"Clash By Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)

The girl beside Scott, a slim, tan-skinned figure with glossy black ringlets cascading to her shoulders, turned inquiring eyes to him.

'Want to, Brian?'

Scott's mouth twisted in a wry grimace. 'Suppose so, Jeana. Eh?' He rose, and she came gracefully into his arms. Brian did not dance too well, but what he lacked in practice he made up in integration. Jeana's heart-shaped face, with its high cheekbones and vividly crimson lips, lifted to him.

'Forget Bienne. He's just trying to ride you.'

Scott glanced toward a distant booth, where two girls sat with a man - Commander Fredric Bienne of the Doones. He was a gaunt, tall, bitter-faced man, his regular features twisted into a perpetual sneer, his eyes sombre under heavy dark brows. He was pointing now, toward the couple on the floor.

'I know,' Scott said. 'He's doing it, too. Well, the hell with him. So I'm a captain now and he's still a commander. That's tough. Next time he'll obey orders and not send his ship out of the line, trying to ram.'

'That was it, eh?' Jeana asked. 'I wasn't sure. There's plenty of talk.'

'There always is. Oh, Bienne's hated me for years. I reciprocate. We simply don't get on together. Never did. Every time I got a promotion, he chewed his nails. Figured he had a longer service record than I had, and deserved to move up faster. But he's too much of an individualist - at the wrong times.'

'He's drinking a lot,' Jeana said.

'Let him. Three months we've been in Montana Keep. The boys get tired of inaction- being treated like this.' Scott nodded toward the door, where a Free Companion was arguing with the keeper. 'No noncoms allowed in here. Well, the devil with it.'

They could not hear the conversation above the hubbub, but its importance was evident. Presently the soldier shrugged, his mouth forming a curse, and departed. A fat man in scarlet silks shouted encouragement.

'-want any . . . Companions here!'

Scott saw Commander Bienne, his eyes half closed, get up and walk toward the fat man's booth. His shoulder moved in an imperceptible shrug. The hell with civilians, anyhow. Serve the lug right if 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.'