"(novel) (ebook) - Perry Rhodan 0053 - (45) Unknown Sector Milky Way" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

1/ ISAN REBORN

SUFFOCATING AIR. The foul atmosphere almost took Ivsera's breath away as she opened the door and entered the corridor. She looked in all directions and was happy to discover she was alone.
Swiftly she traversed the 50 yards to the elevator and summoned the lift cage. She entered it and pressed a control button for the lowest level. The cage set itself in motion slowly and complainingly, which was a sign that the compressed air valves were no longer functioning properly.
Nothing worked right any more, she thought. The ventilating system didn't work, democracy didn't work; there was nothing to eat or drink.
If I could just have a new dress, she mused. A pair of trousers, a coat! But there were no new dresses, trousers, coats-no new clothing any more. Nothing but the poor tattered remnants the people were wearing to cover their nakedness.
She looked pensively along the row of sparkling, gleaming instrument panels, expensive equipment that for days now had stood inactive and silent, no longer producing articles of clothing. At least they had been able, before, to convert the organic fibres into synthetic food. But the meagre provisions of Bunker Fenomat would be depleted by tomorrow or the next day.
Ivsera turned round. Behind her Irvin was leaning indolently against a table, a grave expression on his face. "Are you depressed?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No. It doesn't make any difference to me."
"But you have to inform Havan, don't you?"
She looked at the young man in some surprise. "Havan? He already knows. For 10 days."
Irvin left the table and approached her a few steps. He wore a short pair of trousers reaching only halfway down his thighs. This was all the clothing permitted any man in Bunker Fenomat.
"He won't remember." Irvin sounded certain.
"But..."
Irvin raised his hand with an air of finality. "No buts! I don't think I have to tell you what kind of man Havan is."
Ivsera lowered her gaze. "Won't you go tell him for me?" -quietly.
Negative shake of head. "No, I'd better not. He'd yell at me and make it painfully clear that the Chief Chemist herself must report to him."
Ivsera sighed. "You're right, Irvin." She raised her head to face the young man, forcing a faint smile. "Maybe it's best I take care of it right now."
"I wish you luck."

* * * *

If only we could go above! Ivsera thought. Up where no one had lived for 8 years. Outside where the storm clouds of radioactive dust blew, where every single raindrop was so poisonous that it could kill 10 men. Out there in the aftermath of the most terrible war of all time, where the miles-wide glassy fusion of rocks marked the ground-zero point of the Bomb.
Ivsera tried to mentally calculate how many humans had survived the war. In the underground fortification of Fenomat, usually referred to as the Fenomat Bunker, 6000 people had found refuge but in the course of 8 years this number had increased to 10,000. Fenomat was the capital of the land, which was why it also had a suburb containing a 2nd bunker, named Sallon, with the same capacity as Fenomat.
In the whole country there were 5 such underground bunkers. If one were to consider that the enemy on the other continent had an equal number of shelters, then it would appear that about 100,000 humans had survived the Great War of Isan.
100,000 out of 3 billion!
The cage stopped. Ivsera opened the door.
Outside was a passageway similar to the one she had come from. The young woman turned to her left and passed a few doors which bore name-plates on them, stopping in front of the next to the last one. "Havan?" she called out.
She spoke the name with a certain unwillingness. Havan-this was the man who thought she would turn to him only 2 days after Ofaran's death. Havan was the man who made life difficult for her at every opportunity because she had made it clear to him that she wished to remain single through the widow's year of mourning and that a man like Havan would never be able to extinguish the memory of Ofaran even in 10,000 years.
Havan shouted an answer: "Come inside!"
Ivsera pushed open the door before her. Havan sat behind a heavy table of synthetic marble. As he recognized her there was no change of expression in his coarse and loathsome features. "So, what is it?"
"We're all out of provisions," Ivsera answered curtly.
Havan looked at her attentively. "Why have you waited until now to tell me?"
Ivsera's eyes narrowed. "I told you 10 days ago that we were out of raw materials!"
"So what!" he shouted. "As a member of the Council I have the right to be kept continually advised of what's happening." He brought the flat of his hand down on the table. "I'll have you removed from your post if you don't understand your duties!"
Confronted with Havan's attempt to injure and provoke her, Ivsera regained her composure. "Just remember that you're not the only one here who decides on the assignment of duties," she interjected calmly. "We do have a Council and I won't budge unless they order me to."
She turned around, opened the door and went out. While she was closing the door behind her she heard Havan's scornful taunt: "Thus far we have the Council...!" She didn't hear the rest, nor did it interest her in the least.
At the elevator she was met by Killarog, who was also a Council member. He was one of the youngest of the Councilmen and it was Ivsera's opinion that he had been one of the few who had managed to preserve some degree of dignity and decency through the 8 post-war years.
She wanted to pass him by with a brief greeting but Killarog stopped and held her by the arm. "Trouble?" he asked her, not unkindly.
She looked at him. "In these times who is without trouble?"
Killarog kept a straight face but there was a teasing gleam in his eye. "As you know," he said with a contrived pontifical air, "I'm Chairman of the Committee on personal and psychological matters. If something is bothering you it's your duty to report it to me."
He had raised a finger at her but now his sternness faded and he led Ivsera back into the corridor. "What's the matter, girl? No more supplies? The Council has known that for 10 days now. You don't have to beat your brains out over it."
Ivsera laughed bitterly. "That's right," she retorted, "but it's only the Chairman of the Committee on Food & Clothing who didn't know anything about it."
Killarog chuckled. "Havan? Naturally, he knows it. We were just discussing it a few hours ago."
Ivsera explained to him what had happened. Killarog opened the door to his room and let her pass in ahead of him. He offered her a seat and then gestured contemptuously as he went around behind his synthetic marble table and sat down. "Don't believe a word of what Havan says," he advised. "Especially when he's talking to you. If he were to suggest your removal he'd make himself ridiculous in the eyes of the Council."
He regarded Ivsera across the broad table and under his reassuring gaze the young woman lost a certain degree of the resentment she had felt since her meeting with Havan.
"But let's consider another matter," said Killarog. "What are we going to do if we don't have anything more to eat?"
Ivsera waved her hands in a gesture of futility. "If I knew I'd tell you," she answered. "Maybe we could vacate the bunker and take a look on the surface, to see if anything is there?"
It was only a passing remark but Ivsera was startled when Killarog almost jumped out of his chair and narrowed his eyes at her. "Who ever gave you that idea? You know it's impossible to vacate the bunker!"
Ivsera was confused. "Excuse me. I... I had no idea it would upset you so. Nobody gave me the idea, it's my own. But don't you think it's an easy conclusion to reach?"