Man and Monster Read online

  "Just the subject I wish to pursue. Don't you think the Robot had that figured out? We've been given entry authorization here with surprising swiftness. We've already received a landing permit. That means somebody wants something from you! Inasmuch as you are able to come up with a battle-ready crew on board the most powerful ship of all time, you—meaning we—are going to be assigned to a mission, because you have undertaken the responsibility to protect the interests of the Empire. You should be prepared for a very light dismissal of your sick patients by the Robot. He will simply write them off. Unfortunate but it can't be helped! That's the way with positronic logic, which brooks no emotional considerations whatsoever. I have arrived at the conviction that we will be sent out again like return mail, with the commission to make a conclusive disposition of the Mooff danger. Last but not least, the Brain is under the impression that you still have the Mutant Corps at your disposal. I would conjecture that we will be ordered off to the home world of the monsters. Now, you can't come here into the inner sanctum of a colossal galactic fortress with the idea that you can play around with orders. Your previous escape was a stroke of fortune. It will not succeed a second time."

  "I understand, Dr. Certch!" said Rhodan. "Thanks very much. I was thinking along similar lines. Incidentally: what would you say if I told you it was my intention to fly to the home world of the Mooffs?"

  "That would come as a surprise!" Dr. Certch appeared nonplussed.

  "Don't you think that's logical? We don't have much of a criterion or reference point regarding the activity of these Ara entities, as Khrest calls them. It's my guess that they're behind everything—even the revolution on Zalit. What more direct route can we go, other than to visit the home planet of the Mooffs and seek to unravel the whole mystery there? But the bottom line is this: as a result of our diversionary tactic I could never sell the Brain on the justification for making the search for the Medical Masters of the universe a top priority. It wouldn't make sense— unlessI come up with 700 patients instead of 8."

  Certch answered, "In the name of Evvan (the master robot maker), don't mention anything about the 700! That would be our funeral! But if you are of a mind to find further clues on the Mooff planet, by all means carry on in good faith! I'm just trying to figure out why you've come to Arkon in the first place, if this is your point of view. What kept us from taking the shortest line between 2 points?—We could have gone there to start with!"

  "Well, as chance would have it, you see, I happen to need information concerning the home of the Mooffs, my fine feathered little Answer Man," Rhodan replied.

  "Forgive me," Certch grinned back. "I merely wanted to confirm my genius and so I had to put you through a few tests."

  Rhodan's very impressive cusswords faded in the speakers as the connection was severed.

  • • •

  The two battleships proceeded at 10% speol (speed of light) according to regulations. Higher velocities were not permitted within the Arkon System. But it was swift enough to bring two visible planets of the united and synchronous worlds quickly into close view.

  Arkon, the original home world of the Arkonides, had become too small in the course of its development. With their phenomenal technology, the very enterprising ancestors of the present Arkon inhabitants had drawn the former planets II and IV from their natural orbits in a feat of celestial mechanics which practically conjoined them to the third planet. Thus, a Tri-System within the System was established: 3 planets, 2 of them pulled in by man-made forces, had circled the star, Arkon, for 15000 years by Earth reckoning, in precisely synchronous orbits, the same axis inclinations and the same orbital velocity.

  This was Arkon! #1, the Crystal World, served only for dwelling purposes. #2 was reserved for galactic commerce and the general industries of the stellar empire. #3 was the planet of war, home port of the most gigantic space fleet of all time, and the location of the robot brain.

  Apparently the ancient Arkonides had built for Eternity. Nothing in their interstellar settlement had changed until the advent of their recent descendants, whose cultural, intellectual and scientific supersaturation had led to a complete decadence. Indecisiveness and a deterioration of morals had finally made it necessary for a take-over of the Empire's destiny by the Giant Brain, which had been programmed to do so thousands of years earlier. Apparently the original Arkonides had suspected or foreseen that a race luxuriating in a superabundance of goods and a bon vivant level of living would ultimately be afflicted with physical atrophy. Into this galactic witch's cauldron had come Earthmen without suspecting that they had thus inadvertently brought themselves under the coldly utilitarian jurisdiction of a positronic robot brain.

  Rhodan tore himself away from the breathtaking view of the two discernible worlds. From the Titan's present position, Arkon I could not be seen. It was hidden by the flaming sun.

  A switch clicked home. Tifflor's face appeared on the control console screen.

  Rhodan issued an order: "Tiff, put a call through on the established hyper-frequency channel—to the Regent. Tag it with a top-urgent code signal. I request an audience with him before we land. When you have the connection, switch it over to the screens in Command Central. Thank you!"

  Overhead, behind its transparent partition of steel-hard plastic, the powerful hypercom equipment of the super-battleship revealed a glow pattern of high-frequency activity. The Command Center crewmen exchanged meaningful glances. The moment of truth had arrived.

  "Contact ready, sir! Making transfer—" Tiffs voice came through.

  Rhodan turned with slow deliberation in the high-backed pilot's seat. On one sector of the circular video bank the incoming transmission appeared as a coalescing pattern of color. Seconds later, the scanning lines cleared. The humped shape of the metal shield in the great hall appeared. It was only a tiny portion of the Brain but it seemed to be an important portion.

  "Rhodan of Terra to the Great Coordinator," said Perry into the microphone. His face was inscrutable.

  "I hear you!" came the indifferent, unmodulated answer. The Robot did not seem to know such a thing as curiosity. He also did not ask the purpose of the call.

  "I request immediate disposition of an Arkonide medical team. I have 8 sick people on board."

  "Of what nature is the illness?"

  "Unknown. Apparently poisoning. At the close of hostilities on Zalit, I landed on the planet Honur in order to train my men without interruption. Some small animals appeared. We found out too late that they exuded a poisonous substance."

  "Wait!"

  The shimmering scan-lines came back suddenly. At the touch of a soft paw, Rhodan started. The furry creature, Pucky, had suddenly appeared beside his seat. The large eyes of the mouse-beaver were questioning. Hardly 3 feet high, the greatest parapsychological talent on board the ship sat on his thick hind structure, which gave Pucky a truly comical aspect.

  The overgrown Mickey Mouse transmitted a telepathic question: Troubles?

  Rhodan understood the question. He had made considerable advances in his telepathic training. At least he had graduated to the point where he could grasp the essential contents of a thought transmission from a genuine telepath and could send back messages with similar effectiveness.

  Rhodan made an imperceptible gesture. Pucky's rosy paws remained on the arm of the pilot seat. Suddenly the steel cupola of the Brain was visible again.

  "Data checked. Planet Honur has been banned since 4 millennia. Skin secretion of this low form of intelligence causes destruction of organic nerve cells, in its unrefined form. Chemically processed, this poison serves as the basis of a known forbidden drug, Kan'or. 800 years ago, the Arkon Fleet destroyed galactic merchants handling this product. Further questions?"

  Rhodan paled slightly. Far behind him, biologist Janus van Orgter burst into the Command Central. Puffing, he ran closer.

  "We suspected nothing of this danger," Rhodan answered quickly. "8 of my people have come into direct contact with the animals. The
situation is very disturbing. Thora, of the Zoltral Dynasty, is also among those who were poisoned. I have retained command of the Titan. I am urgently requesting aid."

  The Brain did some fast switching. No superfluous questions came from the loudspeaker. Now it knew Rhodan's alleged reason for landing on Honur.

  "The symptoms are barely understood. You were careless. Land on Arkon II. I will attempt to supply medical assistance. Why did you code this call as urgent?"

  Rhodan suppressed an oath. Now Dr. Certch was also at hand. He fanned his arms about imploringly. He wanted to reiterate that the Robot would never consider the search for a cure of the sickness as urgent. Rhodan understood. It seemed to be horribly complicated, this business of converting organic, emotion-oriented thinking into the ice-cold logic of a monstrous calculating machine.

  "I have information concerning the real instigators of the Zalite insurrection. The Mooffs themselves were influenced by them. The poisoning of my people was a premeditated act. More complete details on this later, Regent. We discovered a camouflaged headquarters of the Medical Masters of the Galaxy, whom Khrest—from the Zoltral family—designated by the name Aras."

  "What kind of headquarters?"

  "A super laboratory in which they were breeding the animals which we call Nonues. The bodily

  secretions of the animals were processed into the forbidden drug. Because of this I am convinced that the solution to the riddle lies with these Ara people. I request precise data. Where are they to be apprehended? Our ship's memory bank only yields the fact that the Aras possess the medical, biological and pharmaceutical monopoly in the galaxy. Where can they be found?"

  The viewscreen flooded with a fluorescent swirl of light.

  "Answer is negative—watch out!" said Dr. Certch.

  Then the picture of the armor-plated cupola returned. With fast reaction, the Brain had recognized the essentials of the request. There was refusal implied without the word 'refusal' being spoken.

  "Everywhere and nowhere! Our agreement makes no provision for wasting valuable time. It must be considered inadvisable to put off the Mooff problem. I decline to give you questionable data concerning this race of the Aras.

  "Then they are questionable?" put in Rhodan.

  "Yes, my auxiliary banks yield no further elucidation. If the treatment of your patients does not succeed, the medical team will have to give up. I can suggest the following to you, Rhodan of Terra: if your suspicion is correct that the Mooffs were sent out by the Aras, there is a possibility that you may discover further information on Mooff planet #6. But you will have to hurry because a partially robot-controlled fleet under command of Adm. Vetron has been dispatched already, with the commission to destroy the 6th planet of the Mooffs. I did not see any other solution. You have neglected to make a timely report of your new discoveries."

  "Withdraw the order!" demanded Rhodan, highly agitated. "They will destroy the last existing clue!"

  "The attack has not yet begun. Land at once and bring out your sick. It will be demonstrated in the shortest possible time whether or not I can help. End of discussion."

  "Rhodan shouted more questions but realized that the Machine had disconnected. With tautened features, he turned around.

  Even Certch was silent. Khrest, the Arkonide scientist, came closer, thoughtfully. On the vidscreens of the circular battery of monitors the Arkon planets glistened like golden apples.

  A warning signal was received from the escort ships.

  Everson announced softly: "Deceleration in two minutes, sir!"

  "Go ahead and land, Perry," interrupted Khrest. "If the Brain explains that the examination has to be done in the shortest possible time, so at the most we're talking about a half hour or so. If they can't identify an antidote in the latest medical arsenal extant in that time, we can take off immediately. Any further waiting would be senseless. The Robot isn't going to put himself out especially just for a few humans."

  "If that's the state of affairs," cried Certch, "we should not land at all!"

  Pucky followed Rhodan's pacing figure with his gaze. A depth of melancholy glistened in the furry creature's large eyes. He sensed the crisis in his soul.

  "Khrest, who is this Adm. Vetron? Do you know him?"

  "Only by name. A younger space officer. He will carry out the Brain's instructions with no questions asked."

  "That youngster will blast all our hopes to pieces!" said Rhodan. "Dr. Certch, what do you recommend?"

  "Land, wait out the examination, load the patients on board again, and talk the Robot into giving you full authority to handle the Mooff situation. When we get to the Mooff planet, you must be in a position to break up and halt the attack."

  Rhodan went to his control console. The computer was signaling red. The 3 escort ships were already in deceleration. The two planets had changed from golden apples to pumpkins.

  Moments later, the propulsion engines of the Titan began to roar. Their high velocity was braked with a counter-thrust of 300 miles per second squared. The remote control center on Arkon II acknowledged.

  While the super-battleship was being trimmed into landing approach by the bellowing vernier tubes, Rhodan gave an explanation over the ship's P.A. "Commander to all hands! The landing will take place in approximately 15 minutes. You must take all pains necessary to prevent the sick people, under any circumstances, from being discovered. Medical personnel, please remain at emergency posts. Where necessary, apply anesthetic gas. No cries or embarrassing shouts should be heard because it is uncertain whether or not we will be visited on board. Attention, Prof. Kaerner—bring Thora, Bell and the 6 other men into sickbay. Presumably, they should be picked up from there by robots. Remove any traces in our clinic that it has been occupied. Everything must be faultlessly clean. Get the emergency beds out of sight. Fresh linens on the beds in the clinic. We will probably take off again after a short stay. I intend to follow the suggestion of the Robot, in order to avoid any serious complications from the start. Besides, we have no other choice than to try on Mooff 6 to cast some light on all these events. Establish preliminary battle readiness. That is all."

  Rhodan cut off the P.A. connection as the super giant thundered into the upper atmospheric strata of Arkon II.

  • • •

  Arkon II—a somewhat Earth-sized celestial body with a gravitational force of 0.7 Gravs; technological, industrialized structure of the highest order—the world of the robot-operated mammoth factories, of the gigantic spaceports. In addition, here was the freight trans-shipment and forwarding center for all intergalactic commerce.

  The white, blazing Arkon sun bung in a cloudless, slightly hazy sky. This second planet of the tri-synchronized group was the financial and commercial Major Power of the Milky Way. Goods manufactured here were not only qualitatively of the highest grade but quantitatively sufficient to flood the markets of the entirety of colonial worlds. There was hardly anything that was not provided on Arkon II.

  The spaceport of Olp'-Duor swarmed with every kind of merchant ships. Rhodan had an opportunity to

  observe the form and shape constructed by humanoid and alien beings. Strange structures towered up here and there. Still stranger creatures exited the airlock of their space vessels with a varying assortment and weight of protective covering or suit apparatus.

  The fully automatic baggage and freight handling installations at the port worked at high speed. Khrest estimated the value of day-to-day freight forwardings and trans-shipments at Olp'-Duor to be in the neighborhood of $8 billion by Earth standards. But this was only one of 300 spaceports on the planet. Ponderous freighters rumbled incessantly across the skies. Others arrived in a wild swirl of noise and turmoil. The variety and types of spaceflight equipment, machines and propulsion engines accumulated in this area were impossible to estimate.

  The spherical spacer construction predominated only with the Arkonides, otherwise the cylindrical or aerodynamically streamlined hull shapes were to be seen.

 
Here the envoys, messengers and ambassadors of alien races landed, most of them descended from former Arkon emigrants. However they had little else in common with their forebears. The passage of millennia and tens of millennia of time had drawn a line between Arkon-oriented biological development and what came after. The present day descendants of the earlier colonists had long since adapted themselves to their corresponding new environments. The variegated influences of other worlds had played a decisive role. Beginning with all-important gravitational influences of other celestial spheres and considering cosmic radiation, temperatures, atmospheric composition and biochemical factors, it was inevitable that both physical and mental ramifications of beings should develop who hardly had an arm or a leg in common with the ancient Arkonides. The great common denominator was that they thought, lived and worked together. Rhodan had called Arkon II a cosmic anthill.

  Arkonides were very seldom to be seen. Whenever they did put in an appearance, it was with the characteristic lassitude of their race. The robot brain had resorted to compulsory hypno-schooling for them, but as it turned out the ancient programming of the automaton had brought some confusion into the situation, where concepts of knowledge and physical capacities and efficiency were concerned. The tangentially motivated brains of the Arkonides could barely be aroused. The result was that the retrogressing and reversionary organism could not conform or adjust any more.

  In the final analysis, Arkon was at an end. The jurisdictional initiatives emanated from the multi-laminar circuits and core memories of a robot Colossus, which thousands of technological and scientific generations had built. Rhodan knew that the giant machine, with all its power plants, switching units, memory banks, multiple CPU centers and logic stacks, not to mention entire floors, tunnels and streets of cable conduit and other whole buildings dedicated to input-output and transmission/receiving and time-share equipment, occupied a surface area of some 4000 square miles.