Horn: Green

by Perry Rhodan

  Razmon did not know if such a theory were valid but he was soon going to have the chance to find out.

  • • •

  In the history of the progress of humanity, the name of Clifton Shaugnessy is

  not mentioned. In fact it's most likely that we only know about him at all because of his intervention at a strategic moment. Shaugnessy was one of many unknown soldiers of fortune whose deeds were known to few men or were forgotten with the passage of time.

  No one will ever know if Shaugnessy intended to shoot Valmonze or if he merely intended to intimidate him. The smuggler may have hesitated too long.

  The impact of Valmonze's charge knocked him backward. The weapon flew out of his hand and clattered out of reach. Shaugnessy raised his arms to defend himself against the other's raging attack. The patriarch weighed twice as much as Shaugnessy and simply knocked him around at will. With a choking cry the small Terran staggered and fell. Valmonze made a dive for him but the smuggler rolled quickly to one side and searched about for his fallen weapon. As he got up the patriarch came at him with his tremendous fists, his hate-filled eyes narrowed to slits.

  It developed into a conflict where Shaugnessy was continuously on the run from his opponent. Since the room wasn't very large it was only a question of time before he'd feel the weight of Valmonze's powerful arms. Shaugnessy ducked and reached the door, managing to slip out quickly. Valmonze roared out in a rage of frustration and came thundering after him. Shaugnessy was well acquainted with the building so he ran with a purpose down the long corridor, at the end of which was a lift that would take him below.

  He could hear Valmonze panting after him but he didn't dare look back. When he reached the elevator he sighed with relief. In that brief moment he thought he was saved. But his relief was swiftly replaced by the bitter realization that his flight was at an end when he saw the cage open and two Springers emerged.

  "Grab him!" yelled the patriarch.

  Shaugnessy didn't have the slightest chance. He was lost. He turned around slowly to gaze expressionlessly into Valmonze's triumph-twisted face.

  But history tells nothing of Clifton Shaugnessy. Its voice is silent concerning the fate of a man whose wasted life was not untouched with a purpose, after all, because of one heroic deed.

  • • •

  By nature, Buster Felton was a gentle and harmless type who harbored no warlike ambitions. But when he saw the two Springer ships forming for an attack his face hardened and he readied the destroyer's bow cannon—for battle.

  "There's our reception committee, sir! Spahn called to Woodworth. "They've split up. I hope the others aren't hanging around in the background somewhere to form an ambush!"

  'We'll know that soon enough if you'll keep an eye on that tracking screen," the major reminded him. "OK—get set for a landing!"

  "Sir!" exclaimed Felton incredulously.

  Woodworth knew what was bothering his gunner. In the air they might have matched the Springers but on the ground they'd be goners. "Don't sweat it," he growled. "We're going to give them a little exhibition!"

  James Woodworth, an officer without battle experience, dependent alone upon his theoretical knowledge, suddenly revealed himself to be a natural fighter and tactician. As he dropped down under the Springer ships the enemy gunners thought their precious chance had come and opened fire. The destroyer's defense screens wavered under the blast of the heavy enemy weapons as the Springers hovered over the small Terran ship like angry hawks. Then Woodworth pulled back on his controls and the destroyer glided upward like a darting phantom, swerving as it went.

  Felton was almost thrown from his seat by this manoeuvre but he still managed to open fire on the Springer ships looming before him so suddenly. While he did so he yelled to drown his fear. The words he shouted were meaningless and seemed to have no effect on either Spahn or the major. The energy screens of the Springers were not designed to take the heavy fire that met them. The uncanny Terran ship had transformed itself into a death-flaming fortress.

  Heavily damaged, the two gliders spun downward out of control and crashed into the treetops.

  "Now everything depends on speed!" cried Woodworth as he finally brought the pursuit ship down on the landing field. Felton opened the airlock. The major got out of his flight seat.

  When he reached the open hatchway he saw a man and a woman coming across the runway toward him. The man was tall and thin and moved with the grave dignity of a stork. The woman seemed to be exhausted but she was still attractive enough to unsettle a man of Maj. Woodworth's temperament. When this unlikely pair reached the airlock entrance the man's casual greeting was something that Woodworth would never forget.

  "My name is John Edgar Pincer—this is my wife." He smiled. "Actually, we hadn't expected you so soon, Major."

  It made Felton groan audibly as he helped Woodworth pull the two fugitives on board.

  "Snap it up!" they heard Spahn call out. "Were going to have visitors soon!"

  Woodworth turned the two rescued people over to Felton and dashed for his flight seat. He wasn't about to wait around for the arrival of more Springer ships. He made a crash takeoff which resulted in only one injury.

  John Edgar Pincer broke his nose—in two places.

  10/ EVERY DOG HAS HIS DAY

  The apprehension and arrest of Vincent Aplied resulted in a minor drop in exchange rates here and there but within a few days everything was stabilized again. Aplied was subjected to an intensive interrogation during which he babbled out everything that Solar Intelligence wanted to know. A wave of other arrests followed the hearing and although a few criminals managed to elude the dragnet this did not affect the success of the overall operation. The world Press swung back unanimously into the camp of top leadership and celebrated Rhodan for having handled the affair so discreetly.

  Pincer's deeds had been publicized prior to his arrival on Earth and on the announced day of his landing thousands of Terranians streamed to the spaceport to pay the young man homage. The TV networks were represented in strength for a full coverage of the event.

  Perry Rhodan ordinarily shied away from all such flurry and hullabaloo but under urging from his friends he had reluctantly consented to officiate. He sat with Bell and Solar Marshal Freyt on the platform which had been especially erected for the affair.

  "Don't make such a long face," muttered Bell. It's entirely possible that you're on 'candid camera' right now."

  Rhodan looked at him disapprovingly. "So that's why you've been wearing such a silly grin. I was wondering about that."

  "Say now, listen here," retorted Bell. "After all, this is an official occasion and I owe it to my many friends all over the world to give them a proper impression."

  Even Rhodan's ready wit was unable to counter such a forthright declaration. The First Administrator's gaze swept over the throng of spectators. It was a beautiful afternoon in late summer of the year 2102.

  The P.A. speakers blared forth with an announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, in a few minutes John Edgar Pincer will be standing before you."

  Freyt raised his head. He was a taciturn man who was noted for the terseness of his comments. "The Cape Kennedy," he said. "She's coming in."

  Aware of the cameras, Bell straightened up while holding his smile in a frozen mask, thus making an impression on the remotest of his acquaintances. It was what he called his 'photogenic look'.

  • • •

  The swiftness of the three-man destroyer's departure from the system had not given Valmonze time to strike. In teeth-gnashing frustration he was forced to let the fugitives get away. The Cape Kennedy had promptly swallowed the tiny spaceship into its hangar and returned to the Sol System in two transitions.

  Outside of his broken nose, Pincer's greatest sense of pain was over the loss of the space-jet. The Error had been a cherished possession and to know that it was now in the hands of the Springers was a bitter pill to swallow. However, since his great desire for space travel had been overly
satisfied by now he bore the loss with some composure. The most important thing was that their lives had been saved.

  After the second transition, Maj. Woodworth stepped into their cabin and glanced sympathetically at Pincer's nose. "How are you doing?" he asked.

  "Excellently," Pincer lied. He knew Woodworth saw through the lie but it made little difference to him.

  Woodworth smiled. "You're going to be doing much better right now when I tell you that a great reception has been prepared for you."

  Pincer turned to look at his wife, who was resting in a comfortable chair. She only raised her brows in questioning perplexity.

  "Can you give me that again, Major? What do you mean?"

  "I'll be glad to explain. At the spaceport a large crowd of spectators is waiting for you, along with Perry Rhodan and a lot of other VIPs as well as the TV cameras."

  Pincer felt of his bandaged nose and Woodworth could hardly suppress his amusement over the ordeal the young man was facing.

  "How can I get out of all that?" Pincer wanted to know.

  "No way!" Woodworth assured him. "I'd even prevent that myself. You're too good an advertisement for my ship. Now maybe there'll be a lot of cadets who won't mind being transferred to James Woodworth's command."

  "I—don't understand."

  Woodworth smiled mysteriously. "Get yourself ready, young man," he said. "You'd better spruce up a bit so that your public will be carried away by their enthusiasm."

  Pincer looked down at himself. His clothing had taken a serious beating during his adventures on Alazee's planet. And Cora had not fared any better.

  Woodworth understood their speechless consternation. "I'll bring you and your wife what's necessary," he promised. He turned to go but Pincer grabbed his sleeve.

  "I want to thank you, Major. You gambled your life to save us."

  "You know something, Pincer?" muttered Woodworth. "In comparison to what you and your wife have done for the Earth, the Cape Kennedy's action was insignificant." With this he left the cabin.

  "I feel like crawling into a corner somewhere," Pincer confessed to Cora. "Lees hope they don't drag out that reception." He stretched his arms wearily. "All I want now is a good shower and a regular bed to sleep in."

  He did not yet suspect that a certain acquaintance of his was going to seriously scuttle any such plans.

  • • •

  The Solar Hymn of the Imperium rang out as John Edgar Pincer and his wife left the Cape Kennedy's airlock and were lowered in the passenger lift. The spectators in the grandstands were standing at attention with bared heads. Once on the ground, Pincer half-panicked and came to a stop. As the music died out, someone whispered behind him. It was Woodworth.

  "Keep going, Pincer—right up to the grandstand."

  Meanwhile, Bell had taken his seat again and he nudged Rhodan gently. "I had pictured this Pincer fellow differently somehow," he said.

  As Pincer climbed the steps of the VIP platform in front of the stands, along with his wife and Maj. Woodworth, Rhodan, Bell and Solar Marshal Freyt rose to greet them. At first Pincer's face came into view with a big bandage on his nose. Above the bandage was a pair of clear blue eyes that looked at Rhodan with fathomless melancholy. Pincer negotiated the remaining steps but stumbled at the top, which caused him to turn crimson clear up to his protruding ears.

  Rhodan left his place and went to meet him. He spoke to him in low tones that could not be picked up by the microphones. "Unofficially I want to thank you personally and I'd like to say that I think you're quite a tremendous fellow."

  Pincer's reply revealed that he was by no means as inept as one might judge him to be from outward appearances. "Unofficially, sir," he whispered to Rhodan, "I'd like to return the same compliment to you!"

  They shook hands and smiled at each other. The TV cameras picked up the scene in close-up while in Denver Archibald Pincer came close to crawling right into his receiving set.

  Rhodan gently guided the youngster before the microphones. A roar of applause came from the grandstand. Pincer swallowed hard while feeling of his wounded nose but then he strove to assume a posture that was appropriate for the occasion.

  The First Administrator's speech was very short. "We salute this young man and also welcome his pretty young wife. Both of them have performed a very great service for the Earth. And for that we are very grateful." He spoke in a low voice to Pincer. "Come—they want to hear from you."

  Pincer frowned at the microphones in a way that would have done credit even to Valmonze. Rhodan laughed encouragingly and Pincer took a step forward.

  "On Alazee's planet," he began, "there was a native birdman. His name was Schnitz. He's dead now. Certainly it is he who deserves our respect and our thanks. Without him and his friends I'd never have been able to send the distress call. In addition I'd like to mention Maj. James Woodworth, whom you see here beside me. He and his men have defied death to save us." Pincer nodded as though to confirm his statement and then a smile came to his dreamy face. "And last but not least I have to thank someone else for standing by my side—my brave and beautiful wife, Cora Pincer."

  With that he turned and shook hands again with Perry Rhodan. Bell and Freyt greeted him in silence. Then Pincer took his wife by the arm and went back down the steps.

  "And to think," said Rhodan wonderingly, "that the medicos always rejected him from the Solar Fleet. We ought to see what can be done to find a spot for him."

  "I believe he would turn down the offer," said Bell thoughtfully.

  The more Rhodan thought about it, the more he felt that Bell's appraisal might be right.

  • • •

  With a sigh, John Edgar Pincer sank down into the luxurious bed. "Peace at last!" he said thankfully. He was watching his wife, who was sorting out the clothing that had been sent up to them by the hotel management. "Have you given any thought to where we might go to finish out our honeymoon?" he asked her.

  "One thing for sure," said Cora emphatically, "it won't be on another space jaunt!"

  "No," agreed Pincer. "Well pick out someplace that's very safe and peaceful."

  Somebody knocked at the door and Pincer impatiently pulled his long legs out of the bed. "Come in!" he said.

  The bellhop came in and stared at Pincer as though at a rare specimen in the zoo. "Somebody has sent you something," stammered the youngster.

  "Flowers!" Cora exclaimed. "I'll bet it's flowers."

  The young man shook his head. He gave them to understand that he would have to go fetch the object which had been sent and he left the room momentarily. A short time later his knock was heard again at the door and Pincer merely grunted in reply. The door opened just slightly and the bellhop called through from the hall. "With best wishes from a Mr. Denniston of Denver!"

  There was a hoarse barking sound and into the room dashed a mustard-yellow creature with an ugly snout.

  "Prince!" exclaimed Cora joyously.

  The dog jumped up on her and wagged its tail excitedly. Then it left her and began to sniff around. When it saw Pincer its tail seemed to stiffen.

  "Prince doesn't seem to know you anymore," commented Cora uncertainly.

  But Pincer only had loving eyes for his wife. He felt that the time had finally arrived when he could take her in his arms. As he approached her, however, the dog began to growl in a hideous manner. The beast stood between Pincer and his wife, which caused Pincer to hesitate uncertainly.

  "Listen, old boy," he said in a friendly tone, "this is my wife, do you understand? You can't stop me from kissing her."

  A threatening rumble emerged from the beast. Its little green eyes glared maliciously at John Edgar Pincer. And then the mongrel mutt made its charge.

  HORN: GREEN

  Copyright © 1976

  Ace Books

  by arrangement with Arthur Moewig Verlag

  THE SHIP OF THINGS TO COME

  "WE STILL have some hope," Perry Rhodan said.

  "But slim at best," Atlan r
eplied.

  "Hope is hope!" the Peacelord declared adamantly. "Don't forget that we have always mastered the worst situations."'

  "But nothing as dreadful as this," the Crystal Prince muttered glumly.

  And Perry Rhodan knew in his heart of hearts that his immortal friend, the Imperator of Arkon who had survived from the time of Atlantis, was right. The existence of the Imperium was at stake. A tale of the Blue System, the Akons and a ghostly group of spaceships known as—

  THE PHANTOM FLEET