"Alan Dean Foster - Damned 1 - Call to Arms" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

science eventually succeeded in finding a way of crossing the intergalactic gulfs, when any intelligences
there had also been brought into the Purpose.

One-who-Decides could not concern itself overmuch with such weighty matters. There were decisions
of much more immediate import to make. Everything that happened aboard ship eventually devolved
upon the Commander. It was a responsibility to be accepted with honor.

The heavy body shifted irritably on the cushion. Soon would come the time of reproduction, which could
not be allowed until the present effort on behalf of the Purpose had been satisfactorily concluded. Once
there had been a time when such biological functions had been dictated by simple hormonal balances.
Only in the time of civilization had the Amplitur learned how to adjust their bodyтАЩs endocrine systemтАж
and those of others.

One-who-Decides could not allow decision-making ability to be impaired by the exigencies of
reproduction. A tentacle tip made a note to report for testing. If necessary, a pill could be taken.

Golden eyes studied the vast arc of the transparent wall, pondering the expanse of space outside the
ship. Much beauty was to be found in the cascade of stars and worlds, in the iridescent wash of nebulae
so like the changing gold and silver patterns that highlighted Amplitur skin. Underspace shifting diffused
the shapes beyond, reducing great suns to ethereal blurs of color which only added to their loveliness.
Only in the full light of the Purpose could such magnificence be truly appreciated.

One-who-Decides did not have eyes capable of making sense of what they saw. Only advanced
instrumentation could do that. With a gentle exhalation the Commander turned back to the sickleтАЩs
control panel.

This expedition was to be regretted.

The majority of new races readily accepted the logic of the Purpose and embraced it fully upon first
encounter with Amplitur envoys. Sometimes the AmpliturтАЩs presence was not even required and allied
peoples could make the presentation themselves, for the delight of the newly persuaded often exceeded
that of their instructors. There were even instances when the enthusiasm of allied races had to be
restrained lest they give the wrong impression to those very people they were trying to convince.

Yet there remained those times when reason and logic were not enough. On such occasions a display of
the nobility of Purpose was usually sufficient to convert the recalcitrant. A small force of, say, thirty
warships suddenly materializing from Underspace in orbit around an indecisive world was often enough
to persuade the locals to take the requisite next step up the ladder of galactic civilization so that they, too,
might bask in its glory.

Only rarely had it been necessary to use actual force. Like now. Such work the Amplitur found
emotionally draining, but they could not in good conscience delegate it wholly to their friends. Their
destiny compelled them to participate in such action against their own wishes.

The power arm hummed in response to a command and the sickle plunged its passenger floorward, until
it hung a short distance above the highly reflective surface. A passing Ashregan officer blinked and turned
in response to the gentle mental touch from One-who-Decides.

тАЭShip status, engineer?тАЭ One-who-Decides was not ignorant of the condition of the vessel, but it would
not do for its subordinates to think that their commander spent all its time high above the floor, dreaming