"E. E. Doc Smith - D' Alembert 9 - The Omicron Invasion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

lady stand up. See, I'll get back in line now and everything will be smooth. No need to fire those big, nasty
guns."

If the aliens understood Empirese they gave no indication of it. Despite her soothing tone and
verbal assurances, Yvette saw one of the creatures reach to his side and start to pull out an object. It was a
tubular device with a handle, looking for all the world like a weapon. Although alien expressions could
conceivably be different, the look on his face convinced Yvette he was going to use the device on her.

The moment for calm obeisance had passed. With her life on the line anyway, Yvette threw
caution to the winds and went in to a full self-defense mode. Rather than backing away from the fight, she
ran full speed at the alien who'd begun drawing his weapon. A high, well-placed kick sent the device
flying from his hand. Spinning on the ball of her right foot, she came around and walloped the creature on
the side of the head, knocking him to the ground. Her momentum continued to spin her around until she
planted her left foot again. She was in a crouch facing two more aliens, prepared for further action.

She was not prepared, however, for what happened next. Her skirmish with the first alien, even
though it had lasted just a few seconds, had given the others time to draw their own tube devices. Yvette
found herself staring down two separate barrels. She tensed to spring to her right, but even her
DesPlainian reflexes weren't quick enough.

Rays of energy streamed forth from the barrels of both guns, bathing the young woman in a pale
yellow glow. Prepared for the searing intensity of blaster beams, Yvette's whole body tensed and a final,
silent prayer flashed through her mind. These weapons were not blasters, though, and the effect of the rays
was far more subtle—and in some ways, more frightening.

To Yvette, the whole world suddenly seemed detached and very far away. Her sensory apparatus
was undamaged, and impulses reached her brain in the normal way, but they seemed to belong to someone
else, and scarcely mattered to her at all. It was as though her will had turned to jelly and her mind to mush.
She, Yvette Bavol, became a disembodied entity floating beyond the trivial concerns of her corporal form.

Somewhere, buried deep within the foam padding that seemed to surround her mind, an
intellectual part of her was screaming in horror. As a finely trained athlete, Yvette was used to having her
mind and body function in perfect coordination; her merest thought would be instantly converted into
action when she willed it so. Suddenly, her will was cut off from her body, drifting in a limbo apart. She
was there, yet she wasn't, entombed in a nightmare of living hell.

The fight stopped instantly as Yvette's body stood silently in place, waiting for guidance. One of
the overseers took her firmly by the arm and led her back to where she'd dropped her own load of lumber.
He gestured for her to bend down and pick it up, and obediently she did so. It was all the same to her
whether she stood or worked. More commands were given, and Yvette carried them out as instructed.

Deeply buried, the inner Yvette was horrified that her body would betray her this badly. She'd
heard descriptions of what it was like to be under nitrobarb, and this detached feeling sounded similar.
This part of her mind fought strongly against the effects of the control ray, like a bird beating hopelessly
against the bars of its cage, but it was no use. A sweat broke out on her forehead from the magnitude of
the internal struggle, but she could not make her body obey her. For better or worse, her will was enslaved
to the whim of her alien masters.

She spent the rest of the day performing menial tasks that required little thought or coordination.
After sundown, she and the other captives were escorted to a mess area where they were served some kind