"Phillip Francis Nowlan - Buck Rogers 01 - Armageddon 2419" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nowlan Philip Francis)

pulsation between the source of the "carrier" and the average mass of the earth).
Below that level, if I could project my explosive bullet into this stream where it began to carry material
substance upward, might it not rise with the air column, gathering speed and hitting the ship with enough
impact to carry it through the shell? It was worth trying anyhow. Wilma became greatly excited, too,
when she grasped the nature of my inspiration.
Feverishly I looked around for some formation of branches against which I could rest the pistol, for I
had to aim most carefully. At last I found one. Patiently I sighted on the hulk of the ship far above us,
aiming at the far side of it, at such an angle as would, so far as I could estimate, bring my bullet path
through the forward repellor beam. At last the sights wavered across the point I sought and I pressed
the button gently.
For a moment we gazed breathlessly.
Suddenly the ship swung bow down, as on a pivot, and swayed like a pendulum. Wilma screamed in
her excitement.
"Oh Tony, you hit it! You hit it! Do it again; bring it down!"
We had only one more rocket of extreme range between us, and we dropped it three times in our
excitement in inserting it in my gun. Then, forcing myself to be calm by sheer will power, while Wilma
stuffed her little fist into her mouth to keep from shrieking, I sighted carefully again and fired.
The elapsed time of the rocket's invisible flight seemed an age.
Then we saw the ship falling. It seemed to plunge lazily, but actually it fell with terrific acceleration, turn
ing end over end, its disintegrator rays, out of control, describing vast, wild arcs, and once cutting a
gash through the forest less than two hundred feet from where we stood.
The crash with which the heavy craft hit the ground reverberated from the hills-the momentum of
eighteen or twenty thousand tons, in a sheer drop of seven thousand feet A mangled mass of metal,
it buried itself in the ground, with poetic justice, in the middle of the smoking, semi-molten field of
destruction it had been so deliberately ploughing.
The silence, the vacuity of the landscape was oppressive as the last echoes died away.
Then far down the hillside, a single figure leaped exultantly above the foliage screen. And in the
distance another, and another.
In a moment the sky was punctured by signal rockets. One after another the little red puffs became
drifting clouds.
"Scatter! Scatter!" Wilma exclaimed. "In half an hour there'll be an entire Han fleet here from
Nu-Yok, and another from Bah-Flo. They'll get this instantly on their recordographs and location
finders. They'll blast the whole valley and the country for miles beyond. Come, Tony. There's no
time for the gang to rally. See the signals. We've got to jump. Oh, I'm so proud of you!"
Over the ridge we went, in long leaps towards the east, the country of the Delawares.
From time to time signal rockets puffed in the sky. Most of them were the "red warnings," the "scatter"
signals. But from certain of the others, which Wilma identified as Wyoming rockets, she gathered that
whoever was in command (we did not know whether the Boss was alive or not) Was ordering an
ultimate rally toward the south, and so we changed our course.
It was a great pity. I thought, that the clan had not been equipped throughout its membership with
ultro-phones, but Wilma explained to me that not enough of these had been built for distribution as yet,
although general distribution had been contemplated within a couple of months.
We traveled far before nightfall overtook us, trying only to put as much distance as possible between
ourselves and the valley.
When gathering dusk made jumping too dangerous, we sought a comfortable spot beneath the trees
and consumed part of our emergency rations. It was the first time I had tasted the stuff-a highly nutritive
synthetic substance called ~'concentro,'~ which was, however, a bit bitter and unpalatable. But as only
a mouthful or so was needed, it did not matter.
Neither of us had a cloak, but we were both thoroughly tired and happy, so we curled up together for
warmth. I remember Wilma making some sleepy remark about our mating, as she cuddled up, as