"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автораguard, according to category EXTRA. By order of the State Prosecutor."
He drained his glass and filled it again. Slowly, deliberating over each. w6rd, he wrote on a third form: "Dear Strannik: Sorry to give you some bad news. We have just been informed that the material you requested is missing, as frequently happens in the southern jungles." PART FOUR: PRISONER 13. The first shot shattered the caterpillar track, and for the first time in over twenty years the monster abandoned its well-traveled course. Overturning chunks of concrete, it tore into a grove and turned slowly in place. Its broad forehead bored into the underbrush and, with a crunch, shoved aside the trembling trees. When the immense, muddy rear end tipped up, its iron plating dangling on rusty rivets, Zef landed an explosive charge in the engine with a clean shot aimed to avoid the reactor. It tore into the tank's muscles, sinews, and nervous system; the machine gasped metallically, puffed white-hot smoke from its joints, and stopped forever. But something still lived within its evil armored heart; some surviving nerves continued to send out random signals; its emergency systems still switched themselves on and off, murmuring and spewing foam; and it shuddered sluggishly, clawing the earth with its surviving tread. Menacingly and senselessly, like the belly of a the expiring dragon. Zef watched its death throes for several seconds, then turned and went into the woods, dragging a grenade thrower by its strap. Maxim and Vepr followed. When they reached a quiet clearing that Zef had undoubtedly noted on their way, they dropped down on the grass. "Cigarette break," said Zef. He rolled a cigarette for one-armed Vepr, gave him a light, and lit Ms own. Resting his chin on his hands, Maxim lay on the ground and watched the dying iron dragon through the sparse woods. Its drive wheels jangled mournfully. With a whistle, it shot streams of radioactive steam from its shattered guts. "Now, that's the way to do it, and the only way to do it," declared Zef didactically. "If you don't, I'll yank your ears off." "Why?" asked Maxim. "I wanted to stop it." "Because," replied Zef, "a grenade can ricochet into the rocket launcher. Then we'd all be kaput." "I aimed at the tread." "You have to aim at the rear end." Zef inhaled. "And, in general, while you're still new at this stuff, don't ever make the first move. Unless I ask you to. Is that clear?" "It is." Neither Zef's fine points of instruction nor Zef himself interested Maxim. Vepr did. But Vepr, resting his artificial arm on the dilapidated casing of the mine detector, maintained his usual indifferent silence. Nothing had changed, and Mac was restless. |
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