"(novel) (ebook) - Perry Rhodan 0011 - (5b) Mutants in Action" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

Altogether there were forty men—if you could include little Betty Toufry as a "man"—and forty-five robots. Eighty-five fighters who had been selected to give a hotfoot to a vastly superior enemy."Yours must be a gallant people, if you dare to venture into the battle with so few," Kekeler said in his pleasantly deep voice.



"Well, we are counting on a little assistance from you," Rhodan answered promptly. It was obviously important to clarify this point at the outset.

Kekeler made a sign of agreement. "We have that in mind," he said earnestly. "But we have only a very few usable weapons. I don’t know just how much help we can offer."Rhodan smiled. "Don’t worry about weapons. We can supply you with those."With a broad change of expression, Kekeler’s face revealed a friendlier and much more hopeful attitude. "In that case you will see that we are a valiant people!" he said in impressively deep tones.

As Deringhouse arrived at a fork in the road where a smaller avenue branched from the highway toward a village that was half hidden in the forest, an old man approached him. He appeared to be taking a walk, and to judge from his clothing he was not among the wealthiest of the inhabitants.

Deringhouse remained where he was and spoke to him. "Greetings, old man. I’m a hungry wanderer and I’d be very grateful to you if you could tell me where to get something to eat. Of course, I haven’t any money."The old man listened thoughtfully, then looked up at him. "My son, you must come from far away, is that not so?" he asked.

"Yes," Deringhouse answered. "Very far away."

"How have you managed not to fall into the hands of the enemy?"

Deringhouse forced a smile. "Well, when you know…" he said, and left the rest to the imagination.The oldster suddenly narrowed his eyes and poured forth a stream of words totally incomprehensible to Deringhouse. The Earthman knew that there were many different regional languages in the Ferronian Empire, but normally the standard commercial language was used. This tongue he did not understand in the slightest, and he became wary when it appeared that the old man was putting him to a test.

"I can’t understand a single word," he admitted.The oldster nodded. "When one is as tall as you, my son, he would ordinarily have to be a Sicha," he explained laconically. "But you are no Sicha. You must be from a very far place. What did you want? Something to eat?"

Bewildered, Deringhouse could only nod affirmatively. The old man turned and pointed to the village toward which the small road led.

"Go there. My son owns a tavern there. If you will tell him that Perk’la sent you, he will give you more than you can eat at one sitting. But do not forget the name–Perk’la."

Deringhouse expressed his gratitude. The emphasis the old man placed on the name was disconcerting, and when the other left him he considered the advisability of enduring his hunger a while longer instead of falling into a trap. But there was no proof that this was a trap, and the old man had made a friendly and trustworthy impression, in spite of his apparent habit of secretiveness.

It was about noon of the thirty-eight hour Ferrol day. The glaring sunlight lay oppressively on the meadows and woodlands, and the high humidity generated a sweat. Deringhouse knew that he couldn’t have kept on walking much longer. The village streets were empty. He realized that he had forgotten to ask the man the name of his son’s tavern, but that difficulty soon resolved itself by virtue of the fact that there was only one such establishment in town.Deringhouse unlatched the door and allowed it to swing open; then he stepped inside the equivalent of a taproom, or bar. It looked like the dining room of an expensive hotel. There were black plastic wood tables, clean tablecloths, and comfortable chairs. However, there were no guests in sight. He sat down at a table and waited until the service automat in the centre of the table popped open and produced writing foil and a stylus.

A mechanical voice rattled at him in the Ferronian commercial language, "Your order, please."

Deringhouse took the sheet of foil and wrote, "Am looking for the proprietor, please. I have been sent by Perk’la." He replaced the foil and stylus in the tiny compartment and said, "Thank you."In response, the apparatus folded back into its slot; there was a moment of buzzing and then all was silence. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. Before he ventured to look up, someone spoke to him.

"Are you the man that Perk’la sent here?"Deringhouse looked up and scrutinized the small, broad-shouldered Ferronian who stood near his table. "As you can see," he answered. "Or are there several he has sent?"

The man apologized. "I am a bit confused. You know, it isn’t very often that Perk’la sends someone here in his name."Deringhouse laughed. "To top it off, he made a poor choice. I told him I was hungry but was without funds. In spite of that, he sent me here."

The Ferron made a sign of agreement. "Naturally. What would you like to eat?"

"Anything," Deringhouse told him wearily. "But soon, or I’ll die of hunger. And then tell me what favour I can return to you, since I can’t pay with money."The Ferron smiled artfully. "Let’s talk about that afterward."He turned to go but stopped after a moment and turned around "Incidentally, my name is Teel."

Deringhouse suddenly realized he should introduce himself, and he scrambled in his mind for a name that would not sound too alien. "My name is Deri," he offered without too much delay.

Teel nodded and smiled acknowledgement.

Deringhouse received a generous spread of food that made his mouth water. Teel was tactful enough to leave him alone with his appetite. He reappeared in the room only after Deringhouse had wolfed down the entire serving.

"Deri, I’ve ordered a drink prepared for you. Do you want to come with me?"Something to drink was the ticket for complete satisfaction. He got up and followed Teel willingly. They went through a door, behind which was an escalator that led into the basement Deringhouse was familiar with the Ferronian custom of arranging a part of their living space under the ground, in view of the unusual heat of their native planet. If it had been comfortably cool upstairs in the dining room, here it began to be actually cold, which increased as they went deeper. The escalator terminated within two yards of a door that now swung open as Teel came off the moving stairs. He stepped to one side to permit Deringhouse to precede him.

The room behind the door was only dimly lighted. Deringhouse opened his eyes wide for better visibility. What he finally made out was a row of men posted along the walls on either side, men who held weapons in their hands and pointed every barrel directly at his midriff. He whirled around and discovered that Teel stood in the doorway with the same kind of weapon trained on him. He swallowed hard and felt an involuntary tensing of his stomach muscles, because he expected to be shot on the spot.