. "You mean the affair with those uncanny creatures who could influence and change the molecular structure of matter with their paranormal abilities?"

  "Quite right, sir," Mercant confirmed.

  The cadet, his writing forgotten, had bent far over his desk to listen. Mercant smiled slightly.

  "I've brought along with me the results of the evaluations, which I'm sure will interest you," the chief of Solar Defense continued calmly. "My men in the positronic depa
rtment have found out some things that I consider meaningful."

  It was typical for Mercant to refer to his men in a discussion. He never would have thought of passing any successes off as the result of his own abilities alone.

  Rhodan pulled the briefcase closer to him and opened it up. He read the papers over in silence for some time. Mercant did not disturb him. Suddenly Rhodan let out a low whistle.

  "I see that your specialists have been able to calculate on which planet the molecular transformite ship must have landed. According to Mataal's report, it's a ship full of emigrants. If it arrived at its destination, then its passengers must still be there."

  Mercant's expression showed satisfaction. "The solar system concerned lies close to the central sector of the galaxy," he said. "It's listed in the Arkon Star Catalog as a green star, MEG-1453-AS-34. The distance to the Earth is around 20,000 light-years. The star which we call Greenol is orbited by six planets, all of which are considered uninhabited. The second planet is in question to us. One of the cyberneticists has already given it a name: Moluk."

  He leaned his small body forward and drew a green sheet of paper out of the briefcase, giving it to Rhodan.

  "This is the report of the telepath Sammy Goldstein about the astounding paranormal abilities of the molecular transformite who stowed away aboard Everson's guppy. The MD was able to do it in all openness because the Colonel thought he was an Eppanite native."

  Rhodan folded up the paper and drummed on the desktop with his index finger. "I know what you're thinking," he said to Mercant.

  The face of the man across from him showed poorly-hidden surprise. However, before Mercant could interrupt, Rhodan went on. "To be frank, our position is desperate. The Earth's position is known to all the space-faring races. The Solar Imperium is still too weak to repulse any earnest attack. Atlan has his own problems and can't support us in the way I'm sure he would like to. Quite the opposite: he's going to need our help very much and very often. Any relatively strong fleet could risk an invasion and we would not be able to successfully defend ourselves. That would be fatal. Even the thousand ships that Atlan generously supplied us to make up for our heavy losses are not enough to give us absolute security. True, the assembly lines on Terra and Luna are rolling day and night and the mass production of spaceships of all kinds is running at full speed but the potential superiority of any and every enemy would be too much for us at this time." He paused, his expression grave with concern. "I would make a deal with the devil himself to save mankind. We must leave no stone unturned in trying to find a strong ally. Our goal must be finding powerful friends who will stand together with us in strengthening the Imperium."

  "That's my opinion too," Mercant agreed. "The attempt to make contact with the shape changers might boomerang on us but we must risk it."

  "Please leave your data here for me," Rhodan said. "I'll go over it more closely. It would be better if I discussed this with different friends, too."

  "May I make a suggestion?" Mercant asked politely.

  "Of course," said the tall man behind the desk.

  "Send Everson," Mercant said. "And Goldstein."

  Their simultaneous smiles were shadowed by concern: concern for the further development and continued existence of the race whose comet-like climb had been suddenly halted.

  The human race.

  2/ SHIPWRECKED ON MOLUK

  When Poul Weiss leaned over the protective railing of the platform, he could see without difficulty to the other takeoff sites. The clouds of an air-clearing storm had cleared away and the sun was reflected in the polished metal plates of the spaceships. Down below, Weiss saw the mechanics inspecting the hydraulic telescoping landing legs of the spacesphere. They crawled around in their white suits like large beetles.

  The gantry elevator came to a stop near Weiss, and Werner Sternal stepped out on the platform before the large hatch. His pocket was, as usual, filled far beyond its comfortable capacity.

  "Have the important people already assembled?" he inquired.

  "We are the important people," Weiss answered with a glance at Sternal's load. "Unless of course you want to apply that term to that unbearable civilian Dr. Morton, who went on board a few minutes ago."

  Sternal disappeared in the hatchway of the brand new State Class cruiser. The ultrafast Mexico had, like all ships of its class, a diameter of 100 meters. 150 men were necessary to guide this fabulous ship through the cosmos.

  Weiss was aware of the special mission that they had to fulfill. Under the command of Col. Marcus Everson they would materialize in space after three transitions 20,000 light-years from Earth. They were to land on the second planet of the star Greenol and search for the molecular transformites that must be living there according to the results of the Solar Defense’s positronicalculations.

  Weiss thought only reluctantly of the experiences he had lived through in company with his comrades aboard the guppy. He could not imagine at all how he could come to terms with a being like Mataal without suffering disadvantages.

  He saw Everson and Scoobey coming across the landing field. Ten men from the old guppy crew would go on board the Mexico. Thanks to their experiences they would constitute an elite among the men of the cruiser.

  The elevator glided downwards. Weiss left the platform with a last look around at the surrounding landscape. "Being a space traveler means always having to say goodbye," he thought. Nevertheless he could not remember ever in his life wanting to do anything different than step into an airlock shortly before being carried aloft into a void that knew neither end nor beginning.

  • • •

  The Mexico emerged from hyperspace, bringing an end to its phantom-like flight that permitted it to cross light-years. The effects of the distortion-effect faded away. Poul Weiss sat up. He rubbed his eyes.

  The loudspeaker crackled. "The third transition has been terminated." It was Everson's voice. "We now find ourselves in the solar system that was our destination. We are now 170 million kilometers from the star Greenol. The planet Moluk, to which we will be flying, is now on the other side of the sun from us. For the time being we will limit ourselves to a remote investigation of the system in order to check the information given by the Arkon Catalog."

  Weiss swung a leg off the pneumo-couch.

  Pentsteven, one of the astronomers, entered the small cabin without knocking. His mouse-like eyes focused on the yawning Weiss. "This is the first time I've flown a mission like this one," he announced.

  "So?" asked Weiss without interest.

  "Why doesn't the commander go any closer to Moluk? He can't find out much from this position."

  Besides having the understandable curiosity of a greenhorn, Pentsteven also seemed to have been fitted out with an ample portion of obstinacy.

  "Up to now," Weiss explained, "this system has never been visited by mankind. We hardly know anything at all about the six planets. It would be utterly senseless to land somewhere trusting entirely to our luck. While we were strolling around the second planet, it might happen that someone on the fourth planet would send a small armada to attack us. That's why we're obtaining an overall view of the system before narrowing ourselves down to luck alone."

  "Naturally," said Pentsteven simply.

  Weiss glanced at him in disapproval.

  "How long will it be before we land on Moluk?" astronomer wanted to know. "For me, all of this is really exciting."

  Weiss' face took on a dark red color, which made Pentsteven decide to quickly leave the room.

  When Weiss went into the control and navigation room somewhat later, the specialists had already begun with the evaluation of the first batch of raw data. New data was constantly being fed into the ship's positronicon.

  "Conditions on the two outer planets are similar to those we know on Pluto," Marcus Everson was saying. "It can hardly be expected that they would support any life. The innermost planet can also be excluded because it comes so close to Greenol that much of its surface prob
ably becomes molten. Planets two, three and four remain as possible."

  Scoobey, the First Officer, said: "So far we haven't been able to detect any sign of life."

  Weiss noticed how in his nervousness Pentsteven was perforating a star map with his drawing compass. Sammy Goldstein, the telepath, stood close to the intercom unit. His young face looked tense. He did not belong to the first rank of mutants but his experiences with Mataal had made him seem the right man for this mission.

  Everson spoke again. "In any event, we'll be flying to Moluk. I'm convinced that the evaluation of the available information by the specialists in Defense was the correct one."

  Weiss heard these words with rather mixed feelings.

  He understood Rhodan's aspirations of winning allies. However, he wondered if it might not be better for the crew of the Mexico if they were unable to find any molecular transformites.

  Everything has two sides, Weiss thought. It's like flip-ping a coin: you don't know which side it'll land on.

  • • •

  After 12 hours of Earthly time, Col. Everson gave the order to fly to Moluk. The investigations of the other planets had produced no results that would cause any apprehensions.

  Moluk required 38 hours and 18 minutes to rotate once on its axis. The slow rate of rotation resulted in atmospheric disturbances since the night side cooled down over the long period of darkness while increasingly warm air streamed into the cooler areas with considerable force.

  Everson, whose caution had become almost proverbial in the long years he had spent in the service, directed the Mexico towards the night side. The various remote sensors showed success on their first deployment:

  Moluk was inhabited!

  The radio surveillance team took their posts at once but did not pick up any signals indicating radio traffic. The radio men were reduced almost to tears by the disturbances in their equipment caused by the atmosphere in motion below but there were no signs of any sort of message transmittal system built and organized by intelligent beings.