by Perry Rhodan
Prolog
THE BLUE SYSTEM, Arkon's oldest and Terra's newest foe, has had to surrender unconditionally. They had no choice after the space stations were destroyed which furnished power to their system-spanning defense screen. Deprived of this protection, it is now a certainty that in the future the Akons will keep the peace-out of self-preservation! But it is also a certainty that the turbulent events of recent times have prevented Rhodan and his men-as well as Atlan-from keeping an eye on the Antis. So it is that the Antis have had an opportunity to pursue their nefarious undertakings. As servants of the galaxy-wide Baalol cult they have been busy with a 10-year plan of terror! Investigations made on the planet Lepso by the agents of Division 3 have already clearly shown what terrible consequences this plan can have, affecting all Humanity as well as other galactic civilizations. Once more the smuggler planet of Lepso is the scene of action-but this time it isn't a matter of minor intelligence missions. Now the entire Solar Fleet as well as the forces of Arkon are committed to a course which can lead to galactic war!
Perry Rhodan
Posbis #101
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BLOCKADE: LEPSO
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1/ THE SMILING MAN OF LEPSO UNKNOWN
He was a man unknown to himself. Unexpectedly, on this day the old puzzle was brought to light by a new one.
Dr. Edmond Hugher had just settled quite comfortably in his favorite form-chair. He was nicely stretched out with his feet propped up on a footstool and was holding the weekend edition of the Terrania Post in his lap. About the only thing that interested him in this bulky Sunday paper, however, was the crossword puzzle.
This was the good doctor's little side hobby because it helped the quiet, friendly man to even forget his more serious labors at times-especially when he worked on really high-quality puzzles. In his opinion the Terrania Post carried the best puzzles available. This particular one had been a challenge to him but he almost had it completed-all but two words.
No.45 horizontal: decorative encasement for weapons... nine letters. He already had letters R and T in the third and fourth spaces. No.109 vertical: Icelandic form of wrestling... five letters. All he had was the letter I in third position.
Dr. Hugher groaned aloud to himself. That's the way it always was with these puzzles in the Terrania Post: a couple of final sticklers, almost impossible to answer. Not unless a person were to turn to Center and request help from the positronic lexicon. But that was what Hugher always avoided. He was determined to solve these puzzles by himself.
"Arkkonklegga! By the gods of Arkon!" he muttered. "What is a decorative encasement for weapons?" He was not aware of having spoken the exclamation in Interkosmo whereas the question had been uttered in English. "And what are they getting at with an Icelandic form of wrestling?"
He looked up from the newspaper for a moment and his thoughts drifted off. He was reminded fleetingly of his work which definitely had to be finished today.
"Oh for Heaven's sake, of course! Cartouche!" Pretty sneaky of them not to hint that the word would be French. He chuckled contentedly and used his finger to count the letters of cartouche. There were nine of them, just what he needed, and it now gave him A as the 5th vertical letter. And even as he marked in the word, the name came to him which described the Icelandic wrestling: glima.
This in itself was a puzzle. "Glima," he said aloud. "Now where did that come from? How is it that I have such an unusual knowledge of Terran languages?"
He lowered the newspaper while his thoughts began to drift into his past. He recalled that he had once been a very sick man but just what kind of illness it was had never been explained to him by the doctors on Arkon.
"It's a miracle that you've recovered at all, Hugher," they had told him. "Unfortunately we cannot guarantee that other brain injuries won't show up with the passage of time."
At the time he had ignored the remark-which had been 58 years ago. True, people called him Edmond Hugher, but was he in fact such a person? Often he thought he had a recollection of his parents and brothers and sisters, yet he had never been able to actually visualize his father and mother. Their features had always been vague and indiscernible in his memory. Had he not had three brothers? But he wasn't even able to say what planet he had been born on and he was even less certain of whether or not he had ever really had three brothers.
Everything beyond or before those 58 years was obscured by a nebulous veil.
Where was I born?-he thought. Certainly I am not Arkonide, Ekhonide, Springer or Ara, yet I seem to have inherited something from each of those races. But what is the root source of the other part of me?
Dr. Edmond Hugher removed his feet from the footstool and the form-chair automatically adjusted itself to his new position. In the same moment the pressing thoughts of his past came to an end. He was not aware that an invisible shroud had settled over the door of memory that the word glima had momentarily opened.
Of course his thoughts still lingered in his yesterdays but now they were limited to only the past 58 years. He saw himself working on Zalit, at first as an assistant. Later they gave him more responsible assignments but he still remained an assistant, never seeming to advance very much. Always they put some dim-witted Arkonide ahead of him and his protests were of no avail. He could not fight their system of nepotism. Realizing this, he had sought to make contact with non-Arkonides and finally was pleased to accept the offer of a Springer clan, whereby he could work for them as a merchant chief in one of their planetary trading settlements.
But Arkon had put its foot down and ruined everything. They pointed out the binding clause in his contract which stated that one Dr. Hugher had voluntarily pledged himself to dedicate all of his labors to Arkon, on the planet Zalit. In those days he had already developed the smile that was characteristic of him today. With an almost disturbing affability he explained that he had forgotten about that part of the agreement and so he returned as industriously as before to his activities on Zalit.
And then one day in his living quarters he was astounded to encounter his own smiling likeness standing before him. At first he could not believe his eyes and his natural reaction was to take hold of his second self and examine him from all sides. He finally had to admit that this robotic imitation of him was complete in every detail.
There in his room sat Laoo-o, who was supposed to have been dead for 20 years. Laoo-o, an official of the Baalol cult, had come here with the robot and forced an entry into Hugher's dwelling. He proceeded to lure him with an offer of a trip to Aralon, at the cult's expense, where he would be given the opportunity to study medicine on the central world of the Aras.
"Hugher, your absence will not be noticed," he said. "Your robot likeness here will insure that you will not be missed. It goes without saying, of course, that we aren't doing this out of pure altruism. After you've finished your studies we will expect you to work for the Baalol cult For more than two years now we've been observing you here on Zalit and we've been able to secretly check your work. Edmond Hugher, your labors are misplaced. We, the god priests, wish to guide you into a field of activity which is more suitable to your natural capacities."
Dr. Hugher had never been able to forget that scene. Often as though in a dream the stern face of Laoo-o had appeared to him. What it had boiled down to was that after some back and forth discussion he had vanished in the direction of Aralon, helped by the god priest. On Zalit his robot imitation had taken his place. With the dreamy smile of a child he had begun his studies there.
Driven for months by the fear of being a failure in this advanced work, he had gradually and imperceptibly gotten well into the new studies, until in his second year h
e was publicly praised by the famous hematologist Ur-gif.
Now Hugher recalled how he had been scrutinized by his fellow Ara students from every side. So far they had not seriously considered this eternally affable and smiling dreamer in their midst. He had always remained in the background and had never once attempted to make a showing in any form. But now this Ara professor Ur-gif had praised him in front of everybody for his little treatise, Hematophobia-Pathological Fear of Blood Among the Ekhonides, and thus Edmond Hugher had been proclaimed as a gifted student who showed much promise.
Because of his shyness this praise had been embarrassing to him. He was teased more than ever after that by his fellow students who could somehow never quite reach this ever quiet, ever friendly man. And so Edmond Hugher had withdrawn all the more and came to know nothing except his studies.
But never once did he lose contact with the god priests. Laoo-o kept visiting him incessantly and it was only seldom that another came in his place-which was invariably the one called Tu-poa, a very young Baalol fanatic.
The normal study course on Aralon took three or four years but Edmond Hugher kept at it for fully nine years. When he finally came up for his special oral examination he remembered standing before 20 famous Ara professors who congratulated him on his written exams and excused him from the oral. They all shook hands with him but the last hand he grasped was that of Laoo-o.
Ever since then Hugher had been here on Lepso and he had never regretted having worked for the Baalol cult. He finally came out of his daydreaming of the past and returned to the present. He smiled at himself and his musings until his gaze drifted again to the Terrania Post. He had not yet entered the word glima into the squares.
"So," he said while printing in the letters, "we did it again!"
But he still wished he knew what quirk of fate had enabled him to know Terran languages so well. Of course there was only one answer: on Aralon he must have been exposed to more in the hypno-schooling than he had expected. They had probably run him through the extensive linguistic courses which had included all Terran languages and their colloquial expressions. Glima? An obscure Icelandic word. Almost impossible that he could have known it-but he did know it and that was what wrapped up the fun for the day.
Dr. Edmond Hugher stretched his arms and yawned heartily. It was nice of them to always keep sending him the Terrania Post so that he could pursue his hobby. He was already looking forward to the next crossword puzzle.
• • •
It was time for the commercials. Ever since television had come into use there had always been commercials. It made little difference whether the TV stations were located in the Solar Imperium or in the stellar empire of Arkon. On all inhabited worlds the various intelligences were in the grip of this suggestive salesmanship, from which they could never escape.
Yet it was surprising that today the 'braintrust' was suffering thin the commercials in a deliberate gathering, which consisted of no less than Perry Rhodan, Reginald Bell, Solar Marshal Allan D. Mercant and Nike Quinto.
Just now the holo was extolling the virtues of Fertilux. This was a miracle fertilizer that promised uncanny results. According to the claim just made by the female announcer, the stuff could even replace the natural work of earthworms.
Nike Quinto was making a mental appraisal. The young lady had such a pretty appearance-with those big honest eyes and perfect gestures, how could she be telling a lie? Ye gods but they were slick with these swindles! Because they were effective!
Bell was strictly on the defensive. Not satisfied with silent analysis, he voiced his opinion out loud: "A heap o' rubbish!"
Then came the topper. The tradename Yttigitt appeared on the screen. Yttigitt was indispensable to any household.
"Consider what you would do if your son melted open your frigidoor with his toy blaster...
"I'd tan his hide!" growled Bell angrily. "Great galaxies, Perry, nothing's changed in 150 years! Same old blonk!"
But the announcer was not disturbed by Bell's agitated objection. His presentation continued. "Yttigitt is applied with our special applicator. It works almost with an intelligence of its own. Then you take the spraygun, adjust it for color, spray on the film and presto!-the damage has been erased! You don't even have to scold your son. Thus you see that Yttigitt can even avoid a childish trauma as the result of constant scolding-and naturally you want to have happy and healthy children. This is why Yttigitt belongs in every household!"
"They're all just as dangerous!" yelled Bell, completely beside himself. "That's not advertising. With this kind of idiocy they'll drive half the galaxy insane!"
"Hold it, my chubby friend," continued Rhodan. "I think it's coming now."
The face of a woman appeared who seemed to be quite withered with age. In this part of the commercial the sound portion appeared to be dead. But when the full name of the woman appeared on the screen and further undertitles explained where she was born, plus her present address, it was obvious that the sound and music had been suppressed for emphasis.
The picture changed and millions of viewers were suddenly looking at a young woman. Again the subtitles appeared, revealing what everyone had already guessed: it was the same woman, gloriously rejuvenated, without a wrinkle, beaming with health.
Then a single sentence was spoken: "You, too, should try Liquitiv."
Superimposed over the young woman's face an elegantly designed bottle was seen to hurtle forward from the background into a full-frame view. It bore no label-just the faintly fluorescent monogram: Liquitiv.
There was a transitional dissolve and another product was presented. Mercant turned off the TV receiver.
"Well, Mr. Bell, was that commercial more proper and sedate for you?"
The stocky and temperamental Deputy Administrator glared at Mercant but contrary to expectations he remained silent. Rhodan picked up some papers from his desk and handed them to his friend.
"For your information, Bell," he said.
The first report was from the head office of the General Cosmic Company. There were only a few lines of text at the top, which left more room for the ensuing columns of figures. It was a clear and businesslike presentation of data showing how much Liquitiv liqueur had been brought into the Solar Imperium during recent years.
Bell's hand shook slightly as he laid the paper aside. The next document was a transcript of record which gave an abbreviated extract of the most important depositions from the 48 men who had been liberated on Lepso.
After a large number of the names was an 'X'
Dead.
Bell could feel the eyes of Rhodan, Mercant and Quinto on him as he read one of the transcribed statements:
The first time I drank the liqueur was toward the end of the year 2090 or the beginning of 2091. When after the third time I could see for myself that there was an improvement, I went on with it. My whole appearance was youthful and I felt rejuvenated both physically and mentally. So I was taking Liquitiv regularly twice a day. As a doctor I kept myself under observation over a period of six months. When that period ended and I could not detect the slightest sign of any side effects. I knew that it was safe and effective. I was quite enthusiastic In recommending it to all my friends and acquaintances. I told them it was an extremely effective means of energizing and activating the cells of the body...
To some extent Bell had already become familiar with these affidavits but somehow when reading them in this abbreviated and compact form they suddenly had the effect of an invisible threat. Each of the victims had emphasized one basic observation: completely harmless, no side effects, astounding rejuvenation phenomena.
Following these testimonies were technical reports in which the results of investigation of more than 20 clinics had been recorded. Bell skipped the issue dates of the data sent out by the clinics, so he failed to note that all reports were already a few years old.
He had only worked his way through half of the documents before he laid them down and heaved a sig
h of discouragement "I just can't understand it-I mean this really loses me! What are these clinics thinking of?-excellent rejuvenator, completely harmless! They should have been with us on Lepso when we picked up 48 hopelessly incurable human wrecks-all of them strung out on Liquitiv. I just can't accept such a contradiction. Do you think maybe a different Liquitiv gets to the Solar Imperium than the kind that shows up in other interstellar markets?"
Nike Quinto answered him. "We've looked into that, Mr. Bell. We went even further and made a comparative study, using the same test samples but giving them another complete chemical analysis. This means starting with the first Liquitiv samples on the two-year rotation of testing in the clinic. Then finally we took two cc's from each of the last batch of 200 bottles and tested them the same way. Here you can see the results on the last page: month in and month out, the same type and quality of Liquitiv comes to Earth! The chemical composition is always the same.
"Hm-m-m..." Bell grunted sceptically. "I'd say this stuff isn't worth talking about-if most of the 48 addicts hadn't died on our hands. Anyway, assuming all these reports are valid as far as they go, why hasn't an attempt been made to test special control groups? I mean getting them to drop the stuff after they've been on it for a few years. After a few months if they stop showing signs of addiction, then at least we'd be one step farther along."
Rhodan laughed bitterly. "Listen, Reggie, the attempt was made a long time ago but there were no takers. You should read this little instruction brochure that comes with each bottle-then you'll see why. Go ahead-read it!"
Among other things in the brochure, the final statement caught his eye especially: We call your attention particularly to the fact that if the scheduled course of treatment is interrupted the entire rejuvenating process may be jeopardized. Whether or not this would then result in injuries to the health depends upon the individual's physical constitution.
