Free Perry Rhodan Lemuria 1: Ark of the Stars by Frank Borsch Page B

Venron was dead. She spelled it out in time with her pumping legs. D-E-A-D. Denetree kept viewing the scene of the shuttle blasting out of the ship over and over in her mind, watching the Tenoy being sucked out into space. She had never before seen anyone die except for old people, when it was time for them to step back and make room for the young. Accidents were practically unheard of. Over the course of centuries, work procedures and tools had been perfected for maximum safety. In order to maim or even kill oneself, it was necessary to possess a considerable amount of stupidity. Or intent. But again, only older people managed that. Not the ones who counted, the metach in Denetree's and Venron's age group.
    The Ship took care of its own down to the smallest consideration. For example, balanced nutrition. Sustenance was ideally portioned, because to be overweight was waste and waste was a crime—treason to their mission. Over the following months, the Ship would have made up for the extra rations that she received in exchange for the battery by imperceptibly trimming her rations, or assigning her to the heaviest, most calorie-burning work.
    Once or twice Denetree met other riders. She saw their lights approaching from a distance and forced herself to reduce her panic-driven speed to a normal rate, ignore the tempting paths in the fields on either side of the road, and greet the metach in a friendly and ordinary manner as they passed.
    Denetree was lucky. She didn't encounter any Tenoy. No one stopped to ask her what she was doing on the Outer Deck in the middle of the night. Denetree suspected this was because the other bicyclists themselves were out with intentions contrary to the rules of the Ship. Meeting with Metachs from other Metach'ton for a night of passion, for example. The Ship did not approve of that. A metach's genes were too important to leave their recombination to the whims of chance, to say nothing of the fact that a lively night resulted in diminished work performance the next day. If the furtive lovers were caught by the Tenoy, they were punished with weeks or even months in one of the Metach'ton that the Tenoy watched most closely, and sometimes even permanent assignment to the Outer Deck. Another light approached Denetree. She slowed her speed, tried to suppress the hammering of her pulse, and greeted the other rider.
    Soon she would be at the elevator.
    The hunt had already begun: the Naahk's speech had made that clear. And Denetree knew the Tenoy would look first for the traitor's sister.
    In ordinary circumstances, the biological relationship between brother and sister would not be significant. Most siblings rarely saw each other, as the Ship generally assigned them to widely separate sectors. Most siblings didn't care. The personal attachment between metach that came from working together every day went much deeper than an accidental biological connection.
    But the Ship knew that Denetree and Venron were close. The Tenoy would get her, interrogate her or worse. And Denetree did not try to deceive herself. She would not be able to endure the questioning. No one would believe her when she said that she had dreamed of the stars, but had known nothing of her brother's plan to see them with his own eyes. Then again, perhaps she would find unsuspected strength within herself and hold up under interrogation. But it wouldn't make any difference. Venron was dead. Nothing worse could happen to her. The Naahk needed guilty parties and he would get them, undeterred by the fine points of guilt or innocence.
    Denetree's life was over. Hers, and the lives of the other Star Seekers. What a lovely name; she never would have expected that one day it would stand for death and desperation. Venron had given that name to their group. He did not claim it as his own idea, but she never learned where it came from.
    There was one slight hope for Denetree: the mysterious present her brother had given her three days earlier. She