Epidemic Center Aralon Read online

  Perry Rhodan

  The Third Power #37

  Epidemic Center: Aralon

  The lives of the crew of the New Power hang in the balance. Artificially induced illness has ravaged Perry Rhodan's allies, and there seems to be no cure–unless his young lieutenant can accomplish a perilous interstellar mission. First, Rhodan's agent, Tifflor, must feign betrayal of the Peacelord of the Universe. And then he too falls victim to the ruthless schemes of the murderous Medical Masters. This is the stirring story of–

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  EPIDEMIC CENTER: ARALON

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  1/ AN EXCITING PLAN

  A ghastly and uninviting world at best, Mooff 6 was a giant planet orbiting the yellowish sun designated as Mooff in the Arkonide Star Catalogs, situated in the center of Star Cluster M-13, about 34,000 light-years from Earth.

  When Perry Rhodan first landed on Mooff 6 he was strongly reminded of Jupiter, although Mooff 6 harbored intelligent life, unlike the great gas giant of our own solar system.

  And what a strange life form! The Mooffs were wide, flabby and taller than a man, resembling overgrown jellyfish. Harmless and peaceable, they communicated with each other telepathically. They simply had not elected to build up any notable form of civilization and were content merely to be left alone.

  So Perry Rhodan gave them their wish—but first he was forced to determine whether they had anything to do with the terrible plague that had struck down his men. He took 50 Mooffs: aboard his ship and adapted living quarters for them containing their native methane atmosphere. By this means he hoped to make use of their mildly hypnotic powers of suggestion in case he needed them to help replace the afflicted mutants of his special corps—at least for the time being.

  Before takeoff from Mooff 6, Rhodan gathered a few of his remaining healthy crewmembers in the Control Central. Khrest, the tall, white-haired Arkonide scientist, sat down in one of the chairs. Very little confidence shone in his reddish eyes for he realized what a harsh blow the Peacelord had been dealt; what an impossible position he had been put in. The situation seemed virtually hopeless.

  Although considerably younger than Rhodan, Lt. Tifflor bore a striking resemblance to him. He sat at present before the nav-computer and waited for his chief's decision. The Japanese 'seer', Wuriu Sengu, stood nearby, silent and unassuming according to his nature.

  Pucky, however, was another matter. As the most highly endowed paranormal sensitive, the mouse-beaver lay sprawled casually on the couch. Looking like a king-sized Mickey Mouse with a broad supporting tail, he possessed a soft, rusty pelt and the good-natured limpid brown eyes of a loyal hound dog. His long ears and tapered snout lent him a comical aspect that camouflaged his true nature from those who did not know him. Telepath, telekineticist, teleporter, all in one, he was fluent in the common usage of Intercosmo, Arkonide and English.

  Pucky's voice rang out high-pitched and almost chirpingly in the great Control Center of the Titan, a super spaceship almost one mile in diameter. "Looks like we're ready for liftoff, Rhodan. So—it's back to Arkon again?"

  "I don't see any other alternative. We know the Aras are the originators of the hyper-euphoria sickness afflicting 700 of the crew, including the Mutant Corps and Thora—not to mention Bell. If anybody can provide a cure, it's the Aras alone we have to look to. So we're just going to have to try to find out about them on Arkon. Nobody else seems to know where the central world of the Ara clans is..."

  "The robot brain on Arkon knows," Khrest offered with a positive nod of his head. Suddenly, the ancient savant showed new interest. "The Brain will help us!"

  "In its own interests," Rhodan concurred. "Ever since the great positronic brain took over rulership from the Arkonides, the Empire has improved. And why? Because the Brain shows initiative. I'm certain that it's aware of the danger the Aras represent and that it will help us further. Any more questions? Otherwise, we'll take off."

  Lt. Tifflor raised his hand like an obedient pupil. "Don't we have prisoners on board?" he asked. "They are Aras! Can't they reveal the position of their home world?"

  "No doubt," Rhodan agreed. "But we need confirmation from Arkon, so that we don't fall into a trap. Only the robot brain can know if the statements of the prisoners are valid. We have no choice but to beat a path to Arkon."

  "Then what are we waiting for?" shrilled Pucky, but with exceptional gravity. "Let's lift off. Arkon is only a cat's jump away."

  "Probably more of a mouse-beaver jump," said Tifflor, alluding to Pucky's teleporting capability. "Just a few lideks (light-decades) away, if I'm not mistaken."

  "We'll have to do it with a half-depleted crew," said Rhodan, not without confidence. "Very well, then—let's get ready for takeoff. The Ganymede has the same coordinates as we do. We'll fly together to Arkon."

  Arkon was the center point of a stellar empire that embraced the entire Star Cluster M-13, more than 200 light-years in diameter. There on the third principal planet was the positronic brain, whose partner Perry Rhodan had become.

  His ship, the Titan, had once belonged to the Arkonides. He had actually stolen it but the Brain had generously relinquished the vessel to him—under one condition: Rhodan must promise to use it only for the benefit of the Empire.

  The fight against the Aras was for the well being of the Empire.

  The Titan was a spherical ship whose diameter was just under a mile. Its crew complement had been set by the Arkonide Fleet Command at 1500 men. With an acceleration of 375 miles/sec2, it could reach the velocity of light in exactly 10 minutes. It could also make a transition into hyperspace. With a single hyperjump through the 5th dimension, it could leap across tens of thousands of light-years of distance.

  The Ganymede was Rhodan's original flagship, in which he had flown from the Earth to Arkon. The Ganymede could also conquer interstellar immensities with the help of the hyperspace transition. But in addition, it had two pieces of special equipment on board which were a secret even to the all-knowing robot brain on Arkon. The teletransmitter could dematerialize any object whatsoever and then rematerialize it anywhere—for example, on board another ship. With this, Rhodan possessed an unimaginably dangerous weapon. The second acquisition, taken over from the Springers, was the hyper-compensator. When this was in operation, alien tracking stations could not determine the directional coordinates of a hypertransition jump. For several weeks now, the Titan had also become equipped with a special hyper-compensator.

  On the viewscreens a primitive landscape was to be seen. Mountain peaks both bare and snow-covered rose loftily into the hazy sky. Ammoniac seas shimmered in the dim sunlight. No life stirred. After good-byes had been said, the Mooffs had withdrawn. The severe danger that had threatened them had been removed. It was not they but the Aras who had to be regarded as the culprits. It was the Aras who had sought to take over the Arkon Empire, by secret and very insidious means. In the course of that struggle, 700 of Rhodan's people had become infected by a disease called hyper-euphoria. Those afflicted by it felt light-hearted and carefree and sang and danced—but they ceased to eat any food. They starved without being aware of it. In their blissful and euphoric state, they forgot everything, including the natural function of nourishment.

  In order to keep them alive, Rhodan had been forced to subject the victims to a prolonged deep sleep and feed them intravenously. But this was only a temporary expedient, since they would soon die unless an actual cure were discovered and applied. And only the Aras could help, because they had also been the ones who had invented the infectious substance that caused the illness.

  "Liftoff in 10 minutes!" came Perry Rhodan's final decision. "The coor
dinates are known, Tiff. Keep in video contact with Col. Freyt." Freyt was commander of the Ganymede .

  Pucky slid off the couch and waddled to the door. "I prefer my cabin during a transition hop," he said. "In here it gets rough!"

  Everybody smiled as he exited. Only Khrest remained grave. "Id like to be with you, Perry, when you talk to the robot brain."

  "We'll all take part in that conversation," Rhodan assured him. "But I have just one request: I don't want anybody to mention a word about the 700 sick patients we have on board. I'm only going to report Thora and a few others as being ill. The Brain thinks logically. If it comes to realize that we're not fully in battle readiness, it could deny us any assistance. And, unfortunately, we still need that help."

  The clock hands moved onward.

  Liftoff...!

  The two space giants rose upwards almost weightlessly, thanks to their antigravity fields. The Ganymede was a cylindrical vessel 2500 feet in length and about 600 feet in diameter. The repulsion fields began to operate. The giant world of the Mooffs receded under them into the depths of the void. By the time it had become a star point of light, both ships had arrived at speol.

  Then they simply disappeared from normal space. They flickered slightly, blurred a little—and ceased to be there. They had been swallowed up into the 5th dimension, where time and space have no meaning.

  Somewhere in another place, they materialized again now, in the same second. And with them materialized everything that had been on board at the point in time of the transition...

  • • •

  Arkon lay almost in the center of the great star cluster.

  The two spaceships emerged out of hyperspace within a third of a light-year of the flaming star. Relatively motionless, they hovered here while preparing themselves for their next venture.

  In the sickbay and other emergency hospital stations of the Titan, the patients lay in their beds. They rested in trance-like sleep and knew naught of their surroundings. Meanwhile, the recently arrived reinforcement crew from the Earth had more or less familiarized themselves with the ship's equipment and had taken over the posts of the disabled crewmen. For Rhodan this had been an uncomfortable rearrangement. He had actually needed weeks in which to properly train the new men, yet he had to accomplish it in only a few days.

  Physicians and scientists concerned themselves with the patients but even though they were keeping the unfortunate victims alive they had not been able to discover the specific pathogenic agent nor had they developed any antidote.

  Rhodan called Khrest, Tiff, Sengu and Pucky into the Communications Center where the hypercom equipment had already been turned on. Nearby in the control room: two medics waited with Thora, who was in a half-drugged state of sleep. Upon a signal from Rhodan, they were to bring her in to the Communications room.

  The coded transmissions of the Brain flickered on the picture screen. Patterns of color endlessly changed form in an incomprehensible jumble. Only a correctly installed deciphering unit would be able to straighten out the visible abstractions. Synchronously with these optical impressions, unidentifiable sounds rang forth from the loudspeaker, vaguely similar to electronic music.

  Rhodan nodded to his companions and threw in the transmitter key. " Titanreporting. Commander Thora of the House of Zoltral. Second Commander Perry Rhodan. Confirmation of contact is requested."

  His words were transmitted instantly from the antenna into hyperspace and without the slightest loss of time were transferred back into normal space at a distance of a third of a light-year. In the same second in which Rhodan spoke, he could be heard at a distance of light-months or tens of light-millennia. The hypercom transceiver equipment on board the Titan possessed an almost inconceivable range.

  The colorful pattern on the screen congealed into an abstract picture but then altered itself again immediately. Gradually the familiar Titanic hall emerged into visibility, together with the gleaming metal dome resting on its sectional floor plates. Here was the robot brain of Arkon, ruler of a stellar empire of unimaginable dimensions.

  A cold, mechanical, strictly impersonal voice came from the loudspeaker: "Your I.D. is recognized. Closed channel activated. Speak!"

  Thus the Brain had provided that no one would overhear their conversation. Rhodan stared at the armor-plated cupola, under which rested the greatest positronic brain in the universe. In relation to that robotic mind he experienced something akin to sympathy, although that was not quite the expression for it. At any rate, they had become partners—this almost infallible machine and he.

  "The Titan is reporting back from its mission. Unfortunately, without success. Of course we prevented the destruction of the planet Mooff 6 by the Arkonide fighter fleet but we have only approached our main goal by a single additional step. We know now that the Mooffs bear no guilt in the revolution on Zalit, nor can they be held responsible for the hyper-euphoria sickness. They have no more to do with it than the indigenous inhabitants of Honur do. The only ones who are guilty, are the Aras. They are behind everything that has happened.

  "The Aras are a tribal or clan offshoot of the Springers, otherwise known as the Galactic Traders. However, there are no friendly relationships between them. The Aras are in all practicality the medics and biologists of the Empire.

  "But they are descended from the Traders!" said Rhodan, with a peculiar emphasis. "They support themselves not alone through their science but also by commerce. This heritage of their race they still adhere to. Unfortunately, they trade not only in medicines, they are also merchants of death!"

  "The proof!"

  Rhodan sighed. "We found plenty of proof on Honur and Mooff 6. We learned that the Aras infect entire planets deliberately and then later supply the necessary antidote at exorbitant prices. Do you consider such a practice to be fair play, Regent?"

  The robot brain required one second in which to formulate an answer. "It is a criminal offense against the laws of the Empire. But we have need of the Aras; otherwise I would initiate an immediate destruction of all their worlds."

  Rhodan nodded. "I am in accord with you. But there must be a way of forcing them to observe the Law without depriving ourselves of their medical knowledge. I am urgently in need of a cure for the hyper-euphoria. Thora of Zoltral has fallen ill."

  Rhodan thought he detected a trace of excitement in the impersonal voice but it could just as well have been an illusion.

  "Thora, ill...? Infected by the Aras? Ah yes, I'm aware of that. You reported it to me already. So no cure has been forthcoming?"

  "Only the Aras can furnish it."

  "They don't have any specific home base but they maintain many planetary strongholds."

  Rhodan tossed in the bait: "For example, perhaps such a planet as Aralon?"

  It worked... The robot brain let 5 seconds go by before it answered: "Aralon is considered to be the central world of the Aras. How do you know this, Perry Rhodan of Terra?"

  "Ara captives revealed it to me but I couldn't be sure that they were telling the truth. So it is a fact, then? Aralon is the principal world of the galactic Medical Masters?"

  "Yes. Aralon is the 4th of 7 planets orbiting the small, yellow sun of Kesnar, whose position I will furnish you. Other important data are: Aralon is an unarmed world and does not possess an actual spacefleet. It has not been necessary for the Aras to defend themselves. As I now understand it, they have managed over millennia of time to keep their infectious bacterial and viral strains from dying out. The entire galaxy needs the Aras and their medicinal arts, so it maintains good relations with them. From this point of view, the Aras are the most powerful people in the Empire—that's why they have no weapons or battleships of any kind. They can't be forced against their wills to produce a specific medicine and deliver it."

  Rhodan recognized that the Regent spoke a truth that was founded on logic. If he, Rhodan, were to attack the world of Aralon, there was a danger that he could annihilate the very scientists who had developed both the caus
ative agent and the cure for the hyper-euphoric sickness.

  "But there is a way of putting a stop to their activities. For the good of the entire Empire and all intelligent races of the galaxy, it must be employed."

  "What way is that?" asked the Brain.

  "Strategy!"

  "Explain more precisely what you mean," demanded the Regent calmly.

  "First I'd like to show you what can happen to the Arkonides if it occurs to the Aras to bring the epidemic to Arkon," said Rhodan and he signaled to Khrest.

  The white-haired scientist withdrew and reappeared moments later with Thora in her portable bed. Her eyes were open and she smiled radiantly. Her face reflected complete unconcern but her features were thin and hollow-cheeked. Even the intravenous feeding could not prevent the patients from starving gradually while still alive. "That is Thora, of Zoltral, the commander of this ship. She does not know that she is sick, Regent, but death is already reaching for her. She will continue to smile even as she dies. The Aras infected her—and only they can heal her again."

  The robot brain remained silent for almost a minute. Then, when it answered, there was just a hint of emotion in the mechanical voice. "Explain to me your strategy, Rhodan. If you can convince me that an attack against Aralon will not endanger the Empire, I will place all of my resources at your disposal."

  Rhodan breathed a sigh of relief. He saw to it that Thora was taken back to her hospital station. Then he pointed to Lt. Tifflor, who stood in the rear of the Com Central next to the Japanese, Sengu. "The name of my strategy is Lt. Tifflor, Regent. He has already saved an inhabited world from the clutches of the Galactic Traders, by posing as a 'cosmic decoy'."

  "A—cosmic decoy?"

  "A tiny transmitter has been installed in his body, which radiates pulses continuously. The important feature of this is the fact that these impulses are propagated without any time loss and are perceptible at a distance of 2 light-years. Also they are telepathic in nature rather than from any kind of radio apparatus. So Lt. Tifflor is a sort of synthetic telepath, who can transmit his thoughts over 2 light-years—and, as mentioned, without any time loss."