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

of broken concrete to crush the little green bastard but he was too late. The
enemy alien kicked open a hatch in the dragon's neck17and dragged out a tiny
rocket harness which it slipped into. "Up the Chingers!" it squeaked as
tiny rockets flared and it shot off into the sky. Bill dropped the concrete
and looked into the control room in the skull. just lire the one in Eager
Beager's head, with an operating console and tiny water cooler. There was even
a metal label above the commode with a serial number on it. Bill leaned over
and squinted at it. "MADE IN USA, that's what it says. I wonder what that
means?" He wasn't the only one who was interested. Now that the attack was
well and truly over, Dr. Praktis came crawling out of the ruins of the
hospital. His quivering terror faded as scientific curiosity took its place.
"What on earth is that?" he said. "Ain't nothing on earth. It is what is
left of a bomb-laying, fire-spraying, Chinger flying-dragon machine."
"What does this mean -- MADE IN USA?" "The same question that I was
asking, Doc." Bill looked around, then went and dug a gurney from the rubble.
"Here, help me load this head aboard and we'll take it to the CO and see what
he thinks." Which proved hard to do since the headquarters buildings had
taken a real pasting. An admiral, with the golden fouled anchors and soldering
irons of a technical officer on his shoulders, stood staring gloomily at the
smoldering remains when they approached. He looked up and nodded at Praktis.
"They missed you and me, Mel, but got all the18other officers. Every one.
They were holding an orgy here for a Red Cross benefit." "At least they
died doing their duty." "A good way to go." The technical officer sighed
deeply-then looked very suspiciously at Praktis. "How long have you been an
admiral, Dr. Mel Praktis?" "And what's that to you, Prof. Lubyanka?"
"Because whoever has got seniority is in command. And I have been an admiral
for two years, six months and three days come nine o'clock tonight." "I
don't bother keeping track of petty things like that," Praktis sneered.
"Which means you're a short-timer, you butchering medical bastard."
"Circuit-board wiring dingbat!" "Trooper, kill this mutineer." "Is
that an order, sir?" "It is." Bill grabbed Praktis by the neck and
began to throttle him. "Finns!... Uncle!" Praktis gasped and the new CO
signaled for his release. "Bring that dragon decapitation with you. We
have got to tell Fleet HQ what happened. And find out where this attack came
from. This sector was supposed to have been pacified long ago." Because of
its location, behind the sewage treatment plant and distant from the HQ
buildings, the electronic lab was untouched. Admiral Lubyanka's engineers
hurried to their master's call and carried the dragon debris away. Praktis and
Bill were ignored for the moment and, with true trooper's instincts, they
scuttled out of sight. "How about you inviting me to the Officer's19Club
for a conference, sir?" Bill insinuated sanguinely. "Why?" Praktis asked
suspiciously. "Drink," was the instant reply. They were well into
their second bottle of Olde Paint Dissolver before the messenger found them.
"Admiral wants you both in his office instantly if not sooner." "Bowb
off!" Dr. Praktis sneered. The messenger drew his gun. "I was ordered to
shoot you both if you gave me a hard time." The double-time running had
sobered them a bit and they stood panting and swaying and holding each other
up in front of Lubyanka's desk. He was growling and muttering as he shuffled
through the reports before him. He glanced up and shuddered. "Sit down
before you fall down," he ordered, then waved a readout at them. "SNABU,"