" Perry Rhodan 0075 - (67) Crimson Universe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

below, my feeling of resentment had subsided.

One thing you had to grant these barbarians: they were straightforward and frank! Being accustomed to
subject my actions and feelings to severe self-criticism, I was forced to reflect later that I had really been
standing around in the way of the qualified personnel from the shipyard. Scientists were supposed to lay
out a specific plan for the specialists, and since I had completed my calculations and recommendations I
had actually become superfluous in the area. Even without precise direction, the engineers from Michel’s
team knew how to anchor the transmitter and install the power plant.

So here I sat on a plastic case that I had selected some 30 minutes ago as a safe resting place. From this
position I had a fairly good view of the arching hull of the giant spacesphere, which measured just about
one mile in diameter. They had named it theKublai Khan . Evidently Perry Rhodan placed great store in
the famous Mongolian who had once carved out an entire world empire for himself.

I laughed silently to myself. What Rhodan still did not know was the fact that I had known the Khan very
well. At the time I could not have dreamed that one day a giant spaceship would be outfitted which
would bear the name of the warlord.

These Terranians seemed to be extraordinarily interested in their own history. If it had been up to the
men at this space dock area I would have had to recount my long life at least four times a week. But I
avoided such narrations as much as possible because I was all too familiar with the consequent pains of
my extra brain. Once its memory sector was fully awakened the normal course of my thinking processes
was shut off.

A barely perceptible pulsing made me aware of the biological cell activator that was suspended against
my chest. I frowned in some surprise and puzzlement. The mysterious, egg-sized apparatus always stirred
into activity when my cellular tissues were in need of certain stimulus impulses. Was I merely tired at the
moment or was my body undergoing that process again which had once been described by a Terranian
biologist as ‘a timely regeneration of cells which would otherwise have atrophied long ago’… ?

I shrugged it off. I would probably never solve the mystery of the microactivator that had preserved my
youth and vigour for practically 10,000 years. The only entity or being who could have enlightened me on
the subject had disappeared after the trouble on the synthetic planet Wanderer.

Ithad expressed an intention to merely rest up a bit and catch its breath for a few moments but in
accordance with its own time standards. What this could mean for such a disembodied intelligence I
could well imagine. Perhaps in 50 years I might raise the question as to whether or not those ‘few
moments’ had passed. In this respect I did not deceive myself.

The nearest landing strut of theKublai Khan was about 100 yards distant from me. The towering
support cylinder partially blocked my view of the vast groundlock area which opened like an inverted
abyss to swallow up a countless stream of men and material. No doubt, like myself, the men had required
weeks or perhaps months to overcome their agoraphobia or claustrophobia, depending on the
individual’s point of view. After all it was no light matter to be constantly aware of all those millions of
tons of Arkon steel looming close overhead. If just one of the extended struts were to collapse, or if a
support pad were to sink through the pavement underneath, it would result in a major catastrophe.
 I started suddenly as I became aware of a shadow. Someone had approached me silently from behind.
It was only in the nick of time that the logic sector of my brain reminded me that there were no enemy
assailants here and so my rather ‘jumpy’ constitution relaxed again.