"Allen, Roger Macbride - Allies And Aliens 1 - Torch Of Honor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Roger Macbride)

I looked up from the table I had been trying to stare a hold in. "Huh?"
"Why didn't you mind your own business instead of coming all this way to raise false hope and kill so many men with a stupid mistake?"
"Because, Karina," the doctor said testily, "the Commander is an honorable man sent by an honorable League of which we are members, and this Commander and that League are sworn to try and rescue us. As for stupid mistakes, it was we who made whatever erroneous maps they worked with-and we who lost this war long before he arrived."
"But we screwed up," I admitted. "We should have known about the map. That's the sort of thing they needed a Survey for. Since we didn't bother setting up until six months ago, the war is lost and those troops are dead. A lot of dead men have died without knowing it."
The doctor was about to answer when a forgotten voice cut in. "Those men are not dead." It was Kendriel, the hypnotist. "From what I know of the theory, and what I can see from the diagram you have made, it is obvious that once the radio signal has locked the receiver into the C2 bubbles that hold the troops, they can be pulled out of C2 at our leisure. We do this by hooking the signal-capturing device up to the rather simple receiver you have sketched out. Your ship can match velocity until it is, as you put it, 'dead in space' relative to the guide transmission. It can be received without distortion. Then we carry the capture device to wherever we wish to receive the troops."
There was a dead silence.
Short, balding Mr. Kendriel smiled shyly and spoke in English for the first time. "You see, Commander Larson, I have the hobby of electronics."

CHAPTER FIVE

With that, we were back in business, and the Finns got to work. For an underground, they were a pretty slick outfit, and seemed to operate remarkably free of interference from the Guardians.
The doctor finally broke down and told me his name was Tempkin, and admitted he was the leader of the underground. I think even at that point, his people were only about 90 percent convinced of my bona fides. Everything I had done could have been faked, but the saving point for me was that there wasn't any clear motive for such an elaborate deception. Even so, I was sure that they were perfectly prepared to make me disappear if I slipped up. Whether I was a plant or legit, Tempkin could be sure I wouldn't talk to anyone on the other side. That made him willing to describe how they had managed to deceive the enemy so completely.
"First off," he explained, "the hospital was a natural focus point for loyalist activity. In the same building are the administration and executive offices for the whole satellite. Fully 30 percent of the interior of this building is given over to electronics of one sort or another: computers, communications, the usual sort of things. Fortunately for us," he said with a smile, "one microcircuit looks like another. We have placed a great deal of clandestine equipment here in the control center. Mr. Kendriel is not our only electronics hobbyist by any means. We have tapped their taps, bugged their own facilities, and misdirected their own surveillance.
"Also, when it became clear that Vapaus would fall, every map, building directory, transport diagram, and information service was 'revised.' There is a good deal hidden from the Guardians, simply because their computers have not told them it is there. I won't go into details at this point, but there are quite a number of large installations they don't have a clue about. Some are ready to fight when the time comes, some are already at work.
"I'll trust you far enough to give you one small example. There is a perfectly normal pedestrian tunnel under this building, that once led in a perfectly straightforward way to nearby buildings. It still leads to them, but by doing a bit of masonry work and taking down a few signs, it vanished from sight. It is often very helpful to us."
I had been escorted back to my room. While we were talking, clothes suitable for a well-to-do Finn were brought to me, and I changed. Tempkin soon went off on some errand, and I had little to do but wait until he returned. I clearly wasn't yet trusted enough to get to see such things as that hidden tunnel.
In fact, I was more or less politely left to wait until the following morning. I suspect that the delay was put to use sending some climbers up the aft cliff to check out the hole I had poked in the satellite. By morning, they should have had a genuine rockeater, Republic of Kennedy pressure suit, and League-issue laser with a nearly exhausted charge in their possession, and my entrance tunnel disguised (at least I couldn't find it with binoculars later). In any event, the Finns seemed more satisfied after keeping an eye on me for a day.
The next morning Tempkin guided me to an office that we entered through the back of a broom closet. It was the radio room. Tempkin, the radio operator, and I spend several hours in a three-way, two-language discussion on how to hit Stripes with a message laser, and what the message should say. It took a bit of computer time, some patient translation by Tempkin, and a ream or two of scratch paper, but the communications officer seemed satisfied that he could find Stripes with a beam once he knew where to look.
I asked Tempkin how they managed to hide the message laser from the Guardians, and he explained. "Because Vapaus is spinning, and ships were constantly flying through the vicinity, with the chance of interfering with the beam or, worse, crews being blinded by the beam, the message laser had never been kept here at all, but was always kept on The Rock. We have merely camouflaged it a bit better. The Guardians have searched for it many times, and we have let them think they found it once or twice, but so far it is safe.
"We have used the laser constantly to contact our people down on the planet. In fact, they already know about you. Unfortunately, they have no easy method of talking back. We have also a number of small relay transmitters hidden on the exterior of Vapaus. A few of these have been found, as well, but we haven't been put out of contact altogether ... so far. As you know, it is impossible to detect a laser beam in vacuum unless you are directly in its path. This has helped a great deal."
I spent about another hour putting our message to Joslyn in a standard League code, on the very long chance that the Guardians did intercept it, somehow. As briefly as possible, it told her what needed to be done with the signal capture device, and instructed her to stand by for further word as to how to get the capture device to Vapaus.
With that, the ball was in Joslyn's court.
After a bit of thought, it was clear to me that the 5,000 League troops could not be "received" on Vapaus. There were only 4,000 people living there as it was. There simply wasn't any way the satellite could provide housing, food, or even air to the troops. Also, there wouldn't be much employment for them in space. They could certainly knock out the garrison that held the satellite, but then what? The Guardians on the planet nuked the satellite and were done with it, that's what. Or simply shot down any ship that left and waited until everyone on the overpopulated satellite died of asphyxiation. No, the troops would have to get to the surface of the planet, that was clear. How wasn't so clear. The Guardians controlled everything that moved in space. Worse than that, no Finn was allowed to fly through space except for reasons of great importance to the Guardians, and then only under extremely heavy guard and with examinations that didn't stop at stripping down to skin. They searched with X-rays and microscopes.
The Finns had tried smuggling tiny ships and cargoes back and forth from space, but the Guardians, for whatever else you could say, were excellent shots. They knocked down every aircraft and spacecraft that flew without their authority. Nothing escaped.
It all boiled down to the fact that the capture device would have to ride a Guardian ship down. It was also pretty clear that someone would have to ride down with it. I was the logical candidate for that job.
We had a brilliant plan: we were going to get the Guardians to build the receiver for us.
Step one of the plan was to get me woven into Vapaus's population. Someone did some skillful kiting of computer records and built up the fictional identity of Dr. Jefferson Darrow, recent immigrant from the United States. Darrow had married a Finn and had followed her here when she had immigrated. She died soon afterward, but Darrow remained on Vapaus. He worked in his own lab on various communications projects. Dr. Darrow was a highly skilled electronics technician, quite uninterested in politics-a fact which made him rather unpopular with his neighbors. He was, in point of fact, a recluse.
In short order, I was installed in a prefab bungalow near Forward Cliff, a picture of my deceased wife on a side table, the furniture wounded with a few old stains and spills, and, for the benefit of anyone who looked, a pair of underwear lodged under the dresser that had clearly been there for months, at least. I was left on my own with the job of making the place looked lived in, and pretending to putter about in the electronics lab that took up one room of the house.
No one knew exactly when the Guardians might take an interest in me, but they were confidently expected to do so. Communications workers were high on their list of useful subjects, and there would be some question as to why my file had only come to the surface now.
So I rummaged around and waited for the enemy to spot me, getting the kitchen properly dirty (work that Joslyn would confirm is right up my alley) and taking it as easy as I could.
For ten days both Finns and Guardians completely ignored me. Tempkin's organization vanished completely.
I don't know who told them what, but even my neighbors pretended I wasn't there.
Then, one day, things began to happen.
I came back from a walk around the neighborhood to find the Guardians waiting for me in the living room.
There was a head man and a couple of hoods in uniform. The boss sat in my best chair, flanked by the two goons.
I saw him, and knew I looked on the enemy. He was blatantly overweight, so obese it had to be a declaration of his penchant for high living, an obscene proof that he ate and drank more than others because he had a right to more, a right to all he could take.
His hair was iron grey and cut so short it couldn't fall flat. His eyes were dead and old until he locked his gaze with mine. Then they came to life-murderous, hateful life. Those eyes were nearly lost in deep folds of fat, but they gleamed from their depths like deadly jewels. His wide, lipless mouth was very slightly open, as if it were ready, at a moment's notice, to gobble up anything of interest that came into its owner's path.
His uniform was not the standard grey, but a deep, brooding scarlet with death-black epaulets and pockets. The bright colors of his chestful of ribbons took on a malignant cast against that background. He stood, glared at me, and spoke in English with a typical Guardian accent, harsh and nasal. "I am Colonel Bradhurst, Special Interrogation Branch. Your records say you are Jefferson Darrow. We find that you have rather belatedly appeared on the list of skilled subjects of the Protectorate of New Finland." He paused for a moment, then spat out a sudden question. "Where has the computer kept your name up to now, cretin? Did you just appear out of thin air?"
"I-"
"Quiet!" He stalked across the room to the window and glared at the lovely view, as if he were angry with it. "How long have you been in the New Finnish star system?"
"I arrived with my wife about ten months ago-6,000 hours or so."
"Very poor timing on your part, wasn't that? Your wife died, too, and left you quite all alone. Such a pity." He turned and glared at me again. "One thing we have learned about this noisome people of yours is that they are excellent gossips. No one knows anything of you. What do you hide?"
"I just-just keep to myself. I'm not hiding anything."
"Of course you hide nothing. No one ever does." His face hardened. "For long. Not from me. What are you working on, here by yourself, Darrow?"
I decided Darrow had better play this as a coward. It was going to be pretty easy to act scared. The trick was to concentrate on feeding Bradhurst the bait instead of standing there being petrified.
"I'm ... wor-working on a special transmitter, very advanced, that can-"
"You lie! This place has been searched top to bottom in your absence. Your lab is full of meaningless toys, nothing of any real use. 'Very advanced' devices? Nothing! You all try so very hard to impress your new masters. Trying to earn favor, clamoring over each other to gain special privileges and steal what is left for yourselves. Yours is not a loyal people, Darrow."
"These aren't my people! My wife was a Finn, I'm not. I don't owe them a thing! My new transmitter is up here." I pointed to my forehead. "I can't get any equipment, or computer time to test things, or any chance to design or build. But I know I could build a working, practical matter transmitter!"
He suddenly looked suspicious in a new way. It seemed I might be of value. "Matter transmitter? What are you talking about?"
"A device that could move material objects through space from a transmitter to a receiver using radio waves." That was bait enough, I thought.