"C M Kornbluth - Thirteen O'Clock" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kornbluth C M)

"Maybe," muttered the engineer. He closed his eyes as they went slapping into the band of trolls under
full steam. When it was all over and they were again tearing through the tunnel he looked up. "How
many?" he asked brokenly.

"Only three," said the general regretfully. "Why didn't you do a good job while you were at it?"

"You should have had your men fire from the freight-cars," said the engineer coldly.

"Too bad I didn't think of it. Could you turn back and take them in a surprise attack?"

The engineer cursed violently, giving no direct answer. But for the next half hour he muttered to himself
distraitly, groaning "Franchise!" over and over again.

"How much farther before we get to Mal-Tava?" asked Peter glumly.

"Very soon now," said the troll. "I was there once. Very broken terrain-fine for guerilla work."

"Got any ideas on how to handle the business of Almarish?"

The general scratched his head. "As I remember it," he said slowly, "it's a funny tactical
problem-practically no fortifications within the citadel-everything lumped outside in a wall

of steel. Of course Almarish probably has a lot on the ball personally. All kinds' of direct magic at his
fingertips. And that's where I get off with my men. We trolls don't .even pretend to know the fine points
of thaumaturgy. Mostly straight military stuff with us."

"So I have to face him alone?"

"More or less," said the general. "I have a couple of guys that majored in Military Divination at Ellil Tech
Prep. They can probably give you a complete layout of the citadel, but they won't be responsible for
illusions, multiplex apparitions or anything else Almarish might decide to throw in the way. My personal
advice to you is-be sceptical."

"Yes?" asked Peter miserably.

"Exactly," said Skaldberg. "The real difficulty in handling arcane warfare is in knowing what's there and
what ain't. Have you any way of sneaking in a confederate? Not a spy, exactly-we military men don't
approve of spying-but a sort of-ah-one-man intelligence unit."

"I have already," said Peter diffidently. "She's a sorceress, but not much good I think. Has a blast-finger,
though."

"Very good," grunted Skaldberg. "Very good indeed. How we could have used her against the
Insurgents! The hounds had us in a sort of peninsular spot-with only one weak line of supply and
communication between us and the main force -and I was holding a hill against a grand piquet of flying
carpets that were hurling thunderbolts at our munitions supply. But their sights were away off and they
only got a few of our snipers. What a blast-finger would have done to those bloody carpets!"

The engineer showed signs of interest. "You're right!" he snapped. "Blow 'em out of the sky-menace to