"Robert A. Heinlein - Sixth Column" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

hundred million. I suppose," he added "to make everything nice and tidy for
the military mind I should write out a discharge from the United States army
for everybody left and kiss 'em good-by. I don't know where that leaves me-
harakiri, perhaps. Maybe you don't get it. This is all the United States there is
left. And it's left because the PanAsians haven't found it."
Ardmore wet his lips. "Apparently I did not clearly convey the order. The
order was to take charge, and prosecute the war!"
"With what?"
He measured Calhoun before answering. "It is not actually your
responsibility. Under the changed situation, in accordance with the articles of
war, as senior line officer present I am assuming command of this
detachment of the United States army!"
It hung in the balance for twenty heartbeats. At last Calhoun stood up
and attempted to square his stooped shoulders. "You are perfectly correct,
sir. What are your orders?"
"What are your orders?" he asked himself. Think fast, Ardmore, you big
Junk, you've shot off your face-now where are you? Calhoun was right when
he asked "With what?"-yet he could not stand still and see the remnant of
military organization fall to pieces.
You've got to tell 'em something, and it's got to be good; at least good
enough to hold 'em until you think of something better. Stall, brother, stall! "I
think we had best examine the new situation here, first. Colonel, will you
oblige me by having the remaining personnel gather around-say around that
big table? That will be convenient."
"Certainly, sir." The others, having heard the order, moved toward the
table. "Graham! And you, what's your name? Thomas, isn't it? You two
remove Captain MacAllister's body to some other place. Put him in the
corridor for now."
The commotion of getting one of the ubiquitous corpses out of the way
and getting the living settled around a table broke the air of unreality and
brought things into focus. Ardmore felt more self-confidence when he turned
again to Calhoun. "You had better introduce me to those here present. I want
to know what they do and something about them, as well as their names."
It was a corporal's guard, a forlorn remnant. He had expected to find,
hidden here safely and secretly away under an unmarked spot in the Rocky
Mountains, the most magnificent aggregation of research brains ever
gathered together for one purpose. Even in the face of complete military
disaster to the regular forces of the United States, there remained a
reasonable outside chance that two hundred-odd keen scientific brains,
secreted in a hide-away whose very existence was unsuspected by the
enemy and equipped with every modern facility for research, might
conceivably perfect and operate some weapon that would eventually drive
out the PanAsians.
For that purpose he had been sent to tell the commanding general that
he was on his own, no longer responsible to higher authority. But what could
half a dozen men do in any case?
For it was a scant half a dozen. There was Dr. Lowell Calhoun,
mathematician, jerked out of university life by the exigencies of war and
called a colonel. There was Dr. Randall Brooks, biologist and bio-chemist,
with a special commission of major. Ardmore liked his looks; he was quiet