"Eric Frank Russel - Mechanistria" - читать интересную книгу автора (Russell Eric Frank)

with a multitude of built-in tools, all made for our stern. The inevitable array of coffins and globes
scouted warily around.
Two giraffes turned up and unknowingly posed for young Wilson. By now the skipper decided.
that we had waited long enough and had better not give the opposition any time to meddle with the
stern-pipes. With a terrific whoosh! that misted the landscape we shot skyward, leaving them
flustered and defeated.
Twenty minutes afterward we plunked down within easy reach of a wide but little used road and
waited for something to come along on its ownsome. The first arrival proved to be a galloping
coffin with eight steadily thumping legs, four folded arms, two tentacles in front, its idiotic copper
curl unwound and sticking straight up like a solitary hair. Half a dozen of us barred its way, our ray
guns aimed more as a gesture than anything else. They werenтАЩt much of a threat to these metal
things, as we knew only too well.
It was all JayтАЩs idea to which McNulty had consented with much reluctance. The skipper agreed
to the ambush only on condition that we arranged it near enough to be covered by one of the
MarathonтАЩs pom-poms. I could see the fast-firing weaponтАЩs eight barrels peering from the nearest
lock as the coffin slowed its pace, then stopped.
Six more of the crew got into the road behind our victim, another four covered the side opposite
the Marathon. The coffin looked us over, its lenses hard, shiny and without expression, its copper
antenna quivering questioningly. I had a strange notion that somehow its horde already knew about
its predicament and were summoning the riot squad. I also knew that if it chose to charge blindly
ahead, we could do nothing to stop it. That metal mass could go through our ranks like a knife
through cheese.
For a few breathless moments the alien entity stared at us and we stared back. Then it lumbered
around preparatory to beating a retreat, found itself cut off, turned to face its original direction. We
looked at each other until the silence and the tension became unbearable. Still the thing did not stir
a limb.
 тАЬAs I thought, just a metal hick,тАЭ said Jay, blandly ignoring the fact that he wasnтАЩt skin and bone
himself. Boldly he walked to within three or four feet of the coffin, gestured toward the Marathon,
beckoned and walked away.
A beckon is unmistakable in any language, on any world. I certainly didnтАЩt expect that
grotesque thing to obey the gesture. But, so help me, it did!
With his broad back turned to the coffin, Jay marched toward the ship and the coffin came to life
and followed him with the slow, meek gait of a dejected horse. That was the only time IтАЩve seen the
spanner-holder gape and let go his tool.
Meeting a pop-eyed McNulty at the lock, Jay said, тАЬSee, it has crazy ethics. It believes it is my
prisoner and therefore must face its fate.тАЭ Leading it inside, he conducted it to the hold, parked it in
a corner where it stood obediently, without overt move. тАЬChances are it will become lifeless the
moment we get beyond the sphere of power-radiation from which it draws its vim. We had better
let Steve play with it: maybe heтАЩll be able to restore its animation with some sort of portable power-
pack.тАЭ
тАЬHumph!тАЭ said McNulty, staring owlishly at the coffin.
He turned to Blaine. тАЬTell Steve to come down here.тАЭ
This surrender of a potentially tough specimen occupied our minds as we fastened the locks and
prepared to take off for keeps. Apparently the things would give battle in squads but not as
individuals. One could not look into that coffinтАЩs mind-if it had a mind other than its share of the
communal consciousness-but we wondered whether, like the lobsters, it was now fated to meet
death at the hands of its fellows if ever it returned.
Their way of looking at things was crazy and craziest of all was their intolerance of initiative
such as we possessed. Or was it really so lunatic by comparison with the ethics of humans? Maybe
it all depends on what is meant by тАШhumanтАЩ. IтАЩm no profound scholar, no expert in history, but I