Blockade: Lepso Read online

  As unperturbedly as he had arrived, Dr. Hugher left section p-54. No sooner had the door closed behind him than the Zalite uttered a sulphurous string of curses. "If only somebody would come here and twist that cardboard smile off his face!" he growled menacingly.

  Meanwhile, Hugher had returned to his work lab. Before him was the radioed freight bill and manifest from Springer Singoll. Once again the ever-smiling man scanned all details in a single glance. He shoved the papers to his right and gave them a light-seal by pressing a contact button. Thereby the freight contract was legalized and the 16 million units of liqueur were as good as delivered to Earth.

  Hugher then spoke to his assistant. "U-za, tell Center that Magitt has disregarded inventory instructions for the fourth time. Then make a call to the third planet of System Go-123. Get in touch with Algo-Essa. Tell him we've got to have more than 50 million plastic flasks in five hours at the latest, standard time. In this case, transportation costs are immaterial."

  "Immaterial?" queried U-za.

  "Immaterial," replied the friendly doctor but in his reddish Arkonide eyes was a sudden gleam that U-za had never noticed before.

  At this moment, T-moll called in on Tu-poa's extension. "I've discussed everything with Tu-poa, Doctor. He is in agreement with your plan to flood the Crystal World with a mass shipment of Liquitiv just before the blockade is closed. This directive has had the approval of the Council. In this case you may take over the operation directly and with carte blanche concerning the expense. Tu-poa would like to know when the Liquitiv can be delivered to Arkon 1."

  "By Lepso standard time: tomorrow noon, T-moll." Even Hugher's voice sounded dreamy now-but such were not his thoughts. In his mind's eye he could see that everything was meshing together precisely. His plan was rounding out as calculated. The Terrans and Arkonides would be too late with their dirty preventive actions!

  He was not sorry for them. After all, they had always been enemies of the cult. Now the retaliation would strike them hard and Edmond Hugher considered himself fortunate to be able to place the weapon in the hands of the servants of Baalol.

  In the next moment he forgot both Terrans and Arkonides. Basically neither race was of interest to him. He wished to absorb himself in his work so that he might show his gratefulness to the priests who had made it possible for him to become a doctor.

  He looked out the window into the desert but did not see it. He was daydreaming, attempting to visualize Iceland-where there was a traditional form of wrestling known as glima.

  2/ ONE SMALL VOICE

  The second planet orbiting the yellow star Fering was known as Lepso-the El Dorado of racketeers, swindlers and shady dealers. So far this planet had managed to retain its independence. Its inhabitants boasted of having the greatest freedom within the galaxy and there was many a wealthy Springer clan who could attest to this fact.

  One of the unexplained features of this world was the fact that there were many powers, special-interest groups and influential intelligences within the Arkon Empire who offered their protective support to Lepso and who maintained a strict vigilance to see that its autonomous self-sufficiency was not violated.

  The soulless robot Brain had designated Lepso as a center of anti-social power groups and had presented examples of how many criminal intrigues, had had their beginnings there. But so far not even Arkon had succeeded in eliminating this sink of iniquity and on Lepso itself there was more of a sense of security than ever before.

  Nowhere was there to be seen such a strange mixture of hybrid people and hybrid dealings as here. However it was taken for granted by all concerned except, perhaps, by those who first set foot on Lepso. Here cargoes were black-marketed or illegally misrouted, marvelously genuine-looking shipping documents were produced, counterfeit money was printed and bills of lading falsified.

  But Lepso was not only the safest ground for shady characters; it was also a gigantic merchandise transshipment center. There was row upon row of spaceports with repair docks lying next to each other in a virtual network of shipping industries. Although new ships were not built here, the yards were always busy. Whoever didn't dare to be seen on any other Arkon world for fear of being apprehended could spend all day here at his leisure until his damaged ship was repaired-always provided, of course, that he possessed sufficient cash.

  An unusual number of Ara spaceships and the long, cylindrical hulls of Springer fighters and freighters were to be seen. Even the mercenary Mounders were apparently fond of using Lepso as an interim ground base where they could discuss their next battle missions and haggle out their terms.

  Within this mixture of races the members of the Baalol cult were completely submerged. They hardly ever made an appearance and lived almost exclusively in the silence of their temple domain, far out in the rocky wastelands. The data from the robot Brain did not mention them once, making only a slight reference to their temple. The whole fact of their existence on Lepso was passed over in a single sentence.

  • • •

  Allan D. Mercant was going over the robot's report for the second time when he slowly stiffened with alarm. He turned to John Marshall, who had only dropped in to see him an hour ago and was still sitting there.

  "Just take a look at this, Marshall!" he exclaimed. "Those are some pretty hefty figures! I don't have any reason for doubting them but if they're true then we can figure that there are always about eight to 9,000 spaceships present at Lepso spaceports-mostly for short ground times but that's an average! Eight to 9,000 ships! John, just imagine what a take that must be in terms of landing, docking and take-off fees! And if 50% of them are Springer longships, by our own comparison that's equivalent to a fleet of 4,000 heavy cruisers!"

  John Marshall shook his head so vigorously that the Solar Marshal fell silent. "Sir, you're leaving out something. You're basing everything only on the average number of ships that may be on Lepso at any given time. But in another two or three hours-even 10 hours-how many fighting units do you think could be on Lepso or in orbit around it?"

  Mercant smiled. "I would not have overlooked that point, my good friend-yet without going any further than just what's on the ground to start with I'm stymied. Taking a basis of 4,000 armed ships alone, I'm faced with the unpleasant task of advising the Chief that our plan is unfeasible in its present form! Marshall, you've known Rhodan almost as long as I have and you know what he'll tell me. At this stage, only Atlan's robot fleets can help us... What's the matter?"

  John Marshall's expression had changed suddenly. Mercant knew what this particular staring look meant: either the mutant was receiving a telepathic call or he had just slipped into the thought stream of someone else's mind.

  The situation put Mercant's patience to a hard test. One minute after another passed while Marshall continued in his listening attitude. A nervous fidgeting of his hands revealed that he was picking up something of extreme importance. Mercant was especially perturbed when he noted an increasing gleam of sweat on the telepath's forehead. He knew then that the Chief of the Mutant Corps was not receiving just an everyday type of alert signal.

  But what could it be?

  Finally John Marshall heaved a deep sigh and returned to normal. "Sir!" he blurted out. "The Thomas Cardif they examined on Zalit is a robot-and not of Arkonide construction!"

  For the space of 10 seconds or so Mercant's face revealed his despair and resignation. "I knew it!" he half-whispered. "I knew it the first moment I saw that photo! Marshall-what's going to happen now?"

  It was no casual question induced by reflex action. Now Mercant himself was sweating and he glared at Marshall in real desperation. He had full justification for asking his question.

  "Atlan is still in contact with the Chief. I only came in on the main part of the emergency report. They regard it as a catastrophe. The Arkonide can't say whether Cardif disappeared from Zalit ten, 20, 30 or even 40 years ago. Nobody had had any suspicions up till now. Even our own agents were taken in by the robot imitation.
<
br />   "John-how is Rhodan taking it?"

  Innocuous as it seemed, this question posed a serious problem. The Mutant Corps had been under a long-standing order which prohibited all telepaths from probing the minds of heads of the Administration without authorization. Violations of this command were rare, except in the case of mouse-beaver Pucky who sometimes got into such escapades but always scraped by the threatened consequences with fairly light 'bruises' instead of banishment.

  Marshall was fully aware of the thin ice he was treading on in this instance but Mercant's attitude was different than his.

  "To hell with the rules, John! How is the Chief taking this news? Come on-out with it!"

  "For awhile he was too shocked to be able to think, sir..."

  "Can the spit and polish, John, dammit! Go on-what else!"

  "The Chief has made up his mind. Cardif will be given no quarter. He's through with him."

  Mercant supported his head with both hands and grunted "Hm-m..." That was all.

  "The Chief wants to go to Lepso with the whole Fleet! Atlan is to send us heavy robot fleet units to protect the Solar System in the meantime."

  "Hm-m-m..."

  "Atlan has agreed to this. In the Arkonide Imperium as well as here, all supplies of the Liquitiv liqueur will be confiscated, all sales prohibited. Protective blockades for the important planets."

  "So what about unprotected worlds?" commented Mercant bitterly. "This Thomas Cardif-what a thorn in our sides! Always stirring up major crises. It's beyond understanding. Marshall, has the Chief gotten hold of himself yet? Go ahead-dig into his head! I'll stand good for it. This isn't idle curiosity, for God's sake? So? Come on, what do you get?"

  But in that moment he saw the telepath shake his head in some surprise. "Mercant-the Chief has screened off his thoughts."

  "He's recovered alright-but it's a poor consolation, John."

  It was more than an ordinary red alert to the Solar Marshal that Thomas Cardif had been gone from Zalit for an undetermined length of time. Cardif was Rhodan's son, so this was not just anybody who was stirring up trouble. Unwillingly Mercant had to admit that Cardif's actions still followed the same old pattern. 58 years ago the life of the Imperator had hung by a thread. After being raided in his own chambers, Atlan had confessed that he was no longer in possession of his life prolonging cell activator. Although the Antis had stolen the mysterious device, the whole plan had been masterminded by Thomas Cardif. Through a collapse of the Arkon Empire he had hoped to destroy the Sol System and thus achieve his final objective, which was to eliminate Perry Rhodan.

  His attempt was thwarted in the last moment For punishment, instead of being sentenced to death he was subjected to treatment under a hypno-machine which erased his knowledge of the past: who he was, where he had come from and what his life had been up to that moment. The hatred for his father lay buried for all time beneath a block of hypnosis. Or at least this is what Rhodan, Atlan and the closest assistants within the Solar Administration had thought For 58 years they had been deluded by this sense of security, only to suddenly be faced with a reality that was horrifying.

  John Marshall interrupted Mercant's deliberations. "We're supposed to go see the Chief, sir. Rhodan's talk with Atlan has ended. I 'told' him that I had 'listened in' on the first part of the hypercom discussion and that I finally passed the information on to you. He made no telepathic comment about it, sir."

  "Lets go!"

  The Solar Marshal and Chief of Intelligence picked up his papers and left his office in the company of the telepath. The antigravitor carried them to the upper levels. In the corridor leading to Rhodan's suite of offices they ran into Bell, whose embittered face spoke volumes.

  When they entered Rhodan's main office they were in time to hear him issue the emergency ordinance prohibiting the sale of the liqueur. All supplies of Liquitiv were to be confiscated immediately. A cessation of all commercials and all forms of advertising connected with the product was also decreed.

  "Have a seat!"

  He had no time to say more at the moment. He seemed to be his usual self except that the gleam in his grey eyes betrayed his high state of agitation. Stabbing another control button he made contact with Solar Fleet Headquarters.

  "General alert for all units of the Fleet! Order No.6 is now in effect. This alarm is to be beamed out under highest emergency coding. Effective immediately the following applies to all ships in space: stand by for course change; make all preparations necessary for transition to the Fering System. You will receive individual orders for the jump. Activate full fire readiness. Prepare special crews and hold all gazelles, spacejets and destroyers ready for action. That is all!"

  Mercant tensed especially when Rhodan contacted Solar Intelligence which he himself was in charge of.

  "Rhodan speaking! I trust you've heard my command to Fleet Headquarters? Put out an alert to our Lepso agents-use half a dozen relay stations so we'll be sure it gets to them. That's Lepso, the second planet in the Fering System. Here's a photo of the man they are to look for."

  A call came back from Intelligence Headquarters: "Sir-that is your son!"

  Not a muscle quivered in Rhodan's controlled face. He stretched out his hand without turning his head, addressing Mercant: "Give me that picture, please-the one from Zuglert!"

  Mercant pulled it from his folder and passed it to Rhodan almost in a single movement. The latter held it up to the vidcom camera.

  "That's the way Thomas Cardif looks today! You're copying this, aren't you?" He handed the photo back by way of Bell, who sat behind him. Ignoring the flabbergasted expression of the man on the other end, he continued: "Our agents are to look for this man who apparently lives on Lepso under the name of Dr. Edmond Hugher. There is a strong suspicion that he's a collaborator of the Antis and is living in the temple region itself. Special order to all agents on Lepso: under no circumstances are you to take any forceful action against Thomas Cardif! I repeat that again: under no circumstances will you take forceful action against Thomas Cardif, alias Dr. Edmond Hugher! That is all!"

  When he got up from the intercom console, Deringhouse and Julian Tifflor entered the large chamber, which was a combination main office and briefing room. They silently took seats behind Mercant and Marshall. On his way back to his desk, Rhodan was suddenly blocked by a shimmering in the air and then the mouse-beaver Pucky appeared. He was the only one who had not been ordered into this meeting. He quickly got out of Rhodan's path and retreated to the couch that stood next to the wall in the background.

  Rhodan had looked questioningly at Marshall but the mutant shook his head negatively almost immediately. Rhodan's weak telepathic perception picked up his answer: "Pucky has screened off his thoughts, sir." Rhodan sat down.

  "Gentlemen, I'm only waiting for Atlan's next message, which should give us the expected arrival time of 5,000 Arkon robotships in our system. As you may have gathered from my instructions just now, the Solar Fleet will make a closed-formation appearance over Lepso and will seal it off hermetically. Meanwhile, Arkon's robot units will take over the defense of the Solar Imperium. Mercant?" He had noted the skeptical expression of the Solar Marshal.

  "Sir, the minute we try to clamp down on Lepso we'll have to be ready to face about 4000 ships there with battle capability. In all probability they'll meet our move with defensive action."

  Rhodan's raised hand interrupted him.

  "Mercant, we're taking the risk of a galactic war. What you mention is penny ante compared to the rest of it. We may be facing not only open hostility from the Springers as well as the Mounders but also dissatisfied colonial races and the anti-mutants, to top it off. All of them may throw everything they've got against us if we make an attempt to alter the current state of affairs on Lepso. If we just give them the argument that this is only a police action to arrest a single individual, they'll see it as a camouflaged occupation of their whole smuggler's den and they'll react accordingly. That's why Atlan and I have agreed that th
e Solar Fleet will not be the only force going into action. Using additional Arkonide robotships we'll be building a two- or three-ply blockade ring around the planet, in a wide radius outward into space. In reserve, you know, we also have the Imperial Guard Storm Fleet at our disposal.

  "From a military point of view we are going into this action on a minimum risk basis but of course wars are seldom won on the battlefield. In an economic sense we can't equal the combined power of the Springers, the Mounders and the Antis, unless Operation Lepso can be terminated within three days, standard time. I'm convinced that we won't even require that much time to wrap it up.

  During the past few minutes Bell had been staring fixedly at his friend. Now he used the slight pause to give a prepared rebuttal. "Suppose the Springers and Mounders and Antis have a different idea?" he asked. "What if instead of defending Lepso they all suddenly decide to attack the Earth? What would 5000 robotships amount to under those conditions, Perry?"

  Perry seemed to meet this question with the hardness of steel. "What's the difference? They've had Earth under attack already for more than a year but this time not with conventional weapons. This time it's poison! Don't you think we have more to win than we have to lose, at this rate? Do you know what the confirmed statistics are on the number of addictions we have, right here on Earth? All they're arguing over is whether its 20 million or 30 million! Oh, they're mostly quiet now but sooner or later, right here at home, we'll be facing a massive army of raving addicts, all condemned to a living death. These millions were promised youth and health; the hook was baited with Liquitiv and they all fell for it. But instead of getting what they'd been promised, what they're really hooked with is lingering illness, addiction, delirium, suffering and death.

  "Bell, I have said again and again: it is our duty to do everything we can to protect life, no matter in what form."

  Terrania's hypercom station signaled urgently that they were holding a new connection with Atlan. Rhodan moved back to the viewing console again, just as the Arkonide's powerful voice rang from the speaker: "Perry, at 17:20 hours, Terra time, the robot fleet will emerge from transition and start its approach flight into the Sol System. The other fleet units have been alerted and are standing by for your orders."