"Eric Frank Russell - Basic Right" - читать интересную книгу автора (Russell Eric Frank)

Basic Right
by ERIC FRANK RUSSELL

There is no visible horizon beyond which the unleashed intellect cannot
advance. But where is it taking mankind? Compare the brutal complexities of
galactic conquest, as pictured here and in Poll' Anderson's Genius, with the
possibility of man's conquest of himself. This story provides the perfect closing to
our adventure in exploring the enormous scope of man's intelligence and of the
universe he inhabits.

THEY CAME OUT of the starfield under the earth, from the region of a brilliant sun called Sigma
Oetantis. Ten huge copper-colored ships. Nobody saw them land. They were astute enough to sit awhile
in the howling wastes of Antarctica, scout around and seize all twenty members of the International South
Polar Expedition.
Even then the world did not take alarm. The newcomers, who titled themselves Raidans, hazarded a
guess that within a fortnight earth would become curious about the fate of the captured. But it didn't work
out like that at all; contrary to expectations the Terran prisoners proved so submissive and cooperative.
By signs and gestures the Raidans conveyed their cover-up order: "Send out reassuring messages."
The captives did it willingly, in straightforward manner, playing no tricks, well-nigh falling over
themselves in eagerness to please. Routine signals from the polar expedition continued to be picked up
by listening-posts in Australia, New Zealand, and Chile. Nobody found reason to suspect that anything
out of the ordinary had occurred down there within the ice barrier where blizzards raged throughout the
long-drawn night.
Within the next eleven weeks the invaders learned the Terran language, devoting all their time to
picking it up as fast and fluently as possible. This chore could have been avoided by insisting that the
prisoners learn to speak Raidan but the tactic would have involved loss of conversational privacy. The
Raidans preferred to do the work and keep their talk strictly to themselves.
In the twelfth week Zalumar, commander of the fleet, summoned Lakin, his personal aide. "Lakin,
there is no need for us to waste any more hours upon this animal gabble. We can now speak it well
enough to make ourselves properly understood. It is time to get out of this frozen place and assert
ourselves in conditions of comfort."
"Yes, sire," agreed Lakin, heartened by the thought of coming sunshine and warmth.
"The leader of these prisoners is named Gordon Fox. I wish to speak with him. Bring him to me."
"Yes, sire." Lakin hastened out, returned shortly with the captive.
He was a tall, lean Terran, lank-haired, his face adorned with a polar beard. His gray eyes examined
Zalumar, noting the broad shoulders, the long, boneless arms, the yellow eyes, the curious green fuzz
overlying the skin. Zalumar found himself enjoying this inspection because it was made with a curious
mixture of servility and admiration.
"I have something to say to you, Fox."
"Yes, sire?"
"Doubtless you've been wondering why we are here, what our intentions are, what is going to happen
in the near future, eh?" Without waiting for a reply, he went on, "The answer is brief and to the point: we
are going to take over your world."
He watched the other's face, seeking fear, shock, anger, any of the emotions normally to be
expected. But he detected none of them. On the contrary, Fox seemed gratified by the prospect. There
was no rage, no defiance, nothing but amiable complacency. Maybe the fellow had failed to grasp
precisely what was meant.
"We are going to assume ownership of Terra lock, stock, and barrel," emphasized Zalumar, still
watching him. "We are going to confiscate your world because the rewards of life belong to the most
deserving. That is our opinion. We have the power to make it the only acceptable opinion. Do you