"Asimov, Isaac - Wonderful Worlds of SciFi Vol 9 - Robots" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

"They are not," the lifeboat said. "I scanned to a depth of a hundred feet."
"Well," Arnold said, "under the circumstances, I think we should examine a little more closely. I'd better go ashore and look around."
"It is deserted," the lifeboat said. "Believe me, my senses are infinitely more acute than yours. I cannot let you endanger your lives by going ashore. Drome needs her soldiers--especially sturdy, heat-resistant types like you."
"We like this climate," Arnold said.
"Spoken like a patriot!" the lifeboat said heartily. "I know how you must be suffering. But now I am going to the south pole, to give you veterans the rest you deserve."

Gregor decided it was time for his plan, no matter how vague it was. "That won't be necessary," he said.
"What?"
"We are operating under special orders," Gregor said. "We weren't supposed to disclose them to any vessel below the rank of super-dreadnaught. But under the circumstances--"
"Yes, under the circumstances," Arnold chimed in eagerly, "we will tell you."
"We are a suicide squad," Gregor said.
"Especially trained for hot climate work."
"Our orders," Gregor said, "are to land and secure that island for the Drome forces."
"I didn't know that," the boat said.
"You weren't supposed to," Arnold told it. "After all, you're only a lifeboat."
"Land us at once," Gregor said. "There's no time to lose."
"You should have told me sooner," the boat said. "I couldn't guess, you know." It began to move toward the island.
Gregor could hardly breathe. It didn't seem possible that the simple trick would work. But then, why not? The lifeboat was built to accept the word of its operators as the truth. As long as the 'truth' was consistent with the boat's operational premises, it would be carried out.
The beach was only fifty yards away now, gleaming white in the cold light of dawn.
Then the boat reversed its engines and stopped. "No," it said.
"No what?"
"I cannot do it."
"What do you mean?" Arnold shouted. "This is war! Orders--"
"I know," the lifeboat said sadly. "I am sorry. A differently type of vessel should have been chosen for this mission. Any other type. But not a lifeboat."
"You must," Gregor begged. "Think of our country, think of the barbaric H'gen--"
"It is physically impossible for me to carry out your orders," the lifeboat told them. "My prime directive is to protect my occupants from harm. That order is stamped on my every tape, giving priority over all others. I cannot let you go to your certain death."

The boat began to move away from the island.
"You'll be court-martialed for this!" Arnold screamed hysterically. "They'll decommission you."
"I must operate within my limitations," the boat said sadly. "If we find the fleet, I will transfer you to a killerboat. But in the meantime, I must take you to the safety of the south pole."
The lifeboat picked up speed, and the island receded behind them. Arnold rushed at the controls and was thrown flat. Gregor picked up the canteen and poised it, to hurl ineffectually at the sealed hatch. He stopped himself in mid-swing, struck by a sudden wild thought.
"Please don't attempt any more destruction," the boat pleaded. "I know how you feel, but--"
It was damned risky, Gregor thought, but the south pole was certain death anyhow.
He uncapped the canteen. "Since we cannot accomplish our mission," he said, "we can never again face our comrades. Suicide is the only alternative." He took a gulp of water and handed the canteen to Arnold.
"No! Don't!" the lifeboat shrieked. "That's water! It's a deadly poison--"
An electrical bolt leaped from the instrument panel, knocking the canteen from Arnold's hand.
Arnold grabbed the canteen. Before the boat could knock it again from his hand, he had taken a drink.
"We die for glorious Drome!" Gregor dropped to the floor. He motioned Arnold to lie still.
"There is no known antidote," the boat moaned. "If only I could contact a hospital ship..." Its engines idled indecisively. "Speak to me," the boat pleaded. "Are you still alive?"
Gregor and Arnold lay perfectly still, not breathing.
"Answer me!" the lifeboat begged. "Perhaps if you ate some geezel..." It thrust out two trays. The partners didn't stir.
"Dead," the lifeboat said. "Dead. I will read the burial service."

There was a pause. Then the lifeboat intoned, "Great Spirit of the Universe, take into your custody the souls of these, your servants. Although they died by their own hand, still it was in the service of their country, fighting for home and hearth. Judge them not harshly for their impious deed. Rather blame the spirit of war' that inflames and destroys all Drome."
The hatch swung open. Gregor could feel a rush of cool morning air.
"And now, by the authority vested in me by the Drome Fleet, and with all reverence, I commend their bodies to the deep."
Gregor felt himself being lifted through the hatch to the deck. Then he was in the air, falling, and in another moment he was in the water, with Arnold beside him.
"Float quietly," he whispered.
The island was nearby. But the lifeboat was still hovering close to them, nervously roaring its engines.
"What do you think it's up to now?" Arnold whispered.