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  She was proud when she 'heard' John Marshall's relieved thought: Finally!

  4/ ASSIGNMENT: GEROMORPHISM

  John Marshall followed Springer agent Otznam from a short distance behind through the crowds of people on the streets of Trulan. He silently admired Capt. Rohun and his clan—the make-up artist had done a truly magnificent job on Otznam. John Marshall had to continually repress the wish to look at his own face and see how he looked to others in his Springer disguise.

  He was not the galactic trader, Ixt. That was Otznam, crossing the Street of the Great Moh, unaware that the real Ixt, clad as a bearded and vigorous space-traveller, was following close on his heels.

  John Marshall read his thoughts: Otznam was cursing his mission just as heartily as Huxul had the day before upon leaving the shop with a pair each of gegerutavis and hiobargulloos and returning to his office.

  Otznam was worried. He had not been told just exactly what it was he was supposed to do in Ixt's shop. He noticed nothing when Marshall trained the psycho-beamer on him.

  A few seconds later, the Springer agent had become familiar with the faces of all Ixt's employees and he knew their names and what their duties were. He was not surprised that he suddenly had a general idea of how Ixt's own office was laid out. Then he went into the shop by way of the main entrance, just as Ixt did every morning.

  Greetings left and right, greetings from Futgris, and his own comment: "Is everything alright, Futgris?"

  Meanwhile, Marshall had come into the store, shooing away an eagerly approaching clerk with the irritable: "I want to look around first! If I see anything I want, I'll let you know!"

  John Marshall checked the thoughts of his overly eager salesclerk but he had not noticed anything familiar about the voice of what seemed to him a gruff and bearded space roamer. Not even Marshall's familiar way of walking had caused the clerk any second thoughts.

  Reassured, Marshall turned his attention to Springer agent Otznam, having him tell Futgris: "If anything important comes up, I'll be in my office!"

  "Very well, sir!" replied Futgris and started to walk over to the storeroom, where at that moment a new shipment of animals from the Planet Oka, was being unloaded.

  He did not realize that his boss, disguised as a bearded space-traveller, was sending him to the storeroom by hypnotic compulsion. The same force was also instructing him not to look for the boss in his office under any circumstances.

  10 minutes later, John Marshall left his business and lounged nearby on the street outside, Waiting for Huxul's arrival.

  His patience was put to a long test. Again and again his mental probing for Huxul's thought radiation met with failure. It was about noon before Marshall caught sign of Huxul.

  Huxul came angrily towards the animal shop.

  Marshall went back inside the spacious display room of the store with all its confusion of animals and cages, and stood hidden behind a cage of charmingly cute, ape-like kikkis. As he fended off another all-too-eager salesclerk, the Ara came in with the special cage in his hand.

  Futgris was responsible for exchanges of animals but first he had to be called in from the storeroom.

  Futgris laughed when he recognized the man as the customer who was going to play a prank on his mother-in-law with the hiobargulloos but then his face suddenly lost all its expression. Marshall had given him an order, reinforced by the mechano-hypnotic effect of the psychobeamer, to have no one but the boss make a decision on this exchange.

  Now Huxul grinned broadly as he murmured, "But of course!" Then he took the cage in both hands, holding it against his chest so that the side away from him slanted upwards.

  Marshall searched Huxul's thoughts. The Ara still seethed in anger. He thought about the dressing-down his superiors had given him the day before upon his return from Rohun's ship. He had been accused of negligence and irrational conduct. No opportunity had been missed to impugn his abilities as an agent and he was even held responsible for the purchase of the expensive animals, although the idea had been that of the two superior officers and not Huxul's.

  Then Futgris came out of the office with the ersatz Ixt and John Marshall activated the psychobeamer. The beamer was a miniaturized version of the well-known Arkonide device but it functioned only in concert with Marshall's telepathic power. Thus there was no chance that the mini-beamer would ever be recognized for what it was.

  Huxul set the sound-absorbing cage of hiobargulloos down. Ixt refused to take the animals back, but did show interest in the cage itself. Huxul was the very model of friendliness and politeness and nodded in agreement while Ixt took a closer look at the cage. In so doing Ixt—or rather, the disguised Otznam—turned it 180.

  Through Huxul, John Marshall knew where the switch for registering brainwaves was located. While the Ara agent begged Ixt to please take the animals back and refund the money—his mother-in-law had not given him any peace since early that morning and he regretted ever thinking of the practical joke and he had no idea how he was ever going to calm the old lady down again—Otznam in Ixt's disguise had time to make a recording of Huxul's brainwave pattern.

  When, at Marshall's order, he set the cage down once more, he also received the instruction to take the animals back. Futgris hurried with the cage into the storeroom and shortly returned with it, empty.

  Huxul had his money refunded, thanked Ixt and Futgris in a friendly fashion and left the shop with undisguised haste.

  Then the false Ixt returned to the office and Futgris went back into the storeroom. With that, John Marshall saw his purpose here as fulfilled; but Huxul required a more intensive treatment.

  He followed him slowly, pushing through the crowds on the Street of the Great Moh, and gradually caught up with the Ara agent.

  He watched thoughtfully as Huxul entered the mammoth building that was headquarters of the Ara Secret Service, carrying the cage as though it were the most fragile object in the world.

  • • •

  Huxul waited until he got the brainwave recording and evaluation back from the laboratory. In the meantime he wanted to write his report but something seemed wrong with his mind. He couldn't think clearly and in fact it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember just what had happened in Ixt's animal shop barely an hour before.

  Then the recording and evaluation came down the chute. The lightning bolt emblem in the lower left-hand comer was the sign that the recording had been processed by the positronicomputer.

  Huxul's mounting enthusiasm suddenly checked itself when he noticed the code number. "What's this?" he demanded. "Is Ixt already registered here—with an Ara serial number?"

  In an instant he was active: he set up a connection with the division of the Positronic set aside for Ara serial numbers and submitted the number given for Ixt. The screen on his desk lit up almost immediately.

  Some seconds passed before he realized he was reading his own file. Five more seconds went by before he realized he no longer understood anything.

  And then he remembered how both his superiors had threatened him the previous afternoon. That was enough to prompt a rash action.

  Huxul wrote a report that in no way reflected what had actually happened. His only thought was to prevent the wrath of his bosses from falling upon him. His report stated that nothing was amiss about a Galactic Trader named Ixt who kept an animal shop on the Street of the Great Moh and that any minor inconsistencies in his file could probably be attributed to someone's error.

  Huxul forgot that his fictitious report would inevitably be checked over by the positronicomputer. The electronic Brain operated on the basis of sheer logic and his deception would, without question, come to light.

  John Marshall knew it. Yet, standing before the building and keeping watch Over Huxul's thoughts, he was not greatly disturbed. He would not be able to stop the inquiries against him but each day he won in delaying the inevitable gave him and Laury Marten all the more opportunity to attain their goal.

  And on Hellgate,
some 81-light-years away from Tolimon, Perry Rhodan waited in the protection of a steel dome for their success!

  • • •

  While standing before the energy barrier enclosing the binn area at the zoo, Man Regg had referred to something called "X-p". That turned out to be a gigantic building labeled as such. And, from what Laury Marten knew of the Aras' style of architecture, she suspected that the complex extended three times farther into the ground than it did into the sky.

  "X-p" was emblazoned on a sign above the main entrance.

  X-p lay almost in the center of the continental zoo, far from the sectors open to tourists and the curious. It stood in the middle of the desolately rolling, sun-scorched desert.

  Looking as though it had been cast from a single mold, the 8-story building stretched for miles.

  Laury found it difficult to decide what shape the building was. At first she thought of an enormous round-ended tube but when she stood before the light blue tinted facade, she was not quite so sure.

  Her heart beat faster as she entered the security checkroom: a large lobby famished in choice luxury and subdued colors. It was pleasantly cool and, thanks to the sound-muffling carpet, quiet.

  Because her non-Arkonide organic structure could be spotted at almost any moment, every check meant danger for Laury. Even though everything possible had been done on Earth to make her non-Arkonide origin less obvious, she had not forgotten that there was a vast difference between the technologies of the Arkonides and the Aras.

  Like the Galactic Traders, the galactic physicians had descended from the Arkonide race but in the course of development over thousands of years both splinter peoples had gone their own ways. The fact alone that the worlds in Arkon's realm were supplied solely with Ara medicines showed how striking the direction of the Aras' separate development had become.

  Numbering in the billions, the Aras embodied a knowledge of medicine the Arkonides could not hope to match. Only the sheer might of the mammoth Positronic on Arkon, which itself made every decision affecting the Empire, had crushed every attempt by the Aras to take over and rule the Arkonide Imperium.

  Thoughts such as these ran through Laury Marten's mind while she stood being examined by crystal lenses in the security room.

  The clear blue light signifying she had passed the check suddenly blazed into life in front of her. In the same second she started forward and was not surprised when the large transparent portal silently swung open at her approach and allowed her to enter the interior of X-p.

  A radiant dome vaulted above her. A dome in a tube-shaped building? Her step hesitated. Iridescent light glowing from orifices in the ceiling and reflected back from the smooth floor confused her. The knowledge imparted to her electro-hypnotically did not extend far enough to help her in identifying or coping with the light reflections.

  Then a sonorous voice asked her to approach the middle of the light circle and walk once around the periphery. Only later did she learn that the procedure was a method of disinfecting visitors.

  Puzzled, Laury obeyed. She felt nothing as she advanced from one composite light ray to another but hardly had she ended her circuit when the same voice inquired as to what she wanted in X-p.

  Softly, Laury answered that Man Regg had ordered her transferred to X-p. Then she gave her Arkonide name of Arga Silm and waited for instructions.

  She had been in the building five minutes now and she had yet to see either an Ara or a robot.

  On the dome wall to her right, a door rolled up in the fashion of a Venetian blind, revealing a circular opening. She then heard the sonorous voice for the last time, telling her to step through and entrust herself to the transport band.

  Again Laury Marten felt the odd prickling tenseness she had experienced before when stepping through the outer doors.

  She was startled to find herself in a closed room. She saw nothing of any kind of conveyor system. Then a faint trembling suddenly ran through the floor and the opening behind her closed without a sound.

  She wondered if it were yet another check since X-p was, after all, the place where the galactic physicians' greatest secret was manufactured—the life-prolonging serum!

  Laury Marten puzzled over her nervousness when the wall before her suddenly sprang apart. Man Regg, her acquaintance from the day before, stood waiting to greet her.

  Pride shone in his eyes when he saw her confusion. "We Aras are making progress in other areas besides medicine. Technology, which our people have neglected for so long, is now experiencing a second golden age, Arga."

  Then they sat down, facing one another, and once more Laury Marten played cat and mouse with Man Regg. She read his thoughts and formulated her answers accordingly.

  She bluffed the brilliant scientist with his own knowledge. Yet it was possible for her only because she had been prepared for her mission in advance by hypno-training; she had been taught the greatest part of Arkon's medical science and had become especially expert in the areas of galactic zoology and serum medicine.

  Distrust suddenly showed in Man Regg's eyes.

  Laury Marten had been careless. She had verbalized his thoughts without changing them enough. Bad as that was, it was not the worst of it: what she had pronounced was one of X-p's most closely guarded secrets—an Arkonide could not possibly have known of it!

  Yet, the girl mutant was lucky—what Perry Rhodan had constantly drilled into every one of his people was her salvation. She did not let the mistake she had made disturb her. She became at once ice cold, with no feeling whatsoever—the very prototype of a logical machine.

  His distrust mounting, Man Regg reflected over the broad outlines of the process to which, to his horror, the Arkonide girl had so casually referred.

  His clearly stated question, unmistakable in its meaning, still echoed in the room when Laury Marten was ready with her answer.

  She smiled. She leaned forward. She played her charm to the hilt—and she sparkled with her knowledge. "The whole problem is only a single chain of logical conclusions, Man." she began, and then explained her opinion.

  Smiling all the more, she watched the effect of her words on Man Regg's face. Next to the distrust appeared amazement and admiration. Amazement and admiration finally won out, fortunately enough, and Man Regg, otherwise sober and practical, was so enthused over Laury Marten's fine-honed logic that he impulsively said: "I've been thinking, Arga—would you like to join my personal staff?"

  Laury Marten answered yes, believing that the end of her mission was in sight.

  • • •

  John Marshall had received Laury Marten's telepathic message while en route to pay a call on Springer captain Rohun. Her optimistic statement gave him a moral boost which lasted until he arrived at the spaceport. There he looked for Rohun's spaceship—in vain.

  Rohun had taken off without telling him!

  Still in his bearded disguise, John Marshall was immediately alarmed. Then he picked up another telepathic impulse from Laury Marten.

  He saw no more of the hustle and bustle of the spaceport. He saw neither ships taking off nor landing. He paid no attention to what went on around him—he only listened to Laury Marten's report.

  John Marshall became angry! Now he learned every detail of what had happened between Laury Marten and Man Regg, even to her careless answer and her attempt to extract herself from the dilemma by juggling more than ever with the content of Man Regg's mind.

  She was still a member of the staff working most closely with Man Regg but the Ara scientist had already grown suspicious of her.

  From X-p, Man Regg had not only contacted the security department there but also the Secret Service in Trulan, requesting all available information concerning the Arkonide student Arga Silm. His most devastating argument against summarized itself in the comment: "Although she's no more than a student in Zoology, Arga Silm knows more than my best doctors!"

  John Marshall's expression hardened and he remembered what he had thought about Laury Marten since
the beginning: she still lacked the experience necessary not to overestimate her own capabilities. Nor had she developed the ability to see things far enough in advance. Intoxicated with her initial successes, she was too easily drawn into making mistakes.

  "If somebody blundered somewhere in forging her file, all of Tolimon will be after our scalps!" he said to himself, feeling uncomfortable.

  Then he cast his worries forcefully aside. The problem at hand was finding out why Rohun had taken off in his spaceship and where he had gone.

  Marshall stepped onto the transport band leading to Sector G-88 of the spaceport, that place where just the day before Rohun's ship had been standing. He walked across the vast plaza, watching an Arkonide ship of the typically spherical design break through the cloud cover and silently touch down. Then he turned and went towards an antigravitor, which led to the elevated highway where he hoped to hail a transporter and return to the city.

  Then, in the swarming mass of alien humanity surrounding the lift towers, he spotted Egmon, one of Rohun's agents on Tolimon.

  The Springer looked more like an Arkonide. His white-blond hair was particularly outstanding but the trait that identified him as Egmon and always fascinated John Marshall was his ability to change the color of his eyes at will, rather like a chameleon.

  "Egmon," said John Marshall, walking past him.

  The Springer agent heard his name but the bearded man who had pronounced it was a stranger to him.

  Meanwhile, John went over to one of the many Information Robots standing by and gave it Rohun's ship number, asking it where the galactic trader had gone.

  "No information available!" grated the machine's vox box.

  Marshall had expected as much. Then he sensed someone standing behind him. Instantly he sent his thoughts searching into the other man's mind.

  Egmon's thoughts were anything but peace loving. Rohun's agent regarded the bearded fellow as a police spy for the Aras—and just to be prepared, his hand clutched an impulse-beamer at fire-readiness in his pocket.