"Charles L. Harness-Stalemate in Space" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harness Charles L)

pouch, still hidden in the shadows of her table, had been activated, and had brought into focus within the
room the dim, transparent outlines of a small space ship.
Perat saw it too, and his eyes widened as they traced it quickly from wall to wall.
"It's real..." whispered Evelyn between clenched lips. "Mentors wanted me... return in it... to Terra...
secret of pile..."
A strange light was growing over Perat's face. "Of course! So that's why your father tried so hard at
the last to break through our blockade and get a ship through! If the secret of the strain-pile had ever
reached Terra, all the Tharn suns-- indeed, the whole Scythe federation-- would be novae by now! By
Karos, it was a narrow thing!"
There was a soft gurgling in Evelyn's throat.
He flung his pistol away and sat down beside her, lifting her head to his chest. "I'll call the physician,"
he rasped through contorted lips.
 She slid a cold palm over his hot cheek, caressing it lightly. "No... we die..."
He stiffened. "We?"
She continued to stroke his cheek dreamily. "Die with you..."
He shook her. "What are you talking about!" he cried. "The pile isn't going to erupt!"
"Crystal focuses... ship... only when pile..."
His face blanched.
She whispered again, so softly that he had to bend his ear to her lips. "You escape... get in ship..."
He stared at her incredulously. "You'd let me get away with the pile secret!"
She relaxed in his arms, smiling sleepily, while the tiny red trickle from the corner of her mouth grew
wider. "Stupid of me."
She shivered. "...cold..."
The Viscount of the Tharn Suns, the greatest star-cluster in the Scythe federation, knotted his jaw
muscles feverishly and gnawed at his lower lip. Somehow or other the strain-pile had been energized.
Probably the terrific proton storm that had hidden both ships for years had compensated for the
unrealized potential of the undrawn fifth rod. It was his duty to the federation to throw this woman to the
floor and take refuge between the shadowy, shimmering walls of the escape ship. He must carry the
secret of the pile to safety with him. He had only seconds.
He looked down distractedly at the small creature who was destroying the proud ships that two great
civilizations had spent a generation in building. She seemed to be in a deep, peaceful sleep. The only sign
of life was a faint pulse in her throat.
She was the only woman that he had ever found whose companionship he could have... enjoyed hour
after hour. He almost thought, "could have loved."
The room was growing quite warm. The tremendous currents coursing through the walls were swiftly
growing stronger.
Another thought occurred to him: How had those Terran mentors planned for their escape ship to
avoid the holocaust? Any matter within millions of miles would be destroyed. It was evident, then, that
wherever the ship was, it was not within the danger zone.
Suddenly he understood everything.
With a queer smile, in which ribald surmise and tenderness fought for supremacy, he picked the
woman up, carried her into the phantom vessel, placed her on the pilot's lounge, and strapped her in.
From his waist-pouch he took a hypodermic syringe, removed the sheath from the needle, and thrust it
into her arm. Her face twinged briefly, but she did not waken. He threw a blanket over her and then
strode quickly to the controls. They were fairly simple, and he had no difficulty in switching the automatic
drive to the general direction of the Tharn sun cluster. He wrote a hasty note on the pilot's navigation pad,
and then turned again to the woman. He removed one of his duplicate jeweled rings and slipped it on her
finger. His father would recognize it and would believe her.
Then he bent over her and kissed her lightly on the lips.
"Perhaps I love you too, my dearest enemy," he whispered gently. "Educate our son-to-be in the ways