"Alan Dean Foster - With friends like these." - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

Above stretched over a mile of levels, seemingly much like this one. Very faintly and far away he
could just make out the tiny circle of light that marked the surface and his entranceway to this
frighteningly silent metal world.
He could not see the bottom.
He found himself giggling. Oh yes, pastoral indeed! Quite. Not prepared to turn out war materiel.
Certainly not. No capability whatsoever. No cities, remember? Handmade furniture. Quaint way to
live. Didn't say by what kind of hands, though. Poor, degenerated natives! Cannon fodder, he'd
seen it in Commander Rappan's eyes.
But the commander hadn't peeked in the basement.


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When the hysteria had worked itself out, he took several deep gulps of the fresh air. There had to
be a manual way out. Stairs, a lift, something! He had to get back and warn the others. He tried
his pocket communicator, suspecting that it wouldn't work. It didn't. A communicator who couldn't
communicate. He almost started giggling again, but caught himself this time. He began to search
for a way out. He did not know it, and probably would not have cared anyway, but his situation was
remarkably analogous to that of a very ancient and very imaginary Terran female named Alice.
"I am pleased to say," began the native known as Alexis Jones, "that the committee...
government... ruling body? I forget the relevant term. Anyway, we have agreed to do what we can to
aid your Federation. These Yops..." and he paused momentarily, "do not sound like very nice
peopleтАФ"
"They're not!" interrupted Zinin fervently.
"And even if we only add a bit of manpower to your gallant effort, we will 'be happy to be of
assistance. We are a bit," he added apologetically, "out of practice."
"That's all right," beamed the commander. At first he had regarded these disgustingly peaceful and
soft-seeming bipeds more of a liability than an asset. Then it occurred to him that the Yops, too,
were familiar with the Terran legends. Could be the materialization of a real legend might
disconcert them a bit. Of course these peaceful mammals would have to be thoroughly instructed, or
their appearance would merely make the Yops go into fits of laughter, but... "We appreciate your
desire to aid in this great crusade. I am certain this historic arrangement will go down in
history as one of exceptional benefit to all the races concerned. As a prelude to further
discussion, I have ordered..."
He paused, open-mouthed, concentration broken. The Terran was staring upward. His face had...
changed. It was brightening, expanding, opening hitherto unsuspecting vistas to their startled
gaze, like a night-blooming flower. Within those two small oculars, previously so gray and limpid,
there now glowed a deep-down fire that seemed to pierce upward and spread over all present like a
nerve-deadening drug. It made the commander draw back and Zinin hiss involuntarily.
"The Shield Is Down!" shouted the native, flinging its arms wide.
"The Shield Is Down!" answered his wife.
And all over the planet, among all the members, large and small, of the Brotherhood of Warmblood;
the dogs, the mice; the cats and orcas, birds and shrews; ungulates, carnivores, herbivores, and
omni-vores, the great telepathic shout went up:
"THE SHIELD IS DOWN!"
And in the field Dobbin and the small brown dog began to discuss the ramifications at length.
The man turned to face his visitors, who were silent.
"You have done us a very large favor, gentlebeings, and we are oh, so grateful! How many years we
labored to find the answer to the Shield, how many years, only to discover that it could only be