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

he grated through gritted teeth. "Situation normal-all bowbed up. Our
satellite stations have managed to get an electronic tracer on the track of
the spacer that dumped those dragons on us. It headed off in the direction of
Alpha Canis Major, a sector which has, up until now, been neutral. We need to
know what is going onand where this planet Usa is." "Well you are the
electronic genius, not me." Praktis sniffed. "There is no work for a tired old
sawbones here." "Oh yes there is. I'm putting you in charge of the pursuit
ship." "Why me?" "Because you are about the only officer I have
left-and rank does have its responsibilities. And20this nerd goes with you
since we are short of combat-experienced troopers as well. I'll scratch up a
crew for youbut I can't promise very much." "Oh thanks a bunch! Any other
bad news?" "Yes. The attack knocked out every spacer we had. Except for
the garbage tug." "I used to work in garbage disposal," Bill said
brightly. "Then you will feel right at home. Pack your bags and be back
here by 0315 at the latest. That's when I send the assassination squad after
you. We'll have the tracking equipment loaded aboard by that time." "Any
way we can drop out of this?" Praktis asked gloomily as they picked their way
through the rubble-filled base. "Not a one. I did the research the first
day we got here. Easy enough to get off the base-but no place to go after
that. Local plantlife inedible. Ocean all around. No place to hide."
"Whee. Then come with me and carry my bags." "You won't need me, sir,"
Bill said, pointing behind the doctor's back. "Those three medics should be
able to help you." Praktis turned to look and saw nothing. Turned back and
saw the same thing. He howled with anger but Bill was well out of sight.
Out of sight and filled with a sense of dark despair as he shuffled towards
the barracks. All right, the troopers were never a laugh a second, and this
planet was for the pits, but at least he could stay alive here. But this
garbage scow to the stars gig with the mad doctor in charge had a very bad
smell to it. He groped about in the interstices of his brain cells
but21could not find a feasible plan of escape. Blow off the other foot? No,
he would end up with two chicken feet-and tail feathers-if he knew Praktis. It
looked like it was time for a trip. Covering the combination lock on his
footlocker with his free hand he punched in the number. Then pushed his thumb
against the fingerprint detector plate before using his key. You could never
be too secure, not in the troopers. He stirred the contents of the tray with
his forgers and wondered what he should take with him on ship. He doubted if
he would need the gross of condoms. The knuckle-duster knife with poison darts
might come in handy. Something to read? He gloomily flipped through the pages
of Combat Comia: explosions sounded weakly from its pages, the cries of tiny
voices. There was the very good chance, as always, that he would never see
this base again. Not that he would miss it. Better take everything then.
Bill dug his barracks bag out from under his bunk and packed carefully by
dumping everything from his footlocker into it. There was still plenty of time
before he had to board. He touched his sonowatch and it whispered dimly,
"Senator McGurk, the trooper's friend, is pleased to tell you that the time is
now twenty-three hundred hours." It was a cheap watch, a gift from his
mother. A few hours to drown his sorrows before they left. But he was
completely broke. Bill looked around at the empty barracks and wondered who
had any booze. Not the recruits, certainly. The sergeant's cell was in the
comer and he went and rapped on the door. "You in there, Sarge?" The