by Leo Lukas
The historian felt like a schoolgirl caught telling a fib. She grew angry, at herself as well as at Echkal cer Lethir. That's so typical for our oh-so-zealous Ma-Techten! Compensating with exaggerated ambition and robotic obedience for his double inferiority complex, due to his shortness as well as his provincial origins.
Of course Echkal would try to define himself in terms of the Akonian mentality—or what he considers it to be. And he's doing it by ... telling!
"Yes," she said, "I was just about to come to that ... "
Perry Rhodan blinked, then turned up his nose. The air in the secret TLS station tasted stale and musty. The artificial gravity wasn't even half a G and every movement stirred up knots of dust. In the murky light of the few, severely dimmed ceiling lights, he at first thought the tottering man in front of him was well into old age. Only on a second look did Rhodan realize that he was dealing with someone barely thirty.
"My ... my name is Euler Fullop," the young agent said haltingly as he awkwardly saluted. "Welcome on board OUTLOOK XVIII, Resident. Please pardon us, but ... We weren't expecting a visit, let alone an inspection by such a high-ranking figure ... "
His voice failed him. His eyes lay deep in their sockets. His cheeks appeared sunken, his entire body wasted. Sleep deprivation, Rhodan thought, surprised. And you'd think that lack of time for rest would be the least of the problems in such a remote post.
"This is not an inspection," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. The scrawny youth looked as though he was about to collapse from the excitement at any moment. "I need your teleporter so I can reach Drorah without being noticed. You can arrange that, can't you?"
Icho Tolot had beamed him here from his space-sphere. But Rhodan didn't want to burden the visibly overtaxed bundle of nerves even more by mentioning the Halutian, to say nothing of his still only half-formed plans concerning the ACHATI UMA.
"Yes, yes, of course, although Pi is actually responsible for that. Pi!" Euler shouted behind him. His calls echoed from the curving, dirt-smudged walls. "Pi! You'll never guess who's here! Come here, Pi!"
"If you're trying to pull one of your tasteless April Fool's jokes again," came a lethargic female voice, "I'll ask for three sex wishes at once as punishment. You can imagine which ones."
"Pi, I'm begging you—shut up and get yourself over here! Over to me and ... "
"Perry Rhodan," the young woman whispered tonelessly as she came around the corner of the connecting tunnel in a peculiar mixture of leaping and swimming motions. "I can't believe it."
She had been very beautiful, probably not so very long before. Now, bloated and disfigured by thick rolls of fat, she reminded Rhodan of an advertising character from his youth in the middle of the Twentieth Century of the old calendar. A cartoon man seemingly composed of stacks of automobile tires and the symbol of a French company.
"Resident, this is my spouse, TLS Agent in second service year Pi Fullop. Pi, this is ... "
"Pleased," she said sweetly and brushed the matted strands of hair from her forehead. "What an honor ... "
For Rhodan, the situation was becoming even more embarrassing. He had seen a great deal since he had landed on the Earth's satellite with the first primitive manned moon rocket, and on his journeys through space and time he had encountered much worse conditions than those here. You couldn't exactly eat off the floor anywhere on the PALENQUE, either. Still, he was deeply affected by how this young and certainly hopeful couple had let themselves go in the time they had occupied this post. He made a note to himself to have a serious word after his return to the Sol System with the responsible officials in the League's secret service. True, agents were given years of training on how to hold out in difficult situations. But still, it shouldn't be made pointlessly difficult for them, just to save a few Galaxes.
He didn't intend to stay any longer than was necessary to disguise himself and program the teleporter. But he saw a desperate hope in Pi and Euler's eyes and he couldn't bring himself to disappoint them.
"I have to be going on soon," he explained, "but in case you want to offer me something like a cup of coffee or a glass of Vurguzz, I wouldn't say no. In return, I can fill you in on some of the latest capital city gossip from Terrania ... "
They would very soon be able to relax under the rays of the home sun, Achab ta Mentec had announced. The Maphan wasn't lying to us, Solina thought sarcastically. But it still wasn't quite the whole truth, either.
She laid back in the deck chair, which groaned slightly under her weight. About 1.4 G's, she thought. Not health endangering, even easy to tolerate in the short term. However, it was still taxing enough for the body to be tiring to some extent, dulling to the senses, and keeping the internees from being a nuisance.
The tropical climate contributed its share. The hot sultriness lay like a damp, sticky gauze over the bungalows that surrounded the swimming pool. When fully occupied, they would have housed 400 guests. At the moment, the majority of the rooms were empty. The crew of the LAS-TOOR had what a sign on the front of the main building called, the "Rehabilitation Center for Staff Officers of the Seventh Fleet," entirely to itself. There wasn't even a service staff. Instead there was an army of all kinds of robots that fulfilled every wish. The other side of the coin was the robots' constant presence. The servos behaved unobtrusively, and after completing an assignment they discreetly withdrew into the background. However, they were still there, everywhere, and didn't leave their charges alone for a moment.
Lovely vacation resort, Solina thought. More like a high-security asylum where, normally, members of the military command level are sedated in comfort and luxury until they've been cured of their psychological disturbances. At least enough so that they can be turned loose on their subordinates again.
Two hours earlier, after the completion of their questioning, Solina had been one of the last to be beamed here. Most of the crew members had already moved into rooms in the bungalows, and now lounged around the pool with small snacks and colorful mixed drinks in hand. Because of the higher gravity, swimming was more strength-draining than usual, just as any movement at all brought an instant outbreak of sweat with it. Only Echkal cer Lethir was doing gymnastic exercises on the lawn next to the jogging track. Perhaps he wanted to show off in front of the others and show that here, for once, his stocky body structure was actually an advantage. Solina gave him a poisonous look, then lowered her head again so the brim of her hat shadowed her face.
The rays of the home sun ...
Akon actually did stand high in the sky and was visibly larger than it appeared from Drorah or Xolyar. From that, Solina concluded that the extensive recreational complex was located on the third planet of the system. The "rest home" floated on a disc one-and-a-half kilometers in diameter on the lava ocean of the life-hostile inferno. A transparent dome and a palely flickering protective force field filtered the sun's radiance. Otherwise they would have been roasted to a crisp within a few minutes like chickens on a grill ...
Solina must have dozed off. A cough made her open her eyes. In front of her deck chair stood Eniva ta Drorar. The computer network specialist was completely unclothed, though not at all naked. Body paint covered her bareness. Three tiny floating spray cans and two similarly minuscule brushes circled her and continuously drew constantly new, artistically conceived designs on her skin. To judge by the fragrance, the paints included perfume, deodorant, and antiperspirant. Her hair had been piled up into a mushroom-shaped, overhanging sculpture that also served as a sunshade.
"Impressive," Solina said and yawned. "But you can't go into the water with that, can you?"
"Who wants to go into the water? I'm not a fish. What about you? Do you want to loaf around here the whole day being stuffed by our circumspect caretakers?"
Something in her voice caught Solina's attention. When she spoke those last few words, Eniva had glanced significantly at one of the robots.
Solina understood. "Do you have a suggestion for a better way to kill
time?"
"I thought we could take a look at the ancient Lemurian poems you found on the ark. Who knows when we'll have another opportunity."
"The poems ... Well, if you want to. In my room?"
"I'd rather go to the bar over there. You know how it is with poetry—verse leads to thirst. I'm heading there now. See you in a bit."
Solina nodded and stood up from the deck chair. She retrieved her notes from her bungalow, then joined Eniva at the bar. Completely contrary to her custom, the aristocrat, who usually kept her distance from the "common people" and at most associated with scientists, had taken a seat on a stool next to a group of ship's engineers. It was clear that the five men had already partaken freely of the slightly alcoholic mixed drinks. With moderate discretion they kept admiring Eniva's costuming. However, they wouldn't have dared to actually chat with the quirky beauty. Instead, they swapped amusing spacemen's yarns with each other and made sure that the multi-armed robot that served as the bartender never had a chance to rest.
"Good choice of a place," Solina said to Eniva approvingly.
"Yes, isn't it? Certainly more exciting than some quiet study room. So let's get started, Yidari Tormas. My Lemurian isn't nearly as perfect as yours, although I studied diligently during my stay on the PALENQUE. But maybe I can still be of some help to you."
"I'm sure you will be."
Solina took her hat off—metaphorically speaking—to the computer network specialist who gave the appearance of being eccentric and cut-off from the real world. In fact, though, she was actually far more than the fashion mannequin that she gladly and gleefully portrayed. Anyone who got to know her closely was amazed by Eniva's knife-sharp intelligence. She came from an old noble family and was anxious to justify herself through her ability and achievements. She simply couldn't stand for people to assume that she owed her position mainly to her family background. She didn't tolerate that, just as she detested people who lacked in intellect and a capacity to understand. She and Solina would never become close friends. The difference in their upbringing was too great. Even so, they appreciated each other.
And they had a common goal.
The poems were just a pretext in order to be able to make plans without the omnipresent robots noticing it. Undoubtedly they recorded conversations in which certain key words were mentioned. A summary of this information would be passed along to the Fleet command, with whom they were in regular hypercom contact. All the walls had ears in this golden cage. But even the best acoustic field and the most sophisticated analysis software could be outwitted. Not only were the two conversing, for the most part, in Lemurian but they were in a place where numerous background noises made monitoring especially difficult. Glasses clinked at the bar, ice cubes clicked, liquids splashed, the mixer hummed, the coffee machine whizzed ... and five boisterous ship's engineers celebrating their unexpected shore leave had just begun singing bawdy songs.
That's great, boys! Solina thought, amused. Let's hope you can keep it up for a while!
The two Akonians bent over the print-out sheets that Solina had spread out on the bar. While they pretended to be interpreting ancient poetry, they weighed their chances, between the lines in the truest sense of the phrase, of gaining access to the ACHATI UMA for themselves and Perry Rhodan.
Escaping unnoticed from the dome was out of the question. In this internment camp, disguised as a Rehabilitation center, there was no chance of obtaining spacesuits, let alone a spacecraft, in which they could get away from the hell-planet. This would almost certainly have also occurred to the officers who were normally quartered here, and certainly not always voluntarily. Lifeboats or other precautions for emergency situations weren't needed anyway. 400 inmates, along with the doctors treating them, could be evacuated without any problems in a minimum of time with the numerous teleporters that were available. They probably couldn't even be operated from this side, but were remotely controlled by hypercom from the nearest Fleet base.
Speculating that they could find a way out physically was an illusion, then.
"Rather gloomy prospects," Eniva commented, tapping on the sheet as though she was referring to the poem. "It's enough to make a woman downright melancholy."
"That's true. But the author still allows a faint shimmer of hope to shine through. Here: 'So it remains to those who do not attain freedom in the real world, to seek such nonetheless in virtual realms.'"
"Well-chosen words of a true poet. Do you think he had a specific place in mind?"
"Oh yes. That's indicated by the alliteration. Its position in the text refers to the meta-plane. By the way, I have a data crystal with me that would make the translation easier for us. But unfortunately I can't play it anywhere."
They had been allowed to keep their baggage, but all pieces of equipment with integrated Syntrons had been confiscated along with any weapons. Hevror ta Gosz, the planetary ecologist, had even been forced to part with his beloved toolbelt that was studded with measuring and scanning devices.
"It makes you want to pull your hair out." Eniva rolled her eyes upwards, in the direction of her monstrous coiffure. She then glanced towards the mini-spraycans and brushes that tirelessly applied new works of art on her bodily surface.
Solina grinned in understanding. They really did have access to a Syntron! Actually by means of the picosyn that was concealed in Eniva's hair and controlled the floating painting utensils belonging to her avant-garde beach "costume." With that, a computer network specialist and a scholar, who was herself not entirely unfamiliar with computers, could accomplish something ...
"What do you say that we take a break and go amuse ourselves in the casino for something a little different?"
"But no strategy games like Garrabo, please. Something harmless."
"Something harmless," Solina confirmed.
Smiling and arm in arm, they strolled like two idlers to the main building ...
One step through the portal ...
... and Perry Rhodan faced a breathtaking sight.
He seemed to be standing in the air two kilometers above a vast valley, in reality probably on top of an invisible energy field. This side of the planet Drorah was currently turned away from its sun, Akon. Beneath Rhodan sparkled a sea of light. It was so bright and pulsating with color that he had to narrow his eyes after the darkness of the secret station from which he had just come.
Veehraátoru, the city where no one sleeps ...
He hadn't been here in a long time and wasn't familiar with this teleporter terminal. Rhodan didn't have a photographic memory like some of his friends, but he would have remembered such a spectacular arrival point as this. There was one interesting effect: his steps on the energy field didn't make any sound even though he was setting his boot heels down hard. Additionally, the completely transparent surface didn't have any give.
He turned around. To the left and right of the arch in which he had materialized stretched a row of teleporters spaced at intervals about eight meters apart, like a shining arcade. There must have been thousands of them, forming a ring around the entire valley. Travelers emerged almost constantly. Most reacted like Rhodan had, staring in fascination up and down, right and left, before they hesitantly continued.
The invisible ring-shaped band was about twenty meters wide and slowly rotated clockwise so that the visitors standing and staring in astonishment didn't block the way of newcomers. A glowing violet strip marked the forward edge. Behind it tiny points of light floated like dust particles in a sunbeam. Anyone who stepped over the edge and trusted himself to the lights would be captured by an antigrav lift and gently carried down.
Rhodan floated towards the shining, multicolored advertising signs of the city of Veehraátoru below, in which it was said a new commercially salable vice was invented every day. As he traveled, he thought with gratitude and pity of Euler and Pi Fullop, who had made his trip here possible. Undoubtedly, since he had said he would be returning soon, they had already begun giving OUTLOOK XVIII a thorough
cleaning.
So his visit had accomplished at least one good thing ...
Of course, he could have also reached the Akonians' home planet by simpler means, through official channels. Such a request by the Terran Resident surely wouldn't be denied. But the Ruling Council would have tied him up with receptions and the like. The would have exhausted him with a continuous program of diplomatic functions, keeping him far away from the star arks with verbose apologies and excuses. That wouldn't have done him any good. If he had any chance at all of getting inside the ACHATI UMA, it was incognito. Which was why he had made use of the secret station's disguise room and made himself up to look visibly older. A dark wig hid his blond hair and a fast-working pigment preparation gave his skin a light brown color. A large number of Akonian uniforms had also been on hand, and he had chosen the garb of a simple Fleet technician. His own clothing, the multifunction armband, and some other useful items, he carried in a backpack.
A never-ending stream of holograms appeared in front of him, advertising hotels, restaurants, and any number of attractions. When he wiped his hand over them, they disappeared, only to be replaced by new ones. He had no choice but to just ignore them.
He descended in a spiral path. The nearer he came to the city, the more its peculiarity became apparent. Some three quarters of the land area was taken up by green spaces and long, extended boulevards with pedestrian transport bands streaming down the centers. There were no vehicles, but uncountable front entrances to astonishingly diverse restaurants and bars. The buildings reared many dozens of stories into the sky, yet they all consisted only of bombastically decorated facades blinking in garish colors. That was because the property prices in Veehraátoru were the highest on the planet. Every building entrance was in actuality a teleporter. If someone stepped into a hotel, for instance, he ended up in a lobby that was in a completely different place, perhaps not even on Drorah but in a place where the price per square meter was considerably less. The same applied to theaters, sports arenas, gambling casinos, and so on.
