"Foster, Alan Dean - With Friends Like These... - uc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

"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 idiot sitting here."
"Yes, sir,"
"Yes, sirЧwhat?"
The philologist decided that this would be an auspicious tune to essay a First Contact. He hurried out the door. At least, he thought, the native couldn't be much more difficult to communicate with than the commander. He wished fervently that he was back in the community nest.
Trailing the philologist, the party made its way to the two natives.
"Uh," began the philologist, straining over the guttural syllables, "we come in peace, Terran. Friends. Buddies. Comrades. Blut-bruderhood. We good-guys. You comprende?"
"Me, Tarzan; you Jane," said the Terran.
The philologist turned worriedly to Rappan. "I'm afraid I can't place his answer, sir. The reference is obscure. Shall I try again?"
"Skip it," said the Terran, in fluent, if archaic Galactico. "Ancient humorism. Surprising how old jokes stand time better than most monuments." He seemed to sigh a little.
"You speak!" blurted the xenologist.
"An unfortunate malady of which I seem incapable of breaking myself. Sic transit gloryoski. Up the Veen. But come on down to the house. Maria's making some ice creamЧI hope you like chocolateЧyou're welcome
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With Friends Like These . . .
to try it, although I don't think we'd have enough for King Kong, here."
Zinin decided to regard this unfamiliar aphorism as a neutral compliment. There wasn't much else he could do. He tried to hunch his three-meter bulk lower, gave it up when he realized that he didn't know whether the promised ice cream was a food, a paint, or a mild corrosive for cleaning out reluctant teeth.
"We appreciate your hospitality, sir. We've come to discuss a very urgent matter with your superiors. It involves perhaps more than you can comprehend." Here the Professor peered hard at the native, who looked back at him with placid assurance. "Although I have a hunch you might have some idea what I mean."
If the Terran noticed a change in the Professor's glance he gave no sign, but instead smiled apologetically.
"Ice cream first."
The Terran's residence, when seen from close up, was a utilitarian yet not unbeautiful structure. It appeared to be made mostly from native woods with a hint of metal only here and there. A small quadruped was lying on its entrance step. It raised its head to gaze mournfully at the arrivals, with wise eyes, before returning it to its former position on its forepaws. Had the Professor known anything about the history of Terran canines, this quiet greeting would have been interesting indeed.
The building proved to admit more light and air than had seemed probable from .the outside. Furniture appeared to be mostly of the handmade variety, with here and there an occasional hint of something machine-turned. Bright colors predominated but did not clash, not that the Terran color scheme meant anything to the visitors anyway. At least the place was big enough to hold all.
The Jones's mate was a sprightly little dark woman
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WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . ..
of indeterminate age, much like her husband. A single male sibling by the name of Flip stared solemnly from a window seat at the grouping of guests assembled in his parents' den. He had a twig, or stick, which he would sometimes tap on the floor.
"Now, Alex . . ." said the woman, fussing with a large wooden ice-cream maker, "you didn't tell me we were having visitors. How am I supposed to prepare for these things if you don't tell me about them in advance?"
The native smiled. "Sorry, hon, but these, um, gentlemen, just sort of dropped hi on us. I promised them some ice cream."
"I hope they like chocolate," she said.
When they had been seated around the room, each being curling up according to the style fitting to its own physiognomy, Commander Rappan decided to break into the cheerful dialogue and get down to business. Fraternizing with the natives was all very well and good. No doubt the Xeno Department would approve. However, he was not so sure that his colleagues, hard-pressed to hold oft" the Yop waves, would see things hi the same way.
Unfortunately, this thing called ice cream got quite a grip on one's attention.
Zinin was one of the few present to whom the concoction had pfoved unappealing. He leaned over and whispered to Phrnnx, "These are the deadly fighters we are supposed to enlist? Conquerors of the Veen fleets? Stuff of horror tales? Why, they look positively soft! I could crush that male under one paw. He hardly comes up to my eyes!"
"Few of us do, oh hulking one," replied Phrnnx, adding a gesture indicative of second-degree ironic humor. "But that is hardly an indication one way or the other. Although I admit they do seem a bit on the pastoral side."
Zinin snorted.
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With Friends Like These , ..
"What star system are you folks from?' Not all from the same, surelyl"
"Indeed," said the Professor. It occurred to him what had troubled his thoughts ever since they had met these natives. For a race that had not had extra-planetary contact for umpti-thousand Ipas they were treating the crew of the Tpin like next-door neighbors who popped over for a visit every time-period. Even the siblingЧwhere had he disappeared to?Чhad been fully self-possessed when confronted by what must be to him utterly strange beings. It was just a touch unnerving. "You might be interested to know that the Veen have been extinct for some 450,000 of your time-revolutions."
The biped nodded understandingly. "We guessed as much. When so much time passed and nothing happened, one way or the other, friendly or hostile . . . we assumed that we'd been forgotten and filed away somewhere."
"Not forgotten," said the Professor. "Legends persist longer than their creators, sometimes. There was a period of ... confusion ... at the end of the Veen-Terran wars." Was that a twitch of reaction in the native's face? Yes? No? "When the bureaucracy set up by the Veen was submerged by a wave of would-be empire-builders, interstellar government pretty well collapsed. It took a while for things to straighten themselves out. Which is why we have not contacted you till now." Could he read the lie? "Another problem has arisen."
The biped sighed again. "I was afraid this mightn't be a social call. What is your problem, Professor?"
Backed at certain intervals by succinct comments from Rappan, he began to outline the present desperate situation with respect to the Yops, ending with a plea to forget any past differences and come to the aid of the Federation.
The Terran had listened quietly to their arguments, unmoving. Now he sat hi an attitude of intense concentration, seeming to listen to voices and* thoughts
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WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . ..
outside their ken. When he at last raised his face to them again he wore a serious smile.
"I must, of course, consult with and deliver your message to my ... 'superiors.' Such a decision would be difficult for us to make. As you can see for yourselves"Чhe made an all-encompassing gestureЧ"we have changed our mode of existence somewhat since we fought the Veen. We are no longer geared to the production of war materiel. Incidentally, we bold no grudge against any of you. I have no idea if my ancestors and yours ever met, let alone battled with one another. We never even really held animosity toward the Veen. In fact, I'd give a lot to know exactly why they went to war with us in the first place."
Phrnnx had heard the Professor's explanation and looked expectantly in his direction, but that worthy remained silent.
"Of course," continued the Terran after a while, "as a gesture of your goodwill we would naturally expect you to lower the Shield. Despite a hell of a lot of scribbling and figuring, that's one thing we could never quite do."
"Of course," said Rappan determinedly.
The biped stood. "It will take me a while to convey your message to my superiors. In the meantime, do feel free to enjoy the countryside and my poor home." He turned and walked into another room.