"(novel) (ebook) - Perry Rhodan 0082 - (74) Checkmate Universe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

With the robots' activity in full swing, the room was filled with noise. He had to shout to make himself understood to the Arkonide. "Could you tell your robot to leave me alone?" Ras demanded in Arkonese.
No one besides the old Arkonide took notice of his question. The hypothetical captain slowly turned his head and looked boredly at Ras. "As far as I can see, it doesn't seem to be bothering you any," he said. Ras understood more of the reply from reading his lips than from actually hearing it. The Arkonide had made no effort to raise his voice above the room's noise level.
"I mean, can't you send him away?" Ras yelled.
"No, I can't, my boy," came the reply. "I don't know why but the robots obey someone other than me."
Ras gave up. The Arkonide was out of the game entirely. Ras had to depend entirely on himself if he wanted to win. That would be difficult. The robot with the raised weapon-arm did not take its optical lenses away from him. Ras Tschubai knew that there was no possibility of diverting its attention or, for that matter, of overpowering it.
Nevertheless, Ras Tschubai had no intention of giving up his mission. He knew how much depended from his success. Quite simply, he had to succeed.
He looked around and suddenly realized how he could start. The idea he had was not any too rich with chances of success but it was enough for Ras Tschubai that it offered a chance at all.
There was nothing to be accomplished here. He had hoped-or rather, it had been Col. Tifflor's idea to find the control room empty, and had that been the case he could have disconnected the central robot and turned the ship's guidance system over to manual control. Then he would have sent the ship into a transition so far beyond the outermost limits of the galaxy that it could neither call for help nor ever return. A ship's energy supply was limited, if it squandered it all on a single transition, the ship emerged in a place from which it could never again move under its own power. That had been Tifflor's plan. It was impossible to carry out. If Ras Tschubai made a single step towards the manual controls, the robot would blast him down on the spot at once.
There was only one possibility left. Ras Tschubai closed his eyes. He did not know if that would rouse the robot's suspicions. He waited tensely for a few moments, and when nothing happened, Ras Tschubai began to concentrate. He was familiar with ships of this type of construction. He knew where the engine room was.

* * * *

Sgt. Fryberg leaped up. "A message, sir!"
Tifflor whirled around. "Coded?"
"No, sir. Normal. Plainly readable." He handed Tifflor the diagram page he had taken out of the receiver.
The connected writing mechanism had printed a series of Arkonide letters on the sheet. Fryberg did not understand Arkonese, but he knew that the writing mechanism would not have been activated at all if the message had been coded.
"Positronicon damaged," Tifflor read. "Main circuit broken down. Request technical assistance."
Tifflor gave a start. Was this Ras Tschubai's doing? If yes, then why hadn't he done what he was supposed to do? Why was the Arkonide ship still standing in the same place?
And more-why had a robotship used Arkonese for making its plight known to other robotships? Robots usually communicated with one another using short impulse signals. What was the point of the detailed message in a human language?
"Have you picked up anything else, Fryberg?" he asked the sergeant.
"Yes sir. Also a series of short impulses."
With probably an identical meaning, Tifflor concluded in his thoughts. They had sent their message twice, once for robot antennae and the second time for Arkonide ears. What Arkonide played such an important role that he had to be informed of the ships' every move?
He dropped that line of thought. He could find an answer to the question only after some reflection and he did not have the time for it. Besides, it was unimportant. The important thing was, what was Ras Tschubai doing over there on the Arkonide ship? Would he be successful?
The damage to the positronicon incidentally explained what had been delaying the boarding party, although 20 minutes had gone by since the Newborn had been captured. If the main circuit had broken down, that meant they possibly might not be able to open any of their hatches.
Or was it a trick? Did they want to lure the Newborn into making an attempt to escape and then destroy it while it tried to get away? That was a plausible thought. A defect in the positronicon would put some, but by no means all, of the ship's guns out of action. Perhaps they expected the crew of the Newborn to take that into consideration and make an attempt to escape.
Tifflor smiled mockingly. That kind of favour he would not do for them.

* * * *

Ras Tschubai worked quickly, trying not to think of his inhibitions. When he had seen that the engine room was empty except for the collection of gigantic machinery installed there, he had thought for five minutes about whether he dared do what he had in mind. He had to reach back into his memory and recall that the fate of mankind was involved. He had to realize that the Robot Regent might well be able to learn the secret of the Earth's galactic position from one of the Newborn's crewmen. He imagined what it would look like if a fleet of 50,000 Arkonide ships attacked the Terran solar system and annihilated one planet after the other.
After that, he was determined to carry out his intentions.
For someone skilled in galactonautic technology, it was an easy task to turn the huge fusion reactors up to full power and block the most important outlets so that the reactors-to put it in graphic terms-filled themselves up with energy. Large as they were, a quarter of an hour would pass before they would be full and their controlled fusion process would be turned into an uncontrolled one. The enormous amount of energy would blow the Arkonide ship apart with the force of 100 hydrogen bombs.
The robot he had escaped from had probably sounded an alarm up in the control room. In all likelihood there was even now a search for him underway, trying to find out what damage he was in the process of wreaking.
But there was a defect in the positronicon. The robots would have to search every room separately, one after the other, and by the time they reached the control room... well, they would never get to it. The ship would have blown up by then. Now that the positronicon was no longer functioning, no one up in the control room would realize that the reactors were well on the way to choking on their own power.
Ras Tschubai took one last look at the connections he had altered. He seemed like an improbable dwarf at the feet of the gigantic machinery, and doubt whether he had acted rightly overcame him anew.
It was idle speculation. Ras Tschubai had no further effect on the fate of the Arkonide ship. Its destiny was fixed and Ras could only get away from it as quickly as possible.
He closed his eyes and concentrated for the spring. But instead of the Newborn appearing before his mind's eye, he saw instead that little man he had met on one of the lower decks and who had shown him the way to the control room. Ras had promised that nothing would happen to him as he shot at him with a shockbeamer. The little man would never know that Ras Tschubai had had the best of intentions and that it was only the pressure of circumstances that prevented him from keeping his promise.
Ras drove the picture out of his mind. Ten of the 15 minutes had already ticked by. Since the time of the explosion could not be precisely calculated to the minute, it was becoming increasingly dangerous for him the longer he stayed aboard the Arkonide ship.
Finally the image of the Newborn succeeded in appearing in his brain. He stared at it, letting the picture grow until he almost believed he could see the control room through the hull.
Then he sprang.

* * * *

Julian Tifflor paid no attention to what went on behind him. He sensed the developing disquiet and heard someone take two quick steps. But his eyes were trained on the vidscreen where the dully-shining point of the Arkonide ship could be seen. What formerly had been only a tiny spot in the depths of space, distinguishable from the stars only by the odd way it shone, now suddenly ballooned in size, increased in brightness and became a radiant sun. A glaringly bright disc twice the size of the full moon seen from Earth suddenly stood in the darkness and Tifflor had to close his eyes against the glare.
No sound could be heard. A man accustomed to the roaring thunder of an explosion could not at first understand what had happened out in space. A spaceship had exploded. It had vanished in a bright, silent nuclear inferno, destroyed in a blaze of incredibly vast amounts of energy.
Tifflor wiped his hand across his forehead and looked around. Two paces behind him stood Ras Tschubai. Those had been his steps Tifflor had previously heard. The African returned his glance guiltily, explaining: "I couldn't do anything else, sir. The control room was filled with robots. They were repairing something. I couldn't have moved my little finger without one of them noticing.
Tifflor nodded. "In a case like this," he said thoughtfully, "it's not easy to say 'You've done a good job', but nevertheless, you have. No doubt about that."
Ras Tschubai sighed in relief.
Blast it all anyway, thought Tifflor angrily, what's wrong with me? The Arkonides blow up whole planets without losing any sleep about it and I'm worried by my conscience because one of their ships exploded?
He shook the thought away from him. Before it blew up, the Arkonide ship had called for technical assistance. The assistance could show up at any second now and it would doubtless be better for the Newborn if it were some distance away from the scene of the disaster.