"Cook, Glen - Starfishers 00 - Passage At Arms" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cook Glen)

I stepped off the courier ship, dropped my gear, looked around. УThis is a world at war?Ф
The courier had dropped us in the middle of a grassy plain that stretched unbroken to every horizon. That vista would have scared the shit out of someone less accustomed to open spaces. I confess to mild wobblies of my own. Service people donТt spend much time out of doors.
In the near distance, a vast herd of beef cattle decided we were harmless and resumed grazing. Shadowing them were a few outriders. Kick out cattle and horsemen and thereТd have been no evidence that this was an inhabited world.
УCowboys? For ChristТs sake.Ф They werenТt Wild West cowboys, but not that different, either. The nature of a profession often defines its garb and gear.
The courier joined me. УPicturesque, isnТt it?Ф
УAfter that ride coming in . . . What the hell was all the jumping about?Ф A courier boat has no room for observers on its bridge. IТd gone through the approach blind.
УDestroyer. Old scow.Ф He snapped his fingers and grinned. УShook her like that.Ф
УHow come youТre such a pale shade, then?Ф My shipmate of the past few weeks was a black subLieutenant whose main pleasure was the witty ethnic insult. He didnТt argue that one. ItТd been a tight squeeze.
УTheyТll be along any minute. Said they were sending somebody.Ф
УWhy out here? Why not straight into Turbeyville?Ф He hadnТt revealed his landing plan beforehand.
УWeТd have got smoked. Planetary Defense doesnТt waste time shitting around with Fleet couriers. TheyТre busy covering the lifter pipe from the Pits. They donТt want to hear from home anyhow.Ф He patted the case chained to his wrist. Odd, I thought, that it should be so huge. Suitcase size. Big suitcase. УTheyТll cuss me for two weeks.Ф
I studied the chain. УDamn. IТll have to cut your hand off now.Ф
УThat isnТt funny.Ф The poor bastards. They get so paranoid they wonТt turn their backs on their own mothers.
The chain was long. He put the case down and sat on it. He said, УJust open them baby blues and turn yourself a slow circle, Lieutenant.Ф
I did. The plains. The grass. The cowboys, who showed no interest in the boat.
УWhat do you see?Ф
УNot a whole lot.Ф
УYouТve seen it all. Change your plans. Come on home with me.Ф
УThereТs more to it than this.Ф
УWell, sure. Trees, mountains, some busted-up cities. Big deal. Look at those bastards. Hunking around on horses. And theyТre the lucky ones. They donТt live in caves. No boomer drops on cows.Ф
УI fought too hard to get here. IТll see it through.Ф
УFool.Ф He grinned. УClimbers, yet. Here it comes.Ф He pointed. A skimmer wove a sinuous path across the green, a small, dark boat chopping through a breezy sea.
It rumbled up to us, down wash whipping torn grass against our legs. УStill not too late, Lieutenant. Go hide in the boat.Ф
I smiled my holo-hero smile. УLetТs go.Ф
ItТs easy to grin when the fiercest monster in sight is a cow. IТd ridden the killer bulls of Tregorgarth. I was ready for anything.
The skimmer driver waved impatiently. УNot the wide-open-spaces type,Ф the courier guessed.
We boarded. Our steed surged forward, arcing past the herd, leaving a long, dull snail track of smashed grass. Cows and cowboys watched with equally indifferent eyes. Our driver had little to say. She was the surly type. You know, УMy feelings are hurt just by being here with you.Ф
The subLieutenant stage-whispered, УYouТre an offworlder, they figure youТre a High Command spy. They hate High Command.Ф
УCanТt blame them.Ф Canaan had been under soft blockade for years. It made life difficult.
Back when, the other side hadnТt thought Canaan worth occupation. Big mistake. It was a tough nut now. The senior officer in the region, Admiral Tannian, had assembled scattered, defeated, ragtag units for a dramatic last stand. The Ulantonids disappointed him. So he dug in and began gnawing on their supply lines. Now they are too heavily committed elsewhere to give him the squashing he wanted.
Great stuff, Fortress Canaan, High Command decided. They sent Tannian the first Climber squadron into service. He saw their potential instantly. He created his own industrial base.
You couldnТt question the AdmiralТs energy, dedication, or tenacity. Canaan, an agricultural world sparsely settled, overnight became a feisty fortress and shipbuilding center. A loose frontier society became a tight warfare state with a solitary purpose: the construction and manning of Climbers. All Tannian demanded of the Inner Worlds was a trickle of trained personnel to cadre his locally raised legions. A bargain. High Command gladly obliged. To the sorrow of many ranking officers with ambitions or personal axes to grind.
Admiral Frederick Minh-Tannian became proconsul of CanaanТs system and absolute master of humanityТs last bastion in this end of space. Down the line, on the Inner Worlds, he was considered one of the great heroes of the war.
It was an hourТs run to the nearest GuardsТ outpost. The place fit the Wild West image. Adobe walls surrounded scores of hump-backed bunkers. Most of those boasted obsolete but effective detection antennae. There were barracks for several hundred soldiers, and a dozen armed floaters.
My companion said, УI usually put down here. One company. It patrols more area than France on Old Earth. Six regular soldiers. The Captain, a Lieutenant, and four sergeants. The rest are locals. Serve three months a year and chase cows the rest. Or dig turnips. They bring their families if they have them.Ф
УI was wondering about the kids.Ф It was the most unmilitary installation IТd ever seen. Looked like a way station three years into a Volkerwanderung. It wouldТve given Marine sergeants apoplexy.
The Captain wasted little time on us. He spoke with the courier briefly. The courier opened that huge case and passed over a kilo canister. The Captain handed him some greasy Conmarks. They were old bills, pre-war pink instead of todayТs lilac gray. The courier shoved them inside his tunic, grinned at me, and went outside.
УCoffee,Ф he explained. And, УA man has to make hay while the sun shines. A local proverb.Ф
My glimpse inside the case had shown me maybe forty more canisters.
It was an old, old game with Fleet couriers. The brass knew about it. Only their pets received courier assignment. Sometimes there were kickbacks. My companion didnТt look like a man whose business was that big.
УI see.Ф
УSometimes tobacco, too. They donТt raise it here. And chocolate, when I can make the contacts back home.Ф
УYou shouldТve loaded the boat.Ф I didnТt resent his running luxuries. Guess IТm a laissez-faire capitalist at heart.
He grinned. УI did. CanТt deal with the Captain, though. After a while one of the sergeants will notice that nobody has patrolled that part of the plain lately. HeТll make the sweep himself, just to keep his hand in. And IТll find a bale of Conmarks when I get back.Ф He hoisted his case. УThisТs for special people. I sell it practically at cost.Ф
УConmarks ought to be drying up out here.Ф
УTheyТre getting harder to come by. IТm not the only courier on the Canaan run.Ф He brightened. УBut, shit. There had to be billions floating around before the war. ItТll come out. Just got to keep refusing military scrip.Ф
УI wish you luck, my friend.Ф I was thinking of a few items in my own luggage, meant to sweeten the contacts I hoped to make.
The subLieutenant kicked a floater. УLooks as good as any of them. Throw your stuff in and letТs go.Ф
We had to cross two-thirds of a continent. A quarter of the way round CanaanТs southern hemisphere. I slept twice. We stopped for fuel several times. The subLieutenant kept the floater screaming all the time he was at the controls. My turns, I kept it down to a sedate 250 kph.
He wakened me once to show me a city. УThey called it Mecklenburg. After some city on Old Earth. Population a hundred thousand. Biggest town for a thousand klicks.Ф