"(novel) (ebook) - Perry Rhodan - Atlan 03 - Pale Country Pursuit" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

"You're on!" I answered.
Instead of getting out we slowed down the speed and scrabbled across each other. I strapped myself into the driver seat. By comparison with the earlier part of our journey the going now was as smooth as on a paved street. But that could soon change-in fact, for certain. I readjusted the power output, took a look at the sun's position and drove onward.
I noticed a change among us after I had only driven a short distance. I as well as the others had become quiet and less inclined to converse. The prospect of some 20 days more of this dangerous journey seemed to dim our hopes of ever flying away from Gortavor. Fratulon's hidden ship, the Omirgos, was our salvation but under the present circumstances it appeared to be unattainably distant.
"The lake is frozen over," mumbled Fratulon indistinctly as he sank his teeth into a slab of roast beef.
I grinned humourlessly. "That figures-considering how cold it is."
"Will you listen to the lad!" growled Fratulon indignantly. "That's really something-wisecracks with the sinking sun in your face and the first snow ghosts behind you. But I think the next 20 days will cure you!"
He gave me a broad, knowing grin while his eyes narrowed to slits. I trusted this remarkable man who could always come up with new tricks with the greatest of ease, at a time when other men would give up. Only I knew how much discipline lay behind the ability of this versatile man. Although I was an orphan whom he had found somewhere and raised, I was his son in more than one sense of the word. I had him to thank for what I could do. What he had not been able to teach me I had learned from his friends who were even more remarkable than he, if possible.
At the moment he exhibited an inner tension which led me to believe that he was preoccupied with perhaps a number of things. He watched every move I made with the gears or the wheel. He also carefully observed the country ahead of us and every once in a while he would check the rear-view mirror, the curved glass of which was also being defrosted by a hot-air blower. Apparently he was looking for any signs of an attack by the snow ghosts.
And all the while he ate and drank with the healthy appetite of a gourmet. He might have been thinking also of other problems but I couldn't be sure. The plain sloped downward. The ground beneath the ice and snowdrifts slanted gently until in about another 30 meters it gave way to the icy surface of the lake itself. In contrast to the terrain we had thus far traversed, the lake was one big mirror that had been polished smooth by the wind.
"Take it easy! We're liable to skid. Don't try to steer it-use the tractor chains!" Sawbones rumbled at me.
I had to admire him. The old devil thought of everything.
I was to learn later that he was thinking thoughts I could not have surmised-since he had never divulged them to me. With some secret amusement, Fratulon was aware of my thoughts about him because he in his turn was thinking about me.
I have to save him, thought Fratulon, from Orbanoshol, that hangman in the Crystal Palace.
Atlan is his brother's son and the only actual threat to his throne. If we don't reach the Crystal Planet ahead of the Kralasenes, Orbanoshol will have him killed. But I'll prevent even that-if I have to resort to means so primitive as to boggle the mind. By Arkon reckoning the remarkable little lad was only 4 years old when I fled with him. Just now it seems that our flight has not only been observed-but has also reached a critical stage. Until recently, Orbanoshol has been searching all over the galaxy for me and Atlan, but now his henchmen have found us.
Sofgart the Blind will spare no effort to capture us. Actually all we need is a one-hour head-start to reach the Crystal Planet. Just a few minutes of lead-time for each coming day-that's all I want!
Atlan will survive these hardships because he's almost as capable as I am. But if he were my age and had my experience this trip would be much easier for him. And the girl-well, we have to take her with us, there's no other way! She'll be as much of a burden as the Chretkor with his continuous fear for his life. But the journey will become more perilous with each passing day.
Such were Fratulon's thoughts that late afternoon as he ate his roast beef and observed the slopes while keeping an eye on me and my handling of the steamobile out on the icy surface of the lake.
I reached down close to the poorly-insulated pressure boiler and grasped the lever that operated the tractor drive.
"Easy now!" warned Fratulon.
I nodded silently. The big tires still maintained a grip on the ice without skidding. I had to calculate the right speed for engaging the steel treads or the car would go into a spin. As our pace slackened and I reduced power to the caterpillar drive, I slowly lowered the lever. When I heard the scratching of the tractor spikes on the ice above the howling of the loose bearings and axles, I knew I had made it. Having timed the whole thing correctly, I slowly locked the cleat chains into position. A series of hard jolts went through the machine. Our smokestack belched out a swarm of sparks as the firewood collapsed and crashed down into the ash grating. Then the tractor gripped in and propelled us straight on ahead.
"Where is that cave from here?" I asked Fratulon.
"Across over there-more or less as you're going. There's a big rock that looks like an upraised fist. The cave is camouflaged and we'll have to back into it."
"Great! That's all need!" I checked both of the rear-view mirrors. Nobody was following us, but a blindman could have detected the trail we were leaving behind us. True, the wheels themselves were not marking the ice but the mirror surface behind us showed two rows of spike pits from which fine cracks radiated in all directions. The tractor cleats were not designed to be gentle.
The shadows were lengthening now. The day was ending, and before us still lay several hours of travel.
When I heard the exploding sound I waited instinctively to be blown to pieces. The pressure tank! The thought shot into my mind in that first instant.
Then I heard Farnathia scream, the Chretkor shriek and Fratulon curse-all at once.
Behind us the ice was splitting open.








3/ THE PHANTOMS STRIKE

The extent of the crack in the ice could not be determined at first but as the echoes of the thundering detonation faded away I could see in both rearview mirrors that the fissure was widening. It seemed to extend an unknown distance and to be developing on either side of the racing snow car.
"Open 'er up-straight on!" gasped Fratulon. "Give that turbine a full head of steam-wide open! The snow ghosts have found some way of breaking the ice but whatever-this will start a whole network of cracks all over the lake!"
"Nothing like a word of encouragement!" I grunted ironically. Down inside me my nerves were pulling tight enough to snap. I could feel the cold clamminess of drying sweat on my face and under my furs. I opened the steam valves wide and adjusted the synchro as precisely as possible. The car scurried zigzag over the lake like a giant bug.
"That's doing it!" said Fratulon. He was busy checking both rear-view mirrors, alternately looking behind us and pressing his nose to the front windshield to look in every direction he could.
There was a crackling and rumbling beneath us. Then again, a loud report. The deep sound echoed vastly about us, whipping back and forth from the ice-walled mountains in a long roll of thunder. A second fissure was opening in a direction that was parallel to our course and yet it also turned 50 meters ahead and crossed our path.
"Hit it! Cross it before it widens!" yelled Fratulon while he grabbed one of our guns from the ceiling rack.
The burner exhaust was glowing almost white hot as it pumped out an oily black cloud of smoke that trailed behind us over the ice. I held the car on a direct line ahead while compensating for 6 churning wheels and wildly slipping tractor chains.
The fissure ahead of us, about 9 feet wide, rushed toward us with inexorable speed. New sweat broke out all over me but Fratulon continued to point ahead with merciless determination. The first set of wheels reached the edge, at first giving us the sickening sensation of sinking into nothingness but then bouncing wildly against the shrieking springs as the tractor treads ground off the edge and the wheels hit the other side. The second pair of wheels went through the same gyration, hurling the cabin a yard high as we bounced again from the shrieking springs just as the caterpillar treads found traction on the opposite edge of the rift.
The snowmobile came whipping and spinning onto the ice. I channelled full power to the tractor chains while switching the wheels to free-floating neutral. We executed 3 full spins before the chain treads somehow found a grip again and then virtually catapulted us away from the threatening ice gap. On instinct alone I managed to stabilize our course and drive onward.
Still straight ahead toward the opposite bank of the lake where our deliverance loomed dimly through veils of mist and driving snow in the form of the fist-shaped mountain of rock. The sun disappeared behind a lofty shoulder of the crags beyond the shore.
"That was a cool performance, lad," commented Fratulon, "but of course it didn't quite have the old master touch!"
This was the master himself speaking, I knew, because in such moments he showed no pity for his student's weaknesses. But whom was I to hate? Should I vent my spleen on him just because he was leaning hard on me now or myself because I didn't have his age and wisdom?
I didn't have time to reflect on the question because a third detonation shattered the spell of evening.