"Brad Ferguson - To Tell The Troof" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ferguson Brad)

there.тАЭ
Klatho shrugged. тАЬAnywhere it wants. Lucky if it doesnтАЩt hit town.
Better you stay near building.тАЭ
тАЬVery well. May we go outside to look?тАЭ
тАЬIf you like. DonтАЩt go far. You can ride out to crash site with emergency
crew, these guys, when ship set down. This okay?тАЭ
тАЬVery okay. Thank you, Klatho.тАЭ
тАЬNo mention.тАЭ Klatho turned back to his work; the loud Troof
squeaking and bleating started again at a higher level.
McAleer turned to Zweebl. тАЬLetтАЩs go outside.тАЭ
The sky was a brilliant, clear seawater green; visibility was unlimited.
McAleer looked in vain for a vapor trail or some other indication of the
shipтАЩs imminent arrival.
Zweebl was shrilly fuming. тАЬCanтАЩt stand that Klatho, pompous ass of
yerega son of bitch. Self-righteous bastard. Oops, sorry twice.тАЭ
McAleer ignored the outburst. тАЬDo you see anything yet?тАЭ
тАЬHmmm.тАЭ The Troof squinted. тАЬCan make out little pop of
electromagnetic interference, тАШway up.тАЭ He pointed. тАЬFollow finger. You
should see ship soon, that direction.тАЭ
тАЬIs it headed for the field?тАЭ
тАЬDirectly. Good pilot, that boy.тАЭ
McAleer sent a few prayers the pilotтАЩs way. Soon, there was a glint in the
sky, in a direction almost opposite to the one Zweebl had indicated.
тАЬI think you made a mistake. I see her,тАЭ McAleer said, pointing. тАЬJust
barely.тАЭ
тАЬCanтАЩt see her by light yet,тАЭ Zweebl complained. тАЬDamn all Earthie
predator eyes. Oops, sorry again. Um, any sign of big trouble?тАЭ
тАЬI donтАЩt see smoke or little bits of the ship tearing off, if thatтАЩs what you
mean. Her flight line looks smooth enough, too.тАЭ
тАЬOh, I see her now. Yes, you right. May make it, after all. HereтАЩs luck,
Father Mort.тАЭ
They watched as the ship grew bigger and bigger. The siren on the
admin buildingтАЩs roof began to wail a final alarm.
тАЬStill wishing for ears to cover,тАЭ Zweebl complained. тАЬFinal approach
now.тАЭ
McAleer could see the shipтАЩs belly jets suddenly spew exhaust in an
all-or-nothing braking maneuver. At fifty feet of altitude, the ship rolled
over once, then stabilized. It continued to drop slowly.
тАЬWhew!тАЭ said Zweebl. тАЬCanтАЩt believe that one!тАЭ McAleer could only nod,
his mouth dry.
Mere feet above the field now, its forward speed now negligible, the ship
extended its landing skids. Slowly, with another roar of her belly jets, she
grounded with a deep, grinding groan about five hundred feet from the
admin building. The pilot killed the engines, and McAleer heard the
crackle of cooling metal.
The pilotтАЩs emergency door popped open and a chute rolled out. A figure
in an old-fashioned, bulky spacesuit тАФ obviously the pilot тАФ slipped down
the chute as easily as if the thing had been greased. The pilot ran madly
away from the ship.
тАЬGet down, Zweebl!тАЭ yelled McAleer, hitting the dirt and covering his