"Smith, E E 'Doc' - SubSpace Vol 2 - Subspace Encounter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

Slaar, you know; he was a young man then and able to think a little gave my father a
status rating of Forty-Seven, a grudging go ahead, and a small appropriation to found an
`Institute for Advanced Study.' When my father died, I took over, and we kept on
working. Surreptitiously, until now, when I'm adding you new members to our staff."

Rodnar's face darkened, his thoughts turned bitter. "And that's what we still are. No hint
whatever; ever; of our real
abilities or of what we can do and should be doing, or we feed the eagles. If the damned
old fathead glumpfs would only." "Damp it down, Rod!" Manjyl broke in. "If just one bit of
that squampf ever gets out you'll certainly be eaglemeat." "Not a chance, Marr." The
man's sober mien lightened. "I'm awake. They're too stupid-no, not stupid; impervious.
And if, some day, one of the meatheads does get a sudden rush of intelligence to the
brain and sets their damned Purps on us, I'll see to it that nonmagnetic storms blow all
their transistors out of all the rigs they can set up. Okay."

"Okay."

"To get on with it, our results to date have been veree ungood. We finally analyzed the
stuff-it's a new type of energy, originating in the fourth dimension and completely
unknown to any planet of explored space-and we've built counter-generators-generators
of a force to neutralize it. However, to put it mildly, space is big; subspace is bigger, and
we don't know much of anything about the fourth dimension. So, while we have managed
to destroy a few of the generators of X-storms, we don't average one in two years and
no wreckage has ever been found.

"Now. The Justices don't like us; the Grand Justices especially. They don't want to
believe in psionics at all; and, to the extent that they're forced to, they're afraid of us.
And jealous--of anything we may have that they haven't got. So, Admittedly we haven't
done much; but nobody else has done anything at all. The Council of Science tried to
write off our successes as due purely to chance, but their statisticians couldn't get
anywhere with that. Hence, for that and certain other reasons, we're here-along with
some not-too-subtle hints that if I don't produce I'll be considered an ex-citizen and
eaglemeat.

"That hits the high spots to date. Now. I know that the energy originates in the fourth
dimension. I think that it is not a natural phenomenon, but is a product of parascience-

psionics-and of technology. I infer that it is produced by generators designed and built by
a race of highly intelligent entities, at least some of whom are psiontists. Not ordinary
psychics or mystics, but highly-skilled, highly-trained psiontists; experts of at least our
own grade. I deduce that there exists, somewhere, hitherto completely unsuspected,
such a
race. I conclude nothing, as yet. I request full and frank opinions from all of you.
Sonjormel Wayrec of Garsh, you seem anxious to be heard; over to you."

Wayrec-a burly, black-haired, reddish-brown skinned, hawknosed man of thirty, the only
Garshan in the Institutecame in without a moment's pause. "You have of course
considered the point as to whether or not these X-storms are deliberately inimical."

"I have. They may be. They may, much more probably, be accidental. Incidental, rather;