"Gordon R. Dickson - 8 Short Stories and Novellas" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

Gordy is so good at creating believably alien characters that
once at a convention I tugged on his face to see if it would come
off. (It didn't, but I'm not entirely sure that proves anything.) Two
of his most fascinatingly unique aliens decorate the following
story. If you squint at the plot, you'll notice that it's one of the
hoariest cliches in the business тАУ turned around one hundred
eighty degrees. The art of diplomacy is a subtle and difficult one
. . . especially out there in the field.


BROTHER CHARLIE

I

The matter of her standby burners trembled through the APC9 like the
grumbling of an imminent and not entirely unominous storm. In the
cramped, lightly grease-smelling cockpit, Chuck Wagnall sat running
through the customary preflight check on his instruments and controls.
There were a great many to check out тАУ almost too many for the small
cockpit space to hold; but then old number 9, like all of her breed, was
equipped to operate almost anywhere but underwater. She could even
have operated there as well, but she would have needed a little time to
prepare herself, before immersion.
On his left-hand field screen the Tomah envoy escort was to be seen in
the process of moving the Tomah envoy aboard. The Lugh, Binichi, was
already in his bin. Chuck wasted neither time nor attention on these тАУ but
when his ship range screen lit up directly before him, he glanced at it
immediately.
"Hold Seventy-nine," he said automatically to himself, and pressed the
acknowledge button.
The light cleared to reveal the face of Roy Marlie, Advance Unit
Supervisor. Roy's brown hair was neatly combed in place, his uniform
closure pressed tight, and his blue eyes casual and relaxed тАУ and at these
top danger signals, Chuck felt his own spine stiffen.
"Yo, how's it going, Chuck?" Roy asked.
"Lift in about five minutes."
"Any trouble picking up Binichi?"
"A snap," said Chuck. "He was waiting for me right on the surface of the
bay. For two cents' worth of protocol he could have boarded her here with
the Tomah."
Chuck studied the face of his superior in the screen. He wanted very
badly to ask Roy what was up; but when and if the supervisor wanted to get
to the point of his call, he would do so on his own initiative.
"Let's see your flight plan," said Roy.
Chuck played the fingers of his left hand over the keys of a charter to his
right. There appeared superimposed on the face of the screen between
himself and Roy an outline of the two continents of this planet that the
Tomah called Rant and the Lugh called Vanyinni. A red line that was his
projected course crept across a great circle arc from the dot of his present
position, over the ocean gap to the dot well inside the coastline of the