"Gene Wolfe - The Horars of War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wolfe Gene)

cover him when he slipped, as he often did, sidewise of HORAR standards. He answered: "You ought to
look in on Pinocchio, sir. I think he's cracking up." From the other end of the squad, 2909's quiet chuckle
rewarded him, and Brenner, the man most dangerous to his disguise, continued down the trench...
Fear was necessary because the will to survive was very necessary. And a humanoid form was
needed if the HORARS were to utilize the mass of human equipment already on hand. Besides, a
human-shaped (homolog? no, that merely meant similar, homological) HORAR had outscored all the
fantastic forms SBS had been able to dream up in a super-realistic (public opinion would never have
permitted it with human soldiers) test carried out in the Everglades.
(Were they merely duplicating? Had all this been worked out before with some greater war in mind?
And had He Himself, the Scientist Himself, come to take the form of His creations to show that He too
could bear the unendurable?)
2909 was at his elbow, whispering, "Do you see something, Squad Leader? Over there?" Dawn had
come without his noticing.
With fingers clumsy from fatigue he switched the control of his M-19 to the lower, 40mm
grenade-launching barrel. The grenade made a brief flash at the spot 2909 had indicated. "No," he said,
"I don't see anything now:" The fine, soft rain which had been falling all night was getting stronger. The
dark clouds seemed to roof the world. (Was he fated to reenact what had been done for mankind? It
could happen. The Enemy took humans captive, but there was nothing they would not do to HORAR
prisoners. Occasionally patrols found the bodies spread-eagled, with bamboo stakes driven through their
limbs; and he could only be taken for a HORAR. He thought of a watercolor of the crucifixion he had
seen once. Would the color of his own blood be crimson lake?)
From the CP the observation ornithocopter rose on flapping wings.
"I haven't heard one of the mines go for quite a while," 2909 said. Then there came the
phony-sounding bang that so often during the past few weeks had closed similar probing attacks.
Squares of paper were suddenly fluttering all over the camp.
"Propaganda shell," 2909 said unnecessarily, and 2911 climbed casually out of the trench to get a
leaflet, then jumped back to his position. "Same as last week," he said, smoothing out the damp rice
paper.
Looking over his shoulder, 2910 saw that he was correct. For some reason the Enemy never directed
his propaganda at the HORARS, although it was no secret that reading skills were implanted-in HORAR
minds with the rest of their instinctive training. Instead it was always aimed at the humans in the camp,
and played heavily on the distaste they were supposed to feel at being "confined with half-living flesh still
stinking of chemicals." Privately, 2910 thought they might have done better, at least with Lieutenant Kyle,
to have dropped that approach and played up sex. He also got the impression from the propaganda that
the Enemy thought there were far more humans in the camp than there actually were.
Well, the Army--with far better opportunities to know--was wrong as well. With a few key generals
excepted, the Army thought there were only two...
He had made the All-American. How long ago it seemed. No coach, no sportswriter had ever
compared his stocky, muscular physique with a HORAR's. And he had majored in journalism, had been
ambitious. How many men, with a little surgical help, could have passed here?
Think it sees anything?" he heard 2911 ask 2909. They were looking upward at the "bird" sailing
overhead.
The ornithocopter could do everything a real bird could except lay eggs. It could literally land on a
strand of wire. It could ride thermals like a vulture, and dive like a hawk. And the bird-motion of its
wings was wonderfully efficient, saving power-plant weight that could be used for zoom-lenses and
telecameras. He wished he were in the CP watching the monitor screen with Lieutenant Kyle instead oг
standing with his face a scant foot above the mud (they had tried stalked eyes like a crab's in the
Everglades, he remembered, but the stalks had become infected by a fungus...).
As though in answer to his wish, 2900 called, "Show some snap for once, 2910. He says He wants
us in the CP."