"Henry Kuttner - Clash by Night (SS Collection) UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

The orderly saluted, grinning. Scott went out, feeling good. Inwardly he was chuckling rather sardonically at the false values he was supposed to take seriously. Of course many men had died when Doone fort had been built. But did that, in itself, make a tradition? What good was the fort? In a few centuries it would have outlived its usefulness. Then it would be a relic of the past. Civilization moved on, and, these days, civilization merely tolerated the military.
So - what was the use? Sentiment needed a valid reason for its existence. The Free Companions fought, bitterly, doggedly, with insane valour, in order to destroy themselves. The ancient motives for war had vanished.
What-was the use? All over Venus the lights of the great forts were going out - and, this time, they would never be lit again- not in a thousand lifetimes!
V
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of "struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
-Arnold circa 1870
The fort was a completely self-contained unit, military rather than social. There was no need for any agrarian development, since a state of complete siege never existed. Food could be brought in from the Keeps by water and air.
But military production was important, and, in the life of the fort, the techs played an important part, from the experimental physicist to the spot welder. There were always replacements to be made, for, in battle, there were always casualties. And it was necessary to keep the weapons up to date, continually striving to perfect new ones. But strategy and armament were of equal importance. An outnumbered fleet had been known to conquer a stronger one by the use of practical psychology.
Scott found Commander Bienne at the docks, watching the launching of a new sub. Apparently Bienne hadn't yet got over his anger, for he turned a scowling, sombre face to the captain as he saluted.
'Hello, commander,' Scott said. 'I'm making inspection. Are you free?'
Bienne nodded. 'There's not much to do.'
'Well - routine. We got that sub finished just in time, eh?'
'Yes.' Bienne couldn't repress his pleasure at the sight of the trim, sleek vessel beginning to slide down the ways. Scott, too, felt his pulses heighten as the sub slipped into the water, raising a mighty splash, and then settling down to a smooth, steady riding on the waves. He looked out to where the great battlewagons stood at anchor, twelve of them, grey-green monsters of plated metal. Each of them carried launching equipment for gliders, but the collapsible aircraft were stowed away out of sight as yet. Smaller destroyers lay like
lean-flanked wolves among the battleships. There were two fast carriers, loaded with gliders and flitterboats. There were torpedo boats and one low-riding monitor, impregnable, powerfully armed, but slow. Only a direct hit could disable a monitor, but the behemoths had their disadvantages. The battle was usually over before they lumbered into sight. Like all monitors, this one - the Armageddon - was constructed on the principle of a razorback hog, covered, except for the firing ports, by a tureen-shaped shield, strongly braced from within. The Armageddon was divided into groups of compartments and had several auxiliary engines, so that, unlike the legendary Rover, when a monitor died, it did not die all over. It was, in effect, a dinosaur. You could blow off the monster's head, and it would continue to fight with talons and lashing tail. Its heavy guns made up in mobility for the giant's unwieldiness - but the trouble was to get the monitor into battle. It was painfully slow.
Scott scowled. 'We're fighting over Venus Deep, eh?'
'Yes,' Bienne nodded. 'That still goes. The Helldivers are already heading toward Montana Keep and we'll intercept them over the Deep.'
'When's zero hour?'
'Midnight tonight.'
Scott closed his eyes, visualizing their course on a mental chart. Not so good. When battle was joined near island groups, it was sometimes possible for a monitor to slip up under cover of the islets, but that trick wouldn't work now. Too bad - for the Helldivers were a strong outfit, more so since their recent merger with O'Brien's Legion. Even with the Mob to help, the outcome of the scrap would be anyone's guess. The Armageddon might be the decisive factor.
'I wonder-' Scott said. 'No. It'd be impossible.'
'What?'
'Camouflaging the Armageddon. If the Helldivers see the monitor coming, they'll lead the fight away from it, faster than that tub can follow. I was thinking we might get her into the battle without the enemy realizing it.'
'She's camouflaged now.'
'Paint, that's all. She can be spotted. I had some screwy idea about disguising her as an island or a dead whale.'
'She's too big for a whale and floating islands look a bit suspicious.'
'Yeah. But if we could slip the Armageddon in without scaring off the enemy - Hm-m-m. Monitors have a habit of turning turtle, don't they?'
'Right. They're top-heavy. But a monitor can't fight upside-down. It's not such a bright idea, captain.' Briefly Bienne's sunken eyes gleamed with sneering mockery. Scott grunted and turned away.
'All right. Let's take a look around.'
The fleet was shipshape. Scott went to the shops. He learned that several new hulls were under way, but would not be completed by zero hour. With Bienne, he continued to the laboratory offices. Nothing new. No slip-ups; no surprises. The machine was running smoothly.
By the time inspection was completed, Scott had an idea. He told Bienne to carry on and went to find Cine Rhys. The cine was in his office, just clicking off the telaudio as Scott appeared.
'That was Mendez,' Rhys said. 'The Mob's meeting our fleet a hundred miles off the coast. They'll be under our orders, of course. A good man, Mendez, but I don't entirely trust him.'
'You're not thinking of a double cross, sir?'
Cine Rhys made disparaging noises. 'Brutus is an honourable man. No, he'll stick to his bargain. But I wouldn't cut cards with Mendez. As a Free Companion, he's trustworthy. Personally- Well, how do things look?'
'Very good, sir. I've an idea about the Armageddon.'
'I wish I had,' Rhys said frankly. 'We can't get that damned scow into the battle in any way I can figure out. The Helldivers will see it coming, and lead the fight away.'
'I'm thinking of camouflage.'
'A monitor's a monitor. It's unmistakable. You can't make it look like anything else.'
'With one exception, sir. You can make it look like a disabled monitor.'
Rhys sat back, giving Scott a startled glance. 'That's interesting. Go on.'
'Look here, sir.' The captain used a stylo to sketch the outline of a monitor on a convenient pad. 'Above the surface, the Armageddon's dome-shaped. Below, it's a bit different, chiefly because of the keel. Why can't we put a fake superstructure on the monitor - build a false keel on it, so it'll seem capsized?'
'It's possible.'
'Everybody knows a monitor's weak spot - that it turns turtle under fire sometimes. If the Helldivers saw an apparently capsized Armageddon drifting toward them, they'd naturally figure the tub was disabled.'
'It's crazy,' Rhys said. 'One of those crazy ideas that might work.' He used the local telaudio to issue crisp orders. 'Got it? Good. Get the Armageddon under way as soon as the equipment's aboard. Alterations will be made at sea. We can't waste time. If we had them made in the yards, she'd never catch up with the fleet.'
The cine broke the connection, his seamed leathery face twisting into a grin. 'I hope it works. We'll see.'
He snapped his fingers. 'Almost forgot. President Crosby's nephew - Kane? - he was with you when you cracked up, wasn't he? I've been wondering whether I should have waived training for him. How did he show up in the jungle?'
'Quite well,' Scott said. 'I had my eye on him. He'll make a good soldier.'
Rhys looked keenly at the captain. 'What about discipline? I felt that was his weak spot.'
'I've no complaint to make.'