"Malcolm Beckett - Protectors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Beckett Malcolm)

The putative intelligence drew closer. So did the unarmed Service relief-Shuttle. Nobody was going anywhere but to a common point. They would rendezvous as predicted, but unProtected.
When Captain Mant found the old piece of rope in a locker and tied her crew to the mini-crapper in the stern of he central tube of the vessel, having first secured his, if not cooperation,`then at least lack of resistance with a long three- quarter-inch bolt she had also found there, it made no difference except to her. History was already written, and the forces of Mankind would meet the mass of a possible enemy intruder unarmed and but for the two of them, unforewarned.
Twelve hours after that, the robot explorer from Alpha Centauri A turned on its mapping-scanner, and began its second sweep of the third planet from the Sun. It had returned exactly one hundred of its years after its first reconnaissance of the Solar System to verify that signs of life on the planet were, in fact, signs of life, and not random variations in the surface- texture of the desert and semi-desert where trails and dirt roads had been spotted. The silver-colored reflector that was a part of the drone itself shone with the light of many stars, and the people, what few of them there were, looked up to see a Star shining in their East once again. But theirs was an underground culture since the ozone had been destroyed. Less of their works could be seen on the surface than had been the case in ancient Arabia and Israel. The signal sent by the drone said, in effect, "No."
The relief crew arrived on schedule. Mant and Simps were taken from *Crom* for the last time, both in manacles pending trial. Soon after, *Crom* was decommissioned. The searing proximity of the drone's scanner-beam had melted almost through one of the hull plates in the forward part of the ship, and she was judged unspaceworthy by the relief-crew, and set adrift, to fall into the Sun.
The robot drone returned to the Mother-Ship, also a drone, moved inside, and both suffered the same fate as *Crom*. The nuclear-warhead-tipped missile had done its job.
Parting forever at the Service's private spaceport, the last crew of *Crom* were allowed a few supervised moments together. After all, before they went insane, Simps and Mant had been the best team there was.
"Bye, Love," said Captain Mant. She smiled almost warmly. "Merry Christmas."
Albet first glared, then grimaced. He turned away, then back.
"You, too, Will. Merry Christmas, Dear."