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

"Anyway, legends are notoriously nonfactual."
The little car hummed softly to itself as it buzzed over the dark soil. A cleared path is
unmistakable on any planet, and this one ran straight as an Opsith through the fields of low,
irrigated plants. Phrnnx had wondered idly what they were, and if they would appeal to his palate.
The Professor had replied by reminding him. of Bio's warning about plant acids and added that
stealing the native's food would be a poor way to open friendly negotiations. Phrnnx discarded the
notion. Besides, the vegetation of this area appeared to be disgustingly heavy in cellulose
contentтАФdoubtless bland in flavor, if any. And there had been no sign of domesticated food
animals. Was it possible these people existed solely on wood fibers? It was a discouraging
thought.
He had no chance to elaborate on it, for as the car rounded the turn they had come to, they were
confronted by the sight of their first native. The car slowed and settled to the earth with a
faint sigh.
In the nearby field a shortish biped was walking smoothly behind a large brown quadruped. Together
they were engaged in driving a wedge of some bright metal through the soft soil, turning it over
on itself in big loamy chunks. The name of this particular biped happened to be Jones, Alexis. The
name of the quadruped was Dobbin, period.
The two natives apparently caught sight of the visitors. Both paused in their work to stare
solemnly at the outlandish collection of aliens in the groundcar. The aliens, pop-eyed, stared
back. The biped wore some kind of animal-skin shirt. This was partly hidden by some form of
artificial fabric coveralls and boots. Seeing this, it occurred to Phrnnx that they must have some
kind of manufacturing facilities somewhere. The quadruped wore only a harness, again artificial,
which was attached to the metal wedge. It soon grew bored in its survey of the aliens and dropped
its head to crop patiently at the few sparse bits of grass that had so far managed to avoid the
plow.
Commander Rappan's instinctive reaction to this first move was to reach for his pistol. He was
momentarily abashed to find it missing from its customary place in his shell. The Professor had
insisted that contact was to be open and trusting from the first. Consequently, all weapons had
been left back on the ship. The Professor had also looked longingly at the bristling gunports of
the Tpin, but the commander and his advisers had adamantly refused to leave the ship unprotected.
The Professor had patiently explained that if the Terrans were going to be any real help against
the Yops, then the guns of the Tpin would hardly be effective against them. And if they weren't
going to be, then the guns weren't needed. As might be expected, this argument went far over the
heads of the soldiers.
But Rappan still felt naked, somehow.
The native made no threatening gestures. In fact, he made no gestures at all, but instead
continued to stare placidly at the petrified load of explorers. After several minutes of this,
Rappan decided it was time things got moving. Besides, the native's unbroken stare was beginning
to make him feel a bit fidgety, not to mention silly.
"You, philologist! Can you talk to that thing?" Commander Rappan asked.
The philologist, a meter-tall being from a Ko star near Cen-Cluster, essayed a nervous reply. "It
remains to be seen, sir. We have no records of their speech patterns, and there were few
broadcasts to monitor the computers to as we descended." His voice was faintly disapproving. "I am
not even sure which of the two creatures is the dominant form."
"The large one in the lead, certainly," said the xenologist.
"I believe the Terrans are described in the legends, when not as hundred-/oomp-high fire-breathing
monsters, as bipeds," said the Professor quietly. "Although it also has four limbs, two are
obviously manipulative. I suggest that one."
"I shall have to work from next to nothing," protested the philologist.
"I don't care if you do it holding your breath, but get out there and do something! I feel like an