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The Stars My Destination ( Tiger! Tiger! ) :: Bester Alfred
Страница: 144 из 164Only then did he take a gun from his pocket.
Foyle's eyelids fluttered; his eyes opened.
«You're drugged,» Sheffield said rapidly. «Don't try to jaunte. And don't move. I'm warning you, I'm prepared for anything.»
Dazedly, Foyle tried to rise. Sheffield instantly fired and seared his shoulder. Foyle was slammed back against the stone flooring. He was numbed and bewildered. There was a roaring in his ears and a poison coursing through his blood.
«I'm warning you,» Sheffield repeated. «I'm prepared for anything.»
«What do you want?» Foyle whispered.
«Two things. Twenty pounds of PyrE, and you. You most of all.»
«You lunatic! You damned maniac! I came into your office to give it up hand it over . . .»
«To the O.S.?»
«To the . . .what?»
«The Outer Satellites? Shall I spell it for you?»
«No. . .» Foyle muttered. «I might have known. The patriot, Sheffield, an O.S. agent. I should have known. I'm a fool.»
«You're the most valuable fool in the world, Foyle. We want you even more than the PyrE. That's an unknown to us, but we know what you are.»
«What are you talking about?»
«My God! You don't know, do you? You still don't know. You haven't an inkling.»
«Of what?»
«Listen to me,» Sheffield said in a pounding voice. «I'm taking you back two years to 'Nomad.' Understand? Back to the death of the 'Nomad.' One of our raiders finished her off and they found you aboard the wreck. The last man alive.»
«So an O.S. ship did blast 'Nomad'?»
«Yes. You don't remember?»
«I don't remember anything about that. I never could.»
«I'm telling you why. The raider got a clever idea. They'd turn you into a decoy . . . a sitting duck, understand? You were half dead, but they took you aboard and patched you up. They put you into a spacesuit and cast you adrift with your micro-wave on. You were broadcasting distress signals and mumbling for help on every wave band. The idea was, they'd lurk nearby and pick off the IP ships that came to rescue you.»
Foyle began to laugh. «I'm getting up,» he said recklessly. «Shoot again, you son of a bitch, but I'm getting up.» He struggled to his feet, clutching his shoulder. «So 'Vorga' shouldn't have picked me up anyway,» Foyle laughed. «I was a decoy. Nobody should have come near me. I was a shill, a lure, death bait….Isn't that the final irony? 'Nomad' didn't have any right to be rescued in the first place. I didn't have any right to revenge.
Foyle's eyelids fluttered; his eyes opened.
«You're drugged,» Sheffield said rapidly. «Don't try to jaunte. And don't move. I'm warning you, I'm prepared for anything.»
Dazedly, Foyle tried to rise. Sheffield instantly fired and seared his shoulder. Foyle was slammed back against the stone flooring. He was numbed and bewildered. There was a roaring in his ears and a poison coursing through his blood.
«I'm warning you,» Sheffield repeated. «I'm prepared for anything.»
«What do you want?» Foyle whispered.
«Two things. Twenty pounds of PyrE, and you. You most of all.»
«You lunatic! You damned maniac! I came into your office to give it up hand it over . . .»
«To the O.S.?»
«To the . . .what?»
«The Outer Satellites? Shall I spell it for you?»
«No. . .» Foyle muttered. «I might have known. The patriot, Sheffield, an O.S. agent. I should have known. I'm a fool.»
«You're the most valuable fool in the world, Foyle. We want you even more than the PyrE. That's an unknown to us, but we know what you are.»
«What are you talking about?»
«My God! You don't know, do you? You still don't know. You haven't an inkling.»
«Of what?»
«Listen to me,» Sheffield said in a pounding voice. «I'm taking you back two years to 'Nomad.' Understand? Back to the death of the 'Nomad.' One of our raiders finished her off and they found you aboard the wreck. The last man alive.»
«So an O.S. ship did blast 'Nomad'?»
«Yes. You don't remember?»
«I don't remember anything about that. I never could.»
«I'm telling you why. The raider got a clever idea. They'd turn you into a decoy . . . a sitting duck, understand? You were half dead, but they took you aboard and patched you up. They put you into a spacesuit and cast you adrift with your micro-wave on. You were broadcasting distress signals and mumbling for help on every wave band. The idea was, they'd lurk nearby and pick off the IP ships that came to rescue you.»
Foyle began to laugh. «I'm getting up,» he said recklessly. «Shoot again, you son of a bitch, but I'm getting up.» He struggled to his feet, clutching his shoulder. «So 'Vorga' shouldn't have picked me up anyway,» Foyle laughed. «I was a decoy. Nobody should have come near me. I was a shill, a lure, death bait….Isn't that the final irony? 'Nomad' didn't have any right to be rescued in the first place. I didn't have any right to revenge.