"Perry Rhodan 026 - Mutants Vs Mutants" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

This emergency was now at hand.
Cadet Tifflor no longer felt bound by any rules and regulations. He was acting now in self-defence.
The enemy craft's rear came nearer as Z-82 increased its speed. Then the hostile spaceship seemed to veer away to one side. With lightning speed Tiff grasped the red lever and simultaneously pushed down on it.
One second.
Two seconds.
The orange-coloured finger of energy shot out of his destroyer's nose and penetrated the flaring drive-rays of the hostile spacecraft. With a velocity close to the speed of light the energy finger bored into the jets and advanced as far as the engine room, devouring everything along its way until it reached the Arkonide reactor.
Three seconds later Tiff let go of the red lever and pulled his destroyer sharply around. With incredible speed-it seemed as if both ships were standing still-Tiff's destroyer swept close past his opponent's damaged vessel.
Fascinated, Tiff observed the effect of his neutron ray bombardment.
At first a hole became visible at the rear of the other destroyer, then the edges of the hole began to burn. A wreath of fire enveloped the ship's rear. A force released by a sudden and noiseless explosion then extinguished the ring of fire. The ship's rear broke apart and some invisible force hurled its wreckage in all directions. The ship's interior seemed to break loose, apparently endeavouring to separate from the rest. Now the outer hull ripped apart. The strong metal wall bent and crumpled as if it were made of tinfoil.
The destroyer broke in two, right through the middle. The enemy had been practically destroyed.
Tiff heaved a sigh of relief. Only then did he find time to look after his trainer and his fellow student.
Captain Hawk was lying collapsed in a heap between the pilot's seat and the front wall. There was no doubt that he was dead. Nevertheless, Tiff checked for the presence of any vital signs, but there weren't any. Cadet Eberhardt, who had been silently sitting next to Tifflor, unable to do anything, was slowly recovering from his shock. His first remark was typical for him. "Now we are without our instructor. How will we get back to Earth?"
Tiff repressed his anger. "Eberhardt, aren't you over-looking that we have quite a few hours of training behind us? Besides, I've already calculated our flight course. We'll be landing on Earth in two hours. Now, will you help me bring Captain Hawk back to his cabin?"
They placed their dead trainer on his cot and covered him up. He would be laid to his final rest in his small hometown back on Terra. His students however would never forget him, when later on they would roam through the wide expanses of space as the brave commanders of their proud ships, for whatever they were and knew they owed to him-Captain Hawk.
The rudderless nose of the hostile spaceship had moved only very slightly over to the side. Later on it would drift off into the asteroid belt.
Tiff narrowed his eyes and examined the wreck.
Its front part was undamaged but the other side, where it had been rent apart, resembled a rubble heap. Molten panels of the cabin and half-way vaporized metal plates of the hull jutted out from among the jagged edges. Nearby drifted bent and crumpled pieces whose origin and purpose were no longer recognizable.
But amidst this wreckage there might still remain an undamaged cabin in which the unknown foe were locked in helplessly. Perhaps they were still armed with hand weapons but they could use these of course only if one were to penetrate their sealed space tombs.
And this was exactly what Tiff had in mind. He said to Eberhardt: "Let's have a look at those fellows who wanted to send us to hell."
And he started to steer the Z-82 close to the wreck. He glanced significantly at the built-in small cabinet, looked at the remote controls and murmured: "Some-body ought to climb into his pressurized spacesuit now and leave our ship through the airlock to pay a visit over there and look around."
"Sure," agreed Eberhardt. "That would be a splendid idea."
Tiff was waiting. But he waited in vain. For there was nothing else that Eberhardt intended adding to his remark. The subject had been sufficiently explored for his taste.
"I'm glad you agree. This somebody will be you, my friend. Get going; climb into your spacesuit and transfer to the wreck over there. Take along one of our ray guns in case the doors are stuck."
"Why me?" Eberhardt's eyes took on the size and shape of small saucers. "I'm supposed to leave our ship? All alone? And then clear out that band of gangsters? Listen, cadet Tifflor, I'm a space pilot not an FBI agent."
"Commander Tifflor, if you please," corrected Tiff and assumed a most official-looking mien. "And hurry up for a change!"
Eberhardt shrugged his shoulders, rose slowly from his seat and took a pulse-ray gun from the weapon cabinet on the wall. All the training ships of the Academy were equipped with this absolutely fatal weapon, built according to an Arkonide principle. He threw a last desperate glance at Tiff, waited in vain for a sign of compassion and finally moved over to the door. There he stopped.
"I'll finish off that gang and avenge Hawk," he said triumphantly. "I'll do it, all by myself. And what will you do, Tiff?"
"I'll make sure that nothing untoward will befall you meanwhile," Tiff reassured him as cool as a cucumber and pointed to the red lever of the neutron cannon. "At least I'll try to do my best, I promise."
Eberhardt swallowed hard and without further comment left the cabin. Tiff waited until the green control light lit up before he started the process of depressurising and vacuumising the airlock.
The Z-82 was now hovering apparently without motion about 30 feet next to the wreck. Once Tiff believed for a moment he'd seen some movement behind one of the dark bull's-eyes of the cabin but this might have been just an optical illusion. But no, there it was again! He could clearly make out the outlines of a human figure. A weak light flared up. Of course there could be no electric current over there and they had to make do with weak batteries. Provided they had any besides their flashlights. Their radio installation had also been destroyed by the detonation.
A red light began to glow on the front panel near Tiff. The airlock had been pumped empty and Eberhardt had opened the exit hatch. Similar abandon-ship manoeuvres in deep space had been practiced many times by them but this time it was for real. And besides, nobody could know what dangers might be lurking over there in the wreck. It was quite possible that the pirates-that's what the unknown enemy were considered to be by Tiff-had their own pressurized spacesuits with them in their cabin.
Now Eberhardt became visible. He was floating, attached to a thin line, close in front of Tiff as he slowly approached the rotating wreck. The shadow behind the window hatch of the broken-off nose of the formerly hostile spaceship seemed suddenly to freeze. He too must have caught sight of Eberhardt.
Eberhardt braked gently as he landed on the hull of the wreck. Cautiously he moved ahead until he reached the window hatch. He peered inside and saw the face of a man who stared at him with wide open, horror-filled eyes.
The stranger was wearing a spacesuit, however his helmet was not closed. His dark skin indicated he might be a mulatto but Eberhardt wasn't quite sure. In any case he was filled with deep satisfaction when he could clearly recognize the fear expressed in the other's face.
He nodded grimly toward the man and showed him his pulse-ray gun, just to make sure. Then he crept carefully toward the torn-up part of the nose. A glance sufficed for Eberhardt to determine that he had in front of him a corridor which led to the various cabins of the ship. By some miracle the door to the command centre had remained untouched.
What now?
He wanted to seize the unknown foe alive, for nobody would be helped by his death. For they were naturally most interested to find out who their opponents' were and who was hiding behind this incomprehensible attack. Therefore Eberhardt grasped his raygun and knocked with it against the door. Three times.
Of course he couldn't hear anything for there was no air to conduct the sound. But the person inside the cabin could hear the knock at the door.
Eberhardt leaned his helmeted head against the door. If the unknown should knock against it, in turn the vibrations would be transferred to the air inside his helmet. Hardly 10 seconds had passed when he heard three knocks. That could only mean they were ready to negotiate.
Eberhardt thanked his fate that he had always paid attention during their radio training. He remembered the sarcastic remarks which many of his fellow students couldn't help uttering when they had to learn the Morse alphabet. Why bother learning the Morse code in an era when there existed direct audio-visual communication over distances spanning interplanetary space?
Well, at this moment he realized suddenly why they had been bothered with such antiquated trifles.
Almost automatically he replied and knocked out a message in Morse code:
Close your helmet and open the door a bit. Come out backwards. Unarmed. I am waiting.
There was no answer but a minute later the door opened. There was a rush of air as it escaped through the opened cabin door. It almost dragged Eberhardt with it but he held fast to one of the twisted stays. In his right hand he held his pulse-ray gun, ready to shoot, pointed at the chink in the door.
First he saw an arm that cautiously groped backwards, then appeared the back of a spacesuit. It was the same type as worn by the cadets of the Academy. Therefore he had also...
Eberhardt cursed himself because he hadn't at once thought of it. With a quick movement he flipped on his miniaturized radio installation. The other fellow might have switched his own on for quite some time already.
Sure enough, it was the case.
"...kind enough to bring me back to Mars."
Eberhardt was startled. To Mars? He wanted to be brought back to Mars? He was coming from Mars in the first place? What was going on up there?
"Turn around and raise your hands!"