"(novel) (ebook) - Perry Rhodan 0023 - (16) Secret Barrier X" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

John Marshall felt he had reached the end of his rope.
Half a morning on Venus was more than a full day on Earth. During all that time he had tried to draw the attention of the seals.
He knew they inhabited the shore on the opposite side of the sea channel. This distance was so far as to discourage even a born optimist. By the same token, the sea was the element of these semi-intelligent creatures. Was it not natural to assume that they swam far out and came close to the beach on this side?
Why didn't they hear him?
Had they followed a nomadic instinct and gone to another place? Yet other seals were bound to take their place if they had left. No biological vacuum ever persisted in the abundant life of Venus.
John Marshall went out to the farthest point. A mile and a half from the spot where he had reached the ocean a flat spit of land extended deep into the water. It was not much more than a sandbar. The grass cover ended after 100 yards. His footprints left a mile long track seemingly leading into a dead end of hopeless desolation.
He stood at the tip of the land ridge, surrounded by water on three sides. The ocean reached as far as the horizon. The hills in the north were far below the brim of the water.
It was all very depressing.
Why didn't the seals hear him?
The intensity of his telepathic luring grew weaker and weaker. He required longer pauses to recover his strength. It was not the physical fatigue alone which hindered his concentration but also the emotional depression he suffered.
Why didn't they hear him?
The constant question produced a shock as he suddenly seemed to have found the answer. Their frequencies were not attuned Transmitter and receiver must be synchronized in conformance with the simple basic laws of physics. Marshall recalled his first encounter with the seals when they needed an array of technical instruments to establish communications between them and humans. The seals 'talked' with each other in the ultrasonic range and it was inaudible for human ears. The ultrasonic waves had to be transformed with the aid of a frequency-communicator and then the language of the seals was made comprehensible by using the cerebral analyser and the positronic decoder.
Marshall was at first completely consternated. Then he realized that he had failed to think his problem through to the end. After all, Perry Rhodan was not such a half-wit as to send him out alone into the wilderness if the circumstances were utterly hopeless.
"I'm a good telepath," he kept telling himself. "I don't need these technical crutches. Thought waves are thought waves-of the same frequency! This is true for the seals as well as for me. They've got to hear me! Unless their apathy is to be blamed for ignoring my call for help."
He stretched out on the sand to relax half an hour without moving a finger. He let his mind go blank.
After the time had elapsed, he dug a hole in the sand with his hands and put the few things he carried in it. The hole slowly filled up with water but his carbine and the cans of food were not affected by the moisture.
Unburdened by his pack, he walked out into the ocean, deep enough to submerge his whole body. He was aware of the gamble he took. The slimy water was flowing-unlike that of Terra-almost like oil because it was more saturated with algae, seaweed and minuscule life. It could hold many surprises beyond the scope of human research. But Marshall had no choice.
Water propagates soundwaves faster and more intensively than air. Perhaps it could do the same for the vibrations of a telepathic brain.
He submerged completely in the water and concentrated on a simple vocabulary to enable the seals to grasp his message.
Periodically he raised his head above the water to breathe.
He repeated this process five times. The last time a burst of fire from a machinegun spattered close to him and forced him to duck again very quickly.
This put an instantaneous end to his preoccupation with the seals. Behind him were people who represented a menace much greater than any throughout the mysterious world of Venus.
He groped his way under water to the right until his empty lungs compelled him to come up for air. In doing so he turned around on his back in order not to expose his whole head. Only his face showed above the water. Out of the corners of his eyes he caught sight of a group of six men walking out on the strip of land without making an effort to hide themselves. They seemed to know that they held the upper hand. Evidently they had watched Marshall for some time and observed that he left his weapons at the tip of the narrow shoal of sand. Perhaps they believed that they had already finished him off. At any rate, they had stopped shooting and simply approached at a rapid pace.
The rise of the sandbar was barely enough to keep Marshall out of sight when he pressed himself flat against the ground. It was clear that he could not remain another second in the water. If the enemy got to his cache before him, he had lost his last chance.
He continued swimming on his back until he touched bottom behind him. Then he rolled around on his belly and began to crawl forward.
When he had dug the hole for his cache, he had inadvertently thrown up a little pile of sand which could now save his life.
He crawled a little to the left till the excavated sand was exactly in the line of sight between him and the six men. Then he crawled forward again and reached his possessions without being detected.
The six men were still approximately 200 yards away.
He burrowed deeper into the sand and took out the two weapons. One was a heavy automatic rifle he had captured and the other the handy impulse beamer of Arkonide origin. As soon as he felt the butt of the rifle against his shoulder his confidence returned.
He took a deep breath and aimed carefully.
The barrel rested on the pile of sand. At the last moment before pulling the trigger he raised the barrel just enough to fire over the heads of his attackers, since he intended to warn them first. More than fair!
Was it possible to be fair in a fight where the enemy gave no quarter?
Marshall didn't know but he didn't regret what he had done.
His opponents were startled. If they had turned around and run away, Marshall would never have thought of shooting them in the back. Instead the six took a different attitude. They dropped to the ground and went on the offensive.
A salvo of big calibre bullets hit around him and made the dirt fly up in the air. Marshall knew that his pile of sand offered little protection. He could no longer practice restraint if he cared to survive this trap.
These men were out to kill him. Their thoughts were very similar to those of the one he had had to fight off a few hours before.
Marshall put down the automatic rifle and trained the impulse beamer on the cover behind which the invisible foe was hiding.
Ten seconds of continuous bombardment with pure thermal energy! It was enough to make the snow burn and what chance did these people have in such a hell?
They were certain to be dead. Nevertheless, Marshall waited a full hour before he moved.
He had snuffed out the lives of seven men. However it was plain to see that the hostile detachment was by no means completely annihilated. Obviously, there were many more in the special team sent out to hunt him down. A company of soldiers could be hiding in the nearby forest.
His suspicion was soon confirmed. He heard another shot in the distance and could see two men running across a clearing and disappear in the underbrush.
The enemy had become more prudent after observing the demonstration of his raygun. It was unnecessary for them to take any chances. Marshall was caught in a trap. The 800 yard long output of land was connected to the shore by a very narrow stretch. If he tried to escape across this little strip, he would become an easy target for the hidden sharpshooters. To fire at random into the forest would have been the height of folly. Even his Arkonide impulse-beamer was simply nothing but a toy against the Venusian jungles.
John Marshall had no other choice than to build up his present position. Lying on his side, he dug out the sand with the butt of his rifle. He made himself a foxhole in which he could stretch out. The water seeping in had to be ignored.
The pile of sand was also reinforced, more in breadth than height. It had to have sufficient mass to absorb big calibre bullets. He couldn't even think of protecting himself against any heavier reinforcements his foes might bring up such as grenade rifles or possibly light cannons.
He had to be prepared for the worst.
If only the seals would show up! He needed some allies very desperately. But would they help one man against others? He trusted in that, given that he was a telepath.
However, his predominant hope rested on Perry Rhodan who was to follow him slowly with Son Okura. Where were they now?
Marshall fingered his wristband containing among other gadgets a micro-transmitter. Use of the radio was strictly prohibited. But Rhodan had also authorized the sending of an emergency message in the most urgent case. The decision was up to Marshall.