"Jack Williamson - Hindsight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williamson Jack)

sacrifices of millions of our fellow Earthmen. We have at least a chance to recover
our lost freedom.
But we need you, Billdesperately.
For your own world's sake, come back. Ask for a vacation trip to Mars. The
Astrarch will not deny you that. On April 8th, a ship will be waiting for you in the
desert outside Toranwhere we walked the day you left.
Whatever your decision, Bill, we trust you to destroy this letter and keep its
contents secret. But we believe that you will come back. For Earth's sake, and for
your old friends,

TONY AND ELORA.

Brek Veronar sat for a long time at his desk, staring at the charred, wrinkled
sheet. His eyes blurred a little, and he saw the tanned vital face of the Martian girl,
her brown eyes imploring. At last he sighed and reached slowly for the lighter cone.
He held the letter until the flame had consumed it.
Next day four space officers came to the laboratory. They were insolent in the
gaudy gold and crimson of the Astrarch, and the voice of the captain was suave with
a triumphant hate:
"Earthman, you are under technical arrest, by the Astrarch's order. You will
accompany us at once to his quarters aboard the Warrior Queen."
Brek Veronar knew that he was deeply disliked, but very seldom had the feeling
been so openly shown. Alarmed, he locked his office and went with the four.
Flagship of the Astrarch's space fleets, the Warrior Queen lay on her cradle, at
the side of the great field beyond the low gray forts. A thousand feet and a quarter of
a million tons of fighting metal, with sixtyfour twentyinch rifles mounted in eight
bulging spherical turrets, she was the most powerful engine of destruction the system
had ever seen.
Brek Veronar's concern was almost forgotten in a silent pride, as a swift electric
car carried them across the field. It was his autosightotherwise the Veronar achronic
field detector geodesic achronintegration self-calculating range finderthat directed the
fire of those mighty guns. It was the very fighting brain of the shipof all the
Astrarch's fleet.
No wonder these men were jealous.
"Come, Renegade!" The bleakfaced captain's tone was ominous. "The Astrarch
is waiting."
Brightuniformed guards let them into the Astrarch's compact but luxurious suite,
just aft the console room and forward of the autosight installation, deep in the ship's
armored bowels. The Astrarch turned from a chart projector, and crisply ordered the
two officers to wait outside.
"Well, Veronar?"
A short, heavy, compact man, the dictator of the Astrarchy was vibrant with a
ruthless energy. His hair was waved and perfumed, his face a rouged and powdered
mask, his silkswathed figure loaded with jewels. But nothing could hide the power of
his hawklike nose and his burning black eyes.
The Astrarch had never yielded to the constant pressure of jealousy against Brek
Veronar. The feeling between them had grown almost to friendship. But now the
Earthman sensed, from the cold inquiry of those first words, and the probing flash
of the ruler's eyes, that his position was gravely dangerous.
Apprehension strained his voice. "I'm under arrest?"