by Perry Rhodan
Ron tried hard to control himself and not let out a chuckle of amusement. It was good to know that Nike Quinto had almost allowed to slip out "one of my best men". Neither did Quinto's mentioning from where he had received his orders, namely directly from Perry Rhodan the Administrator, fail to make the proper impact on Ron Landry.
"Go into that room now," said Nike Quinto and pointed to a door in one of the side walls of his office. "Get acquainted with everything we've been able to find out so far about the mysterious Lepso affair. The program in there contains a matrix mold of the awareness and information center in Maj. Kindsom's brain. He's the commander of the Florida and he's the one who accepted the TTT call sent out by Dr. Armin Zuglert. After the session you'll feel as if you yourself had talked directly with Zuglert rather than Kindsom."
Ron Landry rose from his chair and turned to the side wall. A door opened. He peered into the dimly-lit room where the hypno-schooling apparatus was set up, all ready and waiting for him.
2/ CRAZY WORLD
Three days later Ron Landry left the space freighter Ephraim, which had brought him quite fast but not too comfortably to the spaceport Zanithon on Lepso. Almost immediately after descending from the landing ramp Ron practically jumped right into the hectic bustle of the big city.
This, he realized, was one of the peculiar things about Lepso. There was no customs shed, no passport control, no health inspection, nothing, nothing. You got off your spaceship the way elsewhere you'd get out of a taxicab and you simply went on your way. The government of this world had early recognized how advantageous the galactic position of Lepso was and had taken care that many of the ships traveling along the nearby main shipping routes would be sure to stop on Lepso and trade at least part of their commercial cargo. A most effective method of attracting traders consists in providing easy access, the least amount of difficulties they'd encounter while landing so that they could get right down to business. Therefore none of the usual formalities accompanying landing and trading procedures elsewhere in galactic ports existed in the spaceports of Lepso. Of course, Lepso's government had understood to begin with that such a policy was bound to attract not only honest traders. This caused no feelings of remorse in the hearts of the rulers of Lepso for they collected taxes and fees from both honest and dishonest business deals and money was the only thing anyhow that counted on Lepso.
Lepso was the second satellite world of a yellow-brown star resembling Terra's Sol. Nearly the same gravity as that on Earth was felt on this planet's surface; and due to the fairly narrow orbit that Lepso was describing around its central sun, temperatures like those prevalent in Rome or Cairo during the summer months were the rule on Lepso all year round.
The liberal immigration policies of the Lepso government throughout the centuries had the result that representatives of all galactic races had settled on this world. There were Topides, the intelligent lizard creatures from the planet Topid; the small cucumber-like Swoons from Swoofon; giant 3-eyed Naats from the Arkonide solar system; and a vast number of other beings, some coming from still independent worlds, about half being humanoid, the others representing nonhuman races.
This then was the world that Ron Landry came to visit now for the first time in his life. It had been his desire to do this for a long time. Little did he dream, tho, that a tour of duty would finally make this dream come true, for Lepso out of all the galactic worlds seemed to be the one least in need of an intervention from the Intercosmic Developmental Social Aid.
The dull grey asphalt surface of the spaceport was bordered by a greenish, fluorescent lacquered line. Beyond it was a road, a monstrously wide road, at least 200 meters across, which led to the city. Lined up parallel, very close to this green line, a number of gliders could be seen, whose inscriptions, mainly in Arkonide writing, announced they were for hire, including the driver.
Ron decided to take such a taxi to drive downtown. Besides, he doubted there was any other way of getting there. But first he wanted to observe for awhile the traffic rushing by on this wide road. A strange variety of all kinds of vehicles roared by in both directions, all seemingly moving at the same daredevil speed, which Ron guessed to be around 200 kilometers an hour. This was an indication that this road must be equipped with an automatic, radio-guided direction system. The vehicles traveling along the road represented all the various makes known throughout the galaxy. There were the streamlined Arkonide gliders with their wide windows, the less sleek but sturdier Fords from Earth. Ron saw some old-fashioned, tall carriages that offered a great deal of resistance to the air above the road and which trailed behind them a small tornado, and then the flat, boat-like vehicles originating from those worlds where the atmosphere's density necessitated such shapes.
Ron Landry chuckled to himself. There was really no reason for him to do so and he didn't even know what in particular he was laughing about. It was just a general impression that tickled his funnybone to see this crazy mishmash of galactic so-called intelligent beings racing hither and thither with the sole purpose of making money, making some profit. For this was the only reason anybody would come to Lepso.
The grinning face of the driver of the taxi-glider nearest to Ron leaned out of the window.
"Hey, Earthman," he called out. "What's so funny? You need a ride to town?"
Ron looked at him astonished: the man addressed him in English! Ron stepped closer to the vehicle.
"That depends on your price," he answered.
"Two solars to the center of the city," the driver replied promptly.
Ron's eyebrows shot up, even more puzzled than before.
"Since when are they quoting prices in Terranian currency here on Lepso?"
The driver hesitated slightly. "By the sylvan gods of my forefathers! You take what you can get. And it's easiest to get whatever people have in their pockets rather than wait till they can change their money into Lepso currency."
Ron thought this a most convincing sample of good business sense.
"So you are from Goszul's planet, aren't you?" he asked the chauffeur.
Now it was the driver's turn to be puzzled.
"Quite right! And how did you guess that?"
"The sylvan gods of your forefathers," Ron said with a broad grin. "Where else in the universe would anybody appeal to them? Congratulations, though, your English is almost perfect, practically no accent."
The driver pushed a button to open the door of the glider; he seemed quite sure now that he had picked up a fare. "That's part of the business," he explained. "People like if you talk to them in their own language... and as fluently as possible. I speak quite a number of foreign languages and most of them like a native."
Ron was just about to get into the glaxi* when his attention suddenly was drawn to a vehicle moving toward the greenish, fluorescent lacquered stripe. The black vehicle had the shape of a cube, each side four meters long, with a tiny driver's cabin attached to its front end. The sides of the cube showed a hatch, locked tight with heavy bolts and several large windows. Ron could make out some viscous, greenish liquid moving sluggishly behind these windows.
"You see that mud-trampler coming up here?" said the taxi driver. "Right behind you?"
Ron turned around. A second cube, much smaller than the black-cube vehicle, was approaching. The small cube seemed to consist of some elastic material with a window in its upper surface through which Ron could make out the same greenish fluid. For a fraction of a second Ron noticed a light and dark grey mottled figure floating in the hideous oily-looking green liquid.
Now the small cube came quite close to the larger vehicle. The hatch opened by itself apparently. The new passenger rose effortlessly from the bottom of his little cube and floated through the opening. The hatch closed behind him. After awhile Ron saw once again the same mottled contour he had observed before make its appearance in the interior of the larger cube. There seemed to be something similar to an airlock inside the big vehicle where the passenger had slipped out of
his own little cube. He appeared to be quite at ease now floating in the green viscous liquid which filled the interior of the box-like vehicle.
Ron Landry kept watching, quite fascinated when she large cube started to move out into the line of traffic.
"What did you say that was?" he asked his driver.
"A mud trampler," repeated the man. "Of course it sounds quite different if you hear their name coming from the transec. But it's too difficult to pronounce, that's why we have given them that name."
Ron got inside the taxi-glider. "And where do these strange creatures come from?" he inquired.
"Well, from the mud-tramplers' planet. Seems to be a world lying beyond the center of the galaxy. Nobody knows how they ever found out about Lepso. But here they are now and they're supposed to be good businessmen."
This explanation satisfied Ron's curiosity. The glider set itself in motion. Soon Ron became aware that his driver kept close to the edge of the right side road, where he could travel as slow as he pleased.
"Why aren't you driving in the middle of the road?" Ron wanted to know.
"I didn't know that you were in a hurry to get downtown," answered his driver. "You didn't impress me as one of those who are forever in a rush."
Ron assured the man from Goszul that this was not at all the case. But Ron was puzzled why anyone on Lepso would drive his taxi slowly rather than at breakneck speed. After all, this way it would take longer for him to pick up another fare and therefore make more money.
"You're right, sir," admitted the driver. "But I don't care to rush like that. I'd rather make a little less money. I can't understand what has suddenly come over all the people here."
Ron sat up and took notice. "Suddenly? Hasn't it always been this way here?"
The man from Goszul replied with bitterness in his voice. "They've always been a nuksy" crowd," he answered as if he weren't one of the inhabitants of Lepso. "It used to be one could see vehicles going at hall or even a quarter speed as frequently as those traveling at top speed on the middle strip. Now everybody is driving as fast as the automated guiding line will permit. They're all in a rush. They want to get to their destination as fast as possible and then leave there again right away."
Ron pondered awhile before he asked: "When was that? I mean when has this sudden change taken place?"
The driver hesitated a moment. "Oh, this must have happened about three or four Lepso months ago. I can't recall the exact date. But it didn't take more than a few days for things to change around here."
The driver fell silent; he obviously didn't wish to volunteer any more information on the subject. And Ron felt he had heard enough interesting details to ponder over that he did not insist on continuing that conversation. The rest of the drive to the center of town was passed in silence. Ron paid the fare and got out of the glider-taxi. He was quite certain he'd never again lay eyes on the driver.
The place where he had asked to be let off was right in the middle of the city, where he expected to find any number of convenient hotels. Still lost in thought about what the driver had told him, he entered through a wide, mirrored glass door which opened automatically on his approach. The door led into a cool, dimly-lit foyer. He looked around for the robot receptionist but couldn't find one. Over to the left he noticed a big counter with a huge sign hanging over it. Inscriptions in 10 different languages and four different kinds of writings informed the newcomer that this was the reception desk. A woman welcomed him with a friendly smile. Ron walked over to her.
"Hello, sir," she announced in English, tho her accent was not as completely free of any accent as that of the glaxi driver.
She was an Araukarian woman, a native from Arauka, and as far as Ron could see she definitely corresponded to the image that everyone throughout the galaxy had of the typical Araukarian beauties: blond, dark-eyed, gorgeous, wild and unpredictable.
"I'd like a nice, large room," Ron requested.
He didn't care for it if women smiled at him of their own accord. He knew he was a very goodlooking man: blond, tall, very tall even, and broad-shouldered.
The Araukarian woman did not seem to notice the rebuff. On the contrary, she smiled even friendlier than before. She was dressed in a fashion unfamiliar to Ron but which he had to admit was very refined and elaborate.
"We have nothing here but nice big rooms, sir," she replied.
Ron shrugged his shoulders; he wasn't impressed. "Alright then, give me any one you like."
Instead she reached under the counter top and brought out some kind of a catalog which she turned around and then opened to the first page. She pushed the catalog in front of Ron. "Please select the room you want, sir," she whispered.
Ron studied the list. The tremendous variety of offerings was confusing. The shapes of the rooms ranged from cubes, cylinders, hemispheres and spheres to pyramids. Some had atmospheres uniform throughout the room, others had a layered atmosphere. There were rooms with artificial gravity between 0.1 and 5.0 normal. The temperatures were set to be constant at minus 70° Celsius all the way up to plus 300°—and these were just a sample of all possible variations offered to the weary traveler.
Finally Ron found what he wanted. "I'd like to have this one," he said and pointed to a number in one of the columns.
The Araukarian woman nodded her head and then, without having been asked, she offered to have Ron's luggage taken up to his room as soon as it would arrive from the spaceport. After that she added something that struck Ron as being a rather strange remark, mainly because he did not understand the reason for it. "I'd like to give you some good advice, sir! If you have come here on business and wish to be successful even in the least degree, then always choose the right kind of drink!"
• • •
Ron was still preoccupied with his own thoughts when he opened his room door with the code-key. He entered without looking around and made straight for one of the armchairs which stood immediately to the right of the entrance next to a little coffee table.
He sat down, stretched his legs. Only then did he see the box directly in the middle of his room. It had a familiar-looking cube shape and was filled with a greenish, viscous fluid in which he noticed the sluggish movements of a light gray and dark grey mottled shadow.
Ron felt dismayed. Not so much by the sight that presented itself to his eyes but by the realization that he had walked into a trap, quite carelessly and like a fool. Provided, of course, that the mud-trampler intended to harm him.
"No, you needn't be afraid," said a calming voice at this moment. "I haven't come here to inflict any harm on you."
Ron's anger rose suddenly. "How the devil did you get into my room?" he wanted to know.
The voice hesitated for an instant. "We from Machraamp... are endowed with some extraordinary talents... let's leave it at that."
Ron was certain that the cube-shaped spacesuit must conceal a transec somewhere inside. If such an instrument was supplied with sufficient information for its data banks it could translate a language into any other foreign tongue. This explained why Ron and the mud-trampler could carry on a conversation with each other. Still it gave no explanation how the alien creature had been able to sense Ron's fear nor how it managed to pass through an electronically-locked hotel room door.
"What do you want?" Ron inquired in an unfriendly tone.
"You might remember," answered the alien, "that both our taxis were parked next to each other at the edge of the spaceport's landing field. I passed close by your vehicle and then... I became aware that you'd come to Lepso in search of someone who had disappeared."
Ron was dumbfounded. "Nonsense," he declared.
A derisive giggle came from the loudspeaker of the invisible transec. "Why won't you tell the truth?" asked the voice. "We aren't telepaths in the ordinary sense of the word, still we recognize quite clearly strongly-felt desires or thoughts of our fellow beings. And I'm quite sure I was reading you right."
Ron leaned back in his armchair. "N
ever mind whether you were right or wrong," he said. "Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me what you want from me."
"That's a splendid idea," agreed the box. "But first I have to go back a little further. You don't know my home world Machraamp; nobody knows it. So you aren't aware either that we are a rather tiny race, only 8000 as expressed in your numerical system. This doesn't mean at all, though, that we're on the road to extinction. Our population has always hovered around that number, sometimes a little more and sometimes a bit less. The fact that we are relatively so few in number led to a close relationship between the individual members of our race. When ten amongst us decided to travel to Lepso all of us felt fear and apprehension. Nevertheless we were forced to take that step, since there are certain items we can obtain in Lepso which are almost impossible to get elsewhere. That's why we let the ten go on their way but we kept in constant communication with each other.
"Recently we have learned that one of the ten has vanished. This caused a great deal of grief to us. Five more of us went out in search of our disappeared brother. We cannot simply leave him to his fate. He is in danger, we are sure, and we must come to his rescue. Do you understand?"
"Of course," replied Ron. "I still don't see, though, what this has to do with me."
"Oh, that's easy. You are also on the lookout for one of your vanished fellow beings. If ever during your search you find some trace of our brother from Machraamp, please let us know about it."
