"Harry Harrison - Planet Of No Return" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

get my breath back. My bones ache. I made the landing in free fall and held it
at that for just as long as I could. It was a fast landing but I took at least
15 G's on touchdown. If I was detected on the way down there is no evidence of
it yet. I'm going to keep talking as I go. This broadcast is being recorded on
my deepspacer up above me in planetary orbit. So no matter what happens to me
there is going to be a record kept. I'm not going to do an incompetent job
like Marcill."

He didn't regret saying it, putting his feelings about the dead man in the
record. If Marcill had taken any precautions at all he might still be alive.
But precautions or no the fool should have found a way to leave some message.
But there was nothing, absolutely nothing to indicate what had happened, not a
single word that might have helped him now. Hartig snorted through his
nostrils at the thought. Landing on a new planet was a danger every time, no
matter how peaceful it looked. And this one, Selm-II, was certainly no
different. Far from peaceful looking. It had been Marcill's first assignment.
And his last. The man had reported in from planetary orbit and had recorded
his proposed landing position on the surface. And nothing else after that. A
fool. He had never been heard from again. That was when the decision had been
made to call a specialist in. This was Hartig's seventeenth planet

14

PLANET OF NO RETURN

contact. He intended to use all of his experience to see to it that it wasn't
his last as well.

"I can see why Marcill picked this spot. There's nothing but grass, empty
plain stretching out in all directions. But right here, next to this landing
site, there has been a battle—and not too long ago either. The remains of the
fighting are just in front of me. There appear to be war machines of various
kinds, pretty impressive things at one time, but all of them blasted apart and
rusting now. I'm going to take a closer look at them."

Hartig sealed the lock and started warily towards the littered battlefield,
reporting as he went. "These machines are big, the nearest one to me must be
at least fifty yards long. It has tractor treads and is "mounted with a single
turret with a large gun. That's destroyed now. No identification visible from
this distance. I'm going to take a closer look at it. But I can tell you
frankly that I don't like this. There were no cities visible from space, no
broadcasts or transmissions on any of the communication bands. Yet here is
this battlefield and these wrecks. And they're not toys. These things are the
products of a very advanced technology. Nor are they any kind of illusion.
This thing is solid metal—and it has been blown open by something even
solider. Still no insignia or identification anywhere on it that I can see.
I'm going to take a look inside. There are no hatches visible from where I'm
standing, but there is a hole blown in the side big enough to drive a truck
through. I'm going through it now. There may be documents inside, certainly
ought to be labels of some kind on the controls ..."