"(novel) (ebook) - Perry Rhodan 0037 - (29) A World Gone Mad" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

1/ PUCKYS PERILOUS PRETENSE

"WE 13 MEN are opposed by a whole world!" growled Ragor, a patriarch of the Galactic Traders known as the Springers and himself till now holding the title of Governor of Goszul's Planet.
"A world we ruled till now!" a dark giant next to him murmured ominously. "I wonder what condition the Goszuls will impose on us?"
Bright sunlight from an alien star streamed through the wide windows of the assembly room in which 13 dejected men were sitting. The rays reflected from the polished surface of a long conference table.
There were several features the 13 had in common which clearly characterized them as a homogeneous group: Heavy beards half-covered all their faces... Strong noses and thin lips were common above their bearded chins... All had bush eyebrows-beneath which their eyes now held a peculiar mixture of distress and barely restrained pride bordering on arrogance. Their haughty heads topped sturdy physiques and now seemed crestfallen, displaying little of the great strength normally evident. The sinewy fists lying listlessly on the table lacked their customary energy.
These vanquished masters of their colonial world were waiting for their conquerors.
Patriarch Ragor had fled like the others to the abandoned administration building when the Plague of Oblivion caused a rebellion among the natives and the commanders of the Springer ships fled in panic. A 50-year quarantine had subsequently been imposed on Goszul's Planet by the Traders... costing them an important base.
Ragor cleared his throat. "They keep us waiting," he observed gloomily, trying to mask his impatience with an exterior show of calm.
"The prerogative of the victor," philosophized his neighbour.
"Yes, they give us time to ponder. When they occupied the Command Centre for our robots we were automatically rendered defenceless-which has brought us to this sorry plight."
Just then footsteps sounded in the corridor, followed by the opening of the door. Three men entered the room, accompanied by a seven-foot-tall robot which placed itself near the entrance without waiting for specific orders.
The people who entered were quite different from those waiting anxiously. They were humans like the others but distinguished by red skins and atypically beardless faces. In contrast to the sturdy Springers they were slender, almost delicate, though every inch as tall. These hitherto despised natives had suddenly become the masters and now for the first time faced their former governors in the sweet role of conquerors. But their frank, genial faces showed more joy of hard won liberation than pride of victory. Their simple raiment clearly revealed the primitive state of their culture imposed by their former rulers. The Galactic Traders had dominated Goszul's Planet and exploited its inhabitants with the aid of an army of programmed robots until the day the pestilence broke out and infected seven of the 20 governors, rendering them totally inactive. The diseased patients were still confined in hospitals with coloured spots on their faces and obliterated memories. Fear of contagion had driven the other governors together but when the four alien spaceships landed and put their army of fighter robots out of action they had no choice left but to capitulate.
The four ships were still stationed outside on the huge spaceport. Such ships had never before landed on this planet. They were gigantic spheres up to half a mile in diameter and their intervention had determined the outcome of the battle.
Ragor studied the men with pinched eyes and made no effort to rise from his seat. With a sluggish gesture he pointed to the empty chairs. Although he conceded that they were the victors he did not regard them as his real conquerors in the field.
In this respect his judgment was utterly erroneous.
The three men remained standing on their feet. The one in the middle, the old telepath Enzally, probed the thoughts of the governors and detected besides resignation and despair also resistance and secret hope. Yet he was unable to ascertain quickly what this hope was based on.
Ralv, the leader of the rebellion against the Springers and future head of government of the united planet, adopted an attitude of waiting for the time being. He left it to Enzally to say the first words.
The third man, however, was no Goszul.
His skin was tanned and his lean figure towered about five inches above Enzally and Ralv. His eyes showed nothing of the glum traces of age-old slavery and fear. They looked bright and expressed self-reliance and a sense of strength and superiority. The 13 governors didn't recognize his unpretentious uniform which had never before appeared in their realm.
There was only one explanation: the man was not a native but must have come in one of those four alien spaceships and belonged to the people who had inflicted the defeat on the Springers.
Ragor came to the same conclusion but was far from happy about it.
He would have been even much unhappier had he known that the man who confronted him was Perry Rhodan, who was careful not to reveal his identity for various reasons. His mission on Goszul's Planet was not yet fully completed. Although these 13 governors seemed to have lost all contact with their compatriots who had fled away into space, Rhodan preferred to be on the safe side.
He nodded to Enzally who had waited for his sign.
"Thank you, we prefer to stand up," said the telepath, who was the only one born on this world. "If you accept our conditions we'll come very quickly to an agreement. You've lost the fight and you're helpless. Even your robots refuse to obey you since they've been reprogrammed. We've no intention of killing you, we merely wish to isolate you. We're planning to put you on an island in the Western Ocean where you can spend the rest of your lives in peace in a good climate. A return to your own world is impossible since you're deprived of your spaceships."
Enzally paused and looked at Ragor. The governor was unaware that his conscious and subconscious thoughts were carefully studied. Nothing remained hidden from the probing telepath.
A murmur was audible among the 13 men. Several began to whisper but Ragor hushed them up with a wave of his hand.
"What will happen to the seven governors who are suffering under the Plague of Oblivion?" Ragor inquired. "Are we to leave them behind?"
"They'll go with you to the island."
"So that they'll infect us too?" Ragor was indignant and looked furious. "If that island is now free of this scourge, it won't remain that way very long."
Perry Rhodan gave Enzally a sign and addressed Ragor himself. "We've brought an anti-serum with us, Ragor. The disease has now been reduced to a harmless sickness-luckily only after the Springer commanders were put to flight. You'll be administered injections and you'll never come down with the illness. The seven governors we've found in the hospital have already recovered and will be able to accompany you to the island."
Ragor studied Rhodan intently. "You're not from this world?"
"No, my home planet is more than a thousand light-years away.
"Why do you interfere in this conflict?"
"Because we're concerned for people who are oppressed to be able to govern themselves. We've helped the Goszuls to overcome colonialism."
"And you don't make any profit out of it?"
"Certainly, Ragor. But you can't expect us to tell you all about that. All you have to do is answer one question: Will you submit voluntarily to the decision of the new government of this world in offering you exile?"
Ragor cast a sideways glance at his associates before he answered. "Are we allowed to leave Goszul's Planet in case we can get a ship?"
"In that case, yes. But you don't have a ship."
Ragor hesitated once again but it was already too late.
Enzally suddenly smiled and said to Rhodan, "I know where the ship is, sir! We can conclude this conversation."
Ragor stared uncomprehendingly at the telepath who had so casually given away his prized secret. He felt as if his whole world had suddenly collapsed and that his hopes were buried. Ragor had been anxious to gain a short breathing spell and wangle perhaps a few robot workers. Then it would have taken only a few more days to complete their mightiest battleship, hidden in a secret hangar in the mountains, and-after a quick blow for revenge he could have escaped with his partners in crime into space.
And now this...
Enzally stopped smiling and said coldly, "Thank you, Ragor, you've said enough. I can see that we're too lenient with you. You'll be deported to the island today."
The telepath turned to Rhodan. "They wanted to take the battleship of the Springers and destroy Goszul's Planet before returning to their sector of the Galaxy. Lovely people, really."
"Their mentality is such that they cannot tolerate defeat. However Ragor's attitude can't be used as a criterion for the entire race of the Springers. I'm convinced some day we'll reach an understanding with them. Not here and not with the governors but with others of their ilk. We better close this chapter right now. Ralv, you can attend to the duties of your office! Enzally, please leave! What will happen here is no longer our business."
Holding their heads high, Rhodan and Enzally left the room. They walked past the motionless robot whose crystalline lenses stared rigidly at the 13 Springers whom he had formerly owed obedience.
Now it would be his task to take them to prison.

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