"Herbert, Frank - Escape Felicity" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

Beirut repeated his precautionary measures, went out to join them. He moved slowly, warily, the Borgen ready in his left hand.
The five awaited him this time without retreating. They appeared more relaxed, chattering in low voices among themselves, watching him with those stalked eyes. The word sounds remained pure gibberish to Beirut , but he had the lingua pack trained on them and knew the computer would have the language in a matter of time.
Beirut stopped about eight paces from the natives, said: 'Glad to see you, boys. Have a nice nap in your car?'
The tallest one nodded, said: 'What's doing?'
Beirut gaped, speechless.
A native on the left said: 'Let's hope you have a good metal-working industry, friends. Otherwise I'm going to be an extremely unhappy visitor.'
The tallest one said: 'Glad to see you, boys. Have a nice nap in your car?'
'They're mimicking me!' Beirut gasped.
'Confirmed,' the computer said.
Beirut overcame an urge to laugh, said: 'You're the crummiest looking herd of no-good animals I ever saw. It's a wonder your mothers could stand the sight of you.'
The tall native repeated it for him without an error.
'Reference to mothers cannot be accepted at this time,' the computer said. 'Local propagation customs unknown. There are indications these may be part vegetable - part animal.'
'Oh shut up,' Beirut said.
'Oh, shut up,' said a native on his left.
'Suggest silence on your part,' the computer said. 'They are displaying signs of trying to break down your-language. Better we get their language, reveal less of ourselves.'
Beirut saw the wisdom in it, spoke subvocally for the speaker on his throat: 'You're so right.'
He clamped his lips into a thin line, stared at the natives. Silence dragged on and on.
Presently the tall one said: 'Aagroop somilican.'
'Toogayala,' said the one on the left.
'Cardinal number,' the computer said. 'Probable position five. Hold up your five fingsrs and say toogayala.'
Beirut obeyed.
'Toogayala, toogayala,' the natives agreed. One detached himself, went to the st a n wagon and returned with a black metal figurine, about half a meter tall, extended it toward Beirut .
Cautiously, Beirut moved forward, accepted the thing. It felt heavy and cold in his hand, ft was a beautifully styled figure of one of the natives, the eye stalks drooping into inverted U-shapes, mouth open.
Beirut brought out his contact kit, pressed it against the metal.
The kit went 'ping' as it took a sample.
The natives stared at him.
'Iron-magnesium-nickel alloy,' the computer said. 'Figure achieved by casting. Approximate age of figure, twenty-five million standard years.'
Beirut felt his throat go dry. He spoke subvocally: 'That can't be!'
'Bating accurate to plus or minus six thousand years,' the computer said. 'You will note the figures carved on the casting. The inverted U on the chest is probably the figure five. Beneath that is writing. Pattern too consistent for different interpretation.'
'Civilization for twenty-five million years,' Beirut said.
'Plus or minus six thousand years,' the computer said.
Again, Beirut felt a surge ofthepush, fought it down. He wanted to return to the crippled ship, flee this place in spite of the dangers. His knees shook.
The native who had given him the figurine, stepped forward, reclaimed it. 'Toogayala,' the native said. It pointed to the inverted U on the figure and then to the symbol on its own chest.
'But they only have a steam engine,' Beirut protested.
'Very sophisticated steam engine,' the computer said. 'Cannon is retractable, gyroscopically mounted, self-tracking.'
'They can fix the ship!' Beirut said.
'If they will,' the computer said.
The tall native stepped forward now, touched a finger to the lingua pack, said: 's'Chareecha' with a falling inflection. Beirut watched the hand carefully. It was six-fingered, definitely, the skin a mauve-blue. The fingers were horn-tipped and double-knuckled.
Try ung-ung,' the computer suggested.'
'Ung-ung,' Beirut said.

The tall one jumped backward and all five sent their eye stalks peering toward the sky. They set up an excited chattering among themselves in which Beirut caught several repeated sounds: 'Yaubron ... s'Chareecha ... Autoga ... Sreese-sreese ... '
'We have an approximation for entry now,' the computer said. 'The tall one is called Autoga. Address him by name.'
'Autoga,' Beirut said.
The tall one turned, tipped his eye stalks toward Beirut .
'Say Ai-Yaubron ung sreese s'Chareecha,' the computer said.
Beirut obeyed.
The natives faced each other, returned their attention to Beirut . Presently, they began grunting almost uncontrollably. Autoga sat down on the ground, pounded it with his hands, all the while keeping up the grunting.
'What the devil?' Beirut said.
'They're laughing,' the computer said. 'Go sit beside Autoga.'