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

'You can lose a battle even though you win it,' Scott said rather sombrely.
'Well, I'd rather be a Free Companion than do anything else I know of. Not that I've had much
experience-' тАв 'You've had experience of war with Starling's outfit, but you probably learned some
dangerous stuff at the same time. War isn't swashbuckling piracy these days. If the Doones tried
to win battles by that sort of thing, there'd be no more Doones in a week or so.'
'But-' Kane hesitated. 'Isn't that sort of thing rather necessary? Taking blind chances, I mean-'
'There are desperate chances,' Scott told him, 'but there are no blind chances in war- not to a
good soldier. When I was green in the service, I ran a cruiser out of the line to ram. I was
demoted, for a very good reason. The enemy ship I rammed wasn't as important to the enemy as bur
cruiser was to us. If I'd stayed on course, I'd have helped sink three or four ships instead of
disabling one and putting my cruiser out of action. It's the great god integration we worship,
Kane. It's much more important now than it ever was on Earth, because the military has
consolidated. Army,
navy, air, undersea - they're all part of one organization now. I suppose the only important
change was in the air.'
'Gliders, you mean? I knew powered planes couldn't be used in battle."
'Not in the atmosphere of Venus,' Scott agreed. 'Once powered planes get up in the cloud strata,
they're fighting crosscurrents and pockets so much they've got no time to do accurate firing. If
they're armoured, they're slow. If they're light, detectors can spot them and anti-aircraft can
smash them. Unpowered gliders are valuable not for bombing but for directing attacks. They get
into the clouds, stay hidden, and use infra-red telecameras which are broadcast on a tight beam
back to the control ships. They're the eyes of the fleet. They can tell us- White water ahead,
Kane! Swerve!'
The pilot had already seen the ominous boiling froth foaming out in front of the bow.
Instinctively he swung the flitterboat in a wrenching turn. The craft heeled sidewise, throwing
its occupants almost out of their seats.
'Sea beast?' Scott asked, and answered his own question. 'No, not with those spouts. It's
volcanic. And it's spreading fast.'
'I can circle it, sir,' Kane suggested.
Scott shook his head. 'Too dangerous. Backtrack.'
Obediently the boy sent the flitterboat racing out of the area of danger. Scott had been right
about the extent of the danger; the boiling turmoil was widening almost faster than the tiny ship
could flee. Suddenly the line of white water caught up with them. The flitterboat jounced like a
chip, the wheel being nearly torn from Kane's grip. Scott reached over and helped steady it. Even
with two men handling the wheel, there was a possibility that it might wrench itself free. Steam
rose in veils beyond the transparent shell. The water had turned a scummy brown under the froth.
Kane jammed on the power. The flitterboat sprang forward like a ricocheting bullet, dancing over
the surface of the seething waves. Once they plunged head-on into a swell, and a screaming of
outraged metal vibrated through the
craft. Kane, tight-lipped, instantly slammed in the auxiliary, cutting out the smashed motor unit.
Then, unexpectedly, they were in clear water, cutting back toward Montana Keep.
Scott grinned. 'Nice handling. Lucky you didn't try to circle. We'd never have made it.'
'Yes, sir.' Kane took a deep breath. His eyes were bright with excitement.
'Circle now. Here.' He thrust a lighted cigarette between the boy's lips. 'You'll be a good
Dooneman, Kane. Your reactions are good and fast.'
Thanks, sir.'
Scott smoked silently for a while. He glanced toward the north, but, with the poor visibility, he
could not make out the towering range of volcanic peaks that were the backbone of Southern Hell.
Venus was a comparatively young planet, the internal fires still bursting forth unexpectedly.
Which was why no forts were ever built on islands - they had an unhappy habit of disappearing