"E. E. Doc Smith - Lensman 7 - Masters Of The Vortex" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

precisely controlled environments of temperature, atmosphere, and radiation, were grown hundreds of widely-variant forms
of life.
At the confluence of creek and river, just inside the city limits of NewspokeтАФoriginally New SpokaneтАФthere reared and
sprawled the Company's headquarters buildings; offices, processing and synthesizing plants, laboratories, and so on. In one
of the laboratories, three levels below ground, two men faced each other. Works Manager Graves was tall and fat; Fenton
V. Fairchild, M.D., Nu.D., F.C.R., Consultant in Radiation, was tall and thin.
'Everything set, Graves?' t
'Yes. Twelve hours, you said.'
'For the full cycle. Seven to the point of maximum yield.'
'Go ahead.'
'Here are the seeds. Trenconian broadleaf. For the present you will have to take my word for it that they did not come from
Trenco. These are standard hydroponics tanks, size one. The formula of the nutrient solution, while complex and highly
critical, contains nothing either rare or unduly expensive. I plant the seed, thus, in each of the two tanks. I cover each tank
with a plastic hood, transparent to the frequencies to be used. I cover both with a larger hoodтАФso. I align the projectorsтАФ
thus. We will now put on armor, as the radiation is severe and the atmosphere, of which there may be leakage when the
pollenating blast is turned on, is more than slightly toxic. I then admit Trenconian atmosphere from this cylinder ...'
'Synthetic or imported?' Graves interrupted.
'Imported. Synthesis is possible, but prohibitively expensive and difficult. Importation in tankers is simple and
comparatively cheap. I now energize the projectors. Growth has begun.'
In the glare of blue-green radiance the atmosphere inside the hoods, the very ether, warped and writhed. In spite of the
distortion of vision, however, it could be seen that growth was taking place, and at an astounding rate. In a few minutes the
seeds had sprouted; in an hour the thick, broad, purplish-green leaves were inches long. In seven hours each tank was full
of a lushly luxuriant tangle of foliage.
'This is the point of maximum yield,' Fairchild remarked, as he shut off the projectors. 'We will now process one tank, if
you like.'
'Certainly I like. How else could I know it's the clear quill?'
'By the looks,' came the scientist's dry rejoinder. 'Pick your tank.'
One tank was removed. The leaves were processed. The full cycle of growth of the remaining tank was completed. Graves
himself harvested the seeds, and himself carried them away.
Six days, six samples, six generations of seed, and the eminently skeptical Graves was convinced.
'You've got something there, Doc,' he admitted then. 'We can really go to town on that. Now, how about notes, or stuff
from your old place, or people who may have smelled a rat?'
26
27
Tm perfectly clean. None of my boys know anything important, and none ever will. I assemble all apparatus myself, from
standard pans, and disassemble it myself. I've been around, Graves.'
'Well, we can't be too sure.' The fat man's eyes were piercing and cold. 'Leakers don't live very long. We don't want you to
die, at least not until we get in production here.'
'Nor then, if you know when you're well off,' the scientist countered, cynically. 'I'm a fellow of the College of Radiation,
and it took me five years to learn this technique. None of your hatchetmen could ever learn it. Remember that, my friend.'
'So?'
'So don't get off on the wrong foot and don't get any funny ideas. I know how to run things like this and I've got the
manpower and equipment to do it. If I come in I'm running it, not you. Take it or leave it.'
The fat man pondered for minutes, then decided. 'I'll take it. You're in, Doc. You can have a caveтАФtwo hundred seventeen
is emptyтАФand we'll go up and get things started right now.'
Less than a year later, the same two men sat in Graves' office. They waited while a red light upon a peculiarly complicated
deskboard faded through pink into pure white.
'All clear. This way, Doc.' Graves pushed a yellow button on his desk and a section of blank wall slid aside.
In the elevator thus revealed the two men went down to a sub-basement. Along a dimly-lit corridor, through an elaborately
locked steel door, and into a steel-lined room. Four inert bodies lay upon the floor.