Perry Rhodan NEO: Volume 18 [Parts 1 to 2] by Christian Humberg Frank Borsch

Author:Christian Humberg, Frank Borsch
Language: eng
Format: epub

“Time to think about it?” Sloane’s voice was dripping with reproach. “We’re in the middle of a battle we can’t influence, and you’re giving him time to think about it?”

The words were like pounding on a drum causing a headache just behind Rhodan’s forehead, but he didn’t want to let it show. So he just nodded. Sloane sat next to Tschubai on the floor of their little hiding place. She had her back against the wall and her hands clasped over her chest. You could see how exhausted she was—they all were—but instead of doing as the teleporter did, closing her eyes and resting for at least a moment, she kept giving Rhodan punishing looks. So far, she had garnished this with a telling silence, which, however, no longer seemed to suffice.

“Toreead was amenable to our arguments,” Rhodan replied quietly. He didn’t want to wake Tschubai. The Sudanese man had overexerted himself over the past few hours and could use a break. “But he’s stuck in the way of thinking he’s been taught. It takes time to change them. New ideas have to take root before they can grow into anything.”

“Spare me the poetry, will you?” growled Sloane disparagingly, wiping an unruly strand of hair from her pale face. “Do you really think you can achieve anything with Toreead, especially with words? For the hundredth time, Perry, these are Naats! Look at the situation they’ve put us in and what’s happening here. And you want to wait and see?”

I don’t want to; I have to, he thought and sighed. He understood her anger, but he felt that patience was the better path. Toreead needed space to reconsider his views. There would be no point in putting him or other Naats under pressure. In that case, the bald giants would only defend themselves, and there would undoubtedly be deaths. Rhodan wanted to avoid that as much as possible. We are not on the front line of this war.

That was a thought to which he pinned an incredible amount of hope. He looked at Tatiana Michalovna, who was standing at the closed door, keeping watch. The Russian also seemed to be at the end of her strength, but she held her own bravely and shook her head at his questioning look: no one was approaching their hiding place.

Reassured for the moment, Rhodan let his gaze wander to Crest, who was crouching at his console again a few meters away.

We have the time. We need it. “I’ll see how things are,” he said quietly, nodding briefly to Sloane before getting up from the ground to go to the Arkonide.

Crest da Zoltral looked as focused as ever. He was still surfing through the electrical system he had tapped into, watching the battle unfold for Rhodan. Regrettably, he could not do more, despite his access to the ship’s positronics. The holograms he had activated showed data lists and graphs running in rapid succession.

“Where do we stand?” asked Rhodan, sinking to the cabin floor next to the white-haired man.

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