"Joseph Green - Conscience Interplanetary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Joseph)

Earthmen. The unloading crew was scrambling for shelter, yelling wildly
and drawing their laser pistols.
“It’s the seals!” said Phyllis, and there was fear in her voice. Murdock
had already drawn a laser, its dark red jewel glinting in the fading light.
There were no attackers in sight, just the rocks appearing from nowhere
and arcing toward them. After a moment Murdock, in apparent
frustration, fired at a cluster of rocks near at hand. The hit boulder
sparkled briefly, absorbing the heat but not all the light. Other beams
began to flash as the unloading crew got into action. The little landing
area became a weird tangle of multicolored lights, shifting shadows, and
coruscating rocks. Most of the beams fired were not only wasted, they left
the gun’s owner dangerously exposed. The small crystal in a hand laser
had to cool five seconds between pulses. In that length of time an armed
opponent, even one throwing stones, could kill a defenseless man.
Allan saw his first seal clearly when it left the shelter of some rocks and
ran for the water, dragging a wounded comrade. They were tiny creatures,
only half his height, and they moved with an odd, stiff-jointed swing from
one leg to the other that looked awkward but was quite fast. Murdock saw
them also and lifted his gun, but the beam hissed through the air where
they had been as they dived together into the sea. And abruptly the
creatures were gone and it was quiet again, and now darkness was
stealing swiftly over the narrow beach.
“The little devils are getting bolder,” said Murdock, holstering his gun.
“That’s the first daylight attack on dry land.”
Allan knelt and picked up one of the stones which had just been flung at
them. It was apparently obsidian, and had been hand-chipped until it had
several sharp edges, each capable of penetrating a spacesuit. Primitive,
but deadly.
“How did they ‘propel them so far?” Allan asked Phyllis. Before she
could answer an excited voice called, “Miss Roen! Miss Roen, I’ve found a
dead one in the rocks! Do you want the body?”
Allan saw the small woman visibly hesitate, and then call back, “Yes,
please! Take it into the lab!”
“I’d better stay here a moment and assess the damage,” said Murdock,
moving toward a man who was lying on the ground holding a bloody arm.
“If you’ll go with Phyllis, Conscience Odegaard...?”
As they approached the buildings Allan saw two sentries standing on
rocky eminences, where they could observe the entire area. Large
floodlights brightly illuminated the ground around them. Evidently these
civilians had learned to take some rather military precautions.
There was no airlock, but the station personnel had built an anteroom
where both spacesuits and cold-weather gear were hung. Allan shed his
suit with thanksgiving, and turned to find Phyllis Roen already out of her
heavy clothes and waiting for him.
The tiny woman was obviously a Eurasian. She had very black hair
streaked with gray, and features which were delicate without being pretty.
He estimated her age at around thirty-five. She still looked very good to
him; the months in space between landings were long and usually lonely
ones. There were only a few women in the Space Service at present,
though the number was slowly growing.