"Dick, Philip K - Solar Lottery v1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

"Do they know about the ship?"

"I doubt it." Morbidly, he added, "I hope not."

"You can last that long, until the ship is safe. Isn't that the—" Rita broke off, turning in fear.

From outside the building came the sound of jets. A ship was setting down on the roof, a sudden metallic whirr like that of a steel insect. There was a staggering thump, then voices and quick movements from the floors above, as the roof trap was yanked open.

Rita saw the look on her uncle's face, the momentary terror gleaming out, the brief flash of awareness. Then the benign weariness and quietude filmed over, and he smiled haltingly at her.

"They're here," he observed, in a faint, almost inaudible voice.



Heavy military boots showed in the corridor. The green-uniformed Directorate guards fanned out around the meeting chamber; after them came a calm-faced Directorate official with a locked briefcase gripped.

"You're Leon Cartwright?" the official inquired. Leafing through the notebook he said, "Give me your papers. You have them with you?"

Cartwright slid his plastic tube from his inside coat pocket, unsnapped the seal, and spread out the thin metal-foil. One by one he laid them on the table. "Birth-certificate. School and training records. Psych-analysis. Medical certificate. Criminal record. Status permit. Statement of fealty history. Last fealty release. All the rest." He pushed the heap toward the official and then removed his coat and rolled up his sleeve.

The official glanced briefly at the papers and then compared the identification tabs with the markings seared deep in the flesh of Cartwright's forearm. "We'll have to examine fingerprints and brain pattern later. Actually, this is superfluous; I know you're Leon Cartwright." He pushed back the papers. "I'm Major Shaeffer, from the Directorate teep Corps. There are other teeps nearby. There was a power shift this morning, a little after nine."

"I see," Cartwright said, rolling his sleeve down and putting on his coat again.

Major Shaeffer touched the smooth edge of Cartwright's status permit. "You're not classified, are you?"

"No."

"I suppose your p-card was collected by your protector-Hill. That's the usual system, isn't it?"

"That's the usual system," Cartwright said. "But I'm not under fief to any Hill. As you'll see on my paper, I was discharged earlier this year."

Shaeffer shrugged. "Then, of course, you put your power card up for sale on the blackmarket." He closed his notebook with a snap. "Most twitches of the bottle bring up unclassifieds, since they outnumber classifieds by such a margin. But one way or another, classifieds manage to get hold of the power cards."

Cartwright laid his power card on the table. "There's mine."

Shaeffer was astounded. "Incredible." He rapidly scanned Cartwright's mind, a suspicious, puzzled expression on his face. "You knew already. You knew this was coming."

"Yes."

"Impossible. It just occurred—we came instantly. The news hasn't even reached Verrick; you're the first person outside the Corps to know." He moved close to Cartwright. "There's something wrong here. How did you know it was coming?"

"That two-headed calf," Cartwright said vaguely.

The teep official was lost in thought, still exploring Cartwright's mind. Abruptly he broke away. "It doesn't matter. I suppose you have some inside pipeline. I could find out; it's in your mind, someplace deep down, carefully larded over." He stuck out his hand. "Congratulations. If it's all right with you, we'll take up positions around here. In a few minutes Verrick will be informed. We want to be ready," He pushed Cartwright's p-card into his hand. "Hang onto this. It's your sole claim to your new position."

"I guess," Cartwright said, beginning to breathe again, "I can count on you." He pocketed the power card carefully.

"I guess you can." Shaeffer licked his lip reflectively. "It seems strange. . . . You're now our superior and Verrick is nothing. It may be some time before we can make the psychological .change-over. Some of the younger Corps members who don't remember any other Quizmaster . . ." He shrugged. "I suggest you place yourself in Corps hands for awhile. We can't stay here, and a lot of people at Batavia have personal fealties to Verrick, not to the position. We'll have to screen everybody and systematically weed them out. Verrick has been using them to gain control over the Hills."