"Alan Dean Foster - Ye Who Would Sing" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

was a high-power homing device built into the radio-corn. It would transmit an automatic SOS on a
private channel, to be received by an illegal station nearVaanland .

Caitlandwas a loyal, trusted, and highly valued employee of that station's owners. There was no doubt in
his mind that once it was received by them, they would act on the emergency signal. Just now his job was
to ensure they would find something worth taking back.

Thefanship dipped lower.Caitland fought the wind with words andskillful piloting. It insisted on pushing
him sideways when he wanted to go up or down.

There ... a place where the dense green-black mat of forest thinned briefly and the ground looked almost
level.Low, over, a little lower.Now hard on the stick, slipping the fan sideways, so that the jets could
counteract the force of the scudding wind. Then cut power, cut more, and prepare to settle down.

A tremendous howl reverberated through the little cabin as a wall of rain-laden wind shoved like a giant's
hand straight down on thefanship . Jets still roaring parallel to the ground, the fan slid earthward at a
45-degree angle.

Firstone'blade , then a second of the double rotors hit a tree. There were a metallic snap, several
seconds of blurred visionтАФa montage of tree trunks, lightning and moss-covered earthтАФfollowed by
stillness.

He waited, but the fan had definitely come to a stop. Rain pierced the shattered dome and pelted
forehead and face, a wetness to match the saltier taste in his mouth. The fan had come to rest on its side.
Only a single strap of the safety harness had stayed intact. It held him in the ruined cabin by his waist.

He moved to release itтАФslowly, because of the sharp, hot pain the movements caused in thecenter of his
chest. He coughed, spat weakly. Bits of broken tooth joined the rest of the wreckage.

His intention was to let himself down gently to a standing position. His body refused to cooperate. As
the waist buckle uncoupled he fell the short distance from his seat to the shattered side of the fan. Broke
inside, he thought hazily. Rain seeped into his eyes, blurred his vision.

Painfully he rolled over, looked down the length of the fan. The flying machine was ruined forever. Right
now, the walking machine had to get away from it. There was always the chance of an explosion.

It was then he discovered he couldn't move his left leg. Lying exhausted, he tried to study the forest
around him in the darkness and driving rain.

Driving rain.The fan had broken a circle in the branches overhead. It would be drier under the untouched
treesтАФand he had to get away from the explosive residue hi the fan's tanks.

It appeared to be the lower part of the leg. All right, if he couldn't walk, he could crawl. He started to
get to his kneesтАФand couldn't finish. Hurt worse than he'd first thought.

Never mind the chance of explosion, rest was what he had to have.Rest. He lay quietly in the
water-soaked ruins of the fan, rain tinkling noisily off the brokenplexidome and twisted metal, and