" Perry Rhodan 0037 - (29) A World Gone Mad" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

On a lonely moon in deepest space a scout for Perry RhodanтАЩs fleet encounters a strange, sentient orb.
As a Springer attack force approaches the planet Goszul, the orbit reveals its awesome powerтАж but
what are its intentions?



Meanwhile on Goszul, the Springers seem to have been vanquished by the Plague of Oblivion unleashed
by Rhodan and his mutants. But the Springers have one devastating card left to playтАУhidden deep in the
mountains, their mightiest battleship is nearing completionтАж



This is the stirring story ofтАУ


A WORLD GONE MAD


1/ PUCKYS PERILOUS PRETENSE



"WE 13 MEN are opposed by a whole world!" growled Ragor, a patriarch of the Galactic Traders
known as the Springers and himself till now holding the title of Governor of GoszulтАЩs Planet.

"A worldwe ruled till now!" a dark giant next to him murmured ominously. "I wonder what condition the
Goszuls will impose on us?"

Bright sunlight from an alien star streamed through the wide windows of the assembly room in which 13
dejected men were sitting. The rays reflected from the polished surface of a long conference table.

There were several features the 13 had in common which clearly characterized them as a homogeneous
group: Heavy beards half-covered all their facesтАж Strong noses and thin lips were common above their
bearded chinsтАж All had bush eyebrowsтАФbeneath which their eyes now held a peculiar mixture of
distress and barely restrained pride bordering on arrogance. Their haughty heads topped sturdy
physiques and now seemed crestfallen, displaying little of the great strength normally evident. The sinewy
fists lying listlessly on the table lacked their customary energy.

These vanquished masters of their colonial world were waiting for their conquerors.

Patriarch Ragor had fled like the others to the abandoned administration building when the Plague of
Oblivion caused a rebellion among the natives and the commanders of the Springer ships fled in panic. A
50-year quarantine had subsequently been imposed on GoszulтАЩs Planet by the TradersтАж costing them an
important base.

Ragor cleared his throat. "They keep us waiting," he observed gloomily, trying to mask his impatience
with an exterior show of calm.
"The prerogative of the victor," philosophized his neighbour.

"Yes, they give us time to ponder. When they occupied the Command Centre for our robots we were