"Rhodan, Perry - Killers from Hyperspace" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rhodan Perry)

1/ааFINDERS WEEPERS

If Vicheline had been of humanoid abstraction he might have rubbed his hands
satisfaction. However, since he was a Trox, as thin and as a transparent as a
spiderweb, he expressed himself with a low sing-song noise that was somewhere
just above his quintuple stomach. By the standards of his own race, Vicheline
was an aristocrat, whereas a Terran might have called him a thief or a pirate.
The Springers on board Tus II saw in him a valuable support for their more or
less legitimate enterprise.
At the moment, Vicheline's frail form hung from the ceiling like a delicate
soap bubble that the slightest gust of wind might have have blown away.
"There it is!" shouted Tusnetze excitedly, and he gave his son a resound
whack on the shoulder.
Although the patriarch was advanced in years he still possessed a
considerable physical strength. In recent times, however, his clan had fallen
upon misfortune, having failed to do business while losing one ship after
another.
The Tus II was the pitiful remainder of a once proud squadron consisting of a
dozen magnificent longships. The vessel was even older than the patriarch
himself and whenever it laboured its way from transition to transition it
creaked and groaned and produced other sounds which often brought the sweat to
the worried brows of Tusnetze's people. It had been three years since the Tus I
had been lost. Tusnetze's elder nephew had taken off with it along with
irreplaceable trade goods and the patriarch's youngest daughter, Tringars.
Tusnetze raved about it for weeks, he had suffered a nervous breakdown,
thrashed his wife four times a day, and had shaved off his beard, swearing that
he would only let it grow out again when his clan broke its evil streak of
misfortune.
As for the remaining clansmen on board the Tus II, they could lay claim to a
rugged set of nerves because in addition to putting up with the patriarch's
black moods they had to live through the constant fear of a final collapse of
the almost derelict ship. So it was no wonder that this reduced remnant of
Tusnetze's forces was prepared to do anything to put an end to this shameful
situation. Aside from Tusnetze himself they were chiefly egged on to a solution
by Farosto the head mechanic. This may have been due to the fact that Farosto
was in the best position to judge the state of deterioration of the cylindrical
ship, and it caused him to urgently stress the importance of transacting a good
piece of business somehow. In the mean time he had been thrown out of the
Control Central at least six times by Tusnetze, who said that he'd kill anybody
with his bare hands who dared to disturb his accustomed routine.
The only one who was spared from Tusnetze's fits of temper was Vicheline, the
Trox. Ever since this pitiful-looking creature been on board, Tusnetze had
seemed to be hoping for a miracle. The Trox had promised to lead the Springer to
a place where he might take over an unmanned robot ship that had once been under
control of the now destroyed Regent. Like every other Galactic Trader, Tusnetze
knew that there were still a few thousand of these ships adrift in free fall or
plying unknown courses through the galaxy, which were only waiting to be
discovered by the right man.
Tusnetze considered himself to be that man, and when Vicheline presented him