"Barry Longyear - Enemy Mine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Longyear Barry)

up, toward the blackish sky, and above me towered the white plume of a descending breaker. "Maga
damn siennal" I slammed the hatch door.
Ess, Davidge?"
"Hang on, Jerry!"
The sound of the water hitting the capsule was beyond hearing. We banged once, twice against the rock,
then we could feel ourselves twisting, shooting upward. I made a grab to hang on, but missed as the
capsule took a sickening lurch downward. I fell into Jerry, then was flung to the opposite wall, where I
struck my head. Before I went blank, I heard Jerry cry "Tean! Vi teanl"




. . . the lieutenant pressed his hand control and a figure-tall, humanoid, yellow-appeared on the screen.
"Dracslime!" shouted the auditorium of seated recruits.
The lieutenant faced the recruits. "Correct. This is a Drac. Note that the Drac race is uniform as to color;
they are all yellow." The recruits chuckled politely. The officer preened a bit, then with a light wand
began pointing out various features. "The three-fingered hands are distinctive, of course, as is the almost
noseless face, which gives the Drac a toadlike appearance. On average, eyesight is slightly better than
human, hearing about the same, and smell..." The lieutenant paused. "The smell is terrible!" The officer
beamed at the uproar from the recruits. When the auditorium quieted down, he pointed his light wand at

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a fold in the figure's belly. "This is where the Drac keeps its family jewels-all of them." Another
chuckle. "That's right, Dracs are hermaphrodites, with both male and female reproductive organs
contained in the same individual." The lieutenant faced the recruits. "You go tell a Drac to go boff
himself, then watch out, because he can!" The laughter died down, and the lieutenant held out a hand
toward the screen. "You see one of these things, what do you do?" "KILL IT..."




... I cleared the screen and computer sighted on the next Drac fighter, looking like a double x in the
screen's display. The Drac shifted hard to the left, then right again. I felt the autopilot pull my ship after
the fighter, sorting out and ignoring the false images, trying to lock its electronic crosshairs on the Drac.'
"Come on, toadface ... a little bit to the left.. ." The double cross image moved into the ranging rings on
the display and I felt the missile attached to the belly of my fighter take off. "Gotcha!" Through my
canopy I saw the flash as the missile detonated. My screen showed the Drac fighter out of control,
spinning toward Fyrine IV's cloud-shrouded surface. I dived after it to confirm the kill. . . skin
temperature increasing as my ship brushed the upper atmosphere. "Come on, dammit, blow!" I shifted
the ship's systems over for atmospheric flight when it became obvious that I'd have to follow the Drac
right to the ground. Still above the clouds, the Drac stopped spinning and turned. I hit the auto override
and pulled the stick into my lap. The fighter wallowed as it tried to pull up. Everyone knows the Drac
ships work better in atmosphere . . . heading toward me on an interception course . . . why doesn't the
slime fire? . . . just before the collision, the Drac ejects . . . power gone; have to deadstick it in. I track
the capsule as it falls through the muck, intending to find that Dracslime and finish the job. ...