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

The computer spoke for him alone: 'The experience, training and memory banks available suggest that it would be safer for you to pose as a deity. Their natural awe would enable you to ... '
'We're not going to fool these characters for five minutes,' Beirut said. 'They've built spaceships. They have advanced electronic techniques. You heard their radio. They've had a civilization for more than twenty-five million years.' He paused. 'Haven't they?'
'Definitely. The cast figure was an advanced form and technique.'
'Then translate my words!'
Beirut grew conscious that he had been speaking aloud and the natives were following his words and the movements of his mouth with a rapt intensity.
'Translate,' Autoga said. 'That would be chtsuyop, no?'
'You must speak subvocally,' the computer said. 'They are beginning to break down your language.'
'They're doing it in their heads, you stupid pile of electronic junk,' Beirut said. 'I have to use you! And you think I can pose as a god with these people?'
'I will translate because you command it and my override circuits cannot circumvent your command,' the computer said.
'A computer!' Autoga said. 'He has a translating computer in his vehicle! How quaint.'
'Translate,' Beirut said.
Sounds issued from the lingua pack.
'I am vindicated,' Autoga said. 'And you will note that I did it on nothing more than the design of the vehicle and the cut of his clothing, plus the artifacts, of course.'
'This is why you are in command,' Choon said. 'I suffer your correction and instruction abysmally.'
Autoga looked at Beirut. 'What will you require-other than the repair of your vehicle?'
'Don't you want to know where I'm from?' Beirut asked.
'You are from somewhere,' Autoga said. 'It has been theorized that other suns and worlds might exist beyond the hydrogen cloud from which we were formed. Your presence suggests this theory is true.'
'But ... but don't you want contact with us ... trade, exchange ideas?'
'It is now apparent,' Autoga said, 'that the empty universe theory has been disproved. However, a primitive such as yourself, even you must realize such interchange would be pointless.'
'But we ... '
'We well know that the enclosure of our universe has forced us in upon ourselves,' Choon said. 'If that's what you were going to say?'
'He was going into boring detail about what he has to offer us,' Autoga said. 'I suggest we get about doing what has to be done. Spispi, you and Tura take care of the computer in his vehicle. Choon and I will ... '
'What're you doing?' Beirut asked. He leaped to his feet. At least, he thought he leaped to his feet, but in a moment he grew conscious that he was still sitting on the ground, the five natives facing him, staring.
'They are erasing some of my circuits!' the computer wailed. 'A magneto-gravitic field encloses me and the ... aroo, tut-tut, jingle bells, jingle bells.'
'This is very interesting,' Autoga said presently. 'He has made contact with a civilization of our level at some previous time. You will note the residual inhibition against lengthy travel away from his home. We'll make the inhibition stronger this time.'
Beirut stared at the chattering natives with a sense of deja vu. The speaker in his neck remained silent. His lingua pack made no sound. He felt movement in his mind like spiders crawling along his nerves.
'Who do you suppose he could've contacted?' Choon asked.
'Not one of our groups, of course,' Autoga said. 'Before we stay out in the light of s'Chareecha and plant ourselves for the next seeding, we must start a flow of inquiry.'
'Who will talk to us about such things?' Choon asked. 'We are mere herdsmen.'
'Perhaps we should listen more often to the entertainment broadcasts,' Spispi said. 'Something may have been said.'
'We may be simple herdsmen whose inquiry will not go very far,' Autoga said, 'but this has been an experience to afford us many hours of conversation. Imagine having the empty universe theory refuted!'

Beirut awoke in the control seat of his ship, smelled in the stink of the place his own sweat touched by the chemistry of fear. A glance at the instrument panel showed that he had succumbed to the push and turned ship. He was headed back out of the cloud without having found anything in it.
An odd sadness came over Beirut.
I'll find my planet some day, he thought. I'll have alabaster buildings and sheltered waters for sailing and long stretches of prairie for game animals.
The automatic log showed turn-around at ninety-four days.
I stood it longer than Bingaling, he thought.
He remembered the conversation with Bingaling then and the curious reference to a previous attempt at the cloud. Maybe I did, he thought. Maybe I forgot because the push got so tough.
Presently, his mind turned to thoughts of Capella Base, of going home. Just the thought of it eased the pressures of the push which was still faintly with him. The push ... the push - it had beaten him again. Next trip out, he decided, he'd head the opposite direction, see what was to be found out there.
Almost idly then Beirut wondered about the push. Why do we call it the push? he wondered. Why, don't we call it the pull? The question interested him enough to put it to the computer. 'Tut-tut,' the computer said.