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

"Oh, I saw them with my eyes, too. And there was nothing else there
except the dogs. I'd have known if there was. And those dogs of yours, Zef,
are not what you think they are. They're not animals."
Vepr said nothing. He rose, wound up the rope, and sat down again
beside Zef.
"God knows," muttered Zef. "Maybe they aren't animals-anything is
possible here. After all, this is the South."
"Maybe those dogs really are mutants?" suggested Maxim.
"No," said Zef. "Mutants are just very deformed people. They can be the
offspring of the most normal parents. Mutants - do you know what they are?"
"I do," replied Maxim. "But the point is, how far can a mutation go?"
After a rather lengthy pause Zef said: "Well, if you're so
well-educated, there's no need to waste time talking. Up on your feet! We've
little time left and a lot to do. And I have a craving for grub." He winked
at Maxim. "A downright pathological craving. Do you know what
pathologicalpathological means?"
Although they had not yet worked the last quarter of the south-west
quadrant, they found nothing to clear. Something very powerful had probably
exploded there some time ago. Only half-decayed fallen tree trunks and burnt
stumps remained of the old forest, and in its place a new, young, sparse
forest was rising. The soil was charred and full of rust. Realizing that no
mechanical device could have survived such an explosion, Maxim concluded
that Zef had other reasons for leading them there.
A grimy man in baggy prison clothes emerged from the bushes and walked
toward them. Maxim recognized him: it was the first native he had met on
this planet, Zefs old melancholy buddy.
"Wait," said Vepr. "I'll talk to him."
Zef ordered Mac to sit, sat down himself, and changed his boots,
whistling a prisoner's tune, "I'm a Dashing Lad, Known O'er the Frontier."
Vepr went over to the man and retreated with him into the bushes, where they
conversed in whispers. Although Maxim heard every word distinctly, he
understood nothing, because they were using unfamiliar slang. Several times
he recognized the word "post office." Soon, he stopped listening. He felt
grimy and exhausted; there had been too much senseless work and needless
nervous tension today; he had breathed too much filthy air and received too
much radiation. Again, another totally unproductive day had passed, and he
detested the thought of returning to the barracks.
The man disappeared, and Vepr returned and sat down on a stump in front
of Maxim.
"Well, let's talk."
"Is everything in order?" asked Zef.
"Yes," replied Vepr.
"I told you I had an instinct for people," said Zef.
"Well, Mac," said Vepr, "we've checked you out as thoroughly as
possible under the circumstances. The General vouches for you. From now on
you'll be taking orders from me."
"Glad to hear that." Mac smiled wryly. He wanted to say: "But the
General didn't vouch for you to me." Instead, he added: "I'm at your
command."
"The General says that you aren't affected by radioactivity or the