"Alan E. Nourse - Peacemaker" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nourse Alan E)

Flicker's mind raced through the plan, the words, carefully imprinted in his mind, the evidence he
could present to them.
If only he could have a chance! He felt the dull pain in his stomach—he hadn't been fed since he was
brought aboard, and the drug they gave him had drained and exhausted him. At least he would have no
more of that for another three hours. He sighed quietly, aching for sleep. From the moment the impact of
the first dose of drug hit him, he had realized the terrible depths of strength his deception would require.
He had been nearly unconscious from exposure in outer space when they had dragged him from his
lifeboat into the blazing light of the ship, but the drug had stimulated him to the point of convulsions. An
overwhelming dosage for their metabolism, no doubt, but it had fallen far short of his sedation threshold,
driving his heart into a frenzy of activity as he tried to control his jerking muscles. Still, there would be no
more for three hours or so, so he could lie in reasonable comfort, trying to find a solution to the question
at hand.
One of them wanted to kill him immediately. That was the one who had poked and probed that first
day, tapping his nerves and bones with a little hammer, taking samples of his blood and exhaled breath,
opening his eyelid and using that horrid torch that seared his brain like raw fire. The throbbing,
intermittent light had begun to bother him as early as that. Either their visual pickup was of extremely low
sensitivity, or his own neurovisio pickup had been stepped up to such a degree that what appeared as
steady light to them registered on his mind as a rapid and maddening oscillation. But the brilliance and the
heat—
His strength was returning slowly after the ordeal. His muscles ached from inactivity, and he began
twisting back and forth, testing the limits of his restraints. Each leg could move about four inches back
and forth ; 'his right arm seemed tightly secured, but his left—he twisted his wrist back and forth slowly,
and suddenly it was free! Unbelieving, Flicker groped for the restrainer. It hung loosely at the side of the
pallet, its buckle broken. He moved the arm tentatively, testing the other restrainer, wiping perspiration
from his forehead. Finally he lay back, his heart pounding. With one arm free he could free himself
completely in a matter of moments. But the aliens mustn't know it, for anything that would startle them or
make them suspicious might turn the tide of their indecision instantly, and bring sudden violent,
purposeless death.
The arm could be used to keep himself alive—if he had to. The thought of the one alien crept through
his mind: the cold, unyielding hate, and the fear. The others were merely curious, and curiosity could be
his weapon, to help him establish the link that was so necessary. Somehow, contact must be established
without frightening them, or threatening them in any way. Although their thoughts came to him so clearly,
he had tried in vain to establish mental rapport with them. They showed no sign of awareness of anything
but their own thoughts, and communicated only by sound, for their thinking processes were as sluggish as
their motions. Sluggish thinking, but on a high level: they thought logically, using data in most cases to
form logical, sound conclusions. They understood friendliness, and affection, and companionship, among
themselves, but toward him—they seemed unable to conceive of him except in terms of alien, to be
feared, investigated, attacked.
He sighed again and settled back, trying to ease his aching back and shoulders. His mind was almost
giddy from lack of sleep, running off into wild, dreamlike ramblings, but he struggled for control, fighting
to keep the fingers of sleep from his mind. He knew that to sleep now would be to place himself at a
terrible, possibly fatal, disadvantage. He couldn't afford to sleep now—not until contact had been
established.
The light flashed on again, directly above him. Flicker cringed, his muscles twitching, tightening before
the torturous heat. Anger and frustration crept through to his consciousness—why so soon? No more
drug was due for a long while yet. He heard footsteps in the passageway outside, and the hatch
squeaked open admit one of the aliens, alone. And with him came a single paralyzing thought wave which
tore into Flicker's brain, driving out the pain and frustration, leaving nothing but cold fear:
"If the others find it dead, they can't do much about it—"
This, then, was the one that had wanted him dead. They called him Klock, and he was the biggest