"Perry Rhodan 125 - Savior of the Empire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

Perry Rhodan 125

Savior of the Empire


1/ THE BRAIN MUST DIE!

"THE JUMP!
"Please, sir, you should let me make it! This is my kind of job, not yours!"
I waved my hand in a signal of refusal. Ras Tschubai, a teleporter of the Terran Mutant Corps, had called to me over the helmet phone. He looked at me once more imploringly and then went out.
The energy arc of the matter transmitter took form. Blue fire streamed up from the twin floor projectors, turning to a flaming red at the apex of the arc. The thundering of the nuclear power generator drowned out all other sounds, which had forced Ras to use his radio. Between the fiery legs of the arc a darkness yawned, representing the exta-dimensional dematerialising field. I clutched the bomb that was suspended from my neck. It had been constructed in the atomic laboratories of Terra and was of a thermonuclear design. Its detonator had a built-in time delay which would allow me time to get out of the danger zone, if everything went according to plan.
"IF-!" said my logic sector.
I had already closed the helmet of my Arkonide combatsuit. The oxygen supply and the air conditioning were functioning properly. I was ready except that I could not activate my defence screen as it would cause interference with the lines of force in the Akon Transmitter.
The Akons! They were the unseen masterminds behind the galactic stage. Without their help and technology it would be impossible for a certain treasonous Arkonide to deceive the robot Regent. About 3 months had passed since my escape. Now I was once more in star cluster M-13 but this time, instead of being the ruling Imperator, I had come here as a dethroned outcast.
"Full power in 42 seconds," I heard somebody say over the radio and I recognized Perry Rhodan's voice. He was in the Control Centre of the Ironduke.
The Terran linear-drive ship had emerged but a minute before from the semispace generated by the Kalup fields. We were within 20 light-years of the outer defence ring of the Arkon System but could not risk coming any closer. In fact the robot Brain's fortresses.
"It's disgraceful!" I thought bitterly.
"Nonsense!" retorted my extra-brain. "It's a tactical necessity."
The sound of the reactors became deafening. I was alone in the transmitter room. In the few seconds remaining before the start of "Operation Last Ditch", as we called it, recent events ran through my mind as in a fast-moving film.
Three months before, a contest between myself and Carba from the insignificant ancestral House of Minterol had ended in a check-mate situation but he had been named Imperator Minterol I. Meanwhile the Solar Secret Service had reported that Carba's reason had been wavering because of an over-driven brain activation and that he was probably on the brink of a mental collapse by now.
Which was all the more convenient for those who had used him for seizing power in the Arkonide Imperium. Those masterminds were the ones who manipulated the robot Regent through this puppet ruler whom the brain recognized. The vast Positronicon was unable to differentiate between Carba's voluntary and involuntary commands.
In the construction of their super robot my venerable ancestors had sought to prevent the very situation which had now developed: the Empire was being taken over by aliens; it was being split up and divided among various interest factions. It was the end of a 20,000-year stellar imperium and perhaps it also meant doom for Earthmen. Rhodan had already performed miracles in the buildup of the Solar Imperium but he was not a magician. Without the support of the robot fleet, Terran was lost.
From all indications an offensive was being planned, and apparently the Regent's fleet would not be operating alone. There were only a few intelligent races who were favourably inclined toward the Terrans, who had become all too irksome or troublesome to others. Most aliens hated them, in particular the Galactic Traders, the Aras, the Antis and of late the Akons, who had suffered the greatest defeat in their history because of Rhodan.
My own power was gone. My alliance with the Earth might have been gratifying to the Terrans but it was no longer to their advantage. In fact a deposed Arkonide Imperator was more of a burden than a support to their extra-terrestrial political structure and policy.
Rhodan had been fully aware of my metal and emotional distress. He had not brought up the question or placed any pressure on me until I myself had made the proposal to blow up the Regent. It was then that I learned that Solar Intelligence had already made all the preparations.
Once the Brain was eliminated it would be up to me and the Terrans to save the Imperium. I hardly dared think of the magnitude of such a task at the moment. The Regent controlled industry, the entire food and supply administration and the military might of the Empire. If these controls suddenly vanished it would cause a catastrophe. However, we had conscientiously asked ourselves if those revolts and petty wars which would come as a result could be worse than the present splinterings and divisions caused by the greedy powers of the galaxy.
I had to do it! The criminal augmentation of Carba's intelligence was leading to destruction. By nefarious means the Regent had been convinced that Carba's supercharged mind entitled him to the position of Imperator. During the mental duel, which was carried out on an almost incomprehensible plane of robot logic, my opponents had been able to "prove" that I had become an incompetent ruler. They claimed that I had violated the doctrines of our ancestors by supporting the development of the Terrans, that I had furnished them with technical secrets and had thus enhanced the advancement of an almost invincible enemy.
The Robot had not understood my real concerns for the Imperium. It had responded to the ancient catastrophe program "Ephethus", according to which an Imperator was to be removed immediately as soon as he was not exclusively concerned with the well-being of the Empire. I had not succeeded in giving a purely logical proof that the friendship of the alert and highly intelligent Terrans would be of great benefit to the State. In the end, Carba had been named Imperator and I had been forced to escape.
"Transmission in 3 seconds," Rhodan announced. "Good Luck, friend."
It shocked me back to the present and I was aware of the stark reality of the bomb. I would have to ignite it within the inner circuits of the Regent.
"You should have sent a Terran mutant," my logic sector informed me.
Certainly a teleporter would be able to help himself better in a dangerous emergency. However, this destruction of the most magnificent creation of my ancestors was strictly my affair. By virtue of my heritage and my office it was I who must make the attempt to preserve the Imperium.
"Very heroic!" retorted my extra-brain.
I ignored it. My synthetically activated logic sector had little use for sentiment or feelings. Actually it was an organic computer which transmitted its conclusions or perceptions. But it was up to to me to either respond to its admonishments or to reject them.
The energy field had thickened visibly and the transmitter arc was high enough to admit a man. When the violet signal lamp began to flicker I advanced toward the yawning darkness between the rising legs of the arc. One more step and I would emerge inside the Brain 20 light-years away. The Terrans had been able to analyse this Akon technology so that the formerly long-range transmitter no longer held any secrets for them.
I felt the pull of the dematerialising field. Taking a deep breath I cast aside all thoughts of the pros and cons of my actions and prepared myself for the "jump".
"Stop-get back!" somebody shouted. "Danger, Atlan! The receiver station's been short-circuited!"
I responded without thinking, as had become my habit in recent years. When a person is continuously threatened by assassins he develops a 6th sense. Before I had consciously registered the warning cry I had already leapt back but I still fell to the deck within a yard or so from the transmitter arc. My heavy equipment prevented me from moving swiftly. I had to crawl back into the room until I was beyond the marked-out danger zone and could take shelter behind the thermal defence screen.
The hatch swung open and 2 men rushed in with Ras Tschubai in the lead. Without a word they snatched me from the transmitter room and set me on my feet outside. "Are you all right sir?" asked the second man, who was younger than the African teleporter.
I recognised Lt. Brazo Alkher, one of the backup cadre of officers who would one day have a voice in the destiny of the Solar Imperium.
"Yes, thank you," I answered. "What happened?" But I had not spoken loudly enough because of the thundering of the converter, so I repeated the question.
Alkher pressed the release button on my helmet and it glided back onto my shoulders, where it was magnetically anchored. Ras Tschubai smiles apologetically and relieved me of the bomb. he seemed to concentrate for a moment and then he disappeared in a bright flash of shimmering air. It was all happening too fast and my brain refused to register the events in their proper sequence.
Rhodan and the commander put in an appearance. Jef Claudrin had turned off his micro-grav generator and came along the passage in mighty strides, just as if there were no gravity at all on board the Ironduke.
Once more I received no answer. They led me away as though I were a child. Apparently they had recognized my state of confusion as a form of temporary stupor. In fact I was becoming drowsy by the time Rhodan brought me into the Control Central and bedded me down on a contour couch.
Here it was more calm and quiet. The humming of the equipment and instruments was more pacifying than disturbing. I was wondering about my condition. Normally I should have been fairly agitated under the circumstances but in this case I could barely move. It was similar to a state of shock. I had been torn abruptly from a condition of high concentration and weeks of nervous tension.
A medico gave me an injection and after a few moments I felt more collected and able to move. Perry was squatting beside me, surrounded by the officers of the Ironduke. I sat up, staring at them, unable to miss Prof. Kalup's heavy figure in their midst.
"Maybe old soldiers never die," he said ironically, "but you came very close to fading away. Do you happen to know, sir, that you were already within the range of the dematerialising field? How did you manage to jump back just in the nick of time like that?"
"Instinct, self-preservation-I don't know ... "
"Most likely instinct. The transmitter was short-circuited just as you were about to enter it-which meant that the other end of the line wasn't able to receive you. Anything going into a mess like that would have been shuttled back and forth about a hundred thousand time per microsecond."
Rhodan chuckled unconvincingly and clapped me on the shoulder, hoping to reassure me. "Forget it, friend. We caught it just in time."