"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 19 - Looters of Tharn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

Or help it? The idea flashed into Blade's mind. The machine was almost certainly unmanned now. But if
it ever had a live crew, there might be times when a wounded or helpless crewman needed help to get
inside.

How to imitate a wounded man? The tentacles were already reaching down toward him. The one with
the flared end and knob was the farthest away. Blade suspected it held some sort of lens or other sensing
device, to study any doubtful specimens and pass on the word to the machine's computers.
If it passed on the wrong word, the other three tentacles would grip Blade and tear him apart like a rag
doll in the hands of an angry child. He knew that as clearly as if he had seen it done. A vivid picture of it
happening flashed through his mind for a moment as he got ready.

He made his breathing as slow and shallow as he could without blacking out. If he could have done it, he
would have slowed his heartbeat as well. He let himself go limp and slid down the hull to sprawl on the
platform, arms and legs outflung. He let his head sag to one side like a drunken man's. But behind
half-closed lids he kept his eyes fixed on the hatch. With luck the tentacles would show him the way into
the machine. Without luck-

The first tentacle touched him. Its touch was chill, hard, with a nightmarish fumbling quality about it. It
tapped at his shinbone, curled around his ankle, tugged gently. Blade forced himself not to tense his leg,
but instead to let it rise as the tentacle pulled. It rose only a few inches, then the tentacle uncurled. Blade
let his leg drop back to the platform with a thud. Pain flared as his shinbone smashed into the metal, but
he clamped his teeth down hard on a gasp of pain.

Now another tentacle was curling around his waist, roaming up and down the area between his navel
and his groin. Blade felt the tentacle grip his testicles, and had a harder fight than before not to freeze or
yell out loud. A third tentacle crept into his hair and explored there. Its chill metallic touch was a grisly
parody of the caress of a woman's fingers.

Meanwhile the fourth tentacle was hovering in the air over Blade's head. The knob at the end was
turning slowly, with audible clicks and beelike dronings. Blade continued to force himself to stay limp,
quiet, and calm. The struggle was getting harder by the minute. He had no idea what conclusions the
machine was reaching. Would it conclude he was somebody who had a right to be where he was,
perhaps even a right to be helped? Or would it conclude that he was an enemy who had slipped through
the other defenses and order the tentacles to-

The knob-ended tentacle reared up until its full length swayed in the air. It looked uncannily like a giant
cobra. The siren sounded again-three ear-splitting boots. The tentacle exploring Blade's hair moved over
to the hatch. So did the one at his feet. The third one remained wrapped loosely around his waist.

The two at the hatch hovered for a moment in the air. Then both plunged their tips into the narrow crack
around the edge of the circular hatch. Metal scraped against metal as they wedged themselves deep into
the crack. Ripples ran up and down the tentacles as they explored it. The one around Blade's waist
tightened its grip.

Then the tentacles found what they were looking for. Two sharp clicks sounded. Silently, without the
faintest whine or hiss or clanking, the hatch swung outward. Blade saw darkness in which a few humped
metal shapes gleamed dully.

The tentacle around his waist tightened its grip still more. Blade held his breath. The other two tentacles
arched downward again. One crept under his head, to cradle head, neck, and shoulders in its coils. The