"Andre Norton - Ross Murdock 03 - The Defiant Agents" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

closing spiral of descent. A sphere resembling the warden-globes, it was a
hundred times their size, and its orbit was controlled by instruments under
the eye and hand of a human pilot. Four men were strapped down on cushioned
sling-seats in the control cabin of the Western Alliance ship, two hanging
where their fingers might reach buttons and levers. The two others were
merely passengers, their own labor waiting for the time when they would set
down on the alien soil of Topaz. The planet hung there in their viewscreen,
richly beautiful in its amber gold, growing larger, nearer, so that they
could pick out features of seas, continents, mountain ranges, which had been
studied on tape until they were familiar -- or as familiar as a world not
Earth could be. One of the warden-globes came alert and oscillated in its
set path. It whirled faster as its delicate interior mechanisms responded to
the signal that would send it on its mission of destruction. A relay
clicked, but imperceptibly slow in setting the proper course. On the
instrument, far below, which checked the globe's new course the mistake was
not noted. The screen of the ship spiraling toward Topaz registered a path
which would bring it into violent contact with the globe. They were still
some hundreds of miles apart when the alarm rang. The pilot's hand clawed
out at the bank of controls; under the almost intolerable pressure of their
descent, there was so little he could do. His crooked fingers fell back
powerlessly from the buttons and levers; his mouth was a twisted grimace of
bleak acceptance as the beat of the signal increased. One of the passengers
forced his head around on the padded rest, fought to form words, to speak to
his companion. The other was staring ahead at the screen, his thick lips
wide and flat against his teeth in a snarl of rage.
"They . . . are . . . here. . . ."
Ruthven paid no attention to the obvious as stated by his fellow scientist.
His fury was a red, pulsing thing inside him, fed by his own helplessness.
To be pinned here so near his goal, set up as a target for a mere machine,
ate into him like a stream of deadly acid. His big gamble would puff out in
a blast of fire to light up Topaz's sky, with nothing left -- nothing. On
the armrest of his sling-seat his nails scratched deep. The four men in the
control cabin could only sit and watch, waiting for the rendezvous which
would blot them out. Ruthven's flaming anger was a futile blaze. His
companion in the passenger seat had closed his eyes, his lips moving
soundlessly. The pilot and his assistant divided their attention between the
screen, with its appalling message, and the controls they could not
effectively use, feverishly seeking a way out in these last moments. Below
them in the bowels of the ship were those who would not know the end
consciously -- save in one compartment. In a padded cage a prick-eared head
stirred where it rested on forepaws, slitted eyes blinked, aware not only of
familiar surroundings, but also of the tension and fear generated by human
minds and emotions levels above. A pointed nose raised, and growling rose
from a throat covered with thick buff-gray hair. The growl aroused another
similar captive. Knowing yellow eyes met yellow eyes. An intelligence, which
was not natural to the animal body which contained it, fought down instinct
raging to send both those bodies hurtling at the fastenings of the twin
cages. Curiosity and the ability to adapt had been bred into these creatures
from time immemorial. Then something else had been added to sly and cunning
brains. A step up had been taken -- to weld intelligence to cunning, connect