"Anderson, Poul - 1966 Flandry 07 - Ensign Flandry" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Poul)

"Just what are the, ah, opposition doing in local waters?" inquired a civilian.
Abrams shrugged. "We don't know. Kursovikian ships have naturally begun avoiding that area. We could try sending divers, but we're holding off. You see, Ensign Flandry did more than have an adventure. More, yet, than win a degree of respect and good will among the Tigeries that'll prove useful to us. He's gathered information about them we never had before, details that escaped the professional xenologists, and given me the data as tightly organized as a limerick. Above the lot, he delivered a live Seatroll prisoner."
Hauksberg lit a cheroot. "I gather that's unusual?"
"Yes, sir, for obvious environmental reasons as well as because the Tigeries normally barbecue any they take."
Persis d'Io grimaced. "Did you say you like them?" she scolded Flandry.
"Might be hard for a civilized being to understand, Donna," Abrams drawled. "We prefer nuclear weapons that can barbecue entire planets. Point is, though, our lad here thought up gadgets to keep that Seatroll in health, things a smith and carpenter could make aboard ship. I better not get too specific, but I've got hopes about the interrogation."
"Why not tell us?" Hauksberg asked. "Surely you don't think anyone here is a Merseian in disguise."
"Probably not," Abrams said. "However, you people are bound on to the enemy's home planet. Diplomatic mission or no, I can't impose the risk on you of carrying knowledge they'd like to have."
Hauksberg laughed. "I've never been called a blabbermouth more tactfully."
Persis interrupted. "No arguments, please, darling. I'm too anxious to hear Ensign Flandry."
"You're on, son," Abrams said.
They took loungers. Flandry received a goldleaf-tipped cigaret from Persis' own fingers. Wine and excitement bubbled in him. He made the tale somewhat better than true: sufficient to drive Abrams into a coughing fit.
"Чand so, one day out of Ujanka, we met a ship that could put in a call for us. A flier took me and the prisoner off."
Persis sighed. "You make it sound such fun. Have you seen your friends again since?"
"Not yet, Donna. I've been too busy working with Commander Abrams." In point of fact, he had done the detail chores of data correlation on a considerably lower level. "I've been temporarily assigned to his section. I do have an invitation to visit down in Ujanka, and imagine I'll be ordered to accept."
"Right," Captain Menotti said. "One of our problems has been that, while the Sisterhood accepts our equipment and some of our advice, they've remained wary of us. Understandable, when we're so foreign to them, and when their own Seatroll neighbors were never a real menace. We've achieved better liaison with less developed Starkadian cultures. Kursoviki is too proud, too jealous of its privacies, I might say too sophisticated, to take us as seriously as we'd like. Here we may have an entering wedge."
"And also in your prisoner," Hauksberg said thoughtfully. "Want to see him."
"What?" Abrams barked. "Impossible!"
"Why?"
"WhyЧthat isЧ"
"Wouldn't fulfill my commission if I didn't," Hauksberg said. "I must insist." He leaned forward. "You see, could be this is a wedge toward somethin' still more important. Peace."
'"How soаЕаmy lord?"
"If you pump him as dry's I imagine you plan, you'll find out a lot about his culture. They won't be the faceless enemy, they'll be real bein's with real needs and desires. He can accompany an envoy of ours to his people. We canЧnot unthinkable, y' knowЧwe can p'rhaps head off this latest local war. Negotiate a peace between the Kursovikians and their neighbors."
"Or between lions and lambs?" Abrams snapped. "How do you start? They'd never come near any submarine of ours."
"Go out in native ships, then."
"We haven't the men for it. Damn few humans know how to operate a windjammer these days, and sailing on Starkad is a different art anyhow. We should get Kursovikians to take us on a peace mission? Ha!"
"What if their chum here asked 'em? Don't you think that might be worth a try?"
"Oh!" Persis, who sat beside him, laid a hand over Flandry's. "If you couldЧ"
Under those eyes, he glowed happily and said he would be delighted. Abrams gave him a bleak look. "If ordered, of course," he added in a hurry.
"I'll discuss the question with your superiors," Hauksberg said. "But gentlemen, this is s'posed to be a social evenin'. Forget business and have another drink or ten, eh?"
His gossip from Terra was scandalous and comical. "Darling," Persis said, "you mustn't cynicize our guest of honor. Let's go talk more politely, Ensign."
"W-w-with joy, Donna."
The suite was interior, but a viewscreen gave on the scene outside. Snowfall had stopped; mountaintops lay gaunt and white beneath the moons. Persis shivered. "What a dreadful place. I pray we can bring you home soon."
He was emboldened to say, "I never expected a, uh, highborn and, uh, lovely lady to come this long, dull, dangerous way."
She laughed. "I highborn? But thanks. You're sweet." Her lashes fluttered. "If I can help my lord by traveling with himаЕаhow could I refuse? He's working for Terra. So are you. So should I. All of us together, wouldn't that be best?" She laughed again. "I'm sorry to be the only girl here. Would your officers mind if we danced a little?"
He went back to quarters with his head afloat. Nonetheless, next day he gave Jan van Zuyl a good bottle's worth.

At the center of a soundproofed room, whose fluoros glared with Saxo light, the Siravo floated in a vitryl tank surrounded by machines.
He was big, 210 centimeters in length and thick of body. His skin was glabrous, deep blue on the back, paler greenish blue on the stomach, opalescent on the gillcovers. In shape he suggested a cross between dolphin, seal, and man. But the flukes, and the two flippers near his middle, were marvels of musculature with some prehensile capability. A fleshy dorsal fin grew above. Not far behind the head were two short, strong arms; except for vestigial webs, the hands were startlingly humanlike. The head was big and golden of eyes, blunt of snout, with quivering cilia flanking a mouth that had lips.
Abrams, Hauksberg, and Flandry entered. ("You come too," the commander had said to the ensign. "You're in this thing ass deep.") The four marines on guard presented arms. The technicians straightened from their instruments.
"At ease," Abrams said. "Freely translated: get the hell back to work. How's she coming, Leong?"
"Encouraging, sir," the scientific chief answered. "Computation from neurological and encщphalographie data shows he can definitely stand at least a half-intensity hypnoprobing without high probability of permanent lesion. We expect to have apparatus modified for underwater use in another couple of days."
Hauksberg went to the tank. The swimmer moved toward him. Look met look; those were beautiful eyes in there. Hauksberg was flushing as he turned about. "Do you mean to torture that bein'?" he demanded.
"A light hypnoprobing isn't painful, my lord," Abrams said.
"You know what I mean. Psychological torture. 'Specially when he's in the hands of utter aliens. Ever occur to you to talk with him?"
"That's easy? My lord, the Kursovikians have tried for centuries. Our only advantages over them are that we have a developed theory of linguistics, and vocalizers to reproduce his kind of sounds more accurately. From the Tigeries and xenological records we have a trifle of his language. But only a trifle. The early expeditions investigated this race more thoroughly in the Kimraig area, where the Merseians are now, no doubt for just that reason. The cultural patterns of Charlie here are completely unknown to us. And he hasn't been exactly cooperative."
"Would you be, in his place?"
"Hope not. But my lord, we're in a hurry too. His people may be planning a massive operation, like against settlements in the Chain. Or he may up and die on us. We think he has an adequate diet and such, but how can we be certain?" Hauksberg scowled. "You'll destroy any chance of gettin' his cooperation, let alone his trust."
"For negotiation purposes? So what have we lost? But we won't necessarily alienate him forever. We don't know his psyche. He may well figure ruthlessness is in the day's work. God knows Tigeries in small boats get short shrift from any Seatrolls they meet. AndЧ" The great blue shape glided off to the end of the tankЧ"he looks pretty, but he is no kin of you or me or the landfolk."
"He thinks. He feels."