"Perry Rhodan 066 - The Guardians" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

A gangway extended from the spaceship which had the shape of a pudgy torpedo. The gangway was not as comfortable as those leading to the ships of Terranian construction. They had to use their feet because the floor didn't move them up.
Chellish estimated the height of the ship to be about 90 meters. He observed the 4 huge exhaust tubes, which were attached to the hull far forward of the steering fins and noticed that their rims were blackened. This observation, taken in conjunction with a few others, sufficed to make him determine with virtual certainty that the ship served exclusively for interplanetary travel and that it was not an interstellar transport vehicle. He concluded that the aliens lived in the same system to which Grautier belonged. They probably had not yet learned to master the art of interstellar space travel from system to system.
Mullon didn't bother to make such observations. He was too worried about their fate. He was puzzled by the fact that Chellish had predicted already last night that they would be summoned by their captors.
Chellish, on the other hand, had only eyes for the spaceship, its outer appearance, and after they had entered it over the gangway, its interior equipment. He saw with his expert eye that the vessel was far inferior to a Terranian spaceship. In his opinion, the stage of technology the skinny people had achieved corresponded approximately to the point Terra would have reached at the same time if Perry Rhodan had not undertaken his flight to the Moon where he met 2 Arkonides whose help enabled him to speed up the Terranian civilization by thousands of years in the course of a few decades.
The gangway ended at a circular corridor which ran along the inside wall of the ship. The guards pushed their prisoners to the right. Chellish noticed a number of hatches at regular intervals at the left side. However he was unable to see what they concealed since they were all closed.
When they had walked along the corridor about one-quarter of the ship's periphery, they came to an elevator shaft. Their escort shoved them into a cabin and they went up. To judge by the sound the cabin seemed to be suspended by cables.
The elevator stopped on the 7th floor. The distance between floors was about 5 meters. They stepped out on a corridor similar to the one below but this time they turned left under the prodding of the guards. Finally Mullon and Chellish were made to enter a wide-open hatch door.
Behind the opening lay a rectangular room whose symmetry was broken only by the round wall adjacent to the corridor. The floor was grey and smooth. The only pieces of furniture in the room were 2 chairs and something resembling a huge desk on which a row of thin levers was mounted.
Behind the desk sat another of the slim aliens. He scrutinized the 2 prisoners with his big bulging eyes.
The other chair was occupied by Pashen who greeted Mullon and Chellish with a diabolical grin.
"Look who's here!" Chellish exclaimed angrily. "We forgot all about you. You got real chummy with these beanstalks, didn't lose any time, did you?"
"None at all," Pashen replied. "Wouldn't you know?"
The alien behind the desk began to whistle excitedly. Pashen had barely finished his answer when Chellish was struck a terrible blow in the neck. He fell to the floor but managed to raise himself up.
A tinny voice said in poor English: "You're not allowed to speak unless we ask you a question."
Mullon was perplexed. He looked at the one behind the desk but he was certain that he couldn't have spoken the words. But then who else?
He discovered a small box on the desk which appeared to be a loudspeaker. That's where the voice had come from. The alien apparently used a positronic translator. Mullon had already heard about such gadgets when he was a respected citizen on Earth.
Pashen the traitor had furnished the vocabulary which the instrument required to reproduce the English language. Now it was equipped to translate the words of the whistling squeaky language of the aliens into English and vice versa. What he saw was only the speaker and the set was probably inside the desk.
"You're the president of the horde that invaded this world," the machine pronounced after the alien uttered some sibilant noises.
Mullon didn't know whether it was a question or a statement and he merely answered: "Yes."
"You'll work for us," the machine announced.
Mullon remained silent. The thin ones were strict. He was not permitted to say anything without a direct question. But he was compelled to give an answer when they asked him.
Mullon was not prepared for the jab in his back between the shoulder blades. His eyes blurred and everything went dark. When he regained consciousness he was lying on the floor. He never even felt the fall but when he tried to get up, he could hardly move his limbs.
"You'll work for us," the machine repeated.
"I don't care," Mullon answered, furious. He called himself a coward but he was in their power and was afraid they would beat him senseless.
Pashen snickered maliciously.
"You'll grow a variety of wheat for us which we need. We'll put machines at your disposal and you'll deliver a fixed amount of wheat at prescribed times. If you refuse, you'll be punished. Your settlement'll be under strict supervision. We don't tolerate disobedience."
"Yes," Mullon grunted.
Then he was grabbed by the shoulder and pulled up. He tried out his legs, which functioned again, if a little wobbly.
Apparently the conversation was ended and the 2 guards who had picked them up took them back again.
The sun rose as Mullon and Chellish crossed the chain of sentries at the border of the camp.

* * * *

Mullon had no objections when Chellish assumed the task of reporting to their fellow prisoners.
"I behaved like a fool and a coward," he said dejectedly to Freddy. "Chellish probably could have told them off much better than I."
"He could have talked only as long they let him live," Freddy consoled him, "and from what I hear, they wouldn't have given him much time to talk. Don't let it bother you. Nobody can blame you. If you'd known what to expect, you'd have been better prepared for the confrontation and the result would probably have been different."
Freddy's quiet and reasonable way of talking it over reinforced Mullon's self-confidence again and he soon got up and joined the group of people that had formed around Chellish to discuss their dilemma.
"We're free Terranians," somebody shouted irately. "Just let them try to make slaves of us!"
And another one clamoured: "We're 8,000! We can storm their ship and lick 'em. Hey, Mullon! Why don't you say something? That blockhead there wants to tell us that we must say yes to everything."
Mullon squeezed through the crowd to reach Chellish. "This blockhead," he retorted putting his hand on Chellish's shoulder, "is absolutely right. There's nothing we can do at the moment. Or do you want to attack a well-armed spaceship with your bare hands? You couldn't even get through the line of sentries. These 'sticks' have no scruples when it comes to their safety. They want to give us machines to work the land and we'll have plenty of time to think of a better way to get rid of them."
But his speech didn't cut any mustard with the incensed listeners. They were impatient and dying to take immediate action. However after Mullon and Chellish had talked to them for another hour, they finally came around to their opinion that they had not yet reached the point of no return and they were willing to wait as long as their spokesmen held a glimpse of hope for the future.
The group dispersed and left Mullon and Chellish standing alone. Mullon cast a sideways glance at Chellish and finally admitted: "You're an excellent speaker. What did you say you were on Earth?"
"I didn't say anything except that I had some business with Hollander," Chellish replied. "I was a mechanic."
"Really?" Mullon asked. "I've the impression that you're hiding something from me."
Chellish laughed mischievously. "So you've noticed it? You're perfectly right. To tell the truth, I'm the Emperor of China."
"In truth, you're a crank," Mullon muttered in disgust. "What do you think of their agricultural project?"
"Not much. I wonder why the Whistlers want to plant their wheat here and not on their own planet."
"The who?"
"The Whistlers. Don't you like the name?"
"Why, yes. Did you think it up? Maybe the wheat can only be grown here?"