"Anthony, Piers - Bio of a Space Tyrant 01 - Refugee" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

"You're no military man!"

"It's my name, not a title. Fire that laser, and the rest of us will swamp you before I fall."

The Horse grinned humorlessly. "I can take out five or six of you first."

"Two or three of us," my father corrected him evenly, and I felt a surging pride at his courage. My father had always had the nerve to do what he had to do, even when he disliked it. This was an example. "And there are two hundred of us. We've already got your men. You stand to lose, regardless."

The pirate leader considered. "There is that. All right- you release my men, and we'll leave you alone."

My father turned to the crowd. "That seems fair enough." He noted the scattered nods of approval, then turned back to the pirate. "But you have to leave the things you stole from us. No robbery."

The Horse scowled. "Agreed."

By this time I had recovered most of my wits. "Don't trust him, Father!" I cried. "These are pirates!"

"I am a pirate," the Horse said. "But I keep my word. We will not rob you, and we will leave the bubble."

My father, like most men of honor, tended to believe the best of people. He nodded at the men who held the pirates, and the pirates were released. They quickly recovered their weapons and rejoined their leader, somewhat shamefaced.

The Horse stood for a moment, considering. Then he indicated me. "That's your boy who floored my man?"

My father nodded grimly. "And my daughter, whom he was defending."

As I mentioned, thoughts scurry through my head at all times, not always relevant to the issue of the moment. Right now I wondered where my little sister Spirit was, as I didn't see her. I don't know why I thought of her right then. Maybe it was because, the way my father spoke, it sounded as though he had only two children, when in fact he had three. Of course, he wasn't trying to deceive anyone; the pirate hadn't asked how many he had, just whether I was one. It was just that my meandering brain insisted on exploring surplus details.

"And when she screamed, the others rallied around," the Horse said. "We misjudged that, it seems."

"Yes."

"So we'll just have to try it again," the Horse concluded. He made a signal with his hand. "Take them."

Suddenly the nine other pirates advanced on us again, each with his sword or club ready.

"Hey!" my father protested. "You agreed-"

"Not to rob you," the Horse said. "And to leave the bubble. We'll honor that. But first we have some business that wasn't in the contract." He looked at Faith and me. "Don't hurt the boy or the girl or the man," he ordered. "Bring them here."

Pirates grabbed the three of us. In each case, two men menaced the refugees nearby while the third cornered the victim. They were much more careful than before. It was not possible to resist without immediate disaster, for the Horse backed them up with his laser. More than that, it was psychological: The remaining refugees, rendered leaderless again, did nothing. The dynamics had changed.

That's another phenomenon that has perplexed me. The mechanism by which a few uninhibited individuals can cow a much larger number, when both groups know the larger group has the power to prevail. It seems impossible, yet it happens all the time. Whole governments exist in opposition to the will of the people they govern, because of this. If I could just comprehend that dynamic-

"Bind father and son," the Horse said. "String them up to the baggage rack."

I struggled, but lacked the strength and mass of any one of the pirates. They tied my hands behind me, cruelly tight, and suspended me from the guyed baggage net in the center of the bubble. My father suffered a similar fate.

We hung at a slight angle, overlooking the proceedings, helpless.

Now the Horse turned to Faith. He whistled. "She's a looker!" he exclaimed. His vernacular expression may have been cruder, but that was the essence. Faith, of course, blushed.