"Pournelle, Jerry - Birth Of Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pournelle Jerry)

There was another walkway around the inside of the dome, and we stepped through onto that, then climbed down an iron ladder to the floor below. One of the people down there glanced up at us, then went back to work. He may have reserved all his curiosity for the universe; I can't imagine what he thought we were doing up there. On the other hand, I haven't any idea of what he was doing either.
No one paid any attention to us as we went across to the air-lock entrance and cycled through. The corridor beyond was empty. When we'd dogged shut the door, we opened our faceplates. "Piece of cake," Sarge said.
"So far."
"Yeah. Watch for cops." He led the way along the corridor, then down another. It was steep downhill all the way. Eventually we came to a steel door set in the corridor wall. Sarge used a key to open it, showing a closet filled with janitor's gear.
"Told you we'd made a few preparations. Skipper was supposed to come out this way." Sarge did something to the shelving and the whole closet swung out on hinges. We went through, closing both doors behind us.
We had to use helmet lights in the narrow, dark passage. It went steeply downward, bending at right angles a couple of times. "Hard rock," Sarge said. "Easier to drill around than through. Here, hold on."
He stopped at a stretch of corridor wall that looked like all the rest, and examined it until he found a tiny hole. He took off a glove, reached in, and pulled with his finger. A coverplate came out revealing a cavity behind it.
"Know anything about guns?" he asked.
"I've shot them. I'm no expert."
"Yeah. Well, here." He handed me a police revolver. "There aren't a lot of guns on Mars. Keep that hid good, anybody sees you with it, they'll know you don't belong here." He pocketed another pistol, and a grenade. "Not much for weapons, but better'n just knives. Okay, be kind of quiet from here on. This ends up behind the shelves in the Old Man's office. There may be somebody there. If there is, we have to jump him before he can call. But we want him alive Ц"
"Rog."
"Piece of cake," Sarge said. He grinned. "Let's do it."
There was a peephole at the end of the passage. Sarge peered through it, then motioned to me.
The door was closed, and a man sat at the desk. I nodded, and Sarge opened the panel.
It was simple. Sarge had him by the throat while I got his hands so he couldn't touch any of the console buttons. We held him like that.
"Easy, now," Sarge said. "One peep, and you're dead." He got a knife out of his belt and held it at our prisoner's throat. "You understand that?"
He nodded.
"It's Hardesty," I said. "He was our barracks sergeant."
Sarge let him go, but held the knife in place. Hardesty gulped hard. I got his hands behind the chair and took a couple of turns of line around them. Then we wheeled him away from the desk so he couldn't reach anything.
"Where's Mr. Farr?" Sarge demanded.
"Interrogation room," Hardesty said. He was careful not to speak above a whisper. "Mr. Ellsworth was in there for a while, but he went back over to town."
"You night duty NCO?"
"Yes. "
"Okay. Now I'm going to have you use that intercom to send for Mr. Farr. Before I do, I want to tell you what happens to you if you try anything funny. " Sarge hitched the knife in his hand, tossing it wickedly up and down. "I won't kill you. But you'll father no more kids, and you'll live on one kidney. I'm told that hurts a lot."
Hardesty's expression didn't change. "You don't leave me much. Ellsworth will have me shot anyway."
"So which is it?"
"Neither," Hardesty said. "I've lost nothing in this chickenshit outfit. Take me with you on the way out.
"We can't trust you," Sarge said.
"Why not? I'm a convict, same as this one. Pittson, aren't you? Sure you are, put two tough creeps in sick bay. I remember you. Look, I can do some farming. After you've seen Mr. Farr, you'll know why I'd just as soon go with you. He always treated me decently, and I had no hand in what they did to him."
"Did to him?" Sarge said. "Did what?"
"You'll see. You may need me to carry him. I don't think he'll be walking."
"Jesus," Sarge said. He looked at the clock over the desk. Not much past midnight. "What do you think, Garrett?"
I shrugged. "We got much choice?"
"Guess not. Okay, Hardesty, do it. If you play tricks on us, God help you."
"And you'll take me with you."
УYes.Ф
"If you don't know how to work the intercom, you'll have to untie me." Sarge and I exchanged looks. Then I loosened the cords. Hardesty scooted his chair over to the intercom and punched buttons. "Carruthers."
"Yes, sergeant."
"Bring Farr up to his office. He conscious?"
"Kind of. Mr. Ellsworth said to soften him up some more.
"You'll get your fun later. I need the bastard to help find things up here. Bring him."
"Okay. Your responsibility."
We waited. "How many will come?" Sarge asked.
"Two."
"Get down behind the desk, Garrett. I'll stay by the door. If Hardesty does anything funny, shoot him in the balls."
"Right." I crouched, and Hardesty rolled up to sit at the desk. "Keep your hands in sight," I told him. We waited some more.
They knocked at the door.
"Come," Hardesty said.
The door opened, and two men pushed a wheelchair through. As they got inside, Sarge kicked the door shut. I came out from behind the desk.
"What the hell?" The guard had no time to say anything else. I smashed his face with the barrel of my pistol, got my hand over his mouth, and chopped down, twice, at the base of his skull.