by Perry Rhodan
He looked down on the deck and watched the figures of his crew idling aimlessly there. What should he do with them? A man without a memory is like a child—only less reasonable. So could he blame them? And what lay before them? Wouldn't they be shunned like... well, like the plague, if they sailed into a harbor? Wouldn't they be locked up or even turned away in an attempt to keep the mysterious incurable pestilence from spreading?
In the distance of the eastern horizon a fleck appeared and quickly grew bigger as it drew near.
The ship captain squinted and tried to identify what was coming toward him. It couldn't be a sailing ship—too fast. The Gods had boats that sailed without wind—that was what it had to be.
If the Gods found out what had come to pass aboard the ship they might even have the idea of sinking it right there and ending the risk of further infection once and for all.
Yet in spite of his amnesia the captain's power of reason was greater than ever before. The first positive effect of the unknown plague had manifested: the captain's intelligence quotient had risen. Later, when he received the curing injection, this effect would remain permanently.
But how did he know that there was a Land of the Gods and that there were Gods there?
As the narrow torpedo boat came by and was tied to the side, the captain already knew how he could save himself and his crew.
His fears had been groundless.
The Springer on board the torpedo boat had no thought of sinking the ship with its disease-ridden crew. He was much too curious for that. The information he had received from his surveillance department had excited his interest. He did not know what was waiting for him but he felt that it had to be something of considerable importance.
A great danger was approaching from the west, the robot-sender had reported. It was to be found aboard a small sailing ship whose position was known. A more thorough investigation had to be undertaken. More than that the robot had not known either.
The governor, whose name was Gorlap, had not hesitated a second before having a torpedo boat readied for action. He would go to the sailing ship himself and find out what was supposed to be so dangerous for him. Pah, a sailing ship, dangerous for the invincible Springers! Ridiculous!
He did not yet suspect how quickly his opinion would change.
He sent 10 battle-robots aboard the ship as an advance guard. No resistance was being shown in any event. Quite the contrary. Seamen stood indifferently at the railing, watching the proceedings and not lifting a finger. The robots boarded the ship and met no opposition.
Gorlap took no risks. He sent 10 more robots aboard. Although these were unarmed their brains were more advanced than those of the battle robots. If something was fishy here, the second detachment would smell it.
And they did in fact notice something. One of them radioed back: "The people here on board are sick."
Gorlap was unable to conceal his surprise. "Sick?" he demanded, staring at the sailors lounging on the railing. "What kind of sickness is it?"
"We cannot identify the disease," the robot answered.
No one could say that Gorlap was a coward. He armed himself with a deadly energy-beamer and climbed over the railing to the deck of the singular ship. His reddish beard, characteristic of his race, quivered with excitement. Registering no opposition, the battle-robots posted themselves in inactive positions.
Fear clutched Gorlap's throat when he saw the crew's spotted faces. While the Springers had every right to be proud of their medical progress, deep in their souls lurked a dread of unknown diseases. So often had the Springers landed upon an alien world only to meet a bacillus against which their bodies were defenseless. Entire clans had been virtually wiped out before the doctors could develop cures.
Here on Goszul's Planet there were no unknown diseases–at least not until now. The man at the wheel let it go and came towards Gorlap, who stood motionless at the rail as though he suddenly could no longer move even a finger. "What—what's going on?" the Springer asked, choking, and stared at the captain's spots, which allowed little of the natural skin color to show through. "Are you sick?"
The captain wondered only briefly how, if he had lost his memory, he could still understand the Gods' language. He found no answer and did not trouble himself further with the problem. "A plague," he said haltingly. "It broke out two weeks ago. No one on this ship stayed well."
"Did anyone die?"
"No one. The disease doesn't seem to be fatal." Gorlap breathed easier. Perhaps it was merely a harmless infection and nothing more. "What port is this ship bound for?" he demanded.
The captain shrugged. "I don't know."
"You don't know? Surely you must know where you were ordered to go."
"Maybe I did know once but I've forgotten it. The plague took our memories. I know only that I'm the captain of this ship and that eight days ago I... woke up."
"Woke up?"
"Like from a dream. Everything before that sank into nothing. I can remember only very little. I don't even know my own name. No one on this ship knows his name."
Gorlap fell back a step and raised his hands as though to protect himself from the captain. Not far away a battle-robot readied for action. "You've all lost your minds!" Gorlap moaned, horrified. "Not your reason," the captain said by way of defense, "only our memories, which is probably just as unpleasant. You shouldn't stay here much longer." Gorlap stepped even farther back. "We have cures," he said, more to boost his own courage than anything else. "In any case, your ship can't dock in the harbor of the Land of the Gods. Turn back."
"Back to where? I don't know anymore where I came from."
Gorlap bit his lip. "Sail back to the west or my robots will kill all of you and burn your ship. Only that way can I be certain the plague won't strike the Land of the Gods."
The captain shook his head slowly. The shadow of a cold smile flashed across his face. "You're wrong," he said. "If you want to protect the Land of the Gods from the plague, you'll have to destroy your robots and yourself along with my ship. You're already carrying the disease germs now."
The Springer answered by climbing back over the railing to the deck of his torpedo boat. He looked back at the ship, hesitated, then turned without a word and disappeared below decks. Seconds later the boat pulled away from the ship and sped away in an easterly direction.
Gorlap had not blasted the sinister vessel out of the water but he had left his 20 robots behind. Perhaps they did in fact already harbor the agents of the unknown sickness in their metal bodies.
And as for Gorlap himself?
The Springer banished the thought from his mind. He had not come in any direct contact with the diseased captain.
Contact?
Yes—had he not touched the ship's flooring with the soles of his shoes and had he not also touched the railing with his bare hands?
He should have sunk the cursed ship after all! If the wind kept up like this the plague ship would reach the harbor in about a week. Certain necessary preparations would have to be made by then. Nothing was lost yet—any command center could radio the robots aboard the infected ship the order to sink it. The robots would obey instantly even though it would mean they would end up at the bottom of the ocean. if they were not too far from the coast and the water pressure did not destroy them, they could save themselves.
Gorlap looked at his hands. The skin was deep brown and healthy.
How long would it take before the first red spots appeared—if they ever would?
• • •
Numerous Springer spacecraft still orbited Goszul's Planet in varying paths. A conference of the patriarchs of the various clans was in progress on this lonely outpost far from the trade routes; the purpose of the conclave was to plan the attack on the distant planet Earth.
The patriarchs had been terrified by the lightning attack by Rhodan's mutants and horrified by the losses of men suffered as a result of that attack. They took to their spaceships and waited now in the void that w
as home to them, hoping that the governors would shortly restore normal conditions on the planet below.
They did not know who their enemy was and when several quiet weeks passed in the Land of the Gods they began to believe they were safe again. The first of the patriarchs landed their ships at the gigantic spaceport in the Land of the Gods although for the time being they did not leave them. The conference would be resumed shortly.
It was about the same time that the ship carrying the afflicted sailors was sunk just outside the harbor entrance. Gorlap had ordered the robots to scuttle the ship not long before he lost his memory; it was his last conscious act. After that his past sank out of sight for him. Helpless and without any interest in what happened around him, he lay in a semiconscious state and unsuccessfully attempted to figure out what had overtaken him. He was still in that condition when the Governor of the neighboring district finally sought him out. With that the plague grasped its second Springer victim.
Meanwhile the first reports of catastrophe began to arrive from the primitive continents. Ralv and his organization made sure that the disquieting news would be discovered by the surveillance section and delivered to the Springers themselves.
Thus two objectives were obtained. First, the harbors were closed to all ships, thereby breaking off contact with the other continents. Secondly, the Springers were made to feel less and less secure.
Gorlap had been placed in a clinic staffed entirely by robots. There, work was done in an attempt to trace the cause of the plague. Even so, the virus could not be isolated and so no cure could be developed. When the governor of the adjacent district came down with the disease a few days later, and as the dark amnesia followed on the heels of the first spots, a nameless terror gripped the other 18 Springers. Disease and death were not unknown to them—after all, they were not immortal. But to remain with full reason but suddenly be bereft of memory—that was to them more horrible than death.
The Springers in the spaceships were naturally of a different opinion. They found themselves in relative safety and far from events taking place outside. Goszul's Planet meant nothing to them or at most a momentary meeting place. If there was anything to lose on the planet it was the technical installations and top quality robots, each one of which cost a fortune.
The patriarch Ralgor thought first of the robots when he heard the disturbing reports. He could imagine how the primitive natives would fall upon the unarmed automatons and tear them apart before the battle-robots could arrive and unleash their deadly energy-beamers.
Things should not be allowed to come to that. And when one stood helpfully at the side of the Governors, there might be a profitable business deal to come out of it. Ralgor had always wanted a factory—new battle-robot but up to now he could not afford it.
So he took over the controls of his ship, the RAL II, glided out of orbit and landed at the spaceport in the Land of the Gods where ships from other tribes already stood and waited.
Ralgor had no intention whatsoever of sitting idly by until the plague overran the entire planet and the Land of the Gods along with it. He wanted to build a good reputation here and so later come to be known as a man of initiative. He had hardly landed when he set up contact with the commanders of the other ships.
First he called Etztak, one of the oldest patriarchs among the group of convening Traders. The suspicious old man at first did not want to listen when the much younger Ralgor tried to make a suggestion but then he began to pay attention with an increasing interest.
"It's clear, therefore, that under these circumstances we don't dare lose any more time. If we don't want to endanger ourselves, we can't remain here any longer. It's time we come to a decision. Why did we come here in the first place? To work out a plan for making Terra into a trade colony. Since peaceful means no longer appear possible, our only recourse is to battle, even though we'll have to risk some amount of destruction."
"I don't care about any trading posts," Etztak answered. "I just want to get even with Rhodan. He's caused our clan too much loss already."
"Then why are we sitting here waiting for the Goszuls to cause even more damage? How many of us have they killed already?"
"Are you sure it's really the Goszuls?" Etztak asked impatiently. "The methods being used are more like those of another race, located a thousand light-years from here."
"The Terrans don't know where we're having this conference."
"Alright then," said Etztak, acknowledging Ralgor's point. "What do you suggest?"
"That we call the conference into session immediately and finally decide how and when we're going to attack Terra."
Etztak nodded slowly. "Good. I agree and support your plan. But what about Goszul's Planet? Haven't you heard about the plague yet? It's raging all over the primitive continents and now it's spreading to the Land of the Gods. Two of the 20 Governors have already been stricken and deprived of their memories. We don't have any sort of cure for it."
Ralgor sensed his secret goal coming closer. "That's why I'm recommending a fast decision about Terra. Then we can leave Goszul's Planet before the plague strikes us too. We'll be able to save at least the most valuable robots, which can be reprogrammed anytime by the positronics aboard the spaceships."
"I'm beginning to understand," smiled the old patriarch. "But I don't know if I can agree with your conclusions. The installations on Goszul's Planet are the common property of all the Springer clans. Wouldn't we be enriching ourselves unlawfully?"
Ralgor felt it would be better to change the subject. "Will you call the conference into session, Etztak? You're the oldest."
"I'll ask the others if they'll come," the patriarch promised, although not committing himself to anything.
Ralgor broke the connection and sat alone for some time in the control room. Then he decided to take a short walk outside the ship. Surely a look around would not hurt anything.
He left the RAL II with the ship's navigator and took the next robot vehicle to the town.
5/ PUCKY'S INTERLUDE
John thought it wise to leave the headquarters on the ship in the harbor.
He and his mutants had already had the injections protecting them from the Plague of Oblivion, although Pucky had been claiming ever since that the increased intelligence quotient resulting from the disease would not hurt anything. The rebel leaders were also immunized against the imaginably terrible plague, which in reality was not even as dangerous as a normal case of the flu. John discussed that aspect a number of times, asking his compatriots what the harm of losing one's memory was if he could regain it at any time and find himself more intelligent than ever? "It's like a painless narcotic," he said, "from which one wakes healthy."
The sailing ship was lying at anchor about a hundred yards from the quay when Tako returned from a mission. As usual, he materialized among the mutants sitting on the upper deck. A conference was in progress with Ralv concerning the next action to be taken. Pucky was lying on his back, having Tama scratch his belly.
Ralv gave a start. He had not yet gotten used to the extraordinary abilities of his new friends.
John looked up. "Any success, Tako?"
The Oriental nodded and sat down facing the group. "I can report that in the last few weeks the resistance movement has made remarkable progress. Ralv's name has become a kind of magic word. People obey his instructions without any argument and with complete faith. I brought the box with germ bombs to the eastern continent and there the contents were dispersed."
"You were gone quite a while—close to three hours."
Tako shrugged. "The rebel group there is quite isolated and I had to answer a lot of questions. Although they may trust Ralv completely, they couldn't repress their curiosity. You understand that, Ralv."
The red-skinned rebel nodded. "My instructions are terse and explain little. Those people naturally used the opportunity to get a glimpse of things behind the scenes. What did you tell them?"
"The truth—what else?"
&nbs
p; John's eyebrows flew up. "You told them what's coming for them? They know that they're going to infect themselves and other people—that they're going to lose their memories?"
"Yes, and I told them why it has to be this way. If they want the Springers to leave their world in panic and without any bloodshed, then they're going to have to do what we tell them. Maybe the Goszuls don't understand our plan perfectly but they do feel that there isn't any other way. This evening the bombs will be planted in several cities on the eastern continent and the germs allowed to escape."
"So we can expect the outer symptoms of the plague to show there in about a week. With that, the first part of our assignment is completed." John appeared relieved. "It isn't easy to infect an entire planet, even when the cure is along with you. But when this planet is free again and its inhabitants healthy, their intelligence will have increased so much the Goszuls will be able to start making progress. The curve of development in the future will go straight up on a graph."
There was silence for a few moments. The sun blazed hotly out of the cloudless sky and in its glare the almost motionless water in the harbor shimmered like molten lead. Some Goszuls lounged idly on the quay, waiting for any bit of work that might come along, but the robot central had not issued any new work assignments for some time.
Those Goszuls did not yet know that the plague-germs were already working on them or that perhaps as soon as the next day red flecks would appear on their cheeks.
Tako sighed. "I'd like to sleep a bit, John. What's my next job?"
"I can't say until Enzally gets in touch with me tonight. It'll depend on him when and where we go into action. The Springers are maintaining a waiting posture—ever since two Governors came down with the plague, they seem to have become cautious. All contact with the natives is being avoided. By the way, the robots sank our 'Death Ship'. Luckily, the crew was able to save itself by swimming ashore."
"They hadn't forgotten that?" wondered Tako.
"The memory is suspended but one is still capable of performing practiced skills. Besides, the memory isn't extinguished completely. How could that be possible if everything comes back later? The true memory has to be somewhere. So the seamen swam to shore and infected other people."
