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

crash, and they swung and fired wildly. Like a flash Flicker sprang to the deck behind them, pausing the
barest instant for breath and balance, then springing quickly forward and striking one of them a crushing
blow across the neck. The alien dropped with a small squeak. The other fired wildly, but Flicker was too
quick, zig-zagging back to a retreat behind the bags. After a moment he peered over the top of the pile.
 Sha-Lee was standing poised, peering into the blackness toward the other alien' who lay quite
motionless on the floor, its head twisted at an unnatural angle from its body. Something in Flicker's mind
screamed, "Get the other now, while you can!" But he took a deep breath of the sticky air, and then
turned and ran silently to the hatch at the back of the hold, and out into the large corridor.
He had to get the lights first. With the lights gone, the others could be taken care of in good time. But
he knew that he couldn't stand the torture of the lights much longer; already his eyes felt like sandpaper,
and the paralysis which took him for several seconds when the lights first went on could give the aliens a
fatal advantage. He, came to a darkened hatchway, half open at the end of the corridor, took a brief
inventory, and hurried through. Far below he could hear the generators buzzing, growing stronger and
mingling with the sobbing of the motors as he descended ladder after ladder. He hurried down a dimly-lit
corridor and tried a hatchway where the noise seemed most intense.
The light from within stabbed at his eyes, blinding him, but he forced himself through the hatch. To the
right was the glittering control panel for the atomic pile; to the left were the gauges for the gas storage
control. An alien was standing before the main control panel, a larger creature than his brothers, his mind
swiftly pulsating, carrying overtones of great physical strength. Flicker slid silently behind one of the
generators and studied it and the room, his mind growing progressively, more frantic. His eyes burned
furiously, and finally, with a groan, he unstrapped the heat gun and sent a burst toward the ceiling. The
light blew with a loud pop, and the alien whirled.
"Who's there?"
Flicker sat tight. The generator he was using for concealment was not functioning probably a standby.
Three of them were running in series over to one side, with a fuse-box above them. Flicker's heart
pounded. It would have to be quick and sure.
The alien moved swiftly over to the side of the room, and a thin blade of light stabbed out at Flicker.
A battle lamp. The suddenness of its appearance startled him, stalled his movement just an instant too
long. He saw the burst of red from the alien's weapon, and he screamed out as the scorching energy
caught him in the side and doubled him over. In agony he jumped aside and sprang suddenly up onto a
catwalk. The alien swung the lamp around below, searching for him, tense, gun poised. In a burst of
speed Flicker moved along the catwalk toward the alien, and crouched on the edge directly over him,
panting, gagging at the smell of the creature mingled with the odor of his own burned flesh. He felt cold
rage creep into his mind, recklessness, the age-old instinct of his people to claw and scratch and kill.
Suddenly he sprang down past the alien, striking him a light tap on the shoulder as he went by, pinning the
creature around like a dervish. The battle lamp went crashing to the deck; the heat gun flew off to one
side, struck a bulkhead, and spluttered twice as it shorted out. Flicker spun on the alien, catching him a
crippling blow across the chest. Fear broke strong from the alien's mind as he toppled to the floor.
Flicker was upon him in an instant, like an animal, ripping, tearing, crushing. The exhilaration roared
through his mind like a narcotic, and he lifted the twitching body by the neck, half-dragging it over to the
generators. Carefully he placed one of, the alien's paws on one of the generator leads, the other on the
other. The terrific voltage sputtered, and the alien gave two jerks and crackled into a steaming, reeking
cinder, while the generator turned cherry red, melted, and fused. Flicker blasted the fuse-box with his
pistol, fusing it into a glob of molten metal and plastic, then turned the pistol on the auxiliary generators.
The smell of ozone rose strongly in the air, and the generators were beyond hope of repair.
Flicker rose and stretched easily, his heart pounding. His side throbbed painfully, but he felt an
incongruent flush of satisfaction and well-being. Now there would be no more lights. No more painful,
burning agony in his eyes. Now he could take his time—even enjoy himself. He sprang up onto the
catwalk again, located a concealed corner, and sank down to sleep.
The five of them were gathered in the control room of the ship. Open paneling of plastiglass at the