"Joseph Green - The Crier of Crystal" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Joseph)

subcommittee check-ing on the work of the P.P. Corps. Allan had been on his way to Earth for a needed
vacation prior to testifying before the committee when he was unexpectedly ordered to Crystal. The
scientists there had reported that an elusive creature they had been unable to capture was possibly
in-telligent. And Council Member Kay-lin was going to accompany Allan on this assignment and observe
a "Con-science" in action.
As Allan started forward again, hearing the brittle crunch of small plants breaking beneath his thick
boots, the Crier called from close ahead.
Cappy Doyle, the station director, had played several recordings of the thin, plaintive voice for Allan.
It sounded like a high-pitched child who understood a few words of En-glish and used them interspersed
throughout a string of gibberish. But one word that had been consistently repeated was "help," and
another was "leave." Once they had recorded a clearly heard, "Help us; leave." The voice always spoke
from the same area, at night, and when the wind was still. Limited vision and numerous carnivores who
killed be-fore they realized their prey was in-edible kept night work in the jungle to a minimum. Two
heavily armed parties had sought the elusive voice without success, and several daylight searches of the
area revealed noth-ing. Allan was no braver than the resident biologists, but he had dared the night jungle
alone because ex-perience had taught him shy crea-tures on the verge of intelligence were less likely to
flee from a single person. And he did not want to keep the subcommittee chairman waiting while he made
that first careful con-tact with the frightened Crier.
The sound came again, and Allan pushed away yielding fronds of spun glass and moved slowly
ahead. He made no attempt to walk quietly be-cause it was impossible. What on Earth would have been
a silent walk sounded on Crystal like a mad giant trampling on greenhouses. But the local fauna were
equally noisy; every bird that landed on a branch, every insect blundering into a leaf, spread its own small
circle of sound. It hardly mattered for most of them; only a few had hearing organs.
The wind died and the Crier called again, a long wail that lasted over a minute. Allan stopped and
lis-tened carefully. He picked out the words "leave" and "difficult" in the jumble of sounds . . . and
received a strong impression there were syl-lables of other words in the mixture.
Allan took a few more careful steps, stopping when he judged him-self within a few meters of the
crea-ture. He waited, light focused directly ahead. He saw nothing, and heard only the crystalline chiming
of vegetation shaking in the breeze. The vagrant wind gradually faded, and almost immediately the sound
came again, so close it startled him. He was facing a bush a little taller than himself. Out of its shadows a
high voice cried, "Leave us!"
Allan felt the hand still holding a laser tremble, and eased his finger back from the trigger. The distinct
words were followed by nonsense, and he strained his eyes to find the speaker. When he still saw
nothing he took a step forward. The bush he was searching had a slender trunk and straight branched
limbs with only a moderate number of leaves. No animal larger than a very small bird could be hiding
there.
Another gentle wraith of a night wind appeared, and the voice stopped. Allan strained his eyes, and
when the breeze faded and the sound came again he finally saw the Crier.
At almost eye level with the hu-man one branch crossed beneath another. A saucer-shaped leaf,
laced with silver threads, hung from the upper limb and grew into the lower; the normal growth pattern on
both branches was upward. Two thick coils of silver wire, spun fine as spi-der silk, hung suspended in
the air on both sides. The supple limbs, when not disturbed by the wind, kept the leaf pulled taut to form
a crude but workable diaphragm. As Allan stared, almost unable to be-lieve his eyes, the leaf vibrated
and the thin voice uttered a string of gib-berish.
The leaf and coils formed an elec-trically operated speaker. The Crier was the bush itself.
"A mountain of silver?" Allan asked, astonished.
Cappy Doyle laughed, his thin form shaking slightly in the locally-made glass chair. A supply ship had
failed during the station's first year and the personnel had almost starved. Cappy, who had arrived
middle-aged and plump, had chosen not to regain the lost weight. "Yes, a mountain, according to our
seismic readings. This little hill we are sitting on is just the top of the peak, with the rest deep