" Perry Rhodan 0103 - (95) The Plasma Monster" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

Sergeant," the chief medico requested. Hopkins had no doubt taken various
medical-service type courses at the Space Academy but he was no physician. He
hesitated to describe the nature of the malady. But the chief medico appeared
to be in a hurry. "Come off it, Sergeant! Get hold of one of those Springers
and start feeling his abdominal area. It doesn't matter any more if you're
handling the sick ones-you're all infected by now. Alright now, do you feel a
stony hardness in the abdominal area clear up to the rib cage or are there
still some pliable spots and if so, where?" Sgt. Hopkins' groan of protest
was heard 8500 light-years over the hypercom channel. He felt that he was over
his head and being asked for more than he could deliver. But he hesitantly
reported what he could. The chief medico only broke in here and there with a
yes or no but listened patiently to all of it. "I'm at the rib area now,
doctor," said Hopkins, still unsure of himself. "Are you able to make anything
out of all this?" "Thank you, Sergeant. You've done very well and I'm sorry
to say that your original suspicions concerning enteric occlusion may be
valid. You'd better prepare your men to expect their first intestinal cramps
within 2 or 3 hours. I'll get everything started here that is necessary. That
is all!" "Hello? Hey, Doc...!" yelled Hopkins into his microphone but then he
clamped his jaws together in discouragement. The hypercom operator on the
medi-ship had already cut off. All he knew was that this type of intestinal
plague had the highest rate of mortality. While monitoring this conversation,
Lt. Harold Fitzgerald had shaken his head once or twice. He had heard a
technical name for the malady before. Enteric infarction had the reverse
effect of cholera. Instead of dysentery the result was a total dysfunction of
the abdominal-intestinal tract and a general hardening of the whole area,
followed by a rapid rise in blood poisoning. In recent years the occurrence of
this affliction had been so frequent in this section of the galaxy that it had
taken a frightening toll of lives. Even the Galactic Medical Masters, the
Aras, had declared themselves willing to work with Earthmen in order to combat
this sinister epidemic. Meanwhile their joint efforts in this direction had
probably developed a good prophylaxis for the ailment but as yet their search
for the specific cause of the 'stone-belly' plague had been without
success. Fitzgerald called into his Com Station. "Give me Headquarters in
Terrania," he ordered. The hypercom connection was quickly established. The
lieutenant started to report the situation but was interrupted before he had
spoken a dozen words. Medi-ship 3 had already advised them of the plague
condition. "Anything else, Lieutenant?" asked Maj. Dugan from
Terrania. "Nothing else, Major." "I'd like to have soft job like yours for
about 4 weeks," commented the major enviously as he cut off the communication
with Relay Station Ori-12-1818. "Soft job...!" grumbled Lt. Fitzgerald. "It's
the boredom that drives you up the bulkheads. But if I had a nice desk in
Terrania..." . . . . His car was stopped and the impersonal metallic
voice of a steel monster demanded his I.D. papers. Walt Ballin was familiar
with robots but he had never had any direct dealings with them before. But now
this towering mechanical creature led the way for him to Perry Rhodan, whom he
only knew from all his appearances on television. He was not aware that he had
passed through 4 half-dozen invisible control points on the way but at a time
like this he wouldn't have noticed them even if they had been plainly
conspicuous. Ballin was in a cold sweat of tension. When he thought of his
blatant nerve in calling Rhodan from Paris he almost felt sick to his