"Norton, Andre - Time Traders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

Either the storm or men had done a very good cover-up job and when a door in the side of the snow
opened, Ross knew the camouflage was intentional.
That was Ross's introduction to the base, and after his arrival his view of the installation was
extremely limited. One day was spent in undergoing the most searching physical he had ever
experienced. And after the doctors had poked and pried he was faced by a series of other tests no one
bothered to explain. Thereafter he was introduced to solitary, that is, confined to his own company in
a cell-like room with a bunk that was more comfortable than it looked and an announcer in a corner
of the ceiling. So far he had been told exactly nothing. And so far he had asked no questions,
stubbornly keeping up his end of what he believed to be a tug of wills. At the moment, safely alone
and lying flat on his bunk he eyed the announcer, a very dangerous young man and one who refused
to yield an inch.
"Now hear this . . ." The voice transmitted through that grill was metallic, but its rasp held
overtones of Kelgarries' voice. Ross's lips tightened. He had explored every inch of the walls and
knew that there was no trace of the door which had admitted him. With only his bare hands to work
with he could not break out, and his only clothes were the shirt, sturdy slacks, and a pair of soft-soled
moccasins that they had given him.
" . . . to identify . . ." droned the voice. Ross realized that he must have missed something, not that
it mattered. He was almost determined not to play along any more.
There was a click, signifying that Kelgarries was through braying. But the customary silence did
not close in again. Instead, Ross heard a clear, sweet trilling which he vaguely associated with a bird.
His acquaintance with all feathered life was limited to city sparrows and plump park pigeons, neither
of which raised their voices in song, but surely those sounds were bird notes. Ross glanced from the
speaker in the ceiling to the opposite wall. What he saw there made him sit up, the instant response of
an alerted fighter.
The wall was no longer there! Instead, a sharp slope of ground cut down from peaks where the dark
green of fir trees ran close to the snow line. Patches of snow clung to the earth in sheltered places, and
the scent of those trees was in Ross's nostrils, real as the wind touching him with its chill.
He shivered as a loud, echoing howl sounded, the age-old warning of a wolf pack, hungry and a-
hunt. Ross had never heard that call before, but his human heritage subconsciously recognized it for
what it was--death on four feet. Similarly, he was able to identify the gray shadows slinking about
the nearest trees, and his hands balled into fists as he looked wildly about for some weapon.
The bunk was under him and three of the four walls of the room enclosed him like a cave. But one
of those gray skulkers had raised its head and was looking directly at him, its reddish eyes alight.
Ross ripped the top blanket off the bunk with a half-formed idea of snapping it at the animal when it
sprang.
Stiff-legged, the beast advanced, a guttural growl sounding deep in its throat. To Ross the animal,
larger than any dog he had ever seen and twice as vicious, was a monster. He had the blanket ready
before he realized that the wolf was not watching him after all: its attention was focused on a point
out of his line of vision.
The wolf's muzzle wrinkled in a snarl, revealing long yellow-white teeth. There was a singing
twang. The animal leaped into the air, fell back, and rolled on the ground, biting despairingly at a
shaft protruding from just behind its ribs. It howled again, and blood broke from its mouth.
Ross was beyond surprise now. He pulled himself together and got up, to walk steadily toward the
dying wolf. And he wasn't in the least amazed when his outstretched hands flattened against an
unseen barrier. Slowly, he swept his hands right and left, sure that he was touching the wall of his
cell. Yet his eyes told him he was on a mountain side, and every sight, sound, and smell was making
it real to him.
Puzzled, he thought a moment and then, finding an explanation that satisfied him, he nodded once
and went back to sit at ease on his bunk. This must be some superior form of TV that included odors,
the illusion of wind, and other fancy touches to make it more vivid. The total effect was so