"Perry Rhodan 022 - Escape to Venus" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)
"Aren't we also free men here?" asked one of the men.
"Freedom and freedom-there can be a world of difference between them. Isn't freedom a relative concept depending greatly on the political dogma of whoever talks about it? You can order men to be free but they can also fight to obtain it."
"These are strange words, general," said another man and gazed across to a wide plain extending over to the west. There, too, similar little island plateaus jutted out from the jungle. A column of smoke rose from one of the mesas. "Didn't the rebels use the identical words?"
"Yes, they did. And they did even more than that: they separated from us because they no longer wished to return to Earth after our invasion here had failed. We were under orders to conquer Rhodan's Venusian base. We were unable to take his fortress. Rhodan then destroyed our ships and left us stranded and helpless in this wilderness. He knew that survival would be possible here for us. The rebels know that too. They have based their decision on this fact. We are not traitors, we want to get back to Earth in order to prepare for another invasion. But the rebels made up their minds to remain here and colonize Venus. They don't seem to realize how futile their efforts are since they start out with such a handicap, with practically nothing."
"They managed to clear their island and to plant some fields. Venusian soil is very fertile. It would be a new frontier for settlers from Earth."
"That might well be," admitted the general unwillingly. "But the fact still remains: they are mutineers breaking the law. And rebels should be hanged.
The dishevelled soldier next to Tomisenkow instinctively touched his neck as if to reassure himself it was still connected to his head. His right hand rested firmly on the ray-gun butt in his belt. His eyes narrowed as he kept steadily looking over to the camp of the rebels. It was still light enough to be able to recognize all details there with field glasses. He could see the sentries on the rebel island as they were watching them in turn. The two groups were the only human beings on Venus. They belonged to the same power bloc on Earth-still they had become deadly enemies, fighting against each other.
General Tomisenkow was just about to turn away, to return to his hut, when suddenly a blinding flash of lightning rent the evening dusk. The bolt seemed to have struck the centre of the plateau where the defeated, stranded invasion troops had found refuge. Thunderstorms were nothing unusual here on Venus but this was not the right time for them.
A front of compressed air swept over the men with a thundering rumble, throwing several men to the ground. Tomisenkow managed to cling to a tree. He stared into the night sky, trying to make out a glowing point which was sinking slowly earthwards like a giant meteor.
He couldn't believe his eyes-it looked like a spaceship!
But it could not be one of Rhodan's fleet; after all, this ship had been attacked and shot down by the hellish defence installations of the alien fortress that belonged to Rhodan.
Reinforcements from home? Of course. That must be the only possible explanation.
Before Tomisenkow could arrive at a decision there was another blinding flash. The crashing ship was not hit by it but it disappeared among the treetops of the jungle roof.
Another wave of compressed air followed. Then Tomisenkow ran back to his men. "Sgt Rabow, take some men and try to find the crashed ship. In case you don't find any survivors, we can certainly use their provisions and weapons. Hurry, before it gets completely dark!"
The sergeant, a short, dark-haired man with quick eyes, nodded eagerly. "I'll take our spotlight along, general. We'll track down that ship, rest assured. Don't you want to come along?"
Tomisenkow frowned. Disgusting how little discipline remained. It was high time to check these familiarities that were becoming more and more frequent among his soldiers. "I have more important things to deal with right now," he snarled furiously, as he walked off in the direction of the huts at the foot of a small rocky cone. He felt very lonely here among has men.
Sgt Rabow followed him with has eyes. They were thin slits now, making him look like a Mongolian. But he was no Oriental; he came from White Russia, a wiry Ukranian. And many of has compatriots had joined the rebel camp. Well, at the next opportunity...
He dismissed these thoughts and followed the general, keeping a respectful distance. The sentries remained at the edge of the plateau, waiting for the next flash from the fortress' defences. But they were waiting in vain.
Thora awoke. It was completely dark. Her legs were still hurting and she could move them only with great effort. There was a shooting pain in her hips but it was bearable.
Cautiously, Thora tried to get up. She supported herself by holding onto the arms of her chair-finally she stood up. The floor beneath her feet was slanting at a steep angle; she had to watch out not to lose her balance.
She flipped the light but all remained dark. She slammed down hard on the lever of the emergency battery. The light came on immediately.
Her eyes fell on robot R-17. He was still leaning in the same posture in his seat, has forehead resting on the instrument panel. His right arm lay at a crazy angle on the narrow table in front of the console, while his left arm dangled toward the floor.
Thora felt very lonely all of a sudden, as she was considering the possibility that R-17 might be 'dead.' True, she could make small repairs, but in case one of the complicated inner positronic parts had been damaged, R-17 would remain forever in the Venusian jungle, rusting away during the course of centuries-unless he was found before then.
Thora observed that she had not landed in the middle of the primeval forest. The destroyed ship had come to rest on flat ground. It was a miracle how the ship must have first broken its fall when it hit the jungle treetops, then slowly glided down until it reached the ground. The final impact, though, had still been hard enough to sprain her legs and condemn R-17 to immobility.
She stretched all her limbs. Nothing serious, nothing broken. Then she concentrated on the robot. With skilled hands she detached his breastplate and shone her flashlight into the maze of transistors, other electronic miniaturized parts and wiring. As far as she could determine, nothing was damaged. She replaced the breastplate, made sure that the magnetic locks had snapped shut tight. There was no doubt in her mind now, after this examination, where the trouble must have occurred: the robot had smashed his forehead against the instrument panel.
The headplate was just as easily removed and Thora saw at once how lucky she had been. One of the main wires had come loose and dangled uselessly among the tiny Arkonite tubes.
She found a soldering iron in the tool box and had the damage repaired within a few minutes. R-17 was at once wide awake. He raised his head, looked at Thora and asked: "What happened? I must have become deactivated."
"Just a wire, that was all. We were shot down by the guard cannons of the station. Probably something was wrong with the code remitter. The station should be about 900 miles from here. What next?"
"Wait," answered R-17. That was the only sensible solution to the problem as far as he was concerned. He had lots of time.
Wait? Wait for what? Until they find us? Venus is uninhabited. In case Rhodan has followed me he will fly directly to the station. It will not even occur to him that I might have been shot down. How is it with our transmitter?"
R-17 got to his feet and walked, leaning forward very strangely, to the door leading to the ship's radio station. His slanting posture was affected by the stabilizer gyro-scope that was not functioning again. He adjusted to the slant of the ground and was independent of the centre of gravity.
Thora stayed behind and tried to make out any details of the objects outside the cabin window. She noticed that it was growing darker, but only very gradually. The twilight period of Venus lasted five times longer than on Earth, therefore her eyes could adjust sufficiently to recognize more and more of her surroundings.
The ship rested at a slant on a small rock-strewn clearing. Occasional trees ringed the edge of the forest, which did not resemble the swampy lowlands of the jungle. That was a comforting thought.
R-17 returned to the command centre. "Our transmitter is out of order, it cannot be repaired," he announced in his matter of fact voice devoid of any human emotions. "This means we cannot count on any help unless we're missed very soon. Rhodan has been informed of our test flight, I assume."
"No, Rhodan knows nothing about it-at least not until the moment we started. I left without authorization. I intend to establish communication with Arkon once I reach the Venusian base. Rhodan did not know that Khrest and I planned to return home to Arkon."
The robot stopped in the middle of the room. He stared at the woman out of his crystalline lenses. "You have acted against Rhodan's orders? You know that I have been conditioned to obey only Rhodan's commands. Therefore you have become my opponent."
"We are both in the same situation."
"Nevertheless, you must be punished."
Thora's pride was hard hit. She, member of a ruling race, was being told by an object of her own creation that she deserved to be punished. The Terranian Rhodan had removed her own race's power over their robots.
"Yes, Rhodan ought to punish me," she conceded, trying to sound still logical. "But he can punish me only if he can lay his hands on me alive. It is your duty, consequently, to bring me back to Rhodan-to the Venus station. For this is where we shall find him."
Robot R-17 could see that she was right in her argument. "Well, then, let's proceed to the station and wait there for him."
That, of course, was easier said than done.
"From now on I am responsible for your safety and for your life," stated R-17 soberly. "You have broken Rhodan's laws and have therefore become my prisoner. The destroyer is wrecked; we must start out immediately to avoid losing any unnecessary time."
"How about food and water?" asked Thora.
The robot pointed to some built-in wall cabinets. "There are weapons, medications, water and food concentrates-all prepared for three persons. You will have enough therefore for almost two weeks. You are allowed to take along one hand weapon since this suits my purposes."
Thora swallowed hard. A robot gave her, an Arkonide, permission to carry arms! She made up her mind right then and there to have R-17 put out of commission and broken down to his smallest components in the robot salvage yard at the earliest opportunity that would present itself.
She took the pulse-ray gun and put it in her belt. Then she packed the food concentrates into a small bag, handed it to the robot and took the first aid kit and medications. R-17 volunteered to carry the water container.
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