Blockade: Lepso Read online

"So on the basis of this there haven't been any volunteers so far?" asked Bell.

  Quinto nodded.

  A call came through from the hypercom station. The urgent signal code meant that Atlan-Arkon's Imperator Gonozal VIII-was seeking contact with Perry Rhodan. This was not surprising, however, because only 10 hours before Rhodan had cautioned the Arkonide for the first time concerning the mysterious Liquitiv.

  The intellectually sensitive features of the ancient but still young Arkonide appeared on the slightly convex screen. At a single glance Atlan perceived who else was present with the First Administrator. So after a brief greeting he came to the point.

  "Perry, at the present moment I'm being swamped with emergency reports. When I sent a general radio bulletin of inquiry to the worlds of the Arkon Imperium, I had not expected such a massive response. What's been pouring in here during the past hour is close to being a catastrophe. Without exaggeration I can tell you that the entire stellar empire is contaminated with Liquitiv-it's a plague! I found out that it's already deeply rooted on various colonial worlds where we have no scheduled space traffic or frequent contacts. The fears you expressed to me in our previous conversation have been realized long ago in all such areas. There is such a raging mania there for this liqueur that I was actually horrified. For example in the Fal System, planet 0.56 reports 218 cases of death in the past week, due to addiction-running amuck, screaming delirium, physical deterioration-everything you can imagine. They have a population of about three million there and two-thirds of them are yelling for this poison!

  "That's only a sample, Perry. I could give you hundreds more. I've asked the robot Brain about it, without results. I've alerted the Aras and have engaged them in slightly more than just plain talk. They claim that they're faced with a mystery themselves because this mania is also evident on the worlds of the Galactic Medicos-except that no cases of death have been reported.

  "More and more I'm inclined to agree with your suspicion that it's the Baalols. This is a planned assault of the Antis. And as for Lepso, we know it's a nest of swindlers and pirate racketeers. It wouldn't be the first time it's been the center of dangerous agitation. But it will be hard to prove that the Antis are selling poison instead of a bio-elixir; and according to my own intelligence sources Lepso isn't the only planet that's shipping Liquitiv."

  Rhodan broke in with a question: "Atlan, how many points of distribution have you located in star cluster M-13?"

  "So far my Secret Service has only traced three transshipment locations. It's possible the Liquitiv is flown to such points from Lepso, Perry. But it's also conceivable that the liqueur may be produced on a planet we don't know about as yet. But whichever way this thing develops I'd like to support your plan to cut off the most important worlds of our respective stellar domains. With a concentration of fleet task forces we can make sure they don't get a single flask of that devil's juice from here on in.

  "Solar Intelligence will be coming up shortly with a detailed plan for Terran zones of interest and they'll be passing it on to you for your information. In case it becomes necessary I'd like to handle Lepso myself. But what do your findings show for the other point in question, Atlan?"

  This was the question that Reginald Bell, Mercant and Nike Quinto had been waiting for.

  "Nothing of much importance, Barbarian," said Atlan. It seemed at this moment, however, that he was acutely aware of the vast distance of 34000 light-years that separated the Crystal Palace from the Earth. "Cardif is still on Zalit as usual and still tends to his work as an assistant. But you're still not satisfied with that information, I can see."

  Rhodan stared gravely at the Arkonide. "Atlan, I'd be very happy with your report except for a certain fly in the ointment. Dr. Arnim Zuglert has told us about a very affable, smiling man on Lepso who goes by the name of Edmond Hugher. He happens to be in the service of the god priests there-and over 12 years ago he's been known to admit that he's been doing scientific work in connection with the liqueur."

  "I'm aware of those facts, Perry." Atlan showed his concern because he was aware of this rate state of extreme agitation Rhodan got into whenever his son Thomas Cardif was involved. "I happen to have the photograph you sent me of this happy smiling man you mention, Perry. Perhaps you fear that he may be your son? Alright then, have a look at the real article and do your own comparing!"

  On the viewscreen appeared the picture of a young man who had probably just passed his 30th year-at least by all outward appearances. Atlan's voice came over the hypercom speaker. "This is your son, Perry-the same person who's been observed working on the Arkonide planet Zalit for the past 58 years. Now, does that reassure you?"

  Rhodan's three companions joined him in looking at the photo. It was obvious that the face of the man on the screen no longer possessed its amazing likeness to that of his father yet the unmistakable features still indicated plainly that this was Perry Rhodan's son. While the picture was still there, Atlan spoke again.

  "Perry, I've had it explained to me why this tremendous similarity between you and Thomas has largely disappeared in the course of almost six decades. The synthetic alteration of his personality has turned him into another person. His dreaming smile is stronger than ever after 58 years. But this other photo now-the one you sent me that's supposed to be a certain Dr. Edmond Hugher-this is the face of a stranger. I can't understand Mercant, who took one look at it and insisted that it was Thomas Cardif. This vapid flat stupid smile doesn't reveal a single feature that has any relationship to you whatsoever!"

  The photo disappeared from the screen, to be replaced by Imperator Gonozal VIII. "Well, my friend, so you veil yourself in silence? Very well, but I must call your attention to a fact that in my opinion you attribute too little importance to. Perry, you must not forget that an Arkonide psycholator changed your son's mind and personality. An alteration of this kind never changes! After 100 years it will be exactly as strong as on the first day. By the gods of Arkon, why am I doing all the talking, Perry? Since his old self was blocked out, your son has been living on Zalit. My Secret Service and your Solar Intelligence have had him under constant surveillance and that should be proof enough that Thomas could not have left the planet and that he is still there!"

  "Atlan, I hope you turn out to be right-but whatever: send a special unit to Zalit and have them investigate Thomas-check him out by the most stringent methods if you have to. As your friend, I am asking this of you."

  "Well, I'll be damned!" With that expletive the Arkonide again betrayed his long association with Terrans. "Perry, that unsurpassed stubbornness of yours has got me worried now! Alright, I'll have Thomas examined. We'll throw the book at him. I'll let you know the results. So now I'm waiting for the blockade plan from your Intelligence team. I'll want to coordinate my own activities with yours. Incidentally: is that commercial for Liquitiv still running on television in the Sol System?"

  "Yes, Arkonide, but only until we announce our blockade and we have every planet so tightly ringed in that not even a one-man interceptor can get through."

  'Then I'll do the same here."

  The hypercom transmission came to an end. Rhodan went back to his place at the desk.

  "Mercant," he said to the Solar Marshal, "give me that photo again that you got from Zuglert."

  Mercant riffled through his files. He took out the picture and handed it to his Chief. How often Perry Rhodan had looked at this photo in the past few days and how often he had been assailed by doubts!

  The man who looked at Rhodan from the print had slightly puffy features which were somehow empty and vague, accentuated by a fixed smile. He didn't seem to have any sign of real character-not the slightest similarity to his father.

  "Mercant, to think of all the hours of worry this picture has cost me! And how often I've asked myself whatever made you think this was my son. I know you've told me that you don't know the reason for your hunch. I can accept that; it often hits me that way too... But that's all the further I get." He ma
de a helpless geshire and handed the photo back to Mercant. "This man doesn't say anything to me; yet the uneasiness I feel is unusual. Alright, Mercant, go work out your blockade plan. Have Freyt work on it with you. I have to have it by tonight. Every hour we gain may save 10 or 20 thousand more lives. Col. Quinto, I still have to talk with you. Bell, I'd like to have you in on this. Anything else, Mercant?"

  "Yes sir." Mercant got up and reached for his papers but as he did so the photo fell out onto the desk. Dr. Edmond Hugher-according to Zuglert who had been condemned to die-a scientist working on Lepso, a specialist in the Liquitiv sector.

  "Hold it!" yelled Rhodan. "Don't move! Stand where you are!"

  None of the three men knew what the Chief was thinking of but then they noticed that he was staring intently at the photo. After a moment or two he slowly approached the desk.

  "Gone!" his colleagues heard him say. He wearily stroked his forehead and handed the picture to Mercant. "Now I know why you recognized Thomas at one glance. Just now I also recognized him. Yes, gentlemen, in a single glance! And when I edged closer to the picture it was again the face of a stranger... But-what did you want to say, Mercant? I interrupted you."

  Rhodan had recovered from his shock faster than the others. Bell stared wide-eyed at him, not knowing how poignantly his head-shaking was expressing his hope that Perry had been mistaken.

  "Sir, I wanted to ask you to have the robot Brain on Arkon 3 send us everything it has in its registers concerning the Fering System and Lepso. That was all."

  "You will have all the data in an hour, Mercant. Colonel, please come along with me now-and you, too, Bell."

  He led the way out ahead of them. Mercant left Rhodan's office by a different door. He wasn't thinking just now of the task he had to perform; he was still shaken by the fact Rhodan had also recognized his son in the photo.

  • • •

  Dr. Edmond Hugher left his living quarters, which were located at the end of the rectangular building complex. He stepped into the street and walked slowly toward the temple pyramid which loomed above the center of the temple city as a massive monument. The vast pile exuded an aura of power, also advertising that the Baalol cult was obviously as wealthy as it was mysterious.

  Hugher had never found any interest in such mysteries, however. He didn't even know what he was, whether atheist or believer. He might have been a fanatical follower of some religious sect or an eclectic open to any faith. If he had any calling in life he saw it in his work. The mysteries he sought to unveil were those of Nature herself, through science.

  Not even Tu-poa, the young fanatic, had tried to make him become a member of the Baalol cult. But he kept coming to visit him and was always discussing the progress of his series of experiments. Tu-poa was not only a priest, he was also a doctor of medicine, but he did not have that intuitive insight which had often enabled Hugher to reduce problems to their least common denominator-in fact with consummate ease and confidence. Besides the priests themselves, the quietly-smiling and ever-affable Dr. Edmond Hugher was considered to be the most important person inside the temple area.

  So he walked leisurely over to the temple, passing out his usual friendly greetings to right and left. Almost everyone he met was an acquaintance of his but not a single one was his friend. He found no need to form any friendships, no more than he had during his student days on Aralon. And so he continued in his same self-absorbed existence.

  However, where his position and work were concerned, these were in sharp contrast to his private life. He was Chief of the Medical Section and was in charge of the final production of pharmaceuticals. He determined and supervised all the production lots. Nothing went out of the temple area without his permission. He worked with the precision of a positronic inspection system. His perspective of all interrelated activities, whether pertaining to medicine or technology, was regarded as phenomenal

  In all the extensive area of the temple there was not one living creature, humanoid or otherwise, who had ever seen him go into a rage or shout in anger at them. His friendliness was dispensed to all in exactly equal proportions. And one other characteristic of Hugher was remarkable: his gratefulness to the Antis who had helped him to get away from Zalit and become a doctor on Aralon.

  His appreciation was boundless and he placed it above all else. More or less unconsciously he had taken refuge in a state of dependency and had developed the false ethic that the Antis could do no wrong and that as a doctor it was his duty to carry out the assignments they gave him.

  With a friendly greeting he entered his work laboratory. Two priests looked up from their labors and returned the greeting. He calmly took his place behind his desk and went through the foils of reports that had been neatly laid out for his inspection. At a single glance he picked out the most important items, which then became a permanent part of his memory.

  Dr. Edmond Hugher did not suspect that there was one other in the galaxy with this faculty for grasping the essentials of many pieces of data at a glance and being able to process and retain them: his father, Perry Rhodan, First Administrator of the Solar Imperium.

  Now he looked over at U-za. "U-za, batch-lots 10.X-399 to 11.X-999 have to be loaded in two hours so that they can arrive on Terra no later than tonight."

  The priest looked at him in some confusion as though he thought he had misunderstood him. Hugher could only have meant the liqueur batches since he had a habit of never referring to the product by its name. Each individual lot of Liquitiv consisted of 1000 flasks containing two cc's of the fluid each. And the shipment he was to consign to Earth thus represented 4/5ths of their entire stock: 16 million standard units.

  "T-moll," said Hugher congenially to the other priest, "please get in touch with Tu-poa and advise him about this. Would you kindly take this foil-sheet with you?"

  T-moll didn't know yet what he was supposed to talk to the fanatic Tu-poa about but when he examined the foil-sheet more closely he realized the great importance of his assignment.

  "And please call me from Tu-poa's extension when you have finished your conversation with him," Hugher added with his usual smile but already he was mentally estimating how much time it would take to bring up the reserve stock again to 20 million standard units.

  In the meantime, U-za put in a call to the main spaceport of Lepso. The wrinkled face of an old Springer appeared on the viewscreen. The Galactic Trader grinned with satisfaction when he heard U-za's order.

  "I'll send you the freight gliders right away," he said in his deep voice. "50 loaders ought to do it-275 batches each, right?"

  U-za did some rapid calculations. "Better make that 60 sky-loaders, Singoll, just to be safe. What ship are you using to take this freight to Terra?"

  "The SIN 9," the Springer answered proudly. "My newest spacer-not even a year old yet. This trans-shipment, you know, will be under Tariff D. I can't make it any cheaper." The Springers had never been known to be easy traders and they had no compunctions about exploiting even the Baalol cult.

  Freight tariff D was the most exorbitant rate of all. U-za was already protesting when Hugher intervened from his desk with his friendly smile. "Accept tariff D, U-za. Springer Singoll will kindly prepare the freight bill immediately, please, and transmit it to us by radio."

  Then he got up and again ignored U-za's astonished expression. "I'm going over to the process plant, U-za. If anyone asks for me I'll be in section p-54. Also, please call in my change of location to Center, and give my regards to Springer Singoll."

  In spite of his unfailing friendliness, Dr. Edmond Hugher did not have a single friend. With calm deliberation he left the room and without revealing any particular haste he went to section p-54. Here were 28 automated packing lines with 30 processing machines in each row of conveyors. Every processor handled 10 flasks per second, filling them with the liqueur, sealing them, counting them and packing them into the plasticartons rolling by.

  The foreman of section p-54 was a sinister-looking man from the
planet Zalit. He greeted Dr. Hugher with exceptional politeness but his morose expression did not change when he spoke. Hugher passed the Zalite without stopping and went over to a stack of sealed cartons. He opened three of them and took a flask of liqueur from each. Shoving the opened cartons to one side, he proceeded onward unconcernedly.

  At the end of the filler assembly lines he left the processing plant through a security door which he had to open with a complicated magnetic key. With a faint pneumatic sigh, the door closed behind him. Hugher found himself alone in a small laboratory. The entire setup was designed for inspection and testing of the liqueur.

  With the concentration of a man who was aware of the importance of his work, he began his first inspection. He moved a switch into position, adjusted several dials and kept his eyes for awhile on an oscilloscope indicator, after which he turned his attention to a digital counter. When the counter stopped clicking over he was able to see two groups of numbers that equaled each other. He inspected the 2nd and 3rd flasks in the same manner and in the same length of time. After that he left the inspection room and returned to section p-54 and foreman Magitt.

  "Magitt, please increase all lines to cycle 8. We have until tomorrow morning to bring up the stock by 16 million units."

  The Zalite was somewhat startled. "Production for Terra, Dr. Hugher?"

  "Of course, my dear Magitt. What's the matter? Do you have any problems?"

  "Not personally but there aren't enough flasks. If I go to cycle eight this place will be at a standstill in just three hours. The next shipment of flasks won't get to Lepso until tonight-and that still doesn't get them in here where I'll need them."

  "You have my sympathy, Magitt," Hugher replied, as friendly as ever. "This means you've made another error in your stock levels and it grieves me to have to report you to Central. Let's see now-isn't this the fourth time you've gone against my instructions? Believe me, Magitt, it weighs heavily on me to have to fulfill my duty because it's going to be very unpleasant for you. At any rate, I wish you a pleasant day."