"William Tenn - The Human Angle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tenn William)

anything-around it?"
"Neither, Colonel." I noticed he was calling me by my rank for the first time since
the trip started, which meant he was saying in effect, "Man, have you got a decision
to make!"
"Hey, Tom," Monroe put in. "Couldn't be just a regularly shaped bump in the
ground, could it?"
"I'm a geologist, Monroe. I can distinguish artificial from natural topography.
Besides-" he looked up-"I just remem-bered something I left out. There's a
brand-new tiny crater near the dome-the kind usually left by a rocket exhaust."
"Rocket exhaust?' I seized on that. "Rockets, eh?"
Tom grinned a little sympathetically. "Spaceship exhaust, I should have said. You
can't tell from the crater what kind of propulsive device these characters are using.
It's not the same kind of crater our rear-jets leave, if that helps any."
Of course it didn't. So we went into our ship and had a council of war. And I do
mean war. Both Tom and Monroe were calling me Colonel in every other sentence. I
used their first names every chance I got.
Still, no one but me could reach a decision. About what to do, I mean.
"Look," I said at last, "here are the possibilities. They know we are here-either
from watching us land a couple of hours ago or from observing Tom's scoutship-or
they do not know we are here. They are either humans from Earth-in which case they
are in all probability enemy nationals-or they are alien creatures from another planet -in
which case they may be friends, enemies or what-have-you. I think common sense
and standard military procedure demand that we consider them hostile until we have
evidence to the contrary. Meanwhile, we proceed with extreme caution, so as not to
precip-itate an interplanetary war with potentially friendly Martians, or whatever they
are.
"All right. It's vitally important that Army Headquarters be informed of this
immediately. But since Moon-to-Earth radio is still on the drawing boards, the only
way we can get through is to send Monroe back with the ship. If we do, we run the
risk of having our garrison force, Tom and me, captured while he's making the return
trip. In that case, their side winds up in possession of important information
concerning our personnel and equipment, while our side has only the bare
knowledge that somebody or something else has a base on the Moon. So our
primary need is more infor-mation.
"Therefore, I suggest that I sit in the dome on one end of a telephone hookup with
Tom, who will sit in the ship, his hand over the firing button, ready to blast off for
Earth the moment he gets the order from me. Monroe will take the single-seater
down to the Riphad Mountains, landing as close to the other dome as he thinks safe.
He will then proceed the rest of the way on foot, doing the best scouting job he can
in a spacesuit.
"He will not use his radio, except for agreed-upon non-sense syllables to
designate landing the single-seater, coming upon the dome by foot, and warning me
to tell Tom to take off. If he's captured, remembering that the first purpose of a
scout is acquiring and transmitting knowledge of the enemy, he will snap his suit
radio on full volume and pass on as much data as time and the enemy's reflexes
permit. How does that sound to you?"
They both nodded. As far as they were concerned, the command decision had
been made. But I was sitting under two inches of sweat.
"One question," Tom said. "Why did you pick Monroe for the scout?"
"I was afraid you'd ask that," I told him. "We're three ex-tremely unathletic Ph.D's