"Heinlein, Robert A- Glory Road" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

For the first time she looked really upset. "Oh, milord, I beg of you not to!"
"Why not?"
"Even the attempt would be disastrous. Do you believe that I know more about the hazards and dangers--and laws--of this world than you do? Will you believe me when I say that I would not have you die, that in solemn truth my own life and safety depend on yours? Please!"
It is impossible not to believe Star when she lays it on the line. I said thoughtfully, "Maybe you're right--or that character over there would be carrying a six-inch mortar as a side arm. Uh, Star, I've got a still better idea. Why don't we high tail it back the way we came and homestead that spot where we caught the fish? In five years well have a nice little farm. In ten years, after the word gets around, we'll have a nice little motel, too, with a free-form swimming pool and a putting green."
She barely smiled. "Milord Oscar, there is no turning back."
"Why not? I could find it with my eyes closed."
"But they would find us. Not Igli but more like him would be sent to harry and kill us."
I sighed again. "As you say. They claim motels off the main highway are a poor risk anyhow. There's a battle-axe in that duffel. Maybe I can chop his feet off before he notices me."
She shook her head again. I said, "What's the matter now? Do I have to fight him with one foot in a bucket? I thought anything that cut or stabbed--anything I did with my own muscles--was okay?"
"It is okay, milord. But it won't work."
"Why not?"
"Igli can't be killed. You see, he is not really alive. He is a construct, made invulnerable for this one purpose. Swords or knives or even axes will not cut him; they bounce off. I have seen it."
"You mean he is a robot?"
"Not if you are thinking of gears and wheels and printed circuits. 'Golem' would be closer. The Igli is an imitation of life." Star added, "Better than life in some ways, since there is no way--none that I know of--to kill him. But worse, too, as Igli isn't very bright nor well balanced. He has conceit without judgment. Rufo is working on that now, warming him up for you, getting him so mad he can't think straight."
"He is? Gosh! I must be sure to thank Rufo for that. Thank him too much. I think. Well, Princess, what am I supposed to do now?"
She spread her hands as if it were all self-evident. "When you are ready, I will loose the wards--and then you will kill him."
"But you just said--" I stopped. When they abolished the French Foreign Legion very few cushy billets were left for us romantic types. Umbopa could have handled this. Conan, certainly. Or Hawk Carse. Or even Don Quixote, for that thing was about the size of a windmill. "All right. Princess, let's get on with it. Is it okay for me to spit on my hands? Or is that cheating?"
She smiled without dimpling and said gravely, "Milord Oscar, we will all spit on our hands; Rufo and I will be fighting right beside you. Either we win . . . or we all die."
We walked over and joined Rufo. He was making donkeys ears at Igli and shouting, "Who's your father, Igli? Your mother was a garbage can but who's your father? Look at him! No belly button! Yaaa!"
Igli retorted, "Your mother barks! Your sister gives green stamps!"--but rather feebly, I thought. It was plain that that remark about belly buttons had cut him to the quick--he didn't have one. Only reasonable, I suppose.
The above is not quite what either of them said, except the remark about the belly button. I wish I could put it in the original because, in the Nevian language, the insult is a high art at least equal to poetry. In fact the epitome of literary grace is to address your enemy (publicly) in some difficult verse form, say the sestina, with every word dripping vitriol.
Rufo cackled gleefully. "Make one, Igli! Push your finger in and make one. They left you out in the rain and you ran. They forgot to finish you. Call that thing a nose?" He said in an aside to me, in English, "How do you want him. Boss? Rare? Or well done?"
"Keep him busy while I study the matter. He doesn't understand English?"
"Not a bit."
"Good. How close can I go to him without getting grabbed?"
"Close as you like as long as the wards are up. But, Boss--look. I'm not supposed to advise you--but when we get down to work, don't let him get you by the plums."
"I'll try not to."
"You be careful." Rufo turned his head and shouted, "Yaaa! Igli picks his nose and eats it!" He added, "She is a good doctor, the best, but just the same, you be careful."
"I will." I stepped closer to the invisible barrier, looked up at this creature. He glared down at me and made growling noises, so I thumbed my nose at him and gave him a wet, fruity Bronx cheer. I was downwind and it seemed likely that he hadn't had a bath in thirty or forty years; he smelled worse than a locker room at the half.
It gave me a seed of an idea. "Star, can this cherub swim?"
She looked surprised. "I really don't know."
"Maybe they forgot to program him for it. How about you, Rufo?"
Rufo looked smug. "Try me, just try me. I could teach fish. Igli! Tell us why the sow wouldn't kiss you!"
Star could swim like a seal. My style is more like a ferryboat but I get there. "Star, maybe that thing can't be killed but it breathes. It's got some sort of oxygen metabolism, even if it burns kerosene. If we held his head underwater for a while--as long as necessary--I'll bet the fire would go out."
She looked wide-eyed. "Milord Oscar . . . my champion . . . I was not mistaken in you."
"It's going to take some doing. Ever play water polo, Rufo?"
"I invented it."
I hoped he had. I had played it--once. Like being ridden on a rail, it is an interesting experience--once. "Rufo, can you lure our chum down toward the bank? I take it that the barrier follows this line of furry and feathery friends? If it does, we can get him almost to that high piece of bank with the deep pool under it--you know, Star, where you dunked me the first time."
"Nothing to it," said Rufo. "We move, he'll come along."
"I d like to get him running. Star, how long does it take you to unswitch your fence?"
"I can loose the wards in an instant, milord."
"Okay, here's the plan. Rufo, I want you to get Igli to chasing you, as fast as possible--and you cut out and head for that high bank just before you reach the stream. Star, when Rufo does that, you chop off the barrier--loose the wards--instantly. Don't wait for me to say so. Rufo, you dive in and swim like hell; don't let him grab you. With any luck, if Igli is moving fast, as big and clumsy as he is he'll go in, too, whether he means to or not. But I'll be pacing you, flanking you and a bit behind you. If Igli manages to put on the brakes, I'll hit him with a low tackle and knock him in. Then we all play water polo."
"Water polo I nave never seen," Star said doubtfully.
"There won't be any referee. All it means this time is that all three of us jump him, in the water, and shove his head under and keep it there--and help each other to keep him from shoving our heads under. Big as he is, unless he can outswim us he'll be at a terrible disadvantage. We go on doing this until he is limp and stays limp, never let him get a breath. Then, to make sure, well weigh him down with stones--it won't matter whether he's really dead or not. Any questions?"
Rufo grinned like a gargoyle. "This is going to be fun!"
Both those pessimists seemed to think that it would work, so we got started. Rufo shouted an allegation about Igli's personal habits that even Olympia Press would censor, then dared Igli to race him, offering an obscene improbability as a wager.
It took Igli a lumbering long time to get that carcass moving but when he did get rolling, he was faster than Rufo and left a wake of panicked animals and birds behind him. I'm pretty fast but I was hard pushed to hold position on the giant, flanking and a few paces back, and I hoped that Star would not loose the wards if it appeared that Igli might catch Rufo on dry land.
However, Star did loose the wards just as Rufo cut away from the barrier, and Rufo reached the bank and made a perfect racing dive without slowing down, all to plan.
But nothing else was.
I think Igli was too stupid to twig at once that the barrier was down. He kept on a few paces after Rufo had gone left oblique, then did cut left rather sharply. But he had lost speed and he didn't have any trouble stopping on dry land.