"Henry Kuttner - Clash by Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

He took a lift to the ceiling of the Dome. Beneath him Montana Keep dropped away, shrinking to
doll size. Somewhere down there, he thought, was Ilene. He'd be back. Perhaps this war would be a
short one - not that they were ever much longer than a week, except in unusual cases where a
Company developed new strategies.
He was conducted through an air lock into a bubble, a tough, transparent sphere with a central
vertical core through which the cable ran. Except for Scott, the bubble was empty. After a moment
it started up with a slight jar.
Gradually the water outside the curving walls changed from black to deep green, and thence to
translucent chartreuse. Sea creatures were visible, but they were nothing new to Scott; he
scarcely saw them.
The bubble broke surface. Since air pressure had been constant, there was no possibility of the
bends, and Scott opened the panel and stepped out on one of the buoyant floats that dotted the
water above Montana Keep. A few sightseers crowded into the chamber he had left, and presently it
was drawn down, out of sight.
In the distance Free Companions were embarking from a larger float to an air ferry. Scott glanced
up with a weather eye. No storm, he saw, though the low ceiling was, as usual, torn and twisted
into boiling currents by the winds. He remembered, suddenly, that the battle would probably take
place over Venus Deep. That would make it somewhat harder for the gliders - there would be few of
the thermals found, for instance, above the Sea of Shallows here.
A flitterboat, low, fast, and beautifully manoeuvrable, shot in toward the quay. The pilot flipped
back the overhead shell and saluted Scott. It was Norman Kane, looking shipshape in his tight-
fitting grey uniform, and apparently ready to grin at the slightest provocation.
Scott jumped lightly down into the craft and seated himself beside the pilot. Kane drew the
transparent shell back over them. He looked at Scott.
'Orders, captain?'
'Know where the Mob's fort is? Good. Head there. Fast.'
Kane shot the flitterboat out from the float with a curtain of v-shaped spray rising from the bow.
Drawing little water, manoeuvrable, incredibly fast, these tiny craft were invaluable in naval
battle. It was difficult to hit one, they moved so fast. They had no armour to slow them down.
They carried high-explosive bullets fired from small-calibre guns, and were, as a rule, two-man
craft. They complemented the heavier ordnance of the battlewagons and destroyers.
Scott handed Kane a cigarette. The boy hesitated.
'We're not under fire,' the captain chuckled. 'Discipline
clamps down during a battle, but it's O.K. for you to have a smoke with me. Here!' He lit the
white tube for Kane.
'Thanks, sir. I guess I'm a bit- over-anxious.'
'Well, war has its rules. Not many, but they mustn't be broken.' Both men were silent for a while,
watching the blank grey surface of the ocean ahead. A transport plane passed them, flying low.
'Is Ilene Kane your sister?' Scott asked presently.
Kane nodded. 'Yes, sir.'
'Thought so. If she'd been a man, I imagine she'd have been a Free Companion.'


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The boy shrugged. 'Oh, I don't know. She doesn't have the- I don't know. She'd consider it too
much effort. She doesn't like discipline.'
'Do you?'
'It's fighting that's important to me, Sir.' That was an afterthought, 'Winning, really.'