Secret Mission Moluk Read online

  "Sticks of some kind," said the biologist. "Wooden staffs with a thickening at the upper end."

  Morton clutched his companion by the arm. "Those things remind me of something," he said tensely.

  The approximately 30 natives stopped 50 meters away. Before the doctor had a chance to say what the staffs reminded him of, the natives began with an incomprehensible labor. They rammed the tips of the staffs into the sand so that the thicker portions were about one meter above the ground. The men watched them in silence.

  "They're igniting them," Weiss cried out in excitement. "Look, Doc—they have fire."

  Thirty explosions shattered the air.

  "Throw yourselves down!" Dr. Morton shouted. "Get your face down!"

  "What is it?" Weiss gasped, his face pressed into the sand.

  Something touched him at the feet and slipped onwards. He looked up carefully. The natives were storming towards them with improbable speed. Dr. Morton had drawn his paralyzer and opened fire. Goldstein and Weiss followed his example. The bird-creatures collapsed: their nervous systems had failed them.

  Goldstein pulled a spear-like object from the ground. He held it out to Weiss. "A kind of arrow," mused the biologist. "Seems to be made of metal. The point looks like bronze."

  "Now I know what the staffs reminded me of," said Dr. Morton, putting away his gun. "Firework rockets!"

  "You're right," said Weiss. "They're primitive rockets. The payload goes in the top, which in this case is the metal arrow. All they need is an explosive substance and a fuse."

  Around them lay other, similar arrows. One had exploded at the launching site with the result that its owner had sunk injured to the ground.

  Their helmet loudspeakers crackled and Everson's voice became audible. "Try to bring two of these creatures on board, Poul. Come back now. The others won't be very friendly when they come to. I wouldn't like to use raybeamers against these primitives."

  Weiss smiled painfully. It looked very much as though Rhodan's hopes for encountering strong allies had been in vain. The weapons of these bird-creatures would in any case be of no help. The Chinese had used similar rockets in the year 1232 in the defense of Kaifung-Fu. And the Mongols, on whom they had fired the rockets, had been an incomparably more harmless enemy than a fleet of Springers or Druufs.

  The native lay flat on the bed, breathing in short, forceful gasps. Although his eyes were closed, there could be no question that he had recovered consciousness. His four-fingered hands were pressed tightly against his body.

  The small expedition had brought on board the Mexico two Greens—as Morton had dubbed the natives.

  Everson had let one go in order to demonstrate his good intentions to the natives. The other now lay here in Dr. Lewellyn's med-station and feigned unconsciousness. Everson could imagine very well the fear the being must be feeling.

  Dr. Lewellyn bent over the Green. The doctor was an average-sized man with the face of a film star. In contrast to Dr. Morton, he placed a high value on taking good care of his outer appearance. He tapped gently against the alien's arm. Weiss, standing in the background, cleared his throat impatiently. Dr. Morton sat at the foot of the bed and tugged at his beard.

  "I'm telling you that your methods won't get any results," he said to Dr. Lewellyn. "You'll never make him tractable this way." Everson motioned him to silence. Dr. Lewellyn began to speak to the Green in a reassuring, soothing voice. Now and then it touched him softly.

  Finally the Green opened his eyes. They were brown, earnest eyes whose lids lacked any lashes, giving them a reptilian stare. The head and body of the prisoner were completely hairless. The Green stared at Dr. Lewellyn. Fear and incomprehension could be seen in its eyes. Slowly, so as not to frighten the creature, the doctor pointed his finger to his own chest. "Doctor," he said quietly.

  Morton let go with a contemptuous snort. It was not clear whether it was directed at Dr. Lewellyn personally or at his method of making contact. "Go on," Everson ordered. "We've got to find a way to communicate with it somehow."

  Patiently, Dr. Lewellyn gestured to himself once more, repeating the word "doctor." The Green's paralysis relaxed somewhat. The four-membered hand moved carefully and testingly into the air. Then it moved its beak-like mouth. "Mrght," it croaked.

  Morton shoved his index fingers into his ears. "I don't like a lot of consonants," he said. "They make me sick."

  "Very good," said Dr. Lewellyn. "We've made a start."

  "Dgtr," said Murgut hopefully. "Drftgz hgbsg!"

  "He says he wants something to drink," Weiss offered. He laughed but his laughter died when he looked at Goldstein.

  The mutant had pressed both his hands to his temples. "I can't reach him," the telepath moaned. "He's intelligent but I can't get through to him." before anyone could say anything, Sammy Goldstein had rushed out of the room. The hatch closed behind him. Murgut gave a start.

  "What was the meaning of that?" Everson asked slowly.

  "I'll take care of him," Dr. Morton promised and stood up.

  Depressed, Everson remembered the events in the guppy as Goldstein had been put through the wringer while under the influence of the molecular transformite Mataal. Was a similar situation about to develop? It was still too early to make any decisions. In any event, further investigations must be undertaken with great caution. Rhodan, who urgently needed every ship, had sent them to Moluk only to find eventual help there. The commander had to keep this goal in mind all the time. No hour should be allowed to tick by unused.

  "Continue with it, Doc," he told Lewellyn. Please let me know once you've gotten far enough along with him that we can bring him to the translator."

  The natives were certainly civilized but the state of their development was not especially advanced. But that alone seemed paradoxical, for two things had happened that, considered in connection with the Greens, seemed impossible: the antigrav field had gone out and Goldstein had lost his paranormal abilities after meeting a native.

  Everson was an experienced man who did not act on the basis of mere suppositions. No one knew better than he how often in the history of human space travel 'proven facts' had been shown to be false.

  If there were a connection between the Greens, the antigrav field and the mutant, then it should be only a matter of finding it. Or was there something else on this planet that they had not yet discovered?

  It occurred to him that Goldstein had picked up impulses while the Mexico was still in space. Then, after the crash that followed, the mutant's ability had decreased, finally failing altogether by the meeting with the Greens.

  The commander pressed his lips together. That meant nothing else than that Goldstein's ability had weakened in proportion to his approach to the natives.

  Was that strictly coincidental or were the Greens able to parapsychologically block Goldstein? Whatever the explanation, this clue had to be followed up.

  Everson left the med-station with a thoughtful expression on his face. The situation of the Mexico and its crew did not seem dangerous for the moment There were only a few unanswered questions.

  Their answering, the colonel thought, could very well quickly point out a danger that they as yet did not even suspect.

  After four days of standard time, Everson, Weiss, Scoobey, Goldstein, Lewellyn and Morton had, with the help of the translator and the ship's positronicon, advanced far enough with the Greens' language that they could communicate with Murgut. Other crew members were busy practicing the. tongue-twisting manner of speech peculiar to Murgut's race.

  "We would have never attacked if we hadn't thought you had come out of the desert to destroy our village," Murgut said, apologizing for the shooting of the rockets.

  The fear the Greens had for the desert and especially for everything connected with it was so conspicuous that it was expressed in almost every sentence. Murgut's attitude could probably be extended to the rest of his race. The natives were ruled by a superstitious fear.

  After Dr. Lewellyn ha
d been able to convince the Green that the Mexico had fallen from the sky, Murgut's mistrust receded noticeably. He became more voluble.

  "Careful, my friend," said Dr. Lewellyn, rubbing his smooth-shaven chin. "What frightens you and your people so much about the desert? Do you fear the terrible storms or do you believe that demons and evil gods live there?"

  He emphasized his questions with the help of finger signs and gestures.

  The bird-creature nodded. "The wasteland is evil embodied, Doctor," said Murgut fearfully. "Many Greens have disappeared there or they have returned insane. Strange things happen that are uncanny to us."

  "Some of these duckbills have probably gotten sun-stroke," Dr. Morton put in. "Considering how hot it gets out there during the day, it's no wonder."

  "Nor is it surprising if often one of them gets stuck out in the desert in a sandstorm," said Weiss. "To the primitive imagination, the desert itself is responsible: that's why they call it 'evil embodied'."

  "What do you think, Doc?" asked Everson.

  "I think we're making it too simple," said Dr. Lewellyn. "Let's not forget that the Greens have grown up under the local conditions. Generation upon generation have lived here. The endless sand must be a part of their environment—and thus normal. I would think that this race knows full well the danger of a dust hurricane and also how easily a person could disappear in one.

  He considered for a moment. The discussion was carried on in English and Murgut followed it with eyes blinking in incomprehension.

  "According to my theory," Dr. Lewellyn went on, "the fear of the natives would be induced only by later experiences. In no case could they be inherent or inborn. Uncanny things have taken place in the desert that did not happen earlier—that's why the Greens are terrified."

  Everson cautiously wet his lips. You have a very definite idea of what happened in the desert, right, Doc?" he asked.

  "One hypothesis is as good as the other," the doctor said, avoiding a direct answer.

  "Don't try to spare me!" Sammy Goldstein cried out shrilly. He made a few steps towards Dr. Lewellyn. "You think the shape changers are out there," he shouted at the doctor. "And you're afraid that they already have me under their control again!"

  • • •

  The storm blew waves of sand before it. Bushes torn out by their roots sailed through the air. The heavens had taken on a dark grey color. Four shadowy figures moved through the hurricane: three men in spacesuits and a Green. The men ran, bent over forward against the wind, while the dust whirled around them.

  Everson cursed the bad luck that had allowed them to run right into a sandstorm. Together with Weiss, Dr. Morton and Murgut he had been on his way to the Green village. Then the storm had broken without any warning. Everson could not shake himself of the feeling that the native had known of it. Murgut was only a dark shadow ahead of him but he moved almost unhindered, as though the storm were no problem for him.

  "I have the feeling we're going off in the wrong direction," sounded the voice of the biologist in Everson's helmet loudspeaker.

  "We'll have to depend on Murgut's orientation sense, the colonel answered. He had raised his voice involuntarily to make himself heard above the whistling wind. That was of course an unconscious reaction, since the helmet screened out the noise of nature gone wild almost completely.

  Weiss was not to be put at ease so easily. "I'd rather depend on my feeling," he grumbled. "It tells me we're going the wrong way."

  Everson felt himself infected by the biologist's disquiet. Did the Green intend to lure them a trap and disappear? he wondered.

  Then the colonel remembered that they were in contact with the Mexico and could at any time call for help. Even so, it would not be out of place if he asked Murgut about it.

  The Green was just in front of him. His long legs striding as though they were stilts, he passed through the dunes with absolute certainty. Everson was hard-pressed to keep up the pace. The wind was coming from one side at full force and threatened to blow him over. Morton's sturdy figure appeared next to him.

  Everson pointed silently at the Green. The doctor motioned to show that he had understood. Blue and yellow flashes sparkled continuously in the gloom ahead and Everson suspected that they were electrical discharges. He stumbled and fell and had to use both hands to regain his feet. The ground beneath him felt yielding and capable of moving, as though it were a living mass.

  Then Everson was next to the bird-creature. He took hold of Murgut's arm. The Green stopped. He said something but the commander of the Mexico could only see the movements of the beak-like mouth. Everson was not yet so familiar with the language that he could read it by watching the motion of the native's mouth.

  He had to open his helmet.

  By now Weiss and the doctor had reached them. The biologist stood, bent slightly forward. It looked as though the raging of the elements had compressed him. The stocky Morton seemed like a rock that had been set down in the ghostly landscape.

  Everson opened his helmet's faceplate. Fortunately, he stood with his back to the wind so the storm did not force its way into the interior of his helmet. But the noise alone was enough to take his breath away for a few seconds. Air, sand, dust, branches, leaves and other objects were torn away at a fantastic velocity. A thousand devils seemed to be fanning the atmosphere with their hot breath, driving it into furious tossing and turning. An apocalyptic orchestra had come on stage to play a hellish concert ranging from shrieking crescendo to muted thunder.

  Everson pulled Murgut close to him. "Where is the village?" he shouted. His voice was torn away and lost in the raging storm.

  The Green brought his ugly, basket-shaped head close to Everson's face. For a brief moment the. spaceman thought he saw the brown eyes sparkle.

  "Where is the village?" Everson repeated.

  This time Murgut had understood. His four-fingered hand pointed in the direction along which they had already been moving.

  "Are you sure?" Everson shouted, his face red in the exertion.

  The Green nodded. Everson let go of him and they worked their way onwards.

  "Sir," came a voice in Everson's helmet loudspeaker. "Goldstein here aboard the Mexico."

  "Everything's alright here," said the colonel. "We're on our way to the village. Murgut knows his way from here."

  "I have some news for you," said the mutant His voice was so low that Everson could understand him only with difficulty. "Dr. Lewellyn thinks that I should tell you."

  "Then speak," Everson ordered.

  "Once Murgut left the ship, I was able to pick up weak impulses again," the telepath stated.

  Everson's boots kicked up the sand. But of course, he thought. "It's the natives, Sammy," he said. "Evidently they give off some sort of mental radiation that has a negative effect on parapsychological abilities. They don't seem aware of their gift, though. The more there are of them and the closer they are to you, the weaker your paranormal power becomes."

  Goldstein's answer betrayed considerable excitement. "Dr. Lewellyn is of the same opinion. He wants to work out with the help of the two psycho-technicians a defense screen that will protect me from mental pressure."

  "Good," Everson agreed. "Tell them to hurry."

  A thought shot through Everson's mind. He came to an involuntary stop. The storm took advantage of the opportunity for a frontal assault. The gust virtually blew Everson off his feet. He fell against Weiss, who was knocked to the ground by the impact. Then Morton came up and helped them to their feet. Murgut stopped and waited.

  When they could proceed, the thought in Everson's mind had solidified almost into certainty.

  If Goldstein's parapsychological power suffered from the disturbing radiation emanating from the Greens, then the molecular transformites must be similarly affected. What could have been more natural than for them to withdraw into the desert to retain their powers after having encountered the unforeseen danger?

  If there were shape changers on Moluk, then th
ey were to be found in the planet's endless reaches of sand.

  But the deserts were evil embodied!

  Everson shuddered at the thought.

  Even so, he thought. There was on Earth a proud and lonely man—Perry Rhodan—who risked every struggle for mankind. Now he was counting on support; now he urgently needed any help he could find.

  If, in the heat-bathed expanses of Moluk, allies for mankind were to be found, then he would find them. So Everson swore.

  Someone shook him. It was Murgut. The bird-creature pointed ahead.

  It was the village!

  Although he could make out only the outlines of the buildings, the commander felt relieved. Now, as they went down the hill, the hurricane had lost some of its force. With a swift motion of his hand, Everson reassured himself that his paralyzer was still in its place. He did not care for the idea of being unexpectedly pierced by an arrow. Though Murgut had assured him there was no danger of that, the colonel was still sceptical. The purpose of the expedition was to ask other Greens about the desert and the strange events of which Murgut had spoken earlier.

  They reached the first building and Everson regretted that in the twilight he could not see all the details. Doors and windows were sealed up with plates to keep out the sand. Narrow streets, through which bushes and trash were blown, snaked between the houses. All life seemed to be extinct. The space travelers could imagine that the Greens had retired to wait out the storm in safety. The globular structures gave a massive impression, although they resembled caves more than advanced forms of shelter.

  Murgut led them along the street until he finally stopped in front of one of the 'igloos'. Everson wondered silently how the Green could tell the houses apart—to him they all looked alike. Through slits in the doors and windows came flickering light of varying intensity that showed the natives neither made use of nor were familiar with electricity.

  Murgut motioned for the three men to wait, then slipped suddenly into the house. Everson risked opening his helmet but he heard only the wind singing its complaining song between the igloos. The air was hot and dry. Everson felt sand grating between his teeth.