"Eric Frank Russell - Late Night Final" - читать интересную книгу автора (Russell Eric Frank)

LATE NIGHT FINAL
by Eric Frank Russell

COMMANDER CRUIN WENT DOWN THE EXTENDING METAL ladder,
paused a rung from the bottom, placed one important foot on the new territory, and
then the other. That made him the first of his kind on an unknown world.
He posed there in the sunlight, a big bull of a man me-ticulously attired for the
occasion. Not a spot marred his faultlessly cut uniform of gray-green on which
jeweled orders of merit sparkled and flashed. His jack boots glistened as they had
never done since the day of launching from the home planet. The golden bells of his
rank tinkled on his heel-hooks as he shifted his feet slightly. In the deep shadow
be-neath the visor of his ornate helmet his hard eyes held a glow of self-satisfaction.
A microphone came swinging down to him from the air lock he'd just left. Taking it
in a huge left hand, he looked straight ahead with the blank intentness of one who
sees long visions of the past and longer visions of the future. Indeed, this was as
visionary a moment as any there had been in his world's history.
"In the name of Huld and the people of Huld," he enunci-ated officiously, "I take this
planet." Then he saluted swiftly, slickly, like an automaton.
Facing him, twenty-two long, black spaceships simultane-ously thrust from their
forward ports their glorypoles ringed with the red-black-gold colors of Huld. Inside
the vessels twenty-two crews of seventy men apiece stood rigidly erect, saluted,
broke into well drilled song, "Oh, heavenly fatherland of Huld."
When they had finished, Commander Cruin saluted again. The crews repeated their
salute. The glorypoles were drawn in. Cruin mounted the ladder, enterd his flagship.
All locks were closed. Along the valley the twenty-two invaders lay in military
formation, spaced equidistantly, noses and tails dead in line.
On a low hill a mile to the east are sent up a column of thick smoke. It spat and
blazed amid the remnants of what had been the twenty-third vesselтАФand the eighth
successive loss since the fleet had set forth three years ago. Thirty then. Twenty-two
now.
The price of empire.
Reaching his cabin, Commander Cruin lowered his bulk into the seat behind his
desk, took off his heavy helmet, ad-justed an order of merit which was hiding
modestly behind its neighbor.
"Step four," he commented with satisfaction.
Second Commander Jusik nodded respectfully. He handed the other a book.
Opening it, Cruin meditated aloud. "Step one: Check planet's certain suitability for
our form
of life." He rubbed his big jowls. "We know it's suitable."
"Yes, sir. This is a great triumph for you."
'"Thank you, Jusik." A craggy smile played momentarily on one side of Cruin's
broad face. "Step two: Remain in planetary shadow at distance of not less than one
diameter while scout boats survey world for evidence of superior life forms. Three:
Select landing place far from largest sources of possible resistance but adjacent to a
source small enough to be mastered. Four: Declare Huld's claim ceremoniously, as
prescribed in manual on procedure and discipline." He worked his jowls again.
"We've done all that."
The smile returned, and he glanced with satisfaction out of the small port near his
chair. The port framed the smoke column on the hill. His expression changed to a
scowl, and his jaw muscles lumped.