"Leinster, Murray - Plague" - читать интересную книгу автора (Leinster Murray)
PLAGUE
У...By mn YEAR 2075ЧEarth StyleЧit was clear that merely the adniinistration of intersolar and interplanetary affairs would soon absorb the entire attention of the Galactic Commission, so the formation of an administrative service was a necessity. It was not then realized that administrative services in the past had had the good fortune to be tested continually by emergencies and conflicts with other administrative services. (See WARS.) The Galactic Administrative Service had, however, a monopoly in its field, and had necessarily vast authority. Individuals, to whom
authority per se is an ambition crowded into its ranks, fought bitterly among themselves for promotion, and unfortunately ultimately attained high posts. But individuals of this sort are unable to distinguish between authority and intelligence, subservience and subordination, or between protest and rebellion. After a hundred years with no emergencies or conflicts to reveal its faults, the Administrative Service was an ironclad, fossilized bureaucracy in which high place was an end in itself, pomposity a tradition, and red tape the breath of life. Red tape, alone, kept three solar systems from all contact with the rest of humanity for more than thirty years. Certain key documents had been misfiled, and without them no person had authority to give clearance to spaceships for those solar systems. Therefore, no ships could land on any planet of the three sunsЧnot even Space-Navy ships! The accidental discovery of the situation by a member of the Galactic Commission led to the dismissal of the officials responsible, but the Service did not reform itself. The Electron Plague of 2194 (SEE (1) LORE. (2) LIFE-FORMS. (3) ENTITIESЧImmateriaL) which threatened the entire human race came about because of bureaucratic stupidity alone. The Bazin Expedition had cleared from Pharona. After landing on Lore it was discovered that three Out of more than six hundred documents then required to be filed by an exploring expedition had been improperly made out. The Expedition was ordered to return to Pharona to remedy its errOr. Scientists of the expedition, already at work, reported that strange life-forms on Lore made return inadvisable until they had been further studied. The sub-commissioner on Pharona took the protest as a defiance of his authority and ordered a naval spaceship to bring in the expedition under arrest. This was done and within two months more than ten million women, girls, and infants
Чhalf the population of PharonaЧdied of the plague unwillingly brought back by the Bazin Expedition. The scientists of the Expedition were under arrest for defiance of authority, and the plague had every chance of wiping out the entire human race throughout the Galaxy . .
(Article, УADMINISTRATIVE SERVICE, Reform of,Ф in the Condensed Encyclopedia, Vol. 31, Edition of 2207, E.S.)
Ben Sholto was in the very act of getting up an extraordinary fine fix on a sethee bird in its elaborate nuptial dance, when the Reserve bracelet he was wearing nearly tore his arm off. It felt like that, at any rate. The electric shock tensed his muscles, threw the three-dimensional camera into an ungraceful wabble which wrecked the recording, and his sudden and violent movement revealed his presence. The sethee bird and her mate vanished with a thin whistling of wings to take up their matrimonial status, most likely, with a lack of ceremony their fellows might deplore.
Ben rubbed his arm vigorously and swore. He hastily dried the skin under the bracelet so that the order to follow would be less painful. It was sharp enough, at thatЧthe series of long and short electric shocks
which solemnly ordered him to get in touch with Reserve Headquarters for this sector at once.
УWhat do those brass hats think IТll do after an active-status warning?Ф Ben grumbled sourly.
He started through the jungle back toward hisТ small space cruiser. He was a Reserve officer. He had been Space-Navy, and he had been ordered from on high to do something which was completely idiotic and would cost lives. He accomplished the mission in a simpler fashion, without losing any men at all. His report curtly stated that he had not followed instructions exactly because they seemed to have been issued through an errorЧand he was called up for court-martial, on the basis of his report that he had not obeyed his written orders. After his witnesses had testified, however, the court-martial was hastily dropped by order of the brass hat who had ordered it. If Ben had been convicted and had appealed, the magnificent imbecility of the orders heТd sidetracked would have become apparent to the local brass hatТs superiors. So the brass hat ordered Ben transferred to the Reserve, which could not be appealed. There was a certain amount of pay attached to Reserve status, though, and it allowed Ben to knock about in his own cruiser wherever he pleased. In this particular section of space the privilege was valuable. So he roamed about, taking three-dimension pictures of flora and fauna for the feature-casts, and mourned his Space-Navy career and the romance that seemed to have gone glimmering with it. The romance had been named Sally, and it was her father who was the fatuous brass hat. But Ben missed her very much.
His cruiser rested in a leafy screen beside a particularly prismatic brook. He went in and to the GCЧGeneral CommunicationЧphone. He stabbed the special Reserve Headquarters button and watched the screen without expression.
УBen Sholto reporting for orders,Ф he said curtly when it lighted.
A fat officer nodded uninterestedly.
УAcknowledged. Stand by.Ф
The screen faded, Ben waited. And waited. Nothing happened. Half an hour later his Reserve bracelet nearly tore his arm off again. He seethed, and jabbed the button once more. The same officer appeared on the screen after a leisurely interval.
УBen Sholto reporting for the second time,Ф said Ben angrily. УI got a second set of shocks from my bracelet.Ф
УStand by,Ф said the fat officer indifferently.
After almost half an hour, Ben opened the back of his bracelet and put his wrist in a basin of water. He felt a bare tingle when the third call came. He grinned. That would blow something at Headquarters.
The screen lighted. The fat officer scowled.
УSay, what are you trying to do?Ф
The fat officer said curtly:
УYou Reserve men think youТre smart! ThereТs been a quarantine declared on Pharona, next System. SomebodyТs trying to break it. YouТll be assigned guard duty. Plug in your writer and get written orders.Ф
Ben threw the switch and prepared a meal. As he sat at the table, and before he threw his dishes in the fuel bin which would feed them to the converter as fuelЧconsiderably more than a mere sports cruiser would ever needЧthe writer buzzed. He glanced at his orders.
You are to lie out in space and watch for a possible vessel breaking quarantine on Pharona trying to reach the planet on which you now are. Contact other Reserve watchers and divide the area surrounding your planet among you. If the vessel should be contacted by you, identify it, secure a list of crew and passengers, and destroy it. This order is not to be questioned.
Ben whistled, scowled, and then said furiously, УPompous fatheads!Ф Then he shrugged philosophically.
He took off. There wasnТt any other Reserve officer on this planet. It was uninhabited. The sports cruiser whistled up through thin air. Then there was empty space. Ben went out and established a casual orbit, set his detector screens, and settled down with a good book. He expected nothing at all to happen. Simply, he would draw active-status pay while on this so-called emergency duty, plus pay for the use of his ship. Since he had been robbed of a careerЧand a romanceЧby a brass hat, he felt no qualms at letting the same brass-hat mentality throw a few credits his way now and then.
He read until he was sleepy. Then he went to look at the instrument board before he turned in. The farthest screen of all was being nibbled at. The needle of its dial trembled almost imperceptibly. The alarm bell rang sharply.
He settled down in the pilotТs chair and followed the detector-screen line on out. There was that odd, dizzying sensation at the beginning which always comes of a total-acceleration field taking hold. The little ship went hurtling through emptiness. As technical lieutenant, he knew atomic drive rather thoroughly. The Navy drive is in several essentials much above the commercial drive, though it requires more competent attention. Ben could give it, and heТd altered the drive of his small craft to Navy quality.
In ten minutes heТd sighted the craft of which his detectors had told him. It drove on for the very minor planet he had just left. He signaled by space-phone, but got no answer. The sharp, authoritative УIdentify yourself immediatelyФ dot-dash signal is known to all space craft. To fail to answer it is to confess illegality.
Ben pushed the HeadquartersТ button again. There was a long delay before the screen lighted. He had time to reverse his acceleration and
match course with the unresponsive ship, at a distance of no more than ten miles. The fat officer looked annoyed.
УBen Sholto reporting,Ф said Ben. УI have located a vessel, on course apparently from Pharona. It refuses to reply to signals.Ф
The fat officer said УStand-byФ and became efficiously busy. A vast, bureaucratic dither went on behind the phone-screen focus. From time to time the fat officer answered some question put to him. At long last he turned to the screen again, pompously.
УNo authorized vessel is in your locality. Destroy it.Ф
УWith what?Ф asked Ben mildly. УIТve a positron-beam pistol, but thatТs all. This is a Reserve Auxiliary ship.Ф
УThen . . . er . . . accompany the suspicious vessel,Ф said the fat man, frowning portentously. УA destroyer will be sent to blast it.Ф
Ben punched the cut-off button. He felt rather wry. There was no need to report his own position, of course. The same force that could make his Reserve bracelet give him senselessly severe electric shocks could cause it to radiate direction-waves by which he could be triangulated uponЧ even without his knowledgeЧfrom an incredible distance.
He regarded the hurtling ship some ten miles to one side. It was trimly streamlined, as if intended for at least occasional use as a yacht in atmosphere. It headed straight in for the planet now only a few thousand miles distant. It decelerated swiftly, and went into an orbit about the planet. Ben matched speed and course with the precision of long practice. Then he happened to glance at the phone board. There was a tiny bluish haze over to the left of the telltale tube, which reports the wave lengths of all broadcasters in operation, so that one may select. Curious, Ben tuned in that wave. It was a reflection-wave coming back from the planetТs heaviside layer while most of the signal went through.
УBen!Ф said a girlТs voice desperately. УBen! If youТre down there, signaL me quickly! Please, Ben! Please!Ф
BenТs heart leaped crazily and then seemed to cramp itself into knots. Because this was the girl who was the romance heТd been cheated of by a brass hat, and she was in the spaceship heТd been ordered to destroy, and there was a Navy ship coming now to blast it out of spaceЧ УSally!Ф he cried fiercely into the transmitter. УIТm here! IТm in the ship alongside!Ф
The visiphone screen lighted. And Sally Hale stared at him out of it, pale and hunted to look at. She tried to smile. Then she toppled from view. She had fainted.
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