"Gordon Dickson - Forever Man" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

"That's right," said Mollen. "It killed two and escaped from the third-and by rights it ought to be dead itself, but it's still coming, on ordinary drive, evidently. It's not phaseshifting. Now, a control system might record a voice and head a ship home, but it can't fight off odds of three to one. That takes a living mind."
A stud clicked. Dazzling overhead light sprang on again and the desk top was only a desk top. Blinking in the illumination, Jim saw Mollen looking across at him.
"Jim," said the general, "this is a volunteer mission. That

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ship is still well in Laagi territory and it's going to be hit again before it reaches the Frontier. Next time it'll be cut to ribbons, or captured. We can't afford to have that happen. Its pilot, this Raoul Penard, has got too much to tell us, even beginning with the fact of how he happens to be alive in space at well over a hundred years of age." He watched Jim closely. "Jim, I'm asking you to take a section of four ships in to meet. La Chasse Gallerie and bring her out."
Jim stared at him. He found himself involuntarily wetting his lips and stopped the gesture.
"How deep?" he asked.
"At least eighty light-years in toward the heart of Laagi territory," said Mollen bluntly. "If you want to turn it down, Jim, say so now. The man who pulls this off has got to go into it believing he can make it back out again."
"Mat's me," said Jim. He laughed, the bare husk of a laugh. "That's the way I operate, General. I volunteer."
"Good," said Mollen. He sat back in his chair. "There's just one more thing, then. Raoul Penard is older than any human being has a right to be and he's pretty certainly senile, if not out-and-out insane. We'll want a trained observer along to get as much information out of contact with the man as we can, in case you lose him and his ship, getting back. That calls for someone with a unique background and experience in geriatrics and all the knowledge of the aging process. So Mary, here, is going to be that observer. She'll replace your regular gunner and ride in a two-man ship with you."
It was like a hard punch in the belly. Jim sucked in air and found he had jerked erect. Both of the others watched him. He waited a second, to get his voice under control. He spoke first to the general.
"Sir, I'll need a gunner. If there was ever a job where I'd need &-gunner, it'd be this one."
"As a matter of fact," said Mollen slowly-and Jim could feel that this answer had been ready and waiting for him= `Mary, here, is a gunner-a good one. She's a captain in the Reserve, Forty-second Training Squadron. With a ninety-two point six efficiency rating."
"But she's still a weekend warrior= Jim swung about to face her. "Have you even done a tour of duty? Real duty? On the Frontier?"

10 I Gordon R. Dickson

"I think you know I haven't, Major," said Mary evenly. "If I had you'd have recognized me. We're about the same age and there aren't that many on Frontier duty."
"Then do you know what it's like, Captain-what it can be like out there?" raged Jim. He was trying to keep the edge out of his voice but he could hear it there in spite of all he could do. "Do you know how the Laagi can come out of nowhere? Do you know you can be hit before you know anyone's anywhere near around? Or the ship next to you can be hit and the screens have to stay open-that's regulation, in case of the one-in-a-million chance that there's something can be done for whoever's in the hit ship? Do you know what it's like to sit there and watch someone you've lived with burning to death in a cabin he can't get out of? -Or spilled out of a ship cut wide open, and lost back there somewhere . . . alive but lost . . . where you'll never be able to find him? Do you know what it might be like to be spilled out and lost yourself, and faced with the choice of living three weeks, a month, two months in your suit in the one-in-a-million chance of being found after all-or of taking your x-capsule? Do you know what that's like?"
"I know of it," said Mary. Her face had not changed. "The same way you do, as a series of possibilities, for the most part. I've seen visual and audible recordings of what you talk about. I know it as well as I can without having been wounded or killed myself."
"I don't think you do!" snapped Jim raggedly. His voice was shaking. He saw Mary turn to look at the general.
"Louis," she said, "perhaps we should ask for another volunteer?"
"Jim's our best man," said Mollen. He had not moved, or changed his expression, watching them both from behind the desk. "If I had a better Wing Cee-or an equal one who was fresher-I'd have called on him or her instead. But what you're after is just about impossible; and only someone who can do the impossible has a hope of bringing it off. That's Jim. It's like athletic skills. Every so often a champion comes along, one in billions of people, who isn't just one notch up from the next contenders, but ten notches up from the nearest best. There's no point in sending you and five ships into Laagi

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territory with anyone else in command. You simply wouldn't come back. With Jim, you might."
"I see," said Mary. She looked at Jim. "Regardless, I'm going."
"And you're taking her, Jim," said Mollen, "or turning down the mission."
"And if I turn it down?" Jim darted a glance at the general.
"I'll answer that," said Mary. Jim looked back at her. "If necessary, my Bureau will requisition a ship and I'll go alone."
Jim stared back at her for a long moment, and felt the rage drain slowly away from him, to be replaced by a great weariness.
"All right," he said. "All right, Mary-General. I'll head the mission." He breathed deeply and glanced over Mary's coveralls. "How long'll it take you to get ready?"
"I'm ready now," said Mary. She reached down to the floor behind the desk and came up with a package of personalssidearm, med-kit and x-box. "The sooner the better."
"All right. The five ships of the Section are manned and waiting for you," said Mollen. He stood up behind the desk and the other two got to their feet facing him. "I'll walk down to Transmission Section with you."




CHAPTER

2
THEY WENT OUT TOGETHER INTO THE CORRIDOR AND ALONG IT
and down an elevator tube to a tunnel with a moving floorway.
They stepped onto the gently rolling strip, which carried them
forward onto a slightly faster strip, and then to a faster, and so
Fon until they were flashing down the tunnel surrounded by air
pumped at a hundred and twenty miles an hour in the same
direction they traveled, so that they would not he blown off