"Harry Harrison - SSR 02 - The Stainless Steel Rat's Revenge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

most intelligent, designed for use in heavy weapons or missiles." They all
leaned forward eagerly when I held up the wafer of the Mem-IV and pointed out
its singular merits.
"All solid state construction, capable of resisting incredible pressures,
thousands of G's, massive shocks. It can be preset to detonate only when
approaching a specific target, or can be programmed externally and
electronically at any time up to the moment of firing. It contains
discrimination circuits that will prevent explosion in the vicinity of
friendly equipment. It is indeed unique."
I replaced it carefully and closed the lid on the case. A happy sigh swept
through the spectators. This was the kind of thing they really liked. The
armament specialist took up the case. '
"This will be returned to you when it is needed to demonstrate. "
Reluctantly, the examination drew to a close. The fuses had been the
highpoint of the search and nothing else could quite equal this. They had some
fun squeezing the tubes and emptying the jars in my toilet kit but their
hearts were not really in it. Finally tiring of this they bundled away all my
goods and tossed me my new clothing.
"Four and half minutes to dress," an exiting inspector said. "Bring bags."
My garments were not what might be considered high fashion under any
conditions. Underwear and such were a drab utilitarian gray and manufactured
from some substance that felt like a mixture of shredded machine shop waste
and sandpaper. I sighed and dressed. The outer garment was a one-piece
jumpsuit sort of thing that made me look like some giant form of wasp with its
wide black and yellow bands. Well, if that is what the well-dressed Cliaandian
wore, that is what I would wear. Not that I had much choice. I picked up the
two bags, their sharp handles instantly cutting into my palms, and left
through the single open door.
"Car," a guard said outside, pointing to a driverless bubble-topped
vehicle that stood nearby. We were now in a large room, still decorated in the
same prison gray. The side door of the vehicle opened at my approach.
"I will be pleased to take car," I nodded and smiled. "But where shall I
go--"
"Car knows. In."
Not the galaxy's most witty conversationalists. I threw in my bags and sat
down. The door wheezed shut and the bank of lights on the robodriver lit up.
We started forward and a heavy portal swung open before us. And another and
another, each one thick enough to seal a bank vault. After the last one we
shot up into the open air and I winced at the impact of sunlight. And looked
on with great interest at the passing scene.
Cliaand, if this nameless city was any example, was a modernized,
mechanized, and busy world. Cars and heavy lorries filled the motorways, all
apparently under robot control since they were evenly spaced and moved at
impressive speeds. Pedways were on both sides and crossed overhead. There were
stores, signs, crowds, uniforms. Uniforms! That single word does not convey
the be-medaled and multicolored glories that surrounded roe. Everyone wore a
uniform of some sort with the different colors, I am sure, denoting the
different branches and services. None of them were striped yellow and black.
One more handicap placed in my way, but I shrugged it off. When you are
drowning who cares if a teacup of water is poured over your head. Nothing