The Idol from Passa

by Perry Rhodan

  In addition to being informed about their immediate mission, Landry and Randall had been educated concerning everything on Passa since the founding of the colony there, and especially regarding what had been going on during the past few weeks and even days. This data could not be erased from their memories except under special conditions because it had all been impressed upon them by means of a blitz-course of hypno-training. The information had taken root in their subconscious minds.

  2/ THE GLASS FOREST DISASTERS

  O, thou wonderful Ayaa-Oooy, our talking drums pay homage to thy name, and we bring thee sacrifices. We bring thee offerings greater than have been seen since thou didst create the world...!

  • • •

  Froyd Coleman saw that trouble was headed his way. Perhaps not actually trouble, he corrected himself, but work at least. And wasn't that the same thing?

  Coleman's office building was at the southeast side of the big spaceport. Whoever had paperwork or other technicalities to take care of before leaving the free port area and entering the sovereign tax territory of the Colony of Passa always had to deal with Froyd Coleman in one way or another. Froyd usually confined himself to merely hearing the case and then delegating one of his subordinates to handle the matter. In his opinion an inspector shouldn't have to concern himself in detail with all these things; it was enough to maintain an overall supervision of the operation.

  Coleman was 46 years old. In the course of his officialdom he had become a bit heavier than one might have expected, considering his eventful background at least up to his 40th year. In spite of a tonsure-like bald spot fringed with red hair, he carried his head with great dignity. For many hours during the day his activity was restricted to standing in just such a dignified posture at the large window which looked out upon the landing field and the approach and exit ramps for the passenger taxis.

  It was through this window that he saw the two men headed his way. It was not necessarily the figures of this pair that drew his attention but rather the way they walked, the manner in which they looked about them and the seriousness with which they spoke to one another. It was these things that convinced Froyd he would have to go to work.

  He sighed and went to put on his uniform jacket. According to regulations every official of the Solar Imperium had to wear a uniform while on duty but this was one regulation that Froyd had succeeded in bypassing during about 99% of the time.

  However, he knew with which visitors it might be more advisable to stick to the rules.

  • • •

  "You having problems?"

  The way the man put the question, thought Froyd, was like a shot from a pistol. These were the first words the big blond stranger had said after the initial greeting.

  Froyd nodded with a sigh. "You might say that," he answered. "In fact more than we can handle."

  "Which means?"

  Froyd looked at his interrogator in some surprise. "It means that in the meantime we've lost 10,000 people—and in my opinion that's more than we can cope with."

  "And what do you attribute these difficulties to?" asked the blond, whose name was Ron Landry.

  "To the natives," was Froyd's instant answer.

  Landry smiled. "Yes, of course. But what's the reason for their sudden strange behavior?"

  "That I don't know," he conceded. What were these two really after? he asked himself. Since when did the ISWD concern itself with such matters?

  The blond suddenly changed the subject. "Mr. Coleman, I believe you're the highest State official in the city of Modessa, are you not?"

  "Yes," he said frankly.

  "You know, this isn't an inquisition," Landry explained with a smile. "All we'd like to know is what measures you've taken so far to handle the situation and protect the settlers."

  Froyd frowned slightly. "You have a perfect right to ask me about such matters. Let's take care of the second question first. I've instructed all settlers outside the metropolitan areas to move into the city. Cities are safer. It's only out in the open country where people have disappeared. Of course Modessa isn't a tourist town and there are only two main hotels to speak of. With our lack of bed space we've been hard put to put them up in churches and bowling alleys, and emergency supplies from Earth have been slow in getting here. I hope the Laramie has brought more provisions. Naturally the settlers responded to our call since they could see what was happening out there. Modessa's normal population of 300,000 has increased to between 700 and 800 thousand. But the hinterlands have been cleared and now at least we don't have to worry about human lives anymore.

  "As for your first question: yesterday I dispatched an expedition into the glass forests to track down the natives and try to straighten them out. If we don't teach the Evergreens a little respect they'll only continue to get out of line as they have been doing."

  When he mentioned the punitive expedition the two strangers seemed to prick up their ears.

  Landry had a quick question. "And have they achieved their objective?"

  Froyd laughed bitterly. "No, of course not. They moved out in glider units. At 100 km per hour over open country it takes a while to get to the edge of the glass forest, which is 1500 km from here. So it would have taken them until last night to set up a camp there and this morning they were scheduled to start hacking their way in. That glass bamboo is so hard and tough that it takes even a few moments for a thermo-beamer to make the stuff pliable enough to get through I calculate that the troops can't make any faster headway on foot than maybe three km per hour... and of course the worm-heads aren't dumb enough to hide at the rim of the forest. They live deeper in the interior."

  Landry nodded. Then he reached into his pocket so casually that Froyd didn't notice the movement. He was only alerted when he saw something glittering in Landry's hand. He blinked and looked closer at it. What he saw gave him something of a shock.

  He thought he knew every type of service insignia in existence. He was familiar with all of them from the ordinary green badges of the regular police and the red insignia of the galactic criminal police force to the silver shields of the military security men. They were all more or less the same pattern—a small Earth ball with initials representing one or another of the service branches of the Solar Imperium. The color of such medallions determined the level or magnitude of cooperation that the bearer could expect to receive from authorities in charge of any operation.

  He had never really believed that the violet medallion existed—which purportedly outranked the silver badges by far—until now. The badge in Landry's hand was violet.

  "You can believe what you're looking at, Coleman," said Landry in a businesslike tone of voice. As he replaced the badge in his pocket he added: "Of course you're at liberty to check it out if you wish—but first of all you'll have to call back that expedition! Those troops are to turn around as fast as they can and report back here to Modessa."

  • • •

  Froyd pointed through the haze and smoke of the establishment. "There he is," he said.

  Ron Landry thought that a 'new world' like the Passa Colony would be the last place anyone would expect to find a public tavern like this with an atmosphere in the older tradition and wearing a patina of several centuries of patronage. But without doubt this was just such a place.

  Landry and Randall had had a second conversation with Froyd Coleman in the office of Maj. Bushnell of the Terra Fleet and there he had assured them that the man who knew the glass forest country best was Lofty Patterson and that he could most likely be found at Fiano's. So they had come here with Froyd to find him.

  To Ron and Larry, at the moment, Lofty Patterson was a small, wizened figure who was semi-obscured by the bustle and dim lighting of the tavern but they had been told that he was the best expert concerning the planet of Passa—in fact the last living representative of the first settler group that had landed here, 54 years ago.

  Ron made an inviting motion with his hand. Froyd walked ahead into the hazy room while Ron
and Larry remained near the door. They saw Froyd tap the old man on the shoulder and then converse with him briefly. Lofty nodded several times and finally Froyd pointed toward the door. The oldster got up and accompanied him.

  Ron opened the door for Lofty as they all went out. The old pioneer's face was lined with fine little wrinkles, reflecting an odd mixture of joviality and wariness. There was a cheerful glitter in his eyes, however, as he came along with them with his hands in the pockets of a suit that must have been almost as old as he was. Ron figured he was probably between 60 and 65. He must have been just a boy when he came to Passa.

  They came to a stop at the curb where the car was parked that the city had placed at the disposal of Ron and Larry.

  Lofty opened the conversation in a voice that matched his friendly face. "Froyd has vouched for you," he said. "That's enough for me. So what's up?"

  "We wanted to talk about that, but somewhere else," Ron advised him kindly. "Didn't Froyd mention that?"

  "Oh sure, but...?"

  "In Maj. Bushnell's office. Would that make you feel better?"

  "You're on!" answered Lofty agreeably.

  • • •

  "Why didn't you go along with the expedition?" was Ron Landry's first question.

  Maj. Bushnell's office was a fairly large room but less comfortable than it was purely functional. The Terra Fleet C.O. for the Passa Base was not present, himself. Ron Landry had explained to the major that the present situation did not fall within his own jurisdiction and Bushnell had been happy to make his office available for any discussions that might be necessary. For Ron and Larry this was especially important because the walls of the room were wired against tampering. Amy attempt to bug the place would be detected in the security center.

  Once arrived, Lofty did not appear to be completely at ease in these surroundings. He narrowed his eyes and looked about him before he answered. "I didn't go because I knew they wouldn't come up with anything."

  "Didn't you tell that to the men?"

  "Sure I did but all they did was laugh. They always take everything I say as a big joke because they think I'm too old. All the same, you know, nothing's changed in those glass forests since I came here."

  Ron was listening attentively. "Why do you believe that the expedition won't come up with anything?"

  Lofty laughed derisively. "Very simple. Just jump in the ocean sometime and try to swim after a shark.

  What will you come up with?"

  "Not a thing, Lofty. That sounds convincing. What you're saying is that the glass forests are the natural habitat of the Evergreens. They can get around in it but our people can't. Good, that makes sense. At least I'll take your word for it—but then why did the others laugh at you?"

  "Well, use the same example," suggested Lofty. "They thought the shark might attack them and that would be their chance."

  "And you would say they are wrong about that?"

  Lofty nodded emphatically. "Of course! The Evergreens only attack when the cards are stacked in their favor. I've never yet seen those Wormies stick their necks out for anything. They won't take a risk, no matter what. So when they see an expedition coming on too big and strong, all they do is let the troops run through the woods until they've had enough of it and go home again."

  Ron thought this over for a while. Finally he asked: "Lofty, would you go with the two of us into the glass forests?"

  Lofty stared into space for a moment before he answered. "You two seem to have your heads on straight. Yes, I'd go with you."

  It was at this moment that Froyd Coleman sat up with a start. He raised his left arm and pointed to the small transceiver on his wrist. Ron nodded to him. He had heard the soft buzzing of its receiver.

  Froyd raised it toward him and answered the call. The voice coming through was so weak and indistinct that Ron couldn't make out the message. However, he saw Froyd's lips compress suddenly as he frowned in alarm. Froyd had very few words to say. The most important part of the conversation was coming from the other end.

  Finally he lowered his arm and looked at the three men one after another as he spoke. "The Evergreens seem to have stacked their cards right in a hurry," he said bitterly, referring to Lofty's expression.

  "What does that mean?" asked Ron sharply.

  "It means," said Froyd heavily, "that of the 120 troops we sent out there are just 15 of them left alive—and of course they are en route back to Modessa by the swiftest means possible!"

  • • •

  The Evergreens had used an extremely simple method. They had managed to split up the expedition forces by luring them on in different directions with obvious signs of their passage. Each glider group ended up following a separate spoor until each 12-man crew was on its own recognizance.

  As reported by three survivors of one of these sorties, the Evergreens had charged them at the moment when their glider landed and the men were getting out. They hadn't expected an ambush so they had not even had a chance to make effective use of their weapons. The Evergreens had swarmed upon them with a force that must have numbered at least 200. They must have been waiting to charge from concealment because the pilot had not seen a sign of them as he had come down.

  In the confusion of the bloody battle the three men who brought in the report had managed to get away in the thickets of the glass forest.

  However, these three were not the only ones who had escaped the strategy of the Evergreens. One fully manned glider had been spared because its pilot had been too cautious to attempt a haphazard landing inside the forest. The three survivors from the other group had seen this glider several times from a distance and finally it came near enough so that they could attract its attention. The craft lowered to a point where the exhausted fugitives could be drawn up on a hoist line. Two of them fainted after being hauled on board, while the third one gave an account, as best he could, of the terrible fate of his unit.

  The pilot of the one aircraft that had remained unscathed must have been an exceptionally alert type. He did not accept the frightening story as an excuse for leaving the forest area and returning as quickly as possible to the safety of the city. Although he knew that the slightest engine failure would make him and his men the prey of the Evergreens, he nevertheless searched the region further for signs of any of the other units. It had been some time since he had had any radio contact with them and prior to picking up the three survivors he had figured the other gliders had landed so that the crews could challenge the enemy on foot.

  During a five-hour search they spotted the wrecks of nine gliders in the depths of the glass forest but no matter how hard the pilot and crew strained their eyes for a sight of survivors they saw no trace of them. The serpent people must have taken them all away with them, whether living or dead. For what purpose, no one could tell. But at least there was still hope of being able to rescue any of the Evergreens' human captives who still might remain alive. Only after determining this much had the last glider set course for home and a preliminary report of the expedition's failure had been transmitted ahead while they were underway.

  Ron Landry's first step was to place a blackout on any news of the expedition's failure and it was here that he encountered Froyd Coleman's most stubborn resistance. Froyd knew many of the men who had taken part in the expedition and who had left their families behind them in the city. Froyd insisted that the immediate next of kin such as wives and children should not be kept dangling in a state of uncertainty. But Landry feared that news of the catastrophe would only whip up the settlers' anger all the more against the Evergreens and cause them to send out further expeditions—if necessary, without official sanction.

  "That must be avoided, regardless of the circumstances," Ron concluded coldly. "They were able to take the loss of 10,000 men without a big commotion, so they can take the loss of another hundred without blowing a fuse. There can be no punitive expeditions against the Evergreens at this time. The only expedition that will concern itself at all with the situatio
n is going to consist of three men: Larry, Lofty and myself!"

  Froyd finally yielded. He declared himself ready to make all necessary preparations for the 3-man expedition.

  But Ron assured him this wouldn't be necessary. He was brief and to the point. "There will be no preparations. We leave tomorrow at sunrise."

  3/ THE SERPENT'S TALE

  We have fought a great battle in the glory of thy name, O thou Magnificent One! Great are the spoils which we bring to thee to win thy grace, Ayaa-Oooy, God of Splendor...!

  • • •

  "This is Andry Lever's house," said Lofty sadly. "The poor kid. He was one of the first ones they got to."

  Larry had brought the glider down in front of the rambling, low-roofed dwelling. Ron was looking out through the cabin window.

  "He was pretty far out here, wasn't he?" asked the latter. "Over there the forest begins."

  "I often warned that youngster about it," muttered Lofty. "But he wouldn't listen. He liked it out here in the wilderness and he just didn't believe that anything could happen to him."

  "You warned him?" asked Ron. "Why was that? Did you suspect that the Evergreens would become rebellious?"

  Lofty looked at him as though in surprise. "Rebellious? No, not exactly. But the fact is—anybody living out here by himself is putting himself right in their hands—or claws, you might say. Those Wormies live here in the woods by the tens of thousands—maybe millions—and no one man is going to be able to do much against them, no matter how good his defenses. Oh it's true enough that the Evergreens always seemed to be friendly and well behaved but the hooker is that we've never really learned how they actually think. We don't know if there's really any moral basis to their logic or if it's related at all to ours. We don't know if they think of us as friends or enemies or if they're completely indifferent to us. In fact we don't know anything at all about them—other than that they have nice-smelling skins and from time to time they shake them off for us. So isn't it a risky business to venture so close to them? That's why I warned Andy Lever. It was nothing more than that."