"Harrison, Harry - Bill On The Planet Of Robot Slaves - uc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

"Pray," Cy said, rolling his eyes heavenward, or in any direction, which was the same thing. "Pray for salvation and succor."
Captain Bly sneered at that. "You are the only sucker here if you think that is going to help us. We've got one chance and one chance only. Our fuel is gone, our batteries drained..."
"Then we are dead!" Praktis wailed and tore out handfuls of hair.
"Not quite yet. I said we had a chance. The forward hold is filled with garbage and is ready for ejection. This is done by a giant spring that has been coiled up by the compression of the garbage when it was packed aboard. At the very last instant before we crash I will eject the garbage. By the Newtonian principle that for every action there is an equal and
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opposite reaction our speed will be neutralized and we will come to rest."
"A garbage drive," Bill moaned. "Is this the end? What a way to die. . ."
But his complaint went unheard for they were already in the planet's atmosphere and the molecules of air pummeled the spacer cruelly. They smashed into the outer skin, heated it into incandescence while the garbage spacer still hurtled downwards. Through thicker and thicker air, through wispy high clouds, towards the ground below that rushed towards them at a terrible pace.
"Fire the garbage!" Praktis pleaded, but to no avail. Captain Bly stood firm. The others added their cries to his, begged and sobbed, but the thick, grubby finger did not descend.
Closer and ever closer they fell, until they could see individual grains of sand on the ground below
In the final nanosecond of the last microsecond the finger stabbed down.
Ka-chunk! went the coiled spring, releasing its nascent energy in a single mighty spasm.
Ka -flopf! went the garbage, hurtling outward to crash into the planet just below.
Ker-splat! went the space tug as it settled gently into the mound of old newspapers, fish cans, grapefruit rinds, broken light bulbs, beheaded rats, dead tea bags and shredded files.
"Not bad if I say so myself," Captain Bly chortled. "Not bad at all. This is really one for the record books."
The cabin echoed with the click of safety belts being unlocked, the thud of hesitant boots upon the rusty deck.
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"Gravity feels good," Bill opined. "A little light, but good..."
"Shut up!" Pratkis snapped. "I have one question and one question only for you, Cy. Did you..." his voice broke and he restored it with a quick cough. "Did you get off the planet's position?"
"I tried to, Admiral. But the power cut off before I could get out a signal."
"Then do it now! There must be some juice left in the batteries. Try it!"
Cy punched in the commands, then thumbed the activator button. The screen glowed-then went black and all the lights went out. Wurber shrieked with fear at the sudden darkness, sobbed with relief when the feeble glow of the emergency blub oozed out.
"It worked!" Praktis chortled. "Worked! The signal went out!"
"Sure did, Admiral. At that strength it must have gone up about five feet at least."
"Then we are marooned..." Bill intoned feebly. "Lost in space. On an enemy planet. Surrounded by flying dragons. Millions of parsecs from home. In a dead spaceship sitting on a mound of garbage."
"You got it buddy-boy," Cy nodded. "That's just about the size of it."



C H A P T E R 4

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"Here is your beer, sir. can i go potty now?" Wurber gurgled, holding out the once-warm bottle, now blood-hot from his heated grip.
Pratkis snarled an inarticulate reply as he grabbed the bottle and half-drained it in a single glug. Captain Bly groped through the pockets of his crumpled uniform until he found the butt of an Hjoint which he lit. Bill sniffed his exhaust fumes appreciatively but decided against asking for a drag. Instead he went to look out of the viewport at this newfound planet, but all he could see was garbage.
Pratkis grimaced as he drained the warm beer from the bottle, then whistled wetly. When Bill looked around he flipped the bottle to him.
"Put this outside with the rest of the rubbish, chicken-foot. And while you are out there sort of have a look-see and let me know what it looks like."
"Are you requesting me to make a reconnaissance and report back?"
"Yes, if that's what you want to call it in your rotten Trooperese. I'm a doctor first and an admiral by accident. So just get on with it."
The dim glow of the emergency light did not penetrate down the ladderway. Bill clicked his heels together to turn on his toe-torch, then climbed
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down the rungs in the light of his glowing boot. Since there was no power the spacelock would not open when he thumbed the switch. He turned the sticky manual wheel and groaned with the effort. When the inner door had opened about a foot he squeezed through the gap and into the chamber of the lock. A bright beam of sunlight shone through the armorglass window in the outer door. He pressed his eye to it, curious and eager for a glimpse of this alien world. All he saw was garbage.
"Great," he muttered and reached for the wheel beside. Then stopped.
What was lurking beyond the outer door? What alien terrors had the future in store for him? What sort of atmosphere was out there-if there was any atmosphere at all? If he opened the lock he might be dead in an instant. Yet it had to be done sooner or later. There was not much of a future doing nothing, staying locked up in this crumpled garbage can along with its obnoxious captain and the quack admiral.
"Do it, Bill, do it," he muttered to himself. "You only die once."
Sighing unhappily, he turned the wheel.
And stopped when the door cracked open and began to hiss loudly.
But it was only the pressure equalizing, he realized, heart thudding like a triphammer in sudden panic. Wiping the beads of sweat from his brow, he leaned over and sniffed at the draft of air that blew into his face. It was hot and dry-and smelled more than a little of garbage-but he was still alive. After that, feeling very proud of himself and forgetting his animal panic, he kept turning until the door opened wide. Sunlight lanced in brightly and there was a brittle crackling sound. He leaned out to look-turned and
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went quickly back into the bowels of the ship. Pratkis looked down the ladderwell at him as he ran by.
"Where are you going?"