"Lawrence Watt-Evans - War Surplus 01 - The Cyborg And The Sorcerers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

weapons research. Orders require that all detected enemy weapons research be investigated
immediately."

"Weapons research? That's stupid. This planet hasn't got any technology; how could its people have
developed anti-gravity? If they have antigravity, why aren't they using it for space travel?"

"Information insufficient Analysis remains unchanged."

"Look, I don't want to investigate here; it's a primitive planet now, whatever it was before, and that can't
be weapons research. It has to be some sort of natural phenomenon."

"That conclusion is contraindicated. Take appropriate action immediately or override option will be
exercised."
"What? Oh, no, you don't!" He reached up to tear the plug from his neck but was not fast enough; there
was a wrenching mental flash, and he lost control of both the ship and his own body. His limbs twitched
spastically as the computer assumed control; then he lay still. He was able to use both the ship's sensory
apparatus and his own, but all movement, even so much as blinking or breathing, was now under the
computer's direct control; accordingly, his breathing was slow and mechanically steady, and he blinked
exactly once every five seconds. He watched in helpless paralysis as the ship slid down from its
observation orbit into a landing approach and swept across a vast expanse of dark ocean.

It was perfectly clear to him that gravity disturbances notwithstanding, this planet had been bombed from
the nuclear age back to the level of bow and arrow. The computer, unfortunately, was not programmed
to pay attention to such things. It assumed a high-level technology everywhere—or rather, it assumed
nothing but acted according to orders based on false assumptions. Those damnable orders had kept him
a wandering exile for years, and were now plunging him into a situation where he would probably have to
roam over half a world killing innocent people who happened to get in his way before he could convince
the computer that there was no secret enemy installation here developing antigravity weapons to use
against the ruins of Old Earth. He had no idea what the disturbances actually were, and had no strong
desire to find out; if there was anything on this backward burned-out world that could kill him, it was
probably whatever was making those anomalies.

He had little choice, however. When the override released a few kilometers above the surface, to allow
human discretion in choosing a landing site, he cooperated and made no attempt to head back into space.
It would only have resulted in another use of the override, and if he was going to have to play spy again
he might as well get it over with.

The planet was very Earthlike, with somewhat more than half its surface covered by ocean, the remainder
a patchwork of green vegetation, golden beaches and deserts, and the gray and brown and black of bare
rock in the mountains and badlands. There were icecaps, smaller than Old Earth's, at each pole; his orbit
took him over an edge of one, though he was unsure whether it was north or south, having become
disoriented while under the override. The computer's records told him that the planet had mild seasons,
slightly less than terrestrial gravity, and four continents, of which only the largest was known to be thickly
inhabited. He was coming down over this continent now; it was enjoying the late summer of its
four-hundred-day-plus year.

He skimmed past the coastal plain and into the foothills of a low, ancient, worn-down mountain range
that the computer had picked as his landing area. The ship was still traveling at high velocity, at least for
atmospheric travel, though it was decelerating fiercely; anyone below was probably seeing the biggest,
brightest shooting star in years. If there were any radar, or modar installations, though, they would see