by Perry Rhodan
Pincer figured the man had lost his mind. Perhaps the shock of seeing the spinach seeds had been too much for him.
"Here!" shouted Valmonze, addressing his sons. "Just take a look at that!"
John Edgar Pincer stared at them in wonderment as he saw the unbelievable become reality: the patriarch's sons fell upon the carton like a pack of hungry hounds. The Super Tenderleaf seeds trickled through their hands while they clapped each other elatedly on their shoulders. And through it all, here stood the patriarch king of the long super battleship, contentedly smiling and not in the least displeased or angered.
The color was slowly returning to Cora's face. Pincer could only stand there in helpless disbelief while he stared at the spectacle.
"This is splendid!" boomed the Springer. "Aplied can always be counted on. Do you realize, kid, the things we can do with these poppy seeds?"
Poppy seeds! So that was it! Now Pincer knew. Valmonze thought the spinach seeds were poppy seeds.
"Opium," said Valmonze. "Opium and other narcotics. Believe me, Pincer, this stuff represents a power that's almost greater than a fleet of spaceships. We can make a real haul with this—in fact the profits will be terrific! But what's more important, we can use it to make Perry Rhodan and his ridiculous Imperium politically impotent! Among all the planetary races we'll hit with this trade, there'll be a growing resentment over the supposed export of Earthly narcotics. They'll hold Rhodan responsible for not doing anything to restrict the smuggling of drugs."
Pincer lowered his gaze with a feeling of revulsion. What kind of men were these? Irresponsibly they took advantage of the effects of these dangerous drugs on various races in order to further their own purposes. Pincer knew very well that the First Administrator would spare no effort to smash such a smuggling organization. He braced himself almost instinctively. By chance he had penetrated into the criminal ranks. Now the opportunity was presented to him wherein he might unmask them all and bring some valuable information to Rhodan. He remembered Aplied, which was apparently an important name. It was necessary to find out more about this man.
"Valmonze," he said finally, "you know Aplied is getting very edgy. He thinks the business is getting shaky. He's afraid Rhodan might start using his mutants."
"Mutants?" repeated Valmonze. "So far I haven't seen any. So Vincent Aplied is getting worried, eh? Who would have figured that? What else does he want? He's sitting fat and happy in Cape Town while he makes nothing but money!"
Vincent Aplied, Cape Town. Pincer had to struggle to keep from showing his surprise. Aplied was one of the most respected farmers in South Africa. Pincer would never have thought that Valmonze was referring to that Aplied. But now it was fact. A Terran was the chief of an interstellar narcotics ring. To Pincer it was incomprehensible. Certainly Aplied must be aware of the consequences of his criminal actions.
But how was he going to report his discovery to Rhodan? In the first place there was no possibility of doing it now. However, maybe the same happenstance that had rescued him might serve to help him again.
Valmonze interrupted his train of thought. "When we get to Alazee's planet this stuff will be transshipped immediately. Our clients are already waiting. Did you ever see a nonhuman addict, Terran? Not a very pretty sight. The non-human races have a stronger reaction to the heavy stuff than humans."
It was only with an extreme effort that Pincer kept himself from simply tearing into the Springer with his bare hands. But that, of course, would have ruined everything. He remembered what Valmonze had said. The seeds would be transshipped immediately. Although Super Tenderleaf seeds had the appearance of poppy seeds, their effect was certainly different. That meant that the respite he and his wife had won would be canceled out, once they had landed on Alazee's planet.
Pincer bent down and picked up the carton of spinach seeds. He took them back to their regular storage place and when he returned he saw Valmonze regarding him with a smile on his face.
"We'll soon be going into a short transition," announced the patriarch. "If you wish I can place two cabins at your disposal on board the Val 1. Of course you can also stay on your own ship if you want to."
"We'll stay here," Pincer decided. "It won't be long to get to our destination so it makes little difference where we stay."
"Naturally," said Valmonze. He made a slight bow in the direction of Cora, who seemed to him to be a bit more caustic than Pincer. To the Springer, women shouldn't be mixed up in business matters, anyway. Then he and his sons left the Error.
Looking like a small town preacher, John Edgar Pincer walked with stiff-legged forced composure to the other flight seat and sat down. It was only now that another danger occurred to him. What would happen when Shaugnessy himself appeared with the real merchandise?
The answer seemed to be a foregone conclusion. Whether Valmonze discovered the nature of Super Tenderleaf or was informed of the true situation by Shaugnessy's arrival, in either case the patriarch would react violently. Pincer knew full well that their life was as much in danger now as it was before; they had only postponed their fate. Within this stay of execution, however, he must find a way of sending a radio dispatch in order to inform Perry Rhodan concerning the machinations of one Vincent Aplied.
"They've gone," said Cora, interrupting his thoughts. "I wouldn't have believed we were going to live through that."
She looked very tired. Pincer glanced at her sympathetically. "It was just luck," he said. "It won't happen again."
She got up from the pilot's seat and came over to him. He wondered if it was her presence here that gave him the strength to hold his nerves together.
"We have to see if we can't get in radio contact with Terrania or some Terranian ship," he said. "Rhodan has to know who's hiding behind this narcotics smuggling racket."
Cora pointed to the Error's radio console.
"No," said Pincer. "Valmonze would jam my transmission immediately. He has much more powerful equipment. And it would only take him about a minute to show up with a weapon and some very embarrassing questions. We have to wait until we can send out a complete report."
The seefone buzzer sounded. Pincer went over and switched it on. Valmonze's bearded countenance appeared on the screen. After surveying Pincer a moment in silence he rumbled: "Get set for a short transition. It won't be a bad one—it's a short hop."
"Thanks," was Pincer's curt reply.
A single hyperjump was to land them in the lion's den.
4/ SPINACH IS BAD FOR THE HEALTH
Although Alazee's planet was an oxygen world, Pincer's first sight of it was a disappointment. Of course one could breathe here without wearing a protective suit but for Pincer the air was abominable when compared to that of Earth. It had a damp and musty odor like decayed vegetation.
The Val 1 landed without difficulty at the spaceport. Two other cylindrical ships were parked there on their landing struts—the Val 4 and Val 7. Valmonze explained that they were undergoing some repair work. Pincer stood with his wife and the patriarch in the personnel lock of the Val 1. Already rolling toward them below were the cargo-handling vehicles which were exclusively manned by Springers. Pincer couldn't make out any of the native inhabitants. Probably the Traders had this area carefully sealed off.
Valmonze was puffed up with a sense of important enterprise and shouted orders to the men below. From time to time he'd comment with a grin to Pincer. "Well unload your little ship," he said, "so's we can take out the poppy seeds. We've been waiting a long time now to be able to cultivate poppies ourselves."
He stepped onto the lift that reached from the airlock down to the ground. The wind rippled his beard and billowed his cape outward. Pincer caught a glimpse of the Springer's upper arm, which was heavier looking than his own thigh.
"Come on," invited Valmonze. "Let's go down."
Pincer moved uncertainly into the lift cage and grasped the handrails tightly. Valmonze had to help Cora in and he looked scornful as he did so. His fierce gaze
made Pincer feel nervous.
"What's the matter with you?" Valmonze wanted to know.
"I always get air-sick in elevators," said Pincer unhappily.
Valmonze stared at him as though seeing him for the first time "And you're supposed to be a spaceman?"
The lift began to descend. Pincer's complexion alternated between white and red. Desperately he held onto the railings with both hands. Valmonze scratched his beard reflectively and Cora could see him shake his head. When the lift reached the ground, Valmonze jumped out like an athlete but Pincer clambered out behind him with wobbling knees. Several of the Galactic Traders in the vicinity took no pains to hide their merriment over Pincer's clumsy arrival.
"If you're able to at all," said Valmonze derisively, "you might take a look at the cargo hatch."
Pincer came to a stop. What he saw didn't exactly help his present sensitivities. The Error glided out of the interior of the Val 1. Once it was on the ground the space-jet's own cargo hatch was opened. The cargo vehicles rolled up to it. Several Springers began to unload the Super Tenderleaf crate from the Error and the pride of the IFC was finally placed in one of the truck beds.
I still have a few personal things on board that I'd like very much to have with me," said Pincer. "I'll just run over there quickly."
Valmonze merely nodded. Pincer managed to wink at Cora before he started out. The Springers had already completed their work by the time he approached the Error.
His pulse began to race. Now there might be a chance to send off a radio message. He ran faster. The loaded cargo car passed him on the way. They had stacked the packages of spinach seeds on the truck bed—innocent cargo intended for Ferrol. Pincer clambered into the airlock and took a look around inside. The interior of the ship was empty.
In two steps he was at the hypercom console and flipping the switches. The equipment crackled initially and when it had warmed up it hummed softly. Pincer
leaned over the microphone.
But he did not have a chance to speak.
"What are you fooling around there for?" Valmonze's bass voice rang out behind him.
The shock made Pincer wince involuntarily. He turned around swiftly to see Valmonze standing there with a sullen expression and Cora still at the airlock door, her eyes shadowed by fear.
"I'd forgotten to shut off the console," he almost stuttered. "You really gave me a start!" He smiled at Valmonze and shut off the equipment. "Besides, I wanted to get these cigarettes and take them along." He reached for the cartons.
"Just don't fool around with the radio equipment. We keep a constant security scan on this area. What do you want to do—get our monitors in an uproar?"
"Of course not," Pincer assured him. "And nothing's happened, anyway."
"It's time we went to the main building," Valmonze directed. "I'm curious to see what my friends have to say about the seeds."
It was a curiosity that Pincer didn't share with him at all. He knew very well that the first attempt to produce poppies out of Super Tenderleaf would fail miserably. So he stood there uncertainly with the cigarette cartons held like pistols in his hands.
"What are you still waiting for?" asked Valmonze impatiently. Pincer's silly grin brought a flush of anger to his face.
'I don't want to appear impolite," said the vice-president of IFC, "but this is the first time my companion and I have been on this planet. You can surely understand that we're interested in seeing the natives. Processing narcotics isn't too exciting, you know, because we've been around enough in the business to have our fill of that. We'd rather wander around a little."
It was clearly evident what Valmonze thought of such tourist gawking. Nevertheless he turned to Cora. "What's your preference?"
"Business discussions bore me," she answered.
"I'd like to know what Aplied's system is for choosing his help," grumbled Valmonze. "It's true, of course, that Shaugnessy was always pretty spaced out with his crazy ideas but he always took part in our conferences. As far as I'm concerned you can have a look around. The nearest native village is just beyond the spaceport. Those characters just barely get by in Intercosmo. You might succeed in flushing a few of them out of the trees."
Pincer came near to asking him what the natives might be doing in the trees but then he realized that the patriarch must assume that Shaugnessy or Aplied would have informed the new accomplices concerning conditions on Alazee's planet. Any improper question might arouse the Springer's suspicion.
So instead he merely set his long thin legs into motion and exited the Error. Cora and Valmonze followed him.
The Trader pointed toward a building on the edge of the field. "Go in that direction but don't go too far. If we need you for anything, you'd better be close by."
Pincer only nodded and Cora locked her arm in his as they moved away toward the indicated building. Valmonze watched them for a moment, shaking his head, and then he stomped off in another direction—toward the greatest surprise of his life.
• • •
The spaceport of Alazee's planet was very extensive. Nestled between hills in a valley it was three kilometers long. For the Galactic Traders the establishment of such commercial strongholds was a question of practicability and profit. A spaceport of this size was expensive and of course was not normal for the majority of their bases. Only particularly suitable worlds were equipped with such facilities.
The Springers evaluated all actions in terms of economic and commercial advantage. Since they were effectively space nomads and practically lived on board their ships, they had to have places where they could land from time to time in order to take care of repairs or other important matters. The wealth of a Springer clan was dependent upon the capability of its patriarch and the measure of such wealth was in the size of his fleet.
For generations the Springers had been accustomed to having a trade monopoly on all inhabited planets that lay within range of their long, cylindrical ships. However in recent years they had run into strong competition with the Earth. With stubborn persistence the Terran merchants and economic experts had fought against the long-established organization of the Galactic Traders which had been in existence for thousands of years.
The Springers' traditional principle of trading had always been quite simple. They always charged whatever they could get for their wares. Goods that they had bought up at cutthroat prices, in other words "dirt-cheap", they had been in the habit of trading for other more valuable merchandise. But all that was a thing of the past now. Terran freighters were appearing on the scene and for the first time were offering alien intelligences of the galaxy a realistic price for their wares. Before the Traders actually realized what was happening, Terra had obtained a firm foothold on countless planets. From that time on, the Traders in their long-ships considered every means of undermining the Earth to be justifiable.
John Edgar Pincer knew no more about the Springers than any other Earthly citizen who was interested in the destiny of his race. But now apparently he was to become more educated in this regard. He had come with his wife to the edge of the spaceport, when she suddenly grasped his hand.
"Johnny," she said, "they'll soon find out what we were really carrying on board the Error—and then they'll drag us back there!"
Pincer's gaze swept across the nearby slopes of the mountains which were covered with gloomy-looking forests. "We have to make a run for it," he told her. "It's the only way of staying alive. Maybe there are some other Springer stations here on this planet. After awhile when the smoke settles they may relax their security a bit and then we might have a chance to send out a radio message."
Cora looked about her. The Springers didn't appear to her to be the types that could be outwitted by her Johnny. "Escape?" she said, wonderingly. "Johnny, use your head, for Heaven's sake! We're strangers here and don't even know where to turn. They'd track us down before we could even find a place to hide!"
Pincer drew her along with him as they proceeded on
ward. He had no clear conception of how he and Cora could save themselves. Only one thing was certain: if they stayed around here any longer, in a very short time they'd be prisoners of Valmonze.
The smooth surface of the spaceport gave way to a grey, rocky terrain that was dotted with clumps of grass. Pincer looked back. Nobody was following them. About 100 meters ahead of them were the first of the trees. Their tremendous trunks were of a dark brown color and their foliage was so dense that it seemed to form a compact mass of vegetation. He hoped that here he might find
concealment.
"You're going too fast!" Cora panted.
Conscience-stricken, Pincer slowed his pace. If he demanded too much of Cora's energies now there'd be a price to pay for it later. They had to conserve their strength.
"I really had imagined a more pleasant honeymoon than this," said Cora with sarcasm.
"It's all my fault," said Pincer remorsefully. "I pestered papa long enough for the space-jet and now I wish I hadn't. Anyway, he'll be worried because I promised to contact him after our arrival on Ferrol. He's waiting for a radio message from me."
"Maybe he'll send out a search for us," said Cora hopefully.
"Yes, on Ferrol," admitted Pincer. "But when they don't find us there, where will they look? There's simply no possibility of locating anybody who is lost in space."
It was typical of Pincer's unique character that he was concerned about other people even when he himself was in a worse situation. The fact that his father would be searching for him in vain worried him much more than the threat of being captured by the Springers.
They reached the first trees and Pincer sighed with relief. The going was more difficult here because thickets and underbrush got in their way. Birds chirped and cried out excitedly in the branches as the two humans appeared in the area.
"Do you think it gets cold here at night?" asked Cora.
The night! Pincer shuddered. Until now he hadn't thought of that nor did he know the duration of darkness on this world. Alazee's planet did have some kind of rotational period. He remembered having read something about it in the
