"A. E. Van Vogt - The Weapon Makers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Van Vogt A E)

“It will take a minute,” said the man on the screen, gravely, “to bring the various councilors to their
locals.”

Hedrock nodded stiffly. He was suddenly nervous. His voice had been steady enough, but he had the
feeling that it would deteriorate into a quaver. He stood very still, consciously relaxing the tension. When
he looked again at the screen, a dozen faces had replaced the one; enough members for a quorum. He
began at once an account of the sentence of death that had been pronounced on him. He finished, finally:
“There is no doubt that something important is happening. Time and again during the last two weeks,
when an Imperial conference has been called, I have found myself headed off into tedious conversations
with superior officers, prevented from returning to my rooms. To my mind, however, the significant factor
of the hanging order is the time element involved. Note that I am not to be arrested until an hour after
lunch, that is, about three hours from now. And then, too, I was allowed to return to my apartment in
time to hear the sentence pronounced. If they know the Weapon Shops, they must realize that, given
three hours warning, I have ample time to escape.”

“Are you suggesting,”said Councilor Peter Cadron sharply, “that you are going to remain?”

The cold, stiff feeling came back to Hedrock. When he spoke again, his voice shook the faintest bit
though the words themselves were precise and, in their essence, confident: “You will remember, Mr.
Cadron, that we have analyzed the Empress’ character. The abnormal sociotechnical pressures of the
age have made her as restless and as adventure-minded as are her nineteen billion subjects. She wants
change, excitement, new experiences. But above everything else she is the Imperial power, representative
of the conservative, anti-change forces. The result is a constant tug of mind, a dangerous state of
unbalance, which makes her the most difficult enemy the Weapon Shops have had in many centuries.”

“The hanging, no doubt,” said another man coldly, “will supply a fillip to her jaded nerves. For the few
moments that you jerk and bounce in the noose, her life will seem less drab.”

“What I had in mind,” said Hedrock steadily, “was that one of our No-men might resolve the various
factors and advise on the practicability of my remaining.”

“We will consult Edward Gonish,” said Peter Cadron. “Now please have patience while we discuss this
matter privately.”

They withdrew, but not visually, for their faces remained on the viewer, and though Hedrock could see
their lips move, no voice came through. The conversation went on for a very long time, and there was a
seemingly endless period when something was being explained to somebody not on the screen. The time
grew so long that Hedrock stood finally with teeth clampedtight, and clenched hands. He sighed with
relief as the silence ended, and Peter Cadron said:

“We must regretfully report that the No-man, Edward Gonish, considers that there are not sufficient
known factors for him to offer an intuition. This leaves us with only logic, and so we wish to ask one
question: At what time will your present chances of escaping from the palace begin to deteriorate
sharply? Can you possibly stay for lunch?”

Hedrock held himself steady, letting the shock of the report of the No-man’s verdict drain out of him.
He hadn’t realized how much he was depending on that superbly trained intuitive genius to decide on his
life or death. In an instant, the situation had become uncertain and dangerous beyond his previous
conception. He said at last, “No, if I stay to lunch I’m committed. The Empress likes to play cat and
mouse, and she will definitely inform me of the sentence during the meal. I have a plan, dependent on her