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

had been doing so all through the storm. He looked up at the sky. The sun
was past its zenith, and a glance at his watch, which was corrected for local
time, showed the hands at ten minutes to three. Chuck turned his attention
back to Binichi, revolving the phraseology of his next question in his mind.
"Did you get washed overboard?" he asked, at last.
"Washed overboard?" Binichi bubbled. "I went into the water. It was more
pleasant."
"Oh," said Chuck.
They settled down once more to their traveling.
A little over an hour later the raft jarred suddenly and rocked as if, without
warning, it had found a rock beneath it, here in the middle of the ocean. For
a second Chuck entertained the wild idea that it had. But such a notion was
preposterous. There were undersea mountains all through this area, but the
closest any came to the surface was a good forty fathoms down. At the
same time the envoy's claw suddenly shot up and gaped above him, as he
recoiled toward the center of the boat; and, looking overboard, Chuck came
into view of the explanation for both occurrences.
A gray back as large around as an oil drum and ten to twelve feet in
length was sliding by about a fathom and a half below them. At a little
distance off Chuck could make out a couple more. As he watched, they
turned slowly and came back toward the raft again.
Chuck recognized these sea-creatures. He had been briefed on them.
They were the local counterpart of the Earthly shark тАУ not as bloodthirsty,
but they could be dangerous enough. They had wide catfish-like mouths,
equipped with cartilaginous ridges rather than teeth. They were scavengers,
rather than predators, generally feeding off the surface. As he watched
now, the closest rose slowly to the surface in front of him, and suddenly an
enormous jaw gaped a full six feet in width and closed over the high rim of
the raft. The plastic material squealed to the rubbing of the horny ridges,
giving but not puncturing. Temporarily defeated, the jaws opened again and
the huge head sank back under the water.
Chuck's hand went instinctively to his belt for the handgun that was, of
course, not there.
The raft jolted and twisted and rocked for several moments as the
creatures tried to overturn it. The envoy's claw curved and jerked this way
and that above him, like a sensitive antenna, at each new sound or jolt.
Binichi rested lazy-eyed on the raft's bottom, apparently concerned only
with the warmth of the sun upon his drying body.
After several minutes, the attacks on the raft ceased and the creatures
drew off through the water. Chuck could catch a glimpse of them some
thirty yards or so off, still following. Chuck looked back at Binichi, but the
Lugh had his eyes closed as if he dozed. Chuck drew a deep breath and
turned to the envoy.
"Would you like some water?" he asked.
The envoy's claw had relaxed slightly upon his back. He turned his head
toward Chuck.
"If you have any you do not desire yourself," he said. Chuck got out the
water, debated offering some to the Lugh out of sheer form and politeness,
then took his cue from the fact that Binichi appeared asleep, and confined
his attentions to the envoy and himself. It surprised him now to remember