"Harrison, Harry - Deathworld 1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

"Just a few days, if you have all the partshere," Jason told him.
"Then do it. I'm canceling the flight that's leaving now and I'll kc the ship here, ready to go. When the machine is built, I want you track the signal and report back to me."
"Agreed," Jason said, standing up. "As soon as I have this hole in i back looked at, I'll draw up a list of things needed."
A grim, unsmiling man named Skop was assigned to Jason as a cc bination guide and guard. He took his job very seriously, and it did take Jason long to realize that he was a prisoner-at-large. Kerk F
accepted his story, but that was no guarantee that he believed it. At a single word from him, the guard could turn executioner.
The chill thought hit Jason that undoubtedly this'was what would eventually happen. Whether Kerk accepted the story or not, he couldn't afford to take a chance. As long as there was the slightest possibility Jason had contacted the grubbers, he could not be allowed to leave the planet alive. The woods people were being simple if they thought a plan this obvious might succeed. Or had they just gambled on the very long chance it might work? They certainly had nothing to lose by it.
Only half of Jason's mind was occupied with the work as he drew up a list of materials he would need for the psionic direction finder. His thoughts plodded in tight circles, searching for a way out that didn't exist. He was too deeply involved now to just leave. Kerk would see to that. Unless he could find a way to end the war and settle the grubber question, he was marooned on Pyrrus for life. A very short life.
When the list was ready, he called Supply. With a few substitutions, everything he might possibly need was in stock, and would be sent over. Skop sank into an apparent doze in his chair and Jason, his head propped against the pull of gravity by one arm, began a working sketch of his machine.
Jason looked up suddenly, aware of the silence. He could hear machinery in the building and voices in the hall outside. What kind of silence then-?
Mental silence. He had been so preoccupied since his return to the city that he hadn't noticed the complete lack of any kind of psi sensation. The constant wash of animal reactions was missing, as was the vague tactile awareness of his PK. With sudden realization, he remembered that it was always this way inside the city.
He tried to listen with his mind-and stopped almost before he began. There was a constant press of thought about him that he was made aware of when he reached out. It was like being in a vessel far beneath the ocean, with your hand on the door that held back the frightening pressure. Touching the door, without opening it, you could feel the stresses, the power pushing in and waiting to crush you. It was this way with the psi pressure in the city. The unvoiced hate-filled screams of Pyrrus would instantly destroy any mind that received them. Some function of his brain acted as a psi circuit breaker, shutting off awareness before his mind could be blasted. There was just enough leakthrough to keep him aware of the pressure-and supply the raw materials for his constant nightmares.
There was only one fringe benefit. The lack of thought pressure
made it easier for him to concentrate. In spite of his fatigue, the d gram developed swiftly.
Meta arrived late that afternoon, bringing the parts he had orderc She slid the long box onto the workbench, started to speak, but chang her mind and said nothing. Jason looked up at her and smiled.
"Confused?" he asked.
"I don't know what you mean," she said. "I'm not confused. Just r noyed. The regular trip has been canceled and our supply schedule '~ be thrown off for months to come. And instead of piloting or perimel assignment all I am allowed to do is stand around and wait for yc Then take some silly flight following your directions. Do you wond that I'm annoyed?"
Jason carefully set the parts out on the chassis before he spoke. " I said, you're confused. I can point out how you're confused-whi will make you even more confused. A temptation that I frankly fr hard to resist."
She looked across the bench at him, frowning, one finger uncc sciously curling and uncurling a short lock of hair. Jason liked her ti way. As a Pyrran operating at full blast, she had as much personality a gear in a machine. Once out of that pattern she reminded him mc of the girl he had known on that first flight to Pyrrus. He wondered it was possible to really get across to her what he meant.
"I'm not being insulting when I say 'confused,' Meta. With ye background you couldn't be any other way. You have an insular p sonality. Admittedly, Pyrrus is an unusual island with a lot of hi~ power problems that you are an expert at solving. That doesn't make any less of an island. When you face a cosmopolitan problem, you conf used. Or even worse, when your island problems are put intc bigger context. That's like playing your own game, only having t rules change constantly as you go along."
"You're talking nonsense," she snapped at him. "Pyrrus isn't an islai and battling for survival is definitely not a game."
"I'm sorry," he smiled. "I was using a figure of speech, and a bac chosen one at that. Let's put the problem on more concrete terms. Ta an example. Suppose I were to tell you that over there, hanging fr the doorframe, was a stingwing-"
Meta's gun was pointing at the door before he finished the last wo There was a crash as the guard's chair went over. He had jumped fr a half-doze to full alertness in an instant, his gun also searching t doorframe.
"That was just an example," Jason said. "There's really nothi
there." The guard's gun vanished and he scowled a look of contempt at Jason, as he righted the chair and dropped into it.
"You both have proved yourself capable of handling a Pyrran problem," Jason continued. "But what if I said that there is a thing hanging from the doorframe that looks like a stingwing, but is really a kind of large insect that spins a fine silk that can be used to weave clothes?"
The guard glared from under his thick eyebrows at the empty doorframe, his gun whined part way out, then snapped back into the ho!ster. He growled something inaudible at Jason, then stamped into the outer room, slamming the door behind him. Meta frowned in concentration and looked puzzled.
"It couldn't be anything except a stingwing," she finally said. "Nothing else could possibly look like that. And even if it didn't spin silk, it would bite if you got near, so you would have to kill it." She smiled with satisfaction at the indestructible logic of her answer.
"Wrong again," Jason said. "I just described the mimic-spinner that lives on Stover's Planet. It imitates the most violent forms of life there, does such a good job that it has no need for other defenses. It'll sit quietly on your hand and spin for you by the yard. If I dropped a shipload of them here'on Pyrrus, you never could be sure when to shoot, could you?"
"But they arc not here now," Meta insisted.
"Yet they could be quite easily. And if they were, all the rules of your game would change. Getting the idea now? There are some fixed laws and rules in the galaxy-but they're not the ones you live by. Your rule is war unending with the local life. I want to step outside your rule book and end that war. Wouldn't you like that? Wouldn't you like an existence that was more than just an endless battle for survival? A life with a chance for happiness, love, music, art-all the enjoyable things you have never had the time for."
All the Pyrran sternness was gone from her face as she listened to what he said, letting herself follow these alien concepts. He had put his hand out automatically as he talked, and had taken hers. It was warm and her pulse fast to his touch.
Meta suddenly became conscious of his hand and snapped hers away, rising to her feet at the same time. As she started blindly toward the door, Jason's voice snapped after her.
"The guard, Skop, ran away because he didn't want to lose his precious two-value logic. It's all he has. But you've seen other parts of the galaxy, Meta, you know there is a lot more to life than kill-and-be-killed on Pyrrus. You feel it is true, even if you won't admit it."
She turned and ran out the door.
Jason looked after her, his hand scraping the bristle on his chin thoughtfully. "Meta, I have the faint hope that the woman is winning over the Pyrran. I think that I saw-perhaps for the first time in the history of this bloody, wartorn city-a tear in one of its citizen's eyes."
Li

"Drop that equipment and Kerk will undoubtedly pull both your arms off," Jason said. "He's over there now, looking as sorry as possible that I ever talked him into this."
Skop cursed under the bulky mass of the psi detector, passing it up to Meta who waited in the open port of the spaceship. Jason supervised the loading and blasted all the local life that came to investigate. Horndevils were thick this morning and he shot four of them. He was last aboard and closed the lock behind him.
"Where are you going to install it?" Meta asked.
"You tell me," Jason said. "I need a spot for the antenna where there will be no dense metal in front of the bowl to interfere with the signal. Thin plastic will do or, if worst comes to worst, I can mount it outside the hull with a remote drive."
"You may have to," she said. "The hull is an unbroken unit; we do all viewing by screen and instruments. I don't think-wait-there is one place that might do."
She led the way to a bulge in the hull that marked one of the lifeboats. They went in through the always-open lock, Skop struggling after them with the apparatus.
"These lifeboats are half buried in the ship," Meta explained. "They have transparent front ports covered by friction shields that withdraw automatically when the boat is launched."
"Can we pull back the shields now?"
"I think so," she said. She traced the launching circuits to a junction box and opened the lid. When she closed the shield relay manually, the heavy plates slipped back into the hull. There was a clear view, since most of the viewport projected beyond the parent ship.
"Perfect," Jason said. "I'll set up here. Now how do I talk to you in the ship?"
"Bight here," she said. "There's a pretuned setting on this communicator. Don't touch anything else-and particularly not this switch." She pointed to a large pull-handle set square into the center of the control
board. "Emergency launching. Two seconds after that is pulled, t lifeboat is shot free. And it so happens this boat has no fuel."
"Hands off for sure," Jason said. "Now have Husky there run me a line with ship's power and I'll get this stuff set up."