The Spaceguard E-Book

Alfred Bekker

• Herausgeber: Alfredbooks
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 253

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

The Spaceguard SF novel by Alfred Bekker In 2959, the Spaceguard protects Earth. Recruit Farmoon makes an unbelievable discovery. His first mission as a space soldier on a backwoods planet looks like a routine mission, but he leads him and the other space guards through the dangerous machinations of the Kelradan alien empire. The size of this book corresponds to 226 paperback pages. Alfred Bekker is a well-known author of fantasy novels, crime novels and books for young people. In addition to his great book successes, he has written numerous novels for tension series such as Ren Dhark, Jerry Cotton, Cotton reloaded, Kommissar X, John Sinclair and Jessica Bannister. He also published under the names Neal Chadwick, Henry Rohmer, Conny Walden, Sidney Gardner, Jonas Herlin, Adrian Leschek, John Devlin, Brian Carisi, Robert Gruber and Janet Farell.

Leseprobe

The Spaceguard

SF novel by Alfred Bekker

In 2959, the Space Army Space Guard protects Earth. Recruit Farmoon makes an unbelievable discovery. His first mission as a space soldier on a backwoods planet looks like a routine mission, but he leads him and the other space guards through the dangerous machinations of the Kelradan alien empire.

The size of this book corresponds to 226 paperback pages.

Alfred Bekker is a well-known author of fantasy novels, crime novels and books for young people. In addition to his great book successes, he has written numerous novels for tension series such as Ren Dhark, Jerry Cotton, Cotton reloaded, Kommissar X, John Sinclair and Jessica Bannister. He also published under the names Neal Chadwick, Henry Rohmer, Conny Walden, Sidney Gardner, Jonas Herlin, Adrian Leschek, John Devlin, Brian Carisi, Robert Gruber and Janet Farell.

Copyright

A CassiopeiaPress book: CASSIOPEIAPRESS, UKSAK e-books and BEKKERpublishing are imprints by Alfred Bekker.

© by Author / Cover: Steve Mayer with Pixabay

© of this issue 2017 by AlfredBekker/CassiopeiaPress, Lengerich/Westphalia.

All rights reserved.

www.AlfredBekker.de

[email protected]

Part 1: Spring 2959, Terra

Sweat beads stood on Vladimir Clylenko's forehead. Together with half a dozen other elite soldiers of the Space Guard, he rushed along a tube-like ravine. On the right and left steep slopes towered up. Here and there rugged rocks emerged from under the scree. The ground was dry and cracked. Only sparse vegetation could be found in the mountains.

Vladimir stopped.

The six-foot Russian raised his hand.

He commanded this platoon of guardsmen.

The men also stopped.

Looking back.

"No sign of the tin brothers!" said one of the men. His name was Stu Trenton, with dark hair and a broad, angular head.

Vladimir grimaced.

"You talk again. So, this shows your good physical condition, Stu," said Krylenko.

Stu grinned. "No wonder with the training we've had!"

"But you're wrong anyway."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Don't underestimate my tin cans! Especially when you face these robots without weapons and technical equipment, while the metal comrades are equipped with shocks."

The guards only wore their normal combat suit and not the armoured multifunctional suit. But given the progress they had made, no one regretted it.

None of them were armed, had location-technical aids for orientation or communication technology. But one member of the space guard, this rapid reaction force of the Terran fleet, founded in December 2956, was able to stand up to his opponents without these aids if necessary. The only weapons available to Vladimir's men at the moment were hands, feet and the brain. The latter was the most important. The guards were by no means dull fighting machines in human form. Every guardsman had scientific qualifications in addition to his combat training, officers even had a doctorate.

Blind carcass obedience was not in demand, but the ability to think for oneself and to improvise if necessary.

Vladimir reached out his hand.

He snarled his teeth like a predator.

"Well, what did I say!", he shouted.

A series robot of almost humanoid shape floated over the steep slope. He carried an anti-gravity unit in an additional pack on his back and a paralysis shocker with the articulated gripping hand of one of the skeletal telescopic arms.

More than three dozen of these robots, colloquially known as "tin men," had searched the surrounding area for the guards.

At least one of the "Tin Men" was close behind Cyrilenko's group.

Compared to the guards, he certainly had more stamina.

As best they could, the guards from Wladimir's group had tried to deceive and distract the pursuers.

But this one had been particularly close to them the whole time.

The robot could be floated to the ground with the help of its antigraving-aggregate. Gently he landed. He reminded us of an astronaut on a planet with very little gravity.

The robot swivelled the paralyser during the jump.

He turned the head with the optical sensors in the middle.

Before he landed, he fired the shocker. Paralysis jets hissed through the air, but the men from Vladimir's group missed.

"Let's get out of here," Vladimir shouted.

The guards moved forward.

The men were lucky. No one had been hit by the rays.  The guards spread out immediately to offer the pursuer no easy target. Again and again, shots of radiation hissed into the rocks close to them, where they could at most stun a few lizards.

The Tin Man spurted off.

He moved with astonishing agility, which at first glance one did not believe the machine was capable of. But also robot types designed for mass production, such as the so-called "tin men", have been constantly optimized.

Unlike Vladimir's men, his endurance was limited only by the storage capacity of his plasma batteries.

Krylenko estimated that they had not even been emptied to one tenth.

However, the guards were at the end of their rope.

Every step hurt already.

They had been on the run from the Tin Men for twenty-four hours. This had not been quite as exhausting at night - despite the fact that their pursuers had infrared optics and thus enjoyed an additional advantage.

The robot fired wildly, barely missed one of Vladimir's men. At the last moment he managed to get behind a boulder with a pike jump. The lump was caught in full paralysis jets.

The men took cover as best they could.

Some of them climbed up the hillsides, getting themselves to safety behind boulders.

The robot slowed down.

He had a problem making up his mind.

Vladimir also took cover in the meantime.

Only a few meters away the gorge made a bend.

The first from Clylenko's train had already disappeared there.

Most of them still had this piece in front of them.

"Let's go!", Vladimir shouted.

If everyone jumped out of cover at the same time, the robot's chances of catching them were worse.

Krylenko gave the signal.

The men ran off.

Only Vladimir hesitated.

He took a rock, threw it at the Tin Man.

And scored.

With a rattling noise the stone bounced off the metal plate of the rib cage.

The robot turned the paralyser in Vladimir's direction. Vladimir had long since taken cover again. A robot will never be able to use this or any other weapon with the same perfection as a soldier of the space guard!

Krylenko pulled himself together, rushed on and was the last man to reach the bend.

The paralysis beam caught one of the gnarled, semi-dry trees found here. The roots partly protruded from the dust-dry ground and were exposed.

A gopher, hiding between the gnarled roots, was caught by the shock ray and rolled down the embankment.

Krylenko ran on and was a little later in temporary safety behind the bend. The robot made a set of twenty meters with the help of its antigraving-aggregate. He landed gently and just in time before the zone where the crowns of gnarled, semi-dried trees would have made a landing a risky business.

This is where Vladimir and his men wanted him...

A superior smile flew over his face.

The robot ran between the trees, while the guards in the area had sought cover again. Vladimir himself just managed to dive behind the stump of a very mighty tree. The shock beam passed over him and suddenly turned towards the sky the next moment.

His shot had been torn.

The robot literally lost the solid ground under its feet.

The ground gave way.

A trap yawned under him.

The robot suddenly sank into the depths.

The guards had camouflaged them with branches and uniform pieces stretched between them, which had subsequently been covered with earth and leaves. It had been a hellish drudgery to dig the pit into the relatively dry, rocky subsoil with bare hands. Many of them now had more than just calluses on their hands.

But that moment made up for everything.

However, the robot only fell about half a metre into the pit. Then his antigraving unit caught him and he floated up again.

But before he had been jumped on by a figure who had apparently been lurking for him in the pit.

A guardsman.

The robot rowed with arms and legs to shake the man off.

In vain.

The guardsman released the magnetic fasteners of the additional pack on the back of the robot in which the antigraving-unit was located in two easy steps. The soldier tore it off the robot's shoulders.

Both fell down into the pit.

The robot came up hard, while the guardsman's impact was slowed down by the activated unit to which he clung.

The guardsman deactivated it with a safe grip so that it would not fly away. He got himself together, was instantly on his feet.

Kurt Farmoon was on the name tag of his battle dress.

The robot was up and running almost as quickly as his human opponent. He picked up the shocker, pointed the gun at Farmoon.

Farmoon jumped forward, kicked the shocker out of the robot's hand and at the next moment hooked his heel into his opponent's right knee joint.

It did not matter whether an opponent was made of metal or organic tissue. The robot banged to the ground. With one of his telescopic arms he literally grabbed Farmoon by the collar and took him with him. They rolled over each other. In terms of strength, the robot was many times superior to its human opponent. But Kurt Farmoon was faster. He ripped open the maintenance door of the robot and deactivated it.

Farmoon took a deep breath and released the handle of the machine around his uniform collar.

He did not hesitate, but immediately set about removing the energy cells from the inside of the robot.

"Bravo Kurt!" called Vladimir Krylenko, who together with some of the other guards stood at the edge of the pit. "Nobody's gonna copy you so fast!"

"He was about to fly away-- with his fucking antigravator!"

"But you were faster!"

"Come on, let's not waste any time! "I bet our metal friend has already called the rest of the Tin Man gang here!"

Vladimir jumped into the pit.

Kurt was right, of course.

Only moments remained for them to be prepared against the attack of their opponents.

André Souan, a Frenchman who had been trained together with Kurt Farmoon and Vladimir Krylenko, also jumped into the pit. In the first days of her training Kurt had saved his life.

André took the robot's shock.

There was no point in using this weapon against the pursuers who will be arriving shortly. The effect of the shock was based on a short-term overload of the human nervous system, which led to unconsciousness and paralysis. Awakening after shock paralysis was an extremely painful process. The parashocker could even be fatal for people with poor physical condition.

However, those at risk had no chance of passing through the admission procedures of the Guard.

However, this weapon had no effect at all on a robot.

In the meantime Vladimir had tampered with the additional pack of the robot and opened the antigraving-unit, the inside of which was now exposed.

Kurt handed him the energy cells he took from the robot.

Vladimir used them with a few safe movements.

"The energy cells of shock!", demanded the train driver.

André threw them to him one by one.

Vladimir caught them with somnambulistic certainty, forced them inside the unit and activated a display.

"Damn the robots! They're coming," one of the other men shouted.

They're even faster than I thought, Vladimir ran it.

But there was enough time.

There was a flash in Wladimir's eyes.

"Let's get out of here," the Russian shouted. "The bomb is armed. It is set to respond to the communication frequency of the robots and detonates as soon as the tin men are within their range."

André and Kurt were already swinging out of the pit. Vladimir checked the attitude again. He had configured the bomb so that the robots had to come very close to trigger the detonation.

After all, he wanted to catch as many of them as possible.

Of course, this procedure also entailed the risk that the guardsmen had previously come within the range of the shocker fire.

"Take cover, men! Sheet metal parts are about to fly through the air," Vladimir shouted as he climbed out of the pit.

Panting, the guards pushed off in all directions to seek sheltering cover.

Only Kurt Farmoon had walked only a few meters, then turned around to Vladimir.

The combat robots were approaching.

Some were floating down the slopes with the help of their antigraving units, others were already on the ground and were approaching.

Already the first shock jets hissed through the air.

Vladimir and Kurt grinned.

"The tin cans will experience their blue miracle," said the Russian.

The guards ran off, took cover behind some rocks.

The robots stormed in, approached the pit for a few meters and...

...suddenly froze in the middle of the movement.

*

A shadow rose behind the next steep slope. A slider approached almost silently. On its outer shell were the characteristics of the Terran Fleet and the Spaceguard.

The slider sank down and landed between the frozen combat robots.

The outer bulkhead opened.

Master Sergeant Jannis Karalaitis went outside. The 1.75 m tall Baltic was a little smaller than most of his men. After graduating in economics, he joined the space forces and was later assigned to the space guard.

Karalaitis' face was an immobile mask right now.

"The exercise is over," called Karalaitis. He turned to Vladimir Krylenko. "Call your people out of their hiding places!"

"Yes, sir."

However, that was no longer necessary.

The men came out of cover one by one.

Karalaitis approached Krylenko, who had adopted a stance.

He looked at the Russian for a moment with a piercing look.

The master sergeant made a far reaching hand movement in the direction of the fighting robot, which was apparently switched off by remote control.

"What did you intend to do here, Private Krylenko? A robot massacre?"

"Sir, I..."

"According to the energy signatures analyzed by my slider's onboard crystal sensor, there's something very explosive in that pit!"

"Well, sir..."

"What are you waiting for?"

"I don't understand!"

"I suggest you deactivate your bomb first, otherwise we'll have it all blown up!"

"Yes, sir."

Vladimir swallowed.

He jumped into the pit. The bomb was defused in a few easy steps.

Karalaitis breathed deeply and crossed her arms.

"You can clean up later," said Karalaitis. "And above all, I want you to put my poor tin buddy back into working order!"

"Will do."

"Get back out of that hole up ahead."

Vladimir obeyed.

He climbed out of the pit and stood in front of the Master Sergeant again. "Do you know how much it would have cost us if you had actually put your fireworks into action and I hadn't been able to stop the robots at the last second with the remote control?"

"We had a mission to take on the beasts," Vladimir explained.

Karalaitis corrected him.

"They had a training mission to flee the combat robots and get as far as possible before they were paralyzed." The master sergeant's rather rigid face loosened. "I must admit, you and your people have gone far beyond that goal. You've done something that's actually impossible." Karalaitis took a break, cleared his throat and addressed his further words to all the men from Vladimir Clylenko's platoon. "They have defeated the robots. Congratulations."

"We just don't like being paralyzed, sir," Vladimir replied.

Everybody laughed.

And even Jannis Karalaitis' face was covered with a restrained smile.

*

MILKYBARWAY was the name of the restaurant on the outskirts of Star City. A milk bar that was mainly frequented by the guards. Members of the academic staff of the Guard University were also found here.

"Avant les Mescaleros!" André Souan shouted with laughter before he raised his glass.

Mescaleros - that was the unofficial name of the 14th platoon of the Space Guard under Master Sergeant Karalaitis. They had almost all come: Kurt Farmoon, Vladimir Krylenko, Jake Calhoun, Nick Gonglor, Antoku Seiwa, Rauno Aaltonen, Sam Uitveeren... A troop, most of which had been trained together and now held together like pitch and sulphur.

Only Master Sergeant Jannis Karalaitis was missing.

The men assumed that he had arrived and had only been delayed.

"I heard the creaky Karalaitis has something going on with a cyberneticist from Guard College," said Antoku Seiwa when the conversation came to the Master Sergeant.

Antoku, with 1.72 m the smallest Mescalero was one of the few on the 14th train who did not belong to the same class as Kurt Farmoon and Vladimir Krylenko. He was born in 2936 in Niigata, Japan, and was later a gunner on a space cruiser for four years before applying for the Space Guard.

"A cyberneticist," echoed Vladimir. "That's the kind of cool thing that suits our Master Sergeant."

Here and there we heard cautious laughter.

"You haven't seen her yet," Nick Gonglor interfered.

Vladimir shrugged his shoulders.

"Do you think I missed anything?"

Nick grinned. "Who knows, Wlad!"

André Souan added: "It is probably also a prejudice that cyberneticists should be cool!"

Vladimir grinned. He emptied his glass and ordered immediately afterwards.

"Don't tell me you've seen that cool flame of our master sergeant," the Russian asked André.

The Frenchman now spoke in a muffled voice.

There was a conspiracy expression on his face.

"I did," he said.

Suddenly there was silence among the guards. At least at the table where André was sitting.

André seemed to want to savour this attention right up to the last moment.

"Now, don't be shy as if you were a chaste cybernetic yourself," demanded Nick Gonglor. "We want to hear something!"

André's face changed. His looseness was suddenly blown away. He sat there like he was frozen, almost as if he was taking a stance.

His gaze was on a muscular, if not particularly tall man who had just entered.

Karalaitis!

Master Sergeant had his eyes circling.

He nodded at the guardsman and approached.

"Sit down," said Karalaitis. "I see you're in a jolly mood!"

"Private Souan was just talking about you," taunted Antoku. Nick and Vladimir gave the Japanese guy a rib shot almost simultaneously, which was so violent that Antoku groaned.

Vladimir took the floor.

"We regretted that our budget apparently did not allow us to test the effect of our little bomb in practice," said the Russian to fill the unpleasantly embarrassing silence somehow.

The others laughed.

Karalaitis, too, although somewhat more restrained.

"You have earned the right to make such an observation," found Karalaitis. He looked around. From one to the other. The eyes of the guards of the 14th Platoon were now all set on Karalaitis. "You've all done an excellent job."

"Thank you, sir," it came back from a dozen throats almost simultaneously.

"But that's exactly why you're in the space guard," continued Karalaitis. "Because you're trying to do what's impossible. Because you can use your mind and improvise. "Today you've managed to surprise even me and that's damn hard."

Kurt Farmoon had listened to the men's talk with his ear only half full. The whole time he had noticed a young woman at the bar. Her long, dark hair fell far over her shoulders. It shone silky in a subdued light.

Somewhere I've seen them before, it crossed Kurt's mind.

He just couldn't remember exactly where or with whom at the time. Kurt thought feverishly about it.

The dark-haired girl was talking to a friend.

Both women laughed and seemed to have a good time.

Finally the girlfriend said goodbye.

The dark-haired one stayed alone at the bar.

She turned her head, looked in Kurt's direction for a moment. The eyes of both of you met. The blond guardsman had to swallow involuntarily. He had seen this woman before, and now he was absolutely sure. He's in some Guard University lecture hall. What's wrong with you?, he wondered. Is your brain's memory space so limited that there's no room for anything but knowing how to make a blaster out of a chewing gum and a screwdriver if necessary?

The young woman turned to her glass again. She drank it empty.

If you still want to meet her, you have to hurry, otherwise she's gone.

Nick Gonglor, sitting next to him, pushed Kurt into the side.

"Hey, what's wrong with you, Kurt? Are you dreaming?"

"It's not against the regulations, is it?" Kurt returned.

Vladimir grinned.

"Depends on the moment," he said.

André added: "A million and something under paragraph 39 is not allowed in two situations: during a combat mission and while sitting with comrades at MILKYBARWAY to have fun!"

"Very funny," Kurt said. He rose. "You'll excuse me a moment."

The Mescaleros looked in on Kurt.

They watched the blond guardsman join the dark-haired.

"If any of you make a stupid remark, I'll tell Kurt," Vladimir muttered. "You know, he used to be a schoolmaster in boxing and learned a lot from the Guard."

Nobody dared to make an inappropriate remark.

*

"I've seen you before," said Kurt when he sat down on one of the barstools and ordered a drink.

The dark-haired one looked at him with big, dark brown eyes.

Disappointment lay in that look.

"To be honest, I've been approached in a much more original way..."

"Kurt. My name is Kurt Farmoon, I'm a shooter on the 14th Platoon of the Space Guard."

"And I've always thought that you only get a chance there if you have something in your head!"

She raised her chin. Her dark brown eye looked calm and friendly. Kurt smiled. She replied with this smile, albeit with great restraint.

"I'm sorry, but that shouldn't be a cheap pick-up," Kurt said.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Of course not."

"I've really seen you before..."

"Yeah, sure!"

Kurt snapped his fingers. "I just don't know where anymore." A break followed. Now you're making a complete fool of yourself, it crossed Kurt's mind.

She sipped on her glass.

Kurt went on to say, "If you tell me your name..."

"...that would probably help you, wouldn't it?"

"Sure."

"It would be best if I gave you my individual Communicator Phone connection code."

Kurt grinned.

"Wouldn't be bad, of course!"

She took a deep breath. Her chest lifted and lowered. Finally she shook her head and stroked a strand of hair out of her eyes with an inimitable graceful movement of her hand.

"You're incorrigible... Kurt!"

"I hope not!"

"Your attempt to get my name out was so clumsy that it was almost good again."

"Professor Ravanelli!", Kurt took it.

"And if you think you can get my communicator phone code to then..."

"George Ravanelli, Professor of High Energy Engineering! I saw you in one of his lectures! Now don't tell me I'm completely wrong!"

She initially evaded his gaze. But finally she replied to his smile.

"Not completely wrong," she returned.

The realization struck Kurt like the famous flash of lightning out of the blue. Now he knew again!

"You were his assistant!"

"I still am. Bingo, the candidate gets ninety-nine points!"

"I think I've earned your name!"

In her eyes it flashed provocatively. "I bet you and your friends over there..." "betting how long it'll take them to get me."

"I give you my word of honor as a member of the Space Guard that I didn't do this!"

"Yes, yes..."

She drank her glass empty, then put it back on the bar.

"Would you like another drink?"

She waved off. "You're a little fast, Guard! I won't let you ask me out so soon..."

"Not so fast," echoed Kurt. "That gives me hope that one day you will. Do you come here often at MILKYBARWAY?"

"No, not really. I didn't like the name of this place very much."

"What's wrong with that?"

"But Kurt! MILKYBARWAY --- this twisting of words may sound funny. I think it's ridiculous. I guess that name was chosen to attract guys like you. A calculation that seems to work out."

"Then why are you even here?"

"My girlfriend suggested it."

"Too bad."

"What?"

"That I probably won't see you here again so soon. A real pity..."

The smile that now played around her full lips seemed softer and more conciliatory than before. Slowly, the gruffness seemed to fall away from her a little. Finally, Kurt thought.

"You could take another lecture in high-energy engineering if you're not sent to some distant planet in between, Kurt."

Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"Who knows--- maybe I will."

"I must point out, however, that I rarely attend the professor's lectures."

"So?"

"He has entrusted me with other tasks." She looked briefly at her watch. "I have to go now," she said. The young woman paid her bill, took her purse and passed Kurt. Close enough that Kurt could smell her perfume.

After a few steps she turned back to him.

"My name is Teresa, by the way."

"Oh!" Kurt was perplexed. The surprise was written on his face. He hadn't expected to know her name.

"Teresa Gonzales. Friends call me Teresita."

"See you, Teresita."

"I said friends can call me that."

"Yes, but..."

"How can you be so sure I already count you in?"

Kurt swallowed.

His words literally got stuck in his throat. The guardsman watched the young woman until she passed the exit of MILKYBARWAY.

*

When Kurt Farmoon and André Souan and Vladimir Krylenko entered the large lecture hall of the Guard University the next morning, he had to make great efforts to suppress a yawn.

"Hey, you're getting on in years, aren't you?", André taunted.

Kurt made a throw-away gesture. "Don't tell me you missed yesterday's practice session."

André laughed.

"The practice assignment is. I'd put something like that away with my left hand. Only the celebration after may have stolen a little too much of the night."

The laughter of the guardsmen stopped abruptly when they saw Master Sergeant Karalaitis. He had taken his seat in one of the front rows of the lecture hall. André's laughter had prompted him to turn around and give the men a blaming look.

"By now you should have noticed that we are no longer at MILKYBARWAY," Kurt whispered to his comrade. "Even though it's only been a few hours since we've been there."

"Karalaiti's austere face immediately made that clear to me again," André joked.

They found Gonglor and some other men on their train and sat down with them in the bank.

The rest would probably arrive little by little.

This morning a lecture was on the agenda for the guards, which was something special even for the guard university, which was not exactly poor at prominent heads.

Chris Barrington had the honour of speaking to the members of the Guard about the technical upheavals of recent years.

Along with Robert Assam and Orik Daan, Barrington was considered one of the best foreign technology experts from Terran. His ocarg probes developed together with Robert Assam were as memorable as his flight to Drakhon with MAYHEM about a year ago. As one of the first colonists on the planet Epoh, he already had the status of a legend. There was no one in the hall who wasn't curious about this man.

But at first it was something else that reanimated Kurt Farmoon's spirit in one fell swoop.

Among the joking guards he also saw a group of women who belonged to the academic staff of the Guard University.

He noticed a dark-haired mop of hair.

An even, finely cut profile...

Teresita, he thought.

He had to swallow involuntarily. He felt like he had a big lump in his throat. You probably like it better than you want to admit to yourself at the moment, an unmistakable voice appeared in the back of his head.

Teresita turned to him and gave him a smile.

He replied.

"Isn't this the girl from yesterday?" Vladimir asked.

"Shut up," Kurt muttered.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"And I said shut up!"

Meanwhile the hall continued to fill up. The last guardsmen met him, including some of the late members of the 14th platoon.

"I wonder what anointing words the great Chris Barrington has to say to us," said Nick Gonglor sarcastically. "The technical upheavals of recent years-- that doesn't sound particularly exciting!"

"So just the thing for this morning," Vladimir said and held his hand in front of his mouth.

"Woe if you start snoring, Wlad!", André silly.

The Russian grinned.

"Well, allow me! Do you think I'd bring our train into disrepute?"

"Sure!", replied Nick and the Japanese Antoku Seiwa sitting right next to him as if from one mouth.

In the front rows, some officers turned to them.

The guards could only hope that Jannis Karalaitis had not noticed where this unrest came from. The Estonian didn't like something like that. On this point, there was no need to hope for any bonus due to the Mescaleros' outstanding performance in yesterday's exercise.

Kurt Farmoon, unlike his other nature, had little sense of his comrades' foolishness this morning. He kept looking over at Teresita. You once meet a classy woman and then she makes it pretty hard for you, he thought.

It suddenly became very quiet.

A pin could have been heard falling in the large lecture hall of the Guard University of Star City when Christopher Angham entered the room.

Angham was commander of the Space Guard, ranked Major General. It was only on the basis of his memoirs that the Guard came into being.

The commander was an imposing figure. There was something penetrating about the look in his ice-grey eyes. A long scar covered the left half of her face.

In his tow were the famous Chris Barrington and Professor Dr. George Ravanelli, of whom Kurt assumed that he would probably say a few introductory words on behalf of the lecturers of the Guard University.

While Ravanelli had a rather lean figure, Barrington, known as a cognac lover, was quite heavy. A half-shack marked his head, the striking lines of his face were underlined by a chin beard.

The men stepped forward, sat down in the front row reserved for them.

A young recruit checked the microphones and the sound system.

When that happened, Angham got a sign.

Angham went to the lectern with the energetic steps that betrayed the energy and determination of a military commander.

"I am pleased to welcome you to a very special event. The Garde University has succeeded in engaging a guest speaker with an extraordinary vita. A man who, as one of the first settlers of Epoh, was one of the pioneers of human aspiration to the stars. His most outstanding achievements include..."

A noise interrupted the commander, whose forehead lay in deep folds.

A Scotch Terrier scurried between the rows of seats in the auditorium, finally reaching the aisle and standing still.

The terrier barked.

The heavyweight Barrington rose sighing from the place of honour assigned to him. He looked at the terrier shaking his head and sighed.