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

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Bienne smashed his greasy face. And that seemed the probable outcome. For the fat man was
accompanied by a girl, and obviously wasn't going to back down, though Bienne, standing too close
to him, was saying something insulting, apparently.
The auxiliary hot-box snapped some quick syllables, lost in the general tumult. But Scott's
trained ear caught the words. He nodded to Jeana, made a significant clicking noise with his
tongue, and said, 'This is it.'
She, too, had heard. She let Scott go. He headed toward the fat man's booth just in time to see
the beginning of a brawl. The civilian, red as a turkey cock, had struck out suddenly, landing
purely by accident on Bienne's gaunt cheek. The commander, grinning tightly, stepped back a pace,
his fist clenching. Scott caught the other's arm.
'Hold it, commander.'
Bienne swung around, glaring. 'What business is it of yours? Let-'
The fat man, seeing his opponent's attention distracted, acquired more courage and came in
swinging. Scott reached past Bienne, planted his open hand in the civilian's face, and pushed
hard. The fat man almost fell backward on his table.
As he rebounded he saw a gun in Scott's hand. The captain said curtly,' 'Tend to your knitting,
mister.'
The civilian licked his lips, hesitated, and sat down. Under his breath he muttered something
about too-damn-cocky Free Companions.
Bienne was trying to break free, ready to swing on the captain. Scott bolstered his gun. 'Orders,'
he told the other, jerking his head toward the hot-box. 'Get it?'
'-mobilization. Doonemen report to headquarters. Captain Scott to Administration. Immediate
mobilization-'
'Oh,' Bienne said, though he still scowled. 'O.K. I'll take over. There was time for me to take a
crack at that louse, though.'
'You know what instant mobilization means,' Scott grunted. 'We may have to leave at an instant's
notice. Orders, commander.'
Bienne saluted halfheartedly and turned away. Scott went back to his own booth. Jeana had already
gathered her handbag and gloves and was applying lip juice.
She met his eyes calmly enough.
'I'll be at the apartment, Brian. Luck.'
He kissed her briefly, conscious of a surging excitement at the.prospect of a new venture. Jeana
understood his emotion. She gave him a quick, wry smile, touched his hair lightly, and rose. They
went out into the gay tumult of the ways.
Perfumed wind blew into Scott's face. He wrinkled his nose disgustedly. During carnival seasons
the Keeps were less pleasant to the Free Companions than otherwise; they felt more keenly the gulf
that lay between them and the undersea dwellers. Scott pushed his way through the crowd and took
Jeana across the ways to the centre fast-speed strip. They found seats.
At a clover-leaf intersection Scott left the girl, heading toward Administration, the cluster of
taller buildings in the city's centre. The technical and political headquarters were centred here,
except for the laboratories, which were in the suburbs near the base of the Dome. There were a few
small test-domes a mile or so distant from the city, but these were used only for more precarious
experiments. Glancing up, Scott was reminded of the catastrophe that had unified science into
something like a freemasonry. Above him, hanging without gravity over a central plaza, was the
globe of the Earth, half shrouded by the folds of a black plastic pall. In every Keep on Venus
there was a similar ever-present reminder of the lost mother planet.
Scott's gaze went up farther, to the Dome, as though he could penetrate the impervium and the mile-
deep layer of water and the clouded atmosphere to the white star that hung in space, one quarter