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

She met his eyes calmly enough.
'I'll be at the apartment, Brian. Luck.'
He kissed her briefly, conscious of a surging excitement at the.prospect of a new venture. Jeana understood his emotion. She gave him a quick, wry smile, touched his hair lightly, and rose. They went out into the gay tumult of the ways.
Perfumed wind blew into Scott's face. He wrinkled his nose disgustedly. During carnival seasons the Keeps were less pleasant to the Free Companions than otherwise; they felt more keenly the gulf that lay between them and the undersea dwellers. Scott pushed his way through the crowd and took
Jeana across the ways to the centre fast-speed strip. They found seats.
At a clover-leaf intersection Scott left the girl, heading toward Administration, the cluster of taller buildings in the city's centre. The technical and political headquarters were centred here, except for the laboratories, which were in the suburbs near the base of the Dome. There were a few small test-domes a mile or so distant from the city, but these were used only for more precarious experiments. Glancing up, Scott was reminded of the catastrophe that had unified science into something like a freemasonry. Above him, hanging without gravity over a central plaza, was the globe of the Earth, half shrouded by the folds of a black plastic pall. In every Keep on Venus there was a similar ever-present reminder of the lost mother planet.
Scott's gaze went up farther, to the Dome, as though he could penetrate the impervium and the mile-deep layer of water and the clouded atmosphere to the white star that hung in space, one quarter as brilliant as the Sun. A star -all that remained of Earth, since atomic power had been unleashed there two centuries ago. The scourge had spread like flame, melting continents and levelling mountains. In the libraries there were wire-tape pictorial records of the Holocaust. A religious cult - Men of the New Judgment -had sprung up, and advocated the complete destruction of science; followers of that dogma still existed here and there. But the cult's teeth had been drawn when technicians unified, outlawing experiments with atomic power forever, making use of that force punishable by death, and permitting no one to join their society without taking the Minervan Oath.
'-to work for the ultimate good of mankind . . . taking all precaution against harming humanity and science . . . requiring permission from those in authority before undertaking any experiment involving peril to the race ... remembering always the extent of the trust placed in us and remembering forever the death of the mother planet through misuse of knowledge-'
The Earth. A strange sort of world it must have been, Scott thought. Sunlight, for one thing, unfiltered by the cloud layer. In the old days, there had been few unexplored areas left on Earth. But here on Venus, where the continents had not yet been conquered - there was no need, of course, since everything necessary to life could be produced under the Domes- here on Venus, there was still a frontier. In the Keeps, a highly specialized social culture. Above the surface, a primeval world, where only the Free Companions had their fortresses and navies- the navies for fighting, the forts to house the technicians who provided the latter-day sinews of war, science instead of money. The Keeps tolerated visits from the Free Companions, but would not offer them headquarters, so violent the feeling, so sharp the schism, in the public mind, between war and cultural progress.
Under Scott's feet the sliding way turned into an escalator, carrying him into the Administration Building. He stepped to another way which took him to a lift, and, a moment or two later, was facing the door-curtain bearing the face of President Dane Crosby of Montana Keep.
Crosby's voice said, 'Come in, captain,' and Scott brushed through the curtain, finding himself in a medium-sized room with muralled walls and a great window overlooking the city. Crosby, a white-haired, thin figure in blue silks, was at his desk. He looked like a tired old clerk out of Dickens, Scott thought suddenly, entirely undistinguished and ordinary. Yet Crosby was one of the great sociopoliticians on Venus.
Cine Rhys, leader of Doone's Free Companions, was sitting in a relaxer, the apparent antithesis of Crosby. All the moisture in Rhys' body seemed to have been sucked out of him years ago by ultraviolet actinic, leaving a mummy of brown leather and whipcord sinew. There was no softness in the man. His smile was a grimace. Muscles lay like wire under the swarthy cheeks.
Scott saluted. Rhys waved him to a relaxer. The look of subdued eagerness in the cinc's eyes was significant - an
eagle poising himself, smelling blood. Crosby sensed that, and a wry grin showed on his pale face.
'Every man to his trade,' he remarked, semi-ironically. Tsuppose I'd be bored stiff if I had too long a vacation. But you'll have quite a battle on your hands this time. Cine Rhys.'
Scott's stocky body tensed automatically. Rhys glanced at him.
'Virginia Keep is attacking, captain. They've hired the Helldivers - Flynn's outfit.'
There was a pause. Both Free Companions were anxious to discuss the angles, but unwilling to do so in the presence of a civilian, even the president of Montana Keep. Crosby rose.
'The money settlement's satisfactory, then?'
Rhys nodded. 'Yes, that's all right. I expect the battle will take place in a couple of days. In the neighbourhood of Venus Deep, at a rough guess.'
'Good. I've a favour to ask, so if you'll excuse me for a few minutes, I'll-' He left the sentence unfinished and went out through the door-curtain. Rhys offered Scott a cigarette.
'You get the implications, captain - the Helldivers?'
'Yes, sir. Thanks. We can't do it alone.'
'Right. We're short on manpower and armament both. And the Helldivers recently merged with O'Brien's Legion, after O'Brien was killed in that polar scrap. They're a strong outfit, plenty strong. Then they've got their speciality -submarine attack. I'd say we'll have to use H-plan 7.'
Scott closed his eyes, remembering the files. Each Free Company kept up-to-date plans of attack suited to the merits of every other Company of Venus. Frequently revised as new advances were made, as groups merged, and as the balance of power changed on each side, the plans were so detailed that they could be carried into action at literally a moment's notice. H-plan 7, Scott recalled, involved enlisting the aid of the Mob, a small but well-organized band of Free Companions led by Cine Tom Mendez.
'Right,' Scott said. 'Can you get him?'
'I think so. We haven't agreed yet on the bonus. I've been telaudioing him on a tight beam, but he keeps putting me off - waiting till the last moment, when he can dictate his own terms.'
'What's he asking, sir?'
'Fifty thousand cash and a fifty per cent cut on the loot.'
'I'd say thirty per cent would be about right.'
Rhys nodded. 'I've offered him thirty-five. I may send you to his fort- carte blanche. We can get another Company, but Mendez has got beautiful sub-detectors - which would come hi handy against the Helldivers. Maybe I can settle things by audio. If not, you'll have to fly over to Mendez and buy his services, at less than fifty per cent if you can.'
Scott rubbed the old scar on his chin with a calloused forefinger. 'Meantime Commander Bienne's in charge of mobilization. When-'
'I telaudioed our fort. Air transports are on the way now.'
'It'll be quite a scrap,' Scott said, and the eyes of the two men met in perfect understanding. Rhys chuckled drylyx.
'And good profits. Virginia Keep has a big supply of korium . . . dunno how much, but plenty.'
'What started the fracas this time?'
'The usual thing, I suppose,' Rhys said disinterestedly. 'Imperialism. Somebody in Virginia Keep worked out a new plan for annexing the rest of the.Keeps. Same as usual.'
They stood up as the door-curtain swung back, admitting President Crosby, another man, and a girl. The man looked young, his boyish face not yet toughened under actinic burn. The girl was lovely in the manner of a plastic figurine, lit from within by vibrant life. Her blonde hair was cropped in the prevalent mode, and her eyes, Scott saw, were an unusual shade of green. She was more than merely pretty -she was instantly exciting.
Crosby said, 'My niece, Ilene Kane - and my nephew, Norman Kane.' He performed introductions, and they found seats.
'What about drinks?' Ilene suggested. 'This is rather revoltingly formal. The fight hasn't started yet, after all.'
Crosby shook his head at her. 'You weren't invited here anyway. Don't try to turn this into a party - there isn't too much time, under the circumstances.'
'O.K.,' Ilene murmured. 'I can wait.' She eyed Scott interestedly.
Norman Kane broke in. 'I'd like to join Doone's Free Companions, sir. I've already applied, but now that there's a battle coming up, I hate to wait till my application's approved. So I thought-'
Crosby looked at Cine Rhys. 'A personal favour, but the decision's up to you. My nephew's a misfit - a romanticist. Never liked the life of a Keep. A year ago he went off and joined Starling's outfit.'
Rhys raised an eyebrow. 'That gang? It's not a recommendation, Kane. They're not even classed as Free Companions. More like a band of guerrillas, and entirely without ethics. There've even been rumours they're messing around with atomic power.'
Crosby looked startled. 'I hadn't heard that.'
'It's no more than a rumour. If it's ever proved, the Free Companions - all of them - will get together and smash Starling in a hurry.'
Norman Kane looked slightly uncomfortable. 'I suppose I was rather a fool. But I wanted to get in the fighting game, and Starling's groups appealed to me-'
The cine made a sound in his throat. 'They would. Swashbuckling romantics, with no idea of what war means. They've not more than a dozen technicians. And they've no discipline - it's like a pirate outfit. War today, Kane, isn't won by romantic animals dashing at forlorn hopes. The modern soldier is a tactician who knows how to think, integrate, and obey. If you join our Company, you'll have to forget what you learned with Starling.'
'Will you take me, sir?'