"Larry Niven - How The Heroes Die" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

The decision wasn't urgent. It would be a month before Earth was in reach of the bubbletown's sending station.

Most of the asteroids spend most of their time between Mars and Jupiter, and it often happens that one of them crosses a planet where theretofore it had crossed only an orbit. There are asteroid craters all over Mars. Old eroded ones, sharp new ones, big ones, little ones, ragged and smooth ones. The bubbletown was at the center of a large, fairly recent crater four miles across: an enormous, poorly cast ashtray discarded on the reddish sand.
The buggies ran over cracked glass, avoiding the occasional tilted blocks, running uphill toward the broken rim. A sky the color of blood surrounded a tiny, brilliant sun set precisely at the zenith.
Inevitably Alf was getting closer. When they crossed the rim and started downhill they would pull apart. It was going to be a long chase.

Now was the time for regrets, if there ever was such a time. But Carter wasn't the type, and he had nothing to be ashamed of anyway. Lew Harness had needed to die; had as much as asked to die. Carter was only puzzled that his death should have provoked so violent a reaction. Could they all be-the way Lew had been? Unlikely. If he'd stayed and explained-
They'd have torn him apart. Those vulpine faces, with the distended nostrils and the bared teeth!
And now he was being chased by one man. But that man was Lew's brother.
Here was the rim, and Alf was still well behind. Carter slowed as
he went over, knowing that the way down would be rougher. He was just going over the edge when a rock ten yards away exploded ill white fire.
Alf had a flare pistol.
Carter just stopped himself from scrambling out of the buggy to hide in the rocks. The buggy lurched downward and, like it or not, Carter had to forget his terror to keep the vehicle upright.
The rubble around the crater's rim slowed him still further. Carter angled the buggy for the nearest rise of sloping sand. As he reached it, Alf came over the rim, a quarter-mile behind. His silhouette hesitated there against the bloody sky, and another flare exploded, blinding bright and terrifyingly close.
Then Carter was on the straightaway, rolling down sloping sand to a perfectly flat horizon.
The radio said, "Gonna be a long one, Jack."
Carter pushed to transmit. "Right. How many flares do you have left?"
"Don't worry about it."
"I won't. Not the way you're throwing them away."
Alf didn't answer. Carter left the radio band open, knowing that ultimately Alf must talk to the man he needed to kill.
The crater which was home dropped behind and was gone. Endless flat desert rose before the buggies, flowed under the oversized wheels and dropped behind. Gentle crescent dunes patterned the sand, but they were no barrier to a buggy. Once there was a Martian well. It stood all alone on the sand, a weathered cylindrical wall seven feet high and ten in circumference, made of cut diamond blocks. The wells, and the slanting script written deep into their "dedication blocks," were responsible for the town's presence on Mars. Since the only Martian ever found-a mummy centuries dead, at least-had exploded at the first contact with water, it was generally assumed that the wells were crematoriums. But it wasn't certain. Nothing was certain about Mars.
The radio maintained an eerie silence. Hours rolled past; the sun slid toward the deep red horizon, and still Alf did not speak. It was as if Alf had said everything there was to say to Jack Carter. And that was wrong! Alf should have needed to justify himself!
It was Carter who sighed and gave up. "You can't catch me, Alf"
"No but I can stay behind you as long as I need to."
"You can stay behind me just twenty-four hours. You've got , forty-eight
hours of air. I don't believe you'll kill yourself just to' kill me."
14 Don't count on it. But I won't need to. Noon tomorrow, you'll be chasing me. You need to breathe, just like I do."
"Watch this," said Carter. The 0-tank resting against his knee was empty. He tipped it over the side and watched, it roll away.
"I had said. He smiled in relief at his release
from that an extra tank, he damning weight. "I can live four hours longer than
you
can. Want to turn back, Alf?"
"No."
"He's not worth it, Alf. He was nothing but a queer."
"Does that mean he's got to die?"
"It does if the son of a bitch propositions me. Maybe you're a little that way yourself?"
"No. And Lew wasn't queer till he came here. They should have sent half men, half women."
"Amen."
You know, lots of people get a little sick to their stomachs about homosexuals. I do myself, and it hurt to see it happening to Lew. But there's only one type who goes looking for 'em so he can beat up
on em.
Carter frowned.
Latents. Guys who think they might turn queer themselves if you gave 'em the opportunity. They can't stand queers around because
queers are temptation."
"You're just returning the compliment."
"Maybe."
Anyway, the town has enough problems without-things like
that going on. This whole project could have been wrecked by someone like your brother."
"How bad do we need killers?"
"Pretty badly, this time." Suddenly Carter knew that he was now his own defense attorney. If he could convince Alf that he shouldn't be executed,
he could convince the rest of them. If he couldn't-