"H. Beam Piper - Flight from Tomorrow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Piper H Beam)

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It was broad daylight when he woke, and there was a strange throbbing sound; Hradzka lay motionless
under the brush where he had slept, his blaster ready. In a few minutes, a vehicle came into sight,
following the road down the mountainside.

It was a large thing, four-wheeled, with a projection in front which probably housed the engine and a cab
for the operator. The body of the vehicle was simply an open rectangular box. There were two men in
the cab, and about twenty or thirty more crowded into the box body. These were dressed in faded and
nondescript garments of blue and gray and brown; all were armed with crude weaponsтАФaxes,
bill-hooks, long-handled instruments with serrated edges, and what looked like broad-bladed spears.
The vehicle itself, which seemed to be propelled by some sort of chemical-explosion engine, was dingy
and mud-splattered; the men in it were ragged and unshaven. Hradzka snorted in contempt; they were
probably warriors of the local tribe, going to the fire in the belief that it had been started by raiding
enemies. When they found the wreckage of the "time-machine", they would no doubt believe that it was
the chariot of some god and drag it home to be venerated.

A plan of action was taking shape in his mind. First, he must get clothing of the sort worn by these
people, and find a safe hiding-place for his own things. Then, pretending to be a deaf-mute, he would go
among them to learn something of their customs and pick up the language. When he had done that, he
would move on to another tribe or village, able to tell a credible story for himself. For a while, it would be
necessary for him to do menial work, but in the end, he would establish himself among these people.
Then he could gather around him a faction of those who were dissatisfied with whatever conditions
existed, organize a conspiracy, make arms for his followers, and start his program of power-seizure.
The matter of clothing was attended to shortly after he had crossed the mountain and descended into the
valley on the other side. Hearing a clinking sound some distance from the road, as of metal striking stone,
Hradzka stole cautiously through the woods until he came within sight of a man who was digging with a
mattock, uprooting small bushes of a particular sort, with rough gray bark and three-pointed leaves.
When he had dug one up, he would cut off the roots and then slice away the root-bark with a knife,
putting it into a sack. Hradzka's lip curled contemptuously; the fellow was gathering the stuff for medicinal
use. He had heard of the use of roots and herbs for such purposes by the ancient savages.

The blaster would be no use here; it was too powerful, and would destroy the clothing that the man was
wearing. He unfastened a strap from his belt and attached it to a stone to form a hand-loop, then, inched
forward behind the lone herb-gatherer. When he was close enough, he straightened and rushed forward,
swinging his improvised weapon. The man heard him and turned, too late.




After undressing his victim, Hradzka used the mattock to finish him, and then to dig a grave. The
fugitive buried his own clothes with the murdered man, and donned the faded blue shirt, rough shoes,
worn trousers and jacket. The blaster he concealed under the jacket, and he kept a few other Hundredth
Century gadgets; these he would hide somewhere closer to his center of operations.

He had kept, among other things, a small box of food-concentrate capsules, and in one pocket of the