by Kir Bulychev
And suddenly she heard voices calling her name.
“Alice!” The words flowed down from the cliff “Alice, where are you? Aaal-isss!”
“I’m here!” She shouted. “I’m here!”
A few minutes later she found in the center of a crowd. Everyone was there. The rescue workers, Vasya and Herman, and of course Svetlana Odinokaya.
“You’re alive!” “You’re not injured?” “You’re not hurt?” “Where were you?” They all spoke at once from all around her.
“I’ll explain it all.” Alice answered. “But first I have to give Svetlana the minimizer.”
“Thank you, Alice.” Svetlana said. “I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure out why you took it.”
“But I didn’t take it.” Alice said. She felt like her legs were going to collapse beneath her.
And then Alice saw Svetlana put the minimizer down on the stones of the beach and open it.
“Be careful! Don’t!” Alice shouted.
But it was too late.
Svetlana cried out in pain.
All the flash lights were directed toward her. Svetlana touched her fingers to her cheek; a thin trickle of blood flowed between them.
“What is this?” Svetlana pulled a needle out of her cheek.
“It’s a war arrow.” Alice said. “There are war robots in the minimizer who want to conquer the Earth.”
And in fact the very next moment the needle turned into a large iron war arrow.
A moment later Svetlana clamped the minimizer shut. The next time anyone opened it would be at the scrap metal factory.
In the morning, when she had gotten enough sleep and told them everything there was to tell, when she was all cleaned up and all her cuts and bruises were bandaged and bandaided, Alice and the group of film people and all the journalists set off for the pirate island by boat. Bertha was with them as well; she had hurried down from Moscow on the inter-city train. She was dressed in a violet wig and a living dress grown from venusian water plants which changed its color and design continually. Bertha spent all her time asking Alice endless questions about how the dolphins had helped her, and, most importantly, did they have anything to say?
The island was empty; the winds blew through the ruins of the robot Field-Marshal’s Headquarters. The rusty scissors and pieces of tin scrap stuck out of a bag from which the Field- Marshal cut out the medals he awarded to his subordinates lay scattered about as discarded trash.
The film unit’s technician carefully lifted up the body of the old man-film robot and carried it to the cutter so it could be repaired immediately.
Alice showed the reporters the pit where she had been put; the steps she had cut out of the earth to escape from captivity remained in the walls.
On their way back they looked in at the half — drowned barge and Alice grabbed the bag with the mielophone.
The island gradually shrank from view, sinking into the sea. The cutter was returning to the coast. Her adventure had come to an end.
Svetlana bent down to Alice and whispered:
“I phoned through to Nikitin. He begged my forgiveness.”
“For what?”
“For everything he was guilty of, and not guilty of.” Svetlana said. “He isn’t so bad.”
“I thought so too.”
Quite close to the shore a pod of dolphins overtook the cutter. For some time they swam along side, leaping and diving. Then, before they turned and headed for the open sea one of them stopped, looked at the cutter, and shouted in a thin voice:
“Good job Alice!”
“Good-bye! Thanks, dolphins!” Alice answered.
At first Bertha couldn’t believe her own ears, and when she finally did, she fainted dead away.
Fin
FB2 document info
Document ID: 9c5ef6a7-4fdd-4686-9790-00663a8b3373
Document version: 2
Document creation date: 2010-09-01
Created using: doc2fb, FictionBook Editor Release 2.5, ImageFB2 software
Document authors :
Haereticus
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