"Anderson, Poul - 1965 Flandry 05 - Agent of the Terran Empire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Poul)

Recklessly, he dove to meet the plunging monster, his beam before him like a lance. The dragon recoiled. With a savage grin, Flandry pursued, slashing and tearing.
The torn airjet handled clumsily. In midflight, it lurched and the dragon was out of his sights. Its wings buffeted him and he went spinning aside with the dragon after him.
The damned thing was forcing him toward the cragged mountainside. Its peaks reached hungrily after him, and the wind seemed to be a demon harrying him closer to disaster. He swung desperately, aware with sudden grimness that it had become a struggle for life with the odds on the dragon's side.
If this was the end, to be shattered against a mountain and eaten by his own quarryЧHe fought for control.
The dragon was almost on him, rushing down like a thunderbolt. It could survive a collision, but the jet would be knocked to earth. Flandry fired again, struggling to pull free. The dragon swerved and came on in the very teeth of his beam.
Suddenly it reeled and fell aside. The other jet was on it from behind, raking it with deadly precision. Flandry thought briefly that the remaining dragon must be dead or escaped and now its hunter had come to his aidЧall the gods bless him, whoever he was!
Even as he watched, the dragon fell to earth, writhing and snapping as it did. It crashed onto a ledge and lay still.
Flandry brought his jet to a landing nearby. He was shaking with reaction, but his chief emotion was a sudden overwhelming sadness. There went another brave creature down into darkness, wiped out by a senseless history that seemed only to have the objective of destroying. He raised a hand in salute as he grounded.
The other jet had already landed a few meters off. As Flandry opened his cockpit canopy, its pilot stepped out.
Aycharaych.
The man's reaction was almost instantaneous. Gratitude and honor had no part in the Service. Here was his greatest enemy, all unsuspecting, and it would be the simplest thing in the world to shoot him down. Aycharaych of Chereion, lost in a hunt for dangerous game, too badЧand remorse could come later, when there was timeЧ
His needle pistol was halfway from the holster when Aycharaych's weapon was drawn. Through the booming wind, he heard the alien's quiet voice: "No."
He raised his own hands, and his smile was bitter. "Go ahead," he invited. "You've got the drop on me."
"Not at all," said Aycharaych. "Believe me, Captain Flandry, I will never kill you except in self-defense. But since I will always be forewarned of your plans, you may as well abandon them."
The man nodded, too weary to feel the shock of the revelation which was here. "Thanks," he said. "For saving my life, that is."
"You're too useful to die," replied Aycharaych candidly, "but I'm glad of it."
They took the dragon's head and flew slowly back toward the palace. Flandry's mind whirled with a gathering dismay.
There was only one way in which Aycharaych could have known of the murder plan, when it had sprung into instantaneous being. And that same fact explained how he knew of every activity and scheme the Terrestrials tried, and how he could frustrate every one of them while his own work went on unhampered.
Aycharaych could read minds!
III
Aline's face was white and tense in the red light that streamed into the room. "No," she whispered.
"Yes," said Flandry grimly. "It's the only answer."
"But telepathyЧeveryone knows its limitationsЧ"
Flandry nodded. "The mental patterns of different races are so alien that a telepath who can sense them has to learn a different 'language' for every speciesЧin fact, for every individual among non-telepathic peoples, whose minds, lacking mutual contact, develop purely personal thought-types. Even then it's irregular and unreliable. I've never let myself be studied by any telepath not on our side, so I'd always considered myself safe.
"But Chereion is a very old planet. Its people have the reputation among the more superstitious Merseians of being sorcerers. Actually, of course, it's simply that they've discovered certain things about the nervous system which nobody else suspects yet. Somehow, Aycharaych must be able to detect some underlying resonance-pattern common to all intelligent beings.
"I'm sure he can only read surface thoughts, those in the immediate consciousness. Otherwise he'd have found out so much from all the Terrans with whom he must have had contact that Merseia would be ruling Sol by now. But that's bad enough!"
Aline said drearily, "No wonder he spared your life; you've become the most valuable man on his side!"
"And not a thing I can do about it," said Flandry. "He sees me every day. I don't know what the range of his mind isЧprobably only a few meters; it's known that all mental pulses are weak and fade rapidly with distance. But in any case, every time he meets me he skims my mind, reads all my plansЧI just can't help thinking about them all the timeЧand takes action to forestall them."
"We'll have to get the Imperial scientists to work on a thought screen."
"Of course. But that doesn't help us now."
"Couldn't you just avoid him, stay in your roomsЧ"
"Sure. And become a complete cipher. I have to get around, see my agents and the rulers of Betelgeuse, learn facts and keep my network operating. And every single thing I learn is just so much work done for AycharaychЧwith no effort on his part." Flandry puffed a cigaret into lighting and blew nervous clouds of smoke. "What to do, what to do?"
"Whatever we do," said Aline, "it has to be fast. The Sartaz is getting more and more cool toward our people. While we blunder and fail, Aycharaych is workingЧbribing, blackmailing, influencing one key official after another. We'll wake up some fine morning to find ourselves under arrest and Betelgeuse the loyal ally of Merseia."
"Fine prospect," said Flandry bitterly.
The waning red sunlight streamed through his windows, throwing pools of dried blood on the floor. The palace was quiet, the nobles resting after the hunt, the servants scurrying about preparing the night's feast. Flandry looked around at the weird decorations, at the unearthly light and the distorted landscape beyond the windows. Strange world under a strange sun, and himself the virtual prisoner of its alien and increasingly hostile people. He had a sudden wild feeling of being trapped.
"I suppose I should be spinning some elaborate counterplot," he said hopelessly. "And then, of course, I'll have to go down to the banquet and let Aycharaych read every detail of itЧevery little thing I know, laid open to his eyes because I just can't suppress my own thoughtsЧ"
Aline's eyes widened, and her slim hand tightened over his. "What is it?" he asked. "What's your idea?"
"OhЧnothing, Dominic, nothing." She smiled. "I have some direct contact with Sol andЧ"
"You never told me that."
"No reason for you to know it. I was just wondering if I should report this new trouble or not. Galaxy knows how those muddle-headed bureaucrats will react to the news. Probably yank us back and cashier us for incompetence."
She leaned closer and her words came low and urgent. "Go find Aycharaych, Dominic. Talk to him, keep him busy, don't let him come near me to interfere. He'll know what you're doing, naturally, but he won't be able to do much about it if you're as clever a talker as they say. Make some excuse for me tonight, too, so I don't have to attend the banquetЧtell them I'm sick or something. Keep him away from me!"
"Sure," he said with a little of his old spirit. "But whatever you're hatching in that lovely head, be quick about it. He'll get at you mighty soon, you know."
He got up and left. She watched him go, with a dawning smile on her lips.
Flandry was more than a little drunk when the party ended. Wine flowed freely at a Betelgeusean banquet, together with music, food, and dancing girls of every race present. He had enjoyed himselfЧin spite of everythingЧmost of all, he admitted, he'd enjoyed talking to Aycharaych. The being was a genius of the first order in almost every field, and it had been pleasant to forget the dreadfully imminent catastrophe for a while.
He entered his chambers. Aline stood by a little table, and the muted light streamed off her unbound hair and the shimmering robe she wore. Impulsively, he kissed her.
"Goodnight, honey," he said. "It was nice of you to wait for me."
She didn't leave for her own quarters. Instead, she held out one of the ornate goblets on the table. "Have a nightcap, Dominic," she invited.
"No, thanks. I've had entirely too many."
"For me." She smiled irresistibly. He clinked glasses with her and let the dark wine go down his throat.
It had a peculiar taste, and suddenly he felt dizzy, the room wavered and tilted under him. He sat down on his bed until it had passed, but there was anЧoddnessЧin his head that wouldn't go away.