"Harry Harrison - Bill 2 - On The Planet Of Robot Slaves" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

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 and34went quickly back into
the bowels of the ship. Pratkis looked down the ladderwell at him as he ran
by. "Where are you going?" "To get my barracks bag." "Why? What's
outside?" "Desert. just a lot of garbage and sand and nothing else in
sight. No dragons, no nothing." Pratkis blinked rapidly. "Then just why
the hell are you getting your barracks bag, Trooper?" "I'm getting out
ofhere. The garbage is on fire." Pratkis's scream of pain and shouted
commands followed Bill when, equipped with barracks bag, he bailed out through
the open door. He did not stop nor even bother to look back. The lesson with
the greatest value that he had learned during his years in the troopers was a
simple one: cover your ass. He only stopped when he was clear of the tug,
threw down his bag and, breathing heavily, sat on a sand dune. Nodding
appreciatively, he watched the evacuation of the tug with great interest.
Pained screams and a great deal of shouting and pounding came from the open
lock. In a few moments a box of supplies thudded into the sand, to be followed
closely by more containers and crates. Since his own survival was at stake he
went to help, dragging them clear and going back for more. The flames crackled
and grew close. He pulled one more crate to safety then shouted into the
ship. "Anyone getting out better do it now or never." Then jumped aside as
the rats deserted the burning ship. After them came the crew, coughing and
scrambling for safety away from the flames. Pratkis was first, of course,
since the commander always leads from the front. Particularly during a
retreat. Cy was next, staggering under the35weight of some electronic junk,
followed closely by Wurber and Captain Bly. Followed by a stranger. Not only a
stranger, Bill realized, but a strangerette. A female person with stripes on
her arms. "Who ...who...you?" Bill asked. She looked him up and down with
scorn. "Knock off the owl imitation, bowbhead, and say ma'am when speaking
to a superior officer. Report. Name, rank and condition." "Yes, sir-ma'am.
Trooper Bill, ma'am, draftee, hungover, tired." "You look it. I'm Engine
Mate First Class Tarsil. Put my suitcase with the rest of the stuff." "As
you command, Engine Mate First Class Tarsil." "Since we are shipmates you
can call me by my first name. Meta." She reached out and squeezed his arm.
"You got good biceps, Bill." Bill smiled ingratiatingly as he grabbed up