"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автора

feel like I haven't eaten a tiling but just woke up my appetite."
Maxim tried to draw them into a conversation about hunting in this
area, but no one picked it up. Vepr now lay there with his eyes closed,
apparently asleep. After Zef had finished listening to Maxim's views, he
growled: "Hunting? Here? Everything's filthy, radioactive." He, too,
stretched out.
Maxim sighed, took the pot, and walked to a nearby stream. The water
was clear and appeared to be clean and tasty. Tempted to drink, he scooped
some up in his hand. But he could neither drink nor wash the pot here: the
stream was noticeably radioactive. Maxim squatted, set down the pot, and
became lost in thought.
His thoughts, for some reason, turned first to Rada. She always washed
the dishes after meals and would not let him help her, giving the absurd
excuse that it was woman's work. Remembering that she loved him, he felt
proud: she was the first woman to love him. As much as he longed to see her,
he realized that this was no place for his Rada. Nor for the most evil of
men. Thousands upon thousands of robots, not men, should be sent here to
clear the region. Either that, or the entire forest and everything in it
should be razed. Let a new one arise, any kind, bright or gloomy, but a pure
one. And if it must be gloomy, let it be a natural gloom, not one imposed by
man.
When he reminded himself that he had been exiled here for life, he was
struck by the naivet( of his judges. Without exacting an oath from him, they
fully expected him to remain here, voluntarily, forever, and on top of
everything else, to help them build a network of radiation towers through
the forest. En route, in the prisoners' boxcar, he had heard that the forest
extended hundreds of miles to the south and that military equipment littered
the desert, too. "Massaraksh, one day I knock out a tower, the next I'm
expected to clear a path for them. Oh, no. I'm not staying here. I've had
enough of this."
He settled down and forced himself to clarify his plans.
"Vepr doesn't trust me. He trusts Zef, but not me. And I don't trust
Zef, though I guess I'm being unfair. I probably seem as troublesome and
suspicious to Vepr as Zef seems to me. Well, all right, Vepr doesn't trust
me. So that means I'm alone again. Of course it's possible I might run into
the General or Memo, but that's highly unlikely. I suppose I could try and
put together a group of strangers, but massaraksh, I had better be honest
with myself: I'm no good at that sort of thing. I'm too damn trusting. Hold
on, now. Think! What do I want?"
He considered the problem for several minutes.
"If only Guy were here. But Guy was sent to a special unit with a
strange name - something like Blitztr(ger, 'Lightning Bearers.' Most likely
I'll have to operate alone.
"In any case I must get out of here. Of course I'll try to form some
sort of group, but if I can't, I'll leave alone. A tank is a must. There are
enough guns here to equip a hundred armies. After twenty years they're in
pretty bad shape, but I'll do what I can with them. So, Vepr really won't
trust me?" he thought, almost in despair. He grabbed the pot and ran back to
the fire.
Zef and Vepr were awake now; they lay head to head and were arguing