"Smith, E E Doc - Lensman 4 - Gray Lensman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

"How many gamma-zeta tracers can you put our, chief?" Kinnison asked then, more
conversationally.
A brief consultation, then "Ten in regular use. By tuning in all our spares we can put out
sixty."
"At two diameters' distance forty-eight fields will surround this planet at one hundred
percent overlap. Please have that many set that way. Of the other twelve, set three to go well
outside the first sphere—say at four diameters out—covering the line from this planet to
Landmark's Nebula. Set the last nine to be thrown out about half a detet—as far as you can read
them accurately to one decimal—centering on the same line. Not much overlap is necessary on
these backing fields—just contact. Release nothing, of course, until I get there. And while the
boys are setting things up, you might go inert—it's safe enough now—so I can match your
intrinsic velocity and come aboard."
There followed the maneuvering necessary for one inert body to approach another in
space, then Kinnison's incredible housing of steel was hauled into the airlock by means of space-
lines attached to magnetic clamps. The outer door of the lock closed behind him, the inner one
opened, and the Lensman entered the flagship.
First to the armory, where he clambered stiffly out of his small battleship and gave orders
concerning its storage. Then to the control room, stretching and bending hugely as he went, in
vast relief at his freedom from the narrow and irksome confinement which he had endured so
long. He wanted a shower badly—in fact, he needed one—but business came first.
Of all the men in that control room, only two knew Kinnison personally. All knew of
him, however, and as the tall, gray-clad figure entered there was a loud, quick cheer. "Hi,
fellows—thanks." Kinnison waved a salute to the room as a whole. "Hi, Port Admiral! Hi,
Commandant!" He saluted Haynes and von Hohendorff as perfunctorily, and greeted them as
casually, as though he had last seen them an hour, instead of ten weeks, before; as though the
intervening time had been spent in the veriest idleness, instead of in the fashion in which it
actually had been spent.
Old von Hohendorff greeted his erstwhile pupil cordially enough, but:
"Out with it!" Haynes demanded. "What did you do? How did you do it? What does all
this confounded rigmarole mean? Tell us all about it—all you can, I mean," he added, hastily.
"There's no need for secrecy now, I don't think," and in flashing thoughts the Gray
Lensman went on to describe everything that had happened.
"So you see," he concluded, "I don't really know anything. It's all surmise, suspicion, and
deduction. Maybe nothing at all will happen; in which case these precautions, while they will
have been wasted effort, will have done us no harm. In case something does happen,
however—and something will, for all the tea in China—well be ready for it."
"But if what you are beginning to suspect is really true, it means that Boskonia is inter-
galactic in scope—wider-spread even than the Patrol!"
"Probably, but not necessarily—it may mean only that they have bases farther outside.
And remember I'm arguing on a mighty slim thread of evidence. That screen was hard and tight,
and I couldn't touch the external beam—if there was one—at all. I got just part of a thought, here
and there. However, the thought was 'that' galaxy; not just 'galaxy,' or 'this' or 'the' galaxy—and
why think that way if the guy was already in this galaxy?"
"But nobody has ever . . . but skip it for now—the boys are ready for you. Take over!"
"QX. First well go free again. Don't mink much, if any, of the stuff can come out here,
but no use taking chances. Cut your screens. Now, all you gamma-zeta men, throw out your
fields, and if any of you get a puncture, or even a flash, measure its position. You recording
observers, step your scanners up to fifty thousand. QX?"
"QX!" the observers and recorders reported, almost as one, and the Gray Lensman sat
down at a plate.