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

"That would also meet with my approval," he finally answered. He had ended his inspection, which had appeared to satisfy even his standards of safety. He nodded. "Inside now. Let's have our supper!" Whereupon he climbed up into the cabin.
It was comfortably warm The ceiling lights and the chart lamps provided just the right amount of illumination. We ate our food and drank our tea. Although our food variety wasn't great it was filling and nourishing.
The tea had been prepared with a sweet-sour touch of fruit juice and a shot of alcohol, which served to warm us from the inside out.
Finally Fratulon straightened his sword and fastened his cloak. "You have two hours to sleep," he announced. He checked his rifle and then wrapped a length of the spotlight cable around his wrist. "And I'd advise you to start now. Lean the seat back so you can stretch out."
He snapped off the chart lamps and went out. Seconds later we heard his footsteps fade away.
"It isn't as dangerous as I thought!" murmured the Chretkor as he slipped his cowl down over his eyes.
After I had adjusted our seats back and locked them in position, Farnathia stroked my forehead. "Give me your hand, Atlan," she whispered. "That way I'll fall asleep better and won't have any fuzzy dreams."
A shortime later we both fell asleep. To me it seemed only a few seconds before I felt Fratulon shaking my shoulder. I blinked and stared into his weary face. Ice crystals were thawing in his crinkly dark beard.
"It's time," he muttered heavily. "All quiet outside."
I disentangled my fingers from the sleeping girl's hand and went through the necessary motions of pulling myself together. In a shortime I was outside. I had actually slept several hours without hearing the wailing of the storm or any other sound. Now as the icy wind blew in my face I began to follow the wide-spaced footsteps that Sawbones had made, doing my tour of duty through this stretch of untrammelled Nature before the cave in the rocky tower which stretched its fist into the night.
As I saw the last patch of stars fade away before the on-driving storm clouds I went back to the snowmobile and decided to build up more fire in the burner. I took wood, bone-oil and coal from the fuel bins and fed them all into the fire box. There was no way to avoid a banging and clattering as I turned the grate lever and dumped hot ashes into the hissing snow.
And so the night crept by with the two of us sharing watches.
At the first light of dawn we were under way again

* * * *

The next leg of the journey took us along the lake shore toward the northeast. We soon came into a region that offered a variety of changes from one minute to the next. Fratulon was at the wheel and was driving the machine almost at its maximum. At first we travelled over a flat white plain where a wandering pattern of snowdrifts reflected the whimsical forces of the wind. Then came an abrupt change to valleys and hills, some of which we had to climb over. Visibility was fairly good, however, and we neither saw nor heard any snow ghosts.
Finally, toward noon, we came to one of the last mountain ranges before the polar region, according to Fratulon.
"We have a choice," he said with a gruff abrupt-ness.
"What choice is that?" asked Ice Claw from the rear of the cab. "To freeze? Or to melt away in our own sweat?"
"The choice of making a long detour or to take a shortcut which is the more dangerous route," said Sawbones. But he seemed to be directing the question especially to me.
I was momentarily at a loss because I was torn between alternatives that presented a dilemma. Where our vital headstart was concerned, the shortcut spelled safety yet the price of that would be an exposure to additional dangers.
"I'm for the shortcut," I said finally. "I'd rather face dangers we can see in front of us than have death riding on our backs."
"Right you are! I see that the education I gave you is beginning to bear fruit!" replied Fratulon.
So we drove along the ever-rising slopes of the mountains directly northwards toward the next halfway station. Actually this route appeared to be pleasant in its aspect and we made good headway. Farnathia held one of the rifles and kept an eye out to the rear. Even Ice Claw seemed to feel considerably better than he had for some hours, gesticulating with his childlike arms and chattering about his impressions and recollections. We all felt as though we were already in the vicinity of Sawbones' mysterious stronghold. And yet that sense of death riding on our backs persisted.
"See anything back there, Farnathia?" I inquired.
"No, nothing. Only our tracks!" she answered.
This girl had been torn from the cloistered protection of her home and been thrown into this whole perilous adventure, mostly because of her attachment to me, I thought. "Looks as if the snow ghosts have dropped us out of sight and mind," I conjectured after awhile yet I was reminded of the fact that the noise of this steamchugger of ours must sound like the thunder of a winter storm.
"I'm not cancelling out the possibility of an attack by them until we've reached the Omirgos," commented Fratulon. He kept glancing above us to the upper slopes. Nobody knew what kind of ground we were traversing because of the heavy snow. All we knew was that it was reasonably firm and even After another half hour he added: "Well, we're gathering experience as we go. You never can tell when we're going to need it."
I took a bite of roast meat that Farnathia had given me. "Wise men teach themselves through experience," I answered. I was looking out at the lowlands beneath us which were apparently a swampy type of river drainage or one of the vast bogs that were typical of the Pale Land. "But specifically those experiences which they choose to have. On that score we don't seem to be so wise."
"At the moment there's little choice," asserted Fratulon, "because we are fugitives.
What happened then was something that we had unconsciously been anticipating. At first there was a sound as of distant thunder. Then Fratulon started cursing and turning the wheel like mad.
"Avalanche!" he yelled.








4/ FROM AVALANCHE TO CREVASSE

Before the snow car cut away to the left I glanced through the reeling windshield. I saw the steep slope which we had been following for almost an hour. It formed a steep, white, triangular-shaped wall. With the unaided eye it was difficult to see what was moving up there on the ridge but it could have only one meaning: snow ghosts. The car bumped and jolted to the left but then straightened out again. Fratulon pulled and shoved every possible control in order to get up all the speed the machine was capable of. The yowling concert of battered and overloaded bearings began anew.
"What is an avalanche?" asked Farnathia, shouting above the noise.
"A giant mass of snow that falls from the tops of steep slopes and pours down into the valleys, sweeping everything along with it!" shouted Fratulon. "Let's hope we can beat it to safety!" He was straightened out on a course to his right in order to get out of a small forest of leafless trees.
On the far crest of the slope, a spray of snow plumed out against the dull-grey sky. It bloomed into a massive cloud that took on the shape of a giant steamroller within a matter of seconds.
I stared into the rearview mirror and held on desperately as our vehicle began to progress by jumps over the terrain, causing the tractor chains to spin free spasmodically and damage the bearings more.
"Faster!" shrieked the Chretkor. "Faster, Sawbones!"
"What do you think I am, an eagle?" retorted Fratulon with seeming calmness.