"H. Beam Piper - Naudsonce" - читать интересную книгу автора (Piper H Beam)

everybody was given a knife and a bandanna and one piece of flashy junk-jewelry, also a stainless steel
cup and mess plate, a bucket, and an empty bottle with a cork. The women didn't carry sheath knives, so
they got Boy Scout knives on lanyards. They were all lavishly supplied with Extee Three and candy. Any
of the children who looked big enough to be trusted with them got knives too, and plenty of candy.

Anna and Karl were standing where the queue was forming, watching how they fell into line; so was
Lillian, with an audiovisual camera. Having seen that the Marine enlisted men were getting the presents
handed out properly, Howell strolled over to them. Just as he came up, a couple approached hesitantly, a
man in a breechclout under a leather apron, and a woman, much smaller, in a ragged and soiled tunic. As
soon as they fell into line, another Svant, in a blue robe, pushed them aside and took their place.

"Here, you can't do that!" Lillian cried. "Karl, make him step back."

Karl was saying something about social status and precedence. The couple tried to get into line behind
the man who had pushed them aside. Another villager tried to shove them out of his way. Howell
advanced, his right fist closing. Then he remembered that he didn't know what he'd be punching; he might
break the fellow's neck, or his own knuckles. He grabbed the blue-robed Svant by the wrist with both
hands, kicked a foot out from under him, and jerked, sending him flying for six feet and then sliding in the
dust for another couple of yards. He pushed the others back, and put the couple into place in the line.

"Mark, you shouldn't have done that," Dorver was expostulating. "We don't knowтАж"

The Svant sat up, shaking his head groggily. Then he realized what had been done to him. With a snarl of
rage, he was on his feet, his knife in his hand. It was a Terran bowie knife. Without conscious volition,
Howell's pistol was out and he was thumbing the safety off.

The Svant stopped short, then dropped the knife, ducked his head, and threw his arms over it to shield
his comb. He backed away a few steps, then turned and bolted into the nearest house. The others,
including the woman in the ragged tunic, were twittering in alarm. Only the man in the leather apron was
calm; he was saying, tonelessly, "Ghrooogh-ghrooogh."

Luis Gofredo was coming up on the double, followed by three of his riflemen.

"What happened, Mark? Trouble?"

"All over now." He told Gofredo what had happened. Dorver was still objecting:

"тАж Social precedence; the Svant may have been right, according to local customs."
"Local customs be damned!" Gofredo became angry. "This is a Terra Federation handout; we make the
rules, and one of them is, no pushing people out of line. Teach the buggers that now and we won't have
to work so hard at it later." He called back over his shoulder, "Situation under control; get the show
going again."

The natives were all grimacing heartbrokenly with pleasure. Maybe the one who got thrown on his
earтАФno, he didn't have anyтАФwas not one of the more popular characters in the village.

"You just pulled your gun, and he dropped the knife and ran?" Gofredo asked. "And the others were
scared, too?"

"That's right. They all saw you fire yours; the noise scared them."