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

quickly I didn't have time to bring along anything with which I could talk to
my friends there." He paused, then added: "I apologize for causing you this
inconvenience."
 "There is no inconvenience," said Binichi, and bubbled in his throat. The
envoy neither moved nor answered.
"This raft," said Chuck, "has food aboard it for me, but nothing, I think,
that either one of you could use. There's water, of course. Otherwise, I
imagine Binichi can make out with the sea all around him, the way it is; and
I'm afraid there's not much to be done for you, Envoy, until we reach land.
Then you'll be in Binichi's position of being able to forage for yourself."
The envoy still did not answer. There was no way of knowing what he was
thinking. Sitting facing the two of them, Chuck tried to imagine what it must
be like for the Tomah, forced into a position inches away from his most
deadly traditional enemy. And with the private preserves of that enemy, the
deep-golfed sea, source of all his culture's legends and terrors,
surrounding him. True; the envoy was the pick of his people, a learned and
intelligent being тАУ but possibly there could he such a situation here that
would try his self-control too far.
Chuck had no illusions about his ability to cope, barehanded, with either
one of his fellow passengers тАУ let alone come between them if they
decided on combat. At the same time he knew that if it came to that, he
would have to try. There could be no other choice; for the sake of
humanity's future here on this world, all three races would hold him
responsible.
The raft plodded on toward the horizon. Neither the Tomah nor Binichi
had moved. They seemed to be waiting.
They traveled all through the afternoon, and the night that followed. When
the sun came up the following morning they seemed not to have moved at
all. The sea was all around them as before and unchanging. Binichi now lay
half-curled upon the yielding bottom of the raft, his eyes all but closed. The
envoy appeared not to have moved an inch. He stood tensely in his corner,
claw at half-cock, like a statue carved from his native rock.
With the rising sun; the wind began to freshen. The gray rolling furrows of
the sea's eternal surface deepened and widened. The raft tilted, sliding up
one heavy slope and down another.
"Binichi!" said Chuck.
The Lugh opened his near eye lazily.
"Is it going to storm?"
"There will be wind," said Binichi.
"Much wind?" asked Chuck тАУ and then realized that his question was too
general. "How high will the waves be?"
"About my height," said Binichi. "It will be calmer in the afternoon."
It began to grow dark rapidly after that. By ten o'clock on Chuck's
chronometer it was as murky as twilight. Then the rain came suddenly, and
a solid sheet of water blotted out the rest of the raft from his eyes.
Chuck clung to the thrust unit for something to hang onto. In the
obscurity, the motion of the storm was eerie. The raft seemed to plunge
forward, mounting a slope that stretched endlessly, until with a sudden twist
and dip, it adopted a down-slant to forward тАУ and then it seemed to fly
backward in that position with increasing rapidity until its angle was as