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The vital structure-compensator has been installed in the Spaceship Titan. Once more its
massive bulk contains the most sophisticated destructive weaponry in interplanetary space.
But the toxin-ridden Nonues have wreaked havoc among the crew. And their deadly Ionized
Argon has been artificially produced. So Perry Rhodan must return to Honur, and search the
treacherous valleys and desolate plains from whence it came. And Honur also harbours the
dreaded Microbots…
This is the stirring story of–
BEWARE THE MICROBOTS
1/ TOXIN OF TERROR
"A TERRIBLE SITUATION! We’re caught in a terrible situation!" Perry Rhodan said suddenly.
Julian Tifflor, Lieutenant in the Terrestrial Spacefleet, had been studying the panoramic observation
screens which encircled the walls of the Command Centre of the great spaceship. There, amidst the
glistening multitude of stars in the globular cluster M-13, he had seen faint reflections from the
torpedo-shaped hull of the
Ganymede
as it waited motionlessly a few miles away from the Titan. Now his
attention swung to his leader.
"We’ve taken a new crew of 800 aboard," continued Rhodan, "and a structure-compensator which has
to be installed. This brings us up to our full complement of 1500—which would make us the most
powerful of battleships anywhere if 700 weren’t all sick. There’s an unknown enemy out there who
wants to cut our throats. Unless we can find out who or what he is and where we can comer our invisible
assailant, we can’t do anything more than shoot down the robot ships sent to attack us."
Rhodan lifted his head and looked squarely into Tifflor’s eyes. "Tiff, as man to man: what would you do
in my place?"
The youthful officer was so surprised that his face fell into the classic expression of amazement: chin
nudging his Adam’s apple, mouth agape like an asthmatic during a smog alert. Rhodan—the almighty
Rhodan—asking his youngest lieutenant for advise!
Tifflor’s quick mind realized at once that this was not the time to thank his superior for the confidence
exhibited in him. Nor was any other polite gesture expected—Rhodan simply wanted a plain answer.
"Our troubles began on Honur," Tifflor recapped the recent events after a short pause for reflection.
"Honur, second planet of the sun Thatrel, 47 light-years from Arkon. Inhabitants Arkonide settlers from
an earlier era of expansion, intelligent but primitive and completely apathetic."
Rhodan listened attentively, as if hearing the history of Honur for the first time. He motioned Tifflor to
continue.
"Honur is now off limits for us," the lieutenant continued. "The entire planet is a veritable spaceship trap
where dozens of wrecks already have been decaying for some time. —Why? Because cute little
bear-like animals indigenous to the planet are saturated clean through their fur with nerve poison. The
slightest touch by human or humanoid hand is enough to cause infection. The toxin of the
harmless-looking nonues makes a man lose his inhibitions and commit excesses to the point of completely
ignoring his duty. A man infected by the nonue-poison collapses into a laughing idiot who rejects all food
and exhausts himself in a state of euphoria.
"The
Titan
landed on Honur because, on the advice of the Arkonide Thora, this particular world had
been chosen for a rendezvous with the
Ganymede
. The crew of the
Titan
fared no better than all the
other ships which had the misfortune of landing on Honur. The population was peaceful due to their
apathy. The little nonues were so tame and friendly that everybody cuddled them and took them aboard
the ship. The disease spread with lightning speed. Only 5 people were spared: you, sir; the Arkonide
Khrest; the 2 mutants, Pucky and Sengu; and I.
"At the most critical moment the
Titan
was attacked by another spaceship whose crew consisted of
robots. We managed to repulse the attack and you, sir, succeeded in manning the Command Centre in
spite of the condition of the stricken men. You started the
Titan
and left Honur.
"Several other alien ships followed us but the five us, surrounded by ecstatic mutineers, were unable to
cope with them. We finally called in the
Ganymede
from Earth to help us and the nightmare was quickly
ended.
"This is the story, sir. Am I correct?"
Rhodan nodded thoughtfully, a faint smile playing around his lips. "You’re taking a very commendable
approach," he said. "First state the facts and then draw the conclusions. That’s what you want to do,
don’t you?"
"Certainly, sir. But I don’t know if…"
"Nonsense! Go ahead!"
Tiff shrugged his shoulders. "Well, then: the whole Honur affair looks like a put-up job. Nobody knows
who gave Thora the advice to suggest Honur as a rendezvous but I’m sure she has been under the
influence of somebody else—either our foe or his agent.
"The crew of the
Titan
was poisoned according to plan but thanks to the fact that five men remained
unaffected the
Titan
didn’t fall victim to the first robot ship. Our opponent realized that his scheme had
misfired to some extent and he pursued us with a more powerful squadron which we were unable to
defeat by ourselves. Luckily the
Ganymede
arrived in the nick of time."
He suddenly broke off and looked at Rhodan. Rhodan sensed that he wanted to say something else. "So
what do you think?" he challenged Tiff. "What advice would you give me?"
"We’ve never met our adversary face to face. We’ve seen only his robots. For some reason he wants to
destroy us. In order to defend ourselves we’ll have to determine where we can lay our hands on him. The
only place where he has made his presence felt by his actions is on Honur although we never made direct
contact with him. In my opinion there’s nowhere a better place to get on the track of this enemy than
Honur."
Rhodan remained silently in his chair for awhile. Then he jumped up and Tiff rose at the same moment.
Rhodan put his hand firmly on Tiff’s shoulder. "You know, Tiff, a man who normally makes his decisions
all alone sometimes feels it is good to hear the opinion of somebody else. Before I listened to you I had
my doubts whether it’d be better to seek help from the Arkonides or take matters into our own hands.
You’ve helped me to make up my mind."
Tiff felt happy although his faced looked serious. Rhodan took his hand off Tiffs shoulder and
admonished him smilingly, "But don’t tell anybody about this! I’m afraid my authority would suffer."
Tiff stood at attention. "Of course not, sir!" he said emphatically.
With a wave of his hand Rhodan replied: "Don’t take it so seriously! For now you’ll take over the job of
the second pilot until all newcomers have been assigned and adequately trained in their tasks. We’re
going to remain right here for the time being. I figure we’ll be able to take off in 8 or 10 days."
By now Tiff had lost a little of his shyness. "As Second Pilot, sir," he said with a smile, "shouldn’t I know
where to go?"
Rhodan didn’t crack a smile. "Where you have suggested yourself. To Honur, of course."
* * * *
The
Titan
was a truly gigantic vessel.
Its spherical body measured 5000 feet in diameter—a separate world equipped with all the
accomplishments of the most modem war—and space-travel technology of Arkon.
While Rhodan and his young lieutenant held the talk which would remain indelibly in Tiff’s memory, other
important work went on a few hundred feet ‘below’ them in one of the medical laboratories where
doctors were busy solving the puzzle to which the original 700 men of the
Titan
’s crew had fallen victim.
Dr. Eric Manoli was in charge of the research project. He had returned half a day ago aboard the
Ganymede
from Earth with a number of other doctors and he was certain they could isolate the poison
which had put the victims in a state of euphoria.
Farther back against the wall of the spacious laboratory a man had been tied to a chair with his arms and
legs so that he was unable to move his body. He sang happily: "…over the ocean, over the sea, when will
Matilda be waltzing with me…?"
It seemed to give him the greatest pleasure to mix up the two songs. He tried to rock on the chair and
thereby jerked the chair forward.
"Be still, you fool!" Manoli shouted at him.
The man stopped singing and looked at Manoli with a beaming smile. "Why take it so hard, Doc?" he
asked. "Life is beautiful. There’s no reason for us to make it difficult."
Manoli lost his temper. "You’re making it difficult for me, you idiot!" he yelled at the patient. "When will
you come to your senses?"
"Sense?" the man giggled. "I’m sensible. You’re the fool!"
The physicians were baffled by the condition from which he and his 699 mates suffered. They had never
before observed that type of euphoria on Earth. The affected victims knew no restraint whatsoever and
for this reason Manoli and his associates gave the disease the name hyper-euphoria.
They were trying to find the poison. They tested the patient who had been brought in under strict guard
and isolated from the others and they also conducted experiments with one of the few nonues who had
been kept alive for this purpose.
The little furred animal was locked up in a cage and stared between the bars with big sad but curious
and friendly eyes at the men in the white coats. They were careful not to get closer to it than three feet.
The whole cute creature was from head to tail only one foot long but they were afraid it could spit and
that its saliva contained the potent toxin.
Suddenly a deep calm voice said in the background: "I believe we’ve got it!"
Dr. Manoli dropped the test tube he held in his hand and spun around. Dr. Hayward, a gigantic figure of
a man who had recently joined the medical service of the spacefleet, sat with a jolly grin at his
microscope.
"What have you got?" Manoli demanded to know.
"The poison," Hayward replied, pointing to the eyepiece of his microscope.
Manoli rushed to his side with three or four steps. "Let me see!" he panted.
Hayward moved over and Manoli peered through the microscope. "I can’t see a thing," he complained.
"Is the stuff colourless?"
"Of course," Hayward answered.
"Can’t it be dyed?"
"I haven’t tried yet."
Manoli looked at him flabbergasted. "Then do it! Or do you think we’ve got cat’s-eyes like you?"
Hayward’s calm couldn’t be shaken. He removed the microscopic slide and put a drop of blue liquid
dye on it. Then he inserted it again into the microscope.
Manoli sighed with relief. "Well, its about time…
The microscope showed a chain of crystals with a regular 12-cornered cross section.
"Do you have any idea what it is?" Manoli asked without taking his eye off the ocular.
"Yes," Hayward muttered, "some hexylamin, don’t you think?"
Manoli nodded vehemently. "Of course. You’re right. Do you have enough of the stuff for an exact
analysis?"
"I suppose so."
"Then go ahead and hurry up!"
* * * *
Hayward was a man who preferred to speak slowly and calmly, still he did his work faster than most
other people.
The exact analysis of a hexylamin is no simple matter even with Arkonide methods but Hayward finished
the job in an hour and a half and went to Manoli.
"Well?" Manoli grunted.
"Do you know something about atomic physics?" Hayward countered.
Manoli frowned. "Listen, Hayward, I wanted you to tell me what…"
"Yes, I know. But to understand it you must know something about atomic physics."
"Why?"
"Are you familiar with Argon?"
"A noble gas, yes."
"It can’t be made to enter into chemical combination with any substance whatsoever unless it is ionized
and kept in the ionized state. This can be accomplished by placing it next to a suitably constructed
molecule so that the Argon atom is held by a molecular electron but not neutralized."
"Ah!" Manoli exclaimed. "And?"
"And? Somebody has done just that with the toxin. It’s an Argono-hexylamin, to coin a new word."
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