" Perry Rhodan 1804 - Struggle To Survive" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

of the Temple and following the paths of destruction that Schimbaa, their mentally projected giant made
flesh, had carved out before dissolving into thin air.

"You have force-field projectors with you. Use them to shield your positions." That was Prett Boemer
personally. The commander of the Paper Moon had eyes and ears everywhere.

"That goes without saying. But the Herreach don't worry about force-fields. They just run right into
them."

"We'll send you a few extra projectors."

"That's something, at least. But hurry up!"

The crowding Herreach pushed Bandolph to the ground. He forced himself between them, thereby
avoiding the fate of being trampled outright. They didn't even notice his presence. Shoulder to shoulder,
the line of Free Breathers and priests of the Cleros rolled on, their constant cry droning in the air above
them:

"Kummerog. Kummerog."

Ose Bandolph struggled to his feet from the dust and stared at them, flabbergasted. When would they
finally understand? There wasn't any Kummerog. He clapped his SERUN's gloves together to shake the
dust off and shook his head inside his helmet.

"It's probably a greater cultural shock than any other race in this universe has ever experienced," said
a soft voice behind him.

Bandolph turned around. "Myles! At last! Where have you been hiding?"

"On Mimas." Myles Kantor pointed to the Herreach. "As for the natives, we should leave them alone.
They'll have to figure things out for themselves. Certainty will help them more in the long run than
uncertainty. Keeping them away from the Temple would be a serious mistake."

"You're right about that. Could you come with me? I left my post in order to meet you."

"Any news?"

"No. You didn't miss anything during your absence. The wreckage and the Temple machinery are still
being analysed but we haven't gotten any results."

They followed the Herreach for a bit, then turned down a side corridor. Entering through a low door,
they came into a small room where one of the science teams had set up quarters. Several robots and
floating platforms were occupied with moving rubble out of the way.

Kantor bent down and picked up a small object made of dark blue metal. It looked like a
miniaturized handbeamer and was reminiscent of something made by the Swoon or the vanished
Siganese.

"It's about one-tenth regular size," Kantor said and tried to bend the object. Using all of his strength,
he managed to break it apart. Its interior glistened black and dark red. As he held the pieces down, dark