"The Haters" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morrison William)

be, they should have located enough ores to make fortunes for the entire crew in
a single day of mining.
When the reports began to come in over the radio, Grayson knew that he was
right. Their fortunes would be made.
"We'll show them," grinned Kerman, almost drooling at the idea of the money he
was going to have.
This time Grayson nodded. He dreamed of what the money would do for him, and the
bitter smile he habitually wore slowly hardened. What a showing that was going
to be.
They operated on a twenty-four hour day, although the period of rotation of the
planet was closer to thirty. It was still dark when the morning wake-up bell out
and began to get the mining sounded, and the men tumbled machinery ready for
operation. A technician, relatively sane but surly, tested the electron filters
in banks, replaced one that was faulty, gave the mechanical parts a quick
once-over, and reported, "Shipshape, Captain."
"Start mining." Grayson had made a map, showing the different ore-rich areas
listed in the preceding day's explorations. He pointed out Area 1 and said, "Try
that first."
The man nodded. "Could use more equipment."
"We'll get along this trip. And next trip we'll have enough equipment to go ten
times as fast."
The 'copter with the mining group flew into the surrounding darkness, its
glowlights lighting up the trees for a distance of a thousand feet ahead. Things
were settling down to a routine, thought Grayson. Everything quiet, everything
in order. Absolutely no danger.
McGant came out of the inside of the ship and grinned at him. "No trouble,
Captain?"
"None so far."
"It's like I expected. That A-race isn't dangerous at all. And as for
brainsЧwell, they've got just enough to keep out of our way."
"We didn't run across any yesterday?"
"There don't seem to be many around. One of the men came across a single
specimen. He shot at it, but the thing was quite a way off, and he missed."
"Tell the men not to kill them. We'll see if we can tame them and get some use
out of them."
But he wasn't actually counting on that. It was enough, he told himself, to know
that the race was harmless. From now on, the only thing that counted was the
rate at which the metal could be mined and brought to the ship.
All the same, he experienced a feeling of uneasiness later, when he overheard
two of the men talking. One of them was jeering, "Don't tell me you missed him,
Fernald. Why, I thought you could hit a target with that gun of yours from ten
miles away."
"I can. But I'm not used to the air here, and my range-finder doesn't work the
way it does on Earth or Mars."
Then the two men became aware that Grayson was near them, and they slouched to
attention and saluted sloppily. What did the man miss? Grayson asked himself. An
animal at which he was shooting, of course. But what sort of animal? One of the
A-race?
Discipline was bad enough without letting the men know that he had overheard
part of their conversation and wanted to hear the rest of it. He passed by them,