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

aboard. Now go through Captain Bly's pockets and get all the dope he has and
bring it to me. When he surfaces he ';will probably have more stashed, but at
least we can start with this. Now listen, the rest of you, we kinda Igot a
problem..."38 "You ain't just blowing it out your barracks bag buster,"
Meta said. "Yes, well, thank you miss..." "Miss my butt, buster. There
are laws against that male chauvinist pig stuff I am Engine Mate First Class
Meta Tarsil." "Yes, Engine Mate First Class, I fully understand your
attitude. But might I also point out that we are far from civilization and all
its laws. We are stranded on this unknown alien planet and we will have to
work together. So let us abandon our little egos for a bit and try and find a
way out of this mess. Are there any suggestions?" "Yes," Cy said. "We pull
a zingo and get out of here. This planet has a magnetic pole." "So what?"
"So I got a compass. So we can walk in a straight line and not in circles.
In the morning we load up whatever food and water that we can carry and split.
It's either that or stay here until the natives find us. Whatever you say,
Admiral. You're in charge." The sun set at that moment and stygian
darkness descended. Bill turned on his toe-torch and in its feeble
illumination they settled down with their problems for the night. The stars
appeared, unknown constellations in an unknown sky. It was a time that cried
out for strong nerves. Or strong drink. Bill settled for the latter, craftily
opened his barracks bag and stuck his head inside and drank from his hidden
bottle until he passed out. C H A P T E R 5 39 The rising sun washed
its warm rays over Bill's sleeping, bristly face. He grunted and opened one
eye. Instantly regretted it and slammed it shut with a hideous grating sound
as the light punched a hot icepick into his drink-sodden brain. Taking more
care this time he rolled over away from the sun, opened his eyes the tiniest
slit, then peeked through his fingers. The huddled forms of his shipmates,
wrapped like him in GI blankets from the torched tug, still lay in silent
sleep. All except for Admiral Praktis who, driven by duty or insomnia, or a
full bladder, stood upon the highest dune staring into the distance. Bill
smacked his lips and tried to spit out some of the fur that covered his
tongue, did not succeed, climbed to his feet and, ever a sucker for curiosity,
climbed the dune himself. "Good morning, sir," he ingratiated. "Shut
up. I can't stand conversation this early in the day. Did you see the
lights?" "Wurgle?" Bill said, gears not meshed, brain still alcohol and
sleep sodden. "That's about what I thought you would say. Listen
numb-nuts, if you had stayed alert rather than wallowing in an alcoholic
stupor, you would have seen what I saw. On the horizon there, very
distant,40glowing lights. And no, before you say it, it was not the stars."
Bill pouted because that was what he was going to suggest. "Definitely
lights, waxing and waning and changing color. Get Cy up here. Now." The
technician must have been popping something because he lay unconscious, eyes
open but rolled back so that only the whites, or rather the yellows, showed.
Bill shook him, shouted in his ear, and even tried a few good kicks in the
ribs with no results. "Really wonderful," Praktis snarled when he got the
report. "Is this a crew or an addicts' ward? I'll go give him a shot that will
blast him out of it. Meanwhile you stay guard here over this line in the sand
so no one walks on it. And don't bulge your eyes at me like that-I haven't
gone around the twist. That line points at the lights I saw." Bill sat and
stared at the fine and wished he had a drink and fell asleep again-but jerked