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

without warning!
The flitterboat rode hard, at this speed, despite the insulating system of springs and shock
absorbers. After a ride in one of these 'spankers' - the irreverent name the soldiers had for them
- a man needed arnica if not a chiropractor. Scott shifted his weight on the soft air cushions
under him, which felt like cement.
Under his breath he hummed:
'It ain't the 'eavy 'aulin' that 'urts the 'arses' 'oofs, It's the 'ammer, 'ammer, 'ammer on the


file:///F|/rah/Henry%20Kuttner/Kuttner%20-%20Clash%20by%20Night%20(SS%20Collection)%20UC.txt (13 of 91) [2/4/03 10:11:40 PM]
 file:///F|/rah/Henry%20Kuttner/Kuttner%20-%20Clash%20by%20Night%20(SS%20Collection)%20UC.txt

'ard 'ighway!'
The flitterboat scooted on, surrounded by monotonous sea and cloud, till finally the rampart of
the coast grew before the bow, bursting suddenly from the fog-veiled horizon. Scott glanced at his
chronometer and sighed with relief. They had made good time, in spite of the slight delay caused
by the subsea volcano.
The fortress of the Mob was a huge metal and stone castle on the tip of the peninsula. The narrow
strip that separated
it from the mainland had been cleared, and the pockmarks of shell craters showed where guns had
driven back onslaughts from the jungle - the reptilian, ferocious giants of Venus, partially
intelligent but absolutely intractable because of the gulf that existed between their methods of
thinking and the culture of mankind. Overtures had been made often enough; but it had been found
that the reptile-folk were better left alone. They would not parley. They were blindly bestial
savages, with whom it was impossible to make truce. They stayed in the jungle, emerging only to
hurl furious attacks at the forts - attacks doomed to failure, since fang and talon were matched
against lead-jacketed bullet and high explosive.
As the flitterboat shot into a jetty, Scott kept his eyes straight ahead - it was not considered
good form for a Free Companion to seem too curious when visiting the fort of another Company.
Several men were on the quay, apparently waiting for him. They saluted as Scott stepped out of the
boat.
He gave his name and rank. A corporal stepped forward.
'Cine Mendez is expecting you, sir. Cine Rhys telaudioed an hour or so back. If you'll come this
way-'
'All right, corporal. My pilot-'
'He'll be taken care of, sir. A rubdown and a drink, perhaps, after a spanker ride.'
Scott nodded and followed the other into the bastion that thrust out from the overhanging wall of
the fort. The sea gate was open, and he walked swiftly through the courtyard in the corporal's
wake, passing a door-curtain, mounting an escalator, and finding himself, presently, before
another curtain that bore the face of Cine Mendez, plump, hoglike, and bald as a bullet.
Entering, he saw Mendez himself at the head of a long table, where nearly a dozen officers of the
Mob were also seated. In person Mendez was somewhat more prepossessing than in effigy. He looked
like a boar rather than a pig - a
fighter, not a gourmand. His sharp black eyes seemed to drive into Scott with the impact of a
physical blow.
He stood up, his officers following suit. 'Sit down, captain. There's a place at the foot of the
table. No reflections on rank, but I prefer to be face to face with the man I'm dealing with. But
first- you just arrived? If you'd like a quick rubdown, we'll be glad to wait.'
Scott took his place. 'Thank you, no, Cine Mendez. I'd prefer not to lose time.'
'Then we'll waste none on introductions. However, you can probably stand a drink.' He spoke to the