" Perry Rhodan 0013 - (07) Fortress of The Six Moons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

Arkonides preferred the arrangement in the aft deck. But the intelligent
defendants of a reptilian race figured differently. The positronic microbrain
on board his vehicle functioned with unbelievable swiftness. The distance was
measured, the velocity of the ray-beam was computed and the lead determined,
all in the fraction of a second. Otherwise it would have been quite impossible
for Deringhouse to find his target, since his foe also had a speed of
approximately three hundred miles per second and was, moreover, flying in
another plane in space. When the green lamp blinked, Deringhouse, screaming
mindlessly, doggedly pressed the firing button of the outsize pulse-energy
cannon. The weapon was really much too big and powerful for his small pursuit
ship. Still screaming, he shut his eyes as they were blinded by the dazzling
glare of the pulse-ray as it shot from his strange cannon with an infernal
roar. He didn't notice the lightning fast whoosh of the spontaneously
released and uniformly directed atomic forces whose concentrated impact
contained the heat of a sun. The ship he'd detected was only twenty thousand
miles away, a ridiculously short distance. The violent shaking of his fighter
had not yet died when his blow smashed its target with deadly precision.
Deringhouse simply observed a brightly glowing point which mushroomed with
breathtaking speed into a shining energy cloud. Rous's bellowing was
incomprehensible. It was the mad, hilarious screaming of a wounded man who, at
the time, could think only of escape and safety. Deringhouse skirted the
fringes of the gas ball. There was nothing left to be seen of the Topidian
ship except this artificial miniature sun. A hurricane raged in his
protective screen, formed by fifth-dimensional energy units. When he passed
by with blinded eyes and saw the deep, black void again, he had to dodge once
more. Sergeant Rous was behind him. Seconds later he was passing him with
blasting jets. Deringhouse realized that he'd succeeded in breaking away when
he scored the last hit. With quick reflexes he pushed the lever of his
pulse-drive engine full speed ahead. Only the vastly superior accelerating
capability of his fighter could save him now. With an acceleration value of
more than three hundred miles per square-second, he was able to reach the
speed of light in about ten minutes. He followed Rous in it crazy zigzag
course. Close ahead and below to the right, the great mass of the fortieth
Vega planet was shining bright and red. Earth's sun was surrounded by nine
satellites, but this giant star had forty-two. Deringhouse was engulfed in a
gossamer filigree maze of blue-white thermo-rays. The adversary kept his
fierce fire up, knowing that only a lucky hit could make the kill. 'What's
the matter, Calverman?' Deringhouse shouted with despair into his helmet mike.
'Cal, speak up! We have to clear out!' the speaker resounded in the cockpit
of the tumbling crashing space-fighter. The major's words came clearly and
distinctly through the radio in the helmet. Seconds later the two pilots
could hear Calverman gasping. Simultaneously the visiscreens of their telecoms
became activated. Cal was still alive. Deringhouse suppressed a moan when he
saw the gaunt face of his friend on the screen. The transmission was
three-dimensional and in colour. Cal's dark, almost black face was covered
with red blotches and streaks. 'Explosive pressure loss,' his voice came over
weakly. 'My helmet was off, damn it! I have a jabbing pain in my lungs. It
tore the breath out of my mouth. Get out while you can!' The last words were
hardly audible. Calverman's helmet banged against the camera so that only his
dark, painfully narrowed eyes were visible. 'You're falling into the