"Philip Jose Farmer - Tongues of the Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Farmer Phillip Jose)

Clavius, sir."
Panchurin could not speak; he could only nod his head. "Do you know what the situation is at Clavius?" said
Scone relentlessly.
Panchurin managed a few words. "Some missiles... Axis base... came close... but no damage... intercepted."
Scone saluted, turned, and beckoned to Broward and Nashdoi. They followed him to the exit to the field. Here Scone
made sure that the air-retaining and gamma-ray and sun-deflecting force field outside the dome was on. Then the
North Americans stepped outside onto the field without their spacesuits. They had done this so many times they no
longer felt the fear and helplessness first experienced upon venturing from the protecting walls into what seemed
empty space. They entered their craft, and Scone took over the controls.
After identifying himself to the control tower, Scone lifted the dish and brought it to the very edge of the
force field. He put the controls on automatic, the field disappeared for the two seconds necessary for the craft to pass
the boundary, and the dish, impelled by its own power and by the push of escaping air, shot forward.
Behind them, the faint flicker indicating the presence of the field returned. And the escaped air formed brief
and bright streamers that melted under the full impact of the sun.
"That's something that will have to be rectified in the future," said Scone. "It's an inefficient, air-wasting
method. We're not so long on power we can use it to make more air every time a dish enters or leaves a field."
He returned on the r-t, contacted Clavius, told them they were coming in. To the operator, he said, "Pei,
how're things going?"
"We're still at battle stations, sir. Though we doubt if there will be any more attacks. Both the Argentinean
and South African bases were wrecked. They don't have any retaliatory capabilities, but survivors may be left deep
underground. We've received no order from Eratosthenes to -dispatch searchers to look for survivors, The base at
Pushkin doesn't answer. It must..."
There was a crackling and a roar. When the noise died down, a voice in Russian said, "This is Eratosthenes.
You will refrain from further radio communication until permission is received to resume. Acknowledge."
"Colonel Scone on the United Soviet Americas Force destroyer Broun. Order acknowledged."
He flipped the switch off. To Broward, he said, "Damn Russkies are starting to clamp down already. But
they're rattled. Did you notice I was talking to Pei in English, and they didn't say a thing about that? I don't think they'll
take much effective action or start any witch-hunts until they recover fully from the shock and have a chance to
evaluate.
"Tell me. is Nashdoi one of you Athenians?"
Broward looked at Nashdoi, who was slumped on a seat at the other end of the bridge. She was not within
earshot of a low voice.
"No," said Broward. "I don't think she's anything but a lukewarm Marxist She's a member of the Party, of
course. Who on the Moon isn't? But like so many scientists here, she takes a minimum interest in ideology, just
enough not to be turned down when she applied for psychological research here.
"She was married, you know. Her husband was called back to Earth only a little while ago. No one knew if it
was for the reasons given or if he'd done something to displease the Russkies or arouse their suspicions. You know
how it is. You're called back, and maybe you're never heard of again."
"What other way is there?" said Scone. "Although I don't like the Russky dictating the fate of any
American."
"Yes?" said Broward. He looked curiously at Scone, thinking of what a mass of contradictions, from his
viewpoint, existed inside that massive head. Scone believed thoroughly in the Soviet system except for one feature. He
was a Nationalist; he wanted an absolutely independent North American republic, one which would reassert its place
as the strongest in the world.
And that made him dangerous to the Russians and the Chinese.


America had fallen prey more to its own softness and confusion than to the machinations of the Soviets.
Then, in the turbulent bloody starving years that followed the fall with their purges, uprisings, savage repressions,
mass transportations to Siberia and other areas, importation of other nationalities to create division and bludgeoning