The Stones of Nomuru
- Автор: Де Камп Лайон Спрэг
- Серия: Viagens Interplanetarias #7
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The Stones of Nomuru». Краткое содержание книги:
Mild-mannered Terra archeologist Keith Salazar was just minding his business, digging up the alien past on an out-of-the-way site on the planet Kukulcan, when suddenly he was beseiged by intruders on his scholarly peace: hostile natives, an indifferent ex-wife, and a demon developer with rapacious eyes glued on both his site and his true love.
In the course of protecting his dig, regaining his loved one and vanquishing his rival, Salazar will fight a giant reptilian predator bare-handed, leap into snake-filled pits, engineer the planet's first imperial conquest, lead and train a battalion of alien riflemen, and hold a séance. Pretty exciting work--but then maybe Keith Salazar wasn't such a milquetoast after all...
"Why don't you shoot?" yelled Salazar.
"Won't—fire!" she gasped.
"Give it here!" He sprang forward and snatched the rifle. As the porondu stepped back a pace to consider the new arrival, a glance at the rifle showed Salazar that the safety was on. A flick of his thumb armed the gun, and he smoothly lifted the weapon to his shoulder and fired at the beaked head. The crack of the rifle was followed by the thudding fell of the beast.
Rescuer and rescued stood for a few seconds, breathing hard and staring at the recumbent animal. In a small voice, Kara asked: "How did you do it, Keith?"
"Took the safety off. Always keep it on until I'm ready to shoot. We should have four rounds left."
"When I shot the sentry," she said, "There wasn't any such complication."
"Kampai must have taken the safety off when he was fooling with the gun."
"Guess I've got to learn more about guns. Anyway, thanks—thanks a million."
"You saved my life when you got me out of that cage," said Salazar. "So now we're even. What's so funny?" he added, looking puzzled.
Kara tried to stifle a laugh, without complete success. "It's just that a stark-naked man with a high-powered rifle—well, it's a bit incongruous. Please don't be hurt."
"I'm not," said Salazar with a rueful smile. "Guess I do look kind of ridiculous. Me Tarzan, you—"
"At least, you've kept your shape."
Salazar's smile became vulpine. "Wish I could say the same for you."
"Why, what's the matter with my shape?"
"Nothing that I know of; but I shall have to see it to judge."
"Keith! You're just a dirty middle-aged man!" Salazar gave her a satyresque smirk, reciting:
"Stop it, Keith! You and your poems!"
"They're not poems with a capital P," he said. "Mere jingles."
"You're just turning on the charm to soften me up. Go put your clothes on!"
"Woman, I practically flayed my poor bare feet getting here when you yelled, and I won't go—"
"Oh, all right; I'll fetch your things. Take over the stirring."
When she returned with Salazar's wet garments, she put on her own, now nearly dry, and hung her companion's across the bushes. When the porridge bowl was empty, Salazar said:
"Let's have the knife. I'll see if I can cut us a couple of porondu steaks."
"Could we smoke them or something? They'd last longer."
"Have to cut thin strips, but it's a good idea." He struggled into damp garments.
With strips of porondu sizzling over the fire and little zutas flitting overhead, they improvised beds of leafy branches. Salazar said: "Better put your boots on. Otherwise, bugs might crawl into them and sting you when you put them on in the morning."
As they stretched out, Kara asked: "Where's the knife, Keith?"
"Here." He sneezed.
"May I have it, please?"
"Here it is; but why?"
"Thanks. Just in case you might crawl in your sleep."
"Look!" he protested. "I'm no Conrad Bergen, to fling a woman down and—"
"Of course not; but I also know the tricks the biological urge can play on even an upright, civilized fellow like one I used to know, by the name of Keith."
"Thanks for the flattery; but after a day on the run, even my natural urges are laxating. Of course, give me a few days' rest ..."
"And then I'll be back in Henderson, out of reach of your tentacles."
"So now I'm an octopus! You know, they have a fascinating system of reproduction. Like Kooks they seem emotionally cold; but the male develops a process on one arm—"
"Good night, Keith."
"But seriously, Kara, when you urged me to take this guiding job, I thought you might still have a teeny bit of feeling for me."
"I let you think so, I confess, because I had to. I needed Conrad's story, but I didn't dare put myself in Conrad's power without you along as a counterweight."
"To balance that bastard, you needed someone like Blackbeard the pirate. Sorry I didn't measure up."
"Oh, Keith, you did just fine. But what's got into you, after all your heroic—"
"It's not what's gotten into me; it's what hasn't—"
"That's enough! Good-night again, and I mean it!"
"Good-night, Miss Sheffield."
Next morning, Salazar slept later than usual. The sun was already high when a snuffling, rending sound aroused him. He sat up, looked around, and gave a piercing yell. At the same time he reached out to shake Kara's shoulder.
"What—what—" she mumbled.
"It's a fyunga! Run like hell!"
They scrambled up, still only half awake. A dozen meters away, where lay the body of the porondu that Salazar had shot, crouched a maroon fyunga, big enough to swallow a man at a gulp. The predator was tearing with its vast hooked beak at the carcass of the porondu. Aroused by the outcries and motion, it lurched to its two massive legs, like tree trunks with claws, and started towards the fugitive pair.
"This way!" said Salazar, clasping Kara's hand and pulling her along. After them came the snorting fyunga with earthshaking strides.
Salazar ran out of the gallery forest and into the plain, which afforded better footing. Kara allowed herself a brief glance back.
"It's gaining on us!" she gasped, speeding up.
"Don't sprint!" called Salazar. "Save your wind."
They ran and ran. The thud of the great, taloned feet shook the very earth behind the fugitives as the pursuer's pace increased for a time, then leveled off. In his turn, Salazar took a quick look backward.
"It's slowing," he panted. "Run—a little farther."
They settled down to a steady jog. At last Salazar said: "It's stopped. We can take it easy."
They trotted another fifty paces and halted, fighting for breath. For a few minutes the fyunga stood staring; its sides heaved, and it shook its head as if in angry frustration. Then it turned and plodded back towards its interrupted meal.
"I knew it would run out of breath before we did," said Salazar. "Provided we were in shape. Good thing we had our boots on! Oh, oh, look what's happening!"
Standing knee-deep in the grasslike herbage, they had an uninterrupted view across the plain to the edge of the gallery forest, half a kilometer away. There, a smaller fyunga was now feasting on the porondu carcass. The beast that had chased them gave a loud cry, between a scream and a roar, and lumbered toward the interloper like an angry ostrich. The other fyunga looked up, opened its beaked, tooth-fined maw, and replied with an even louder trumpet.
A battle of titans seemed inevitable. Before actual contact, however, the larger fyunga paused to issue an earth-shaking bellow. It lunged at the other, which drew back just far enough so that the attacking beak clashed on air. The second fyunga snapped in turn, also felling to draw blood.
The combatants circled each other, roaring and snapping but doing no damage. Then the smaller creature broke away and jogged off, pursued by the larger with bellows of triumph.
"Mostly bluff," said Salazar. "Quick, let's get our stuff while they're still at each other!"
They returned to the campsite as fast as exhaustion allowed. Salazar snatched up his rifle and the bag of meal; Kara collected the spoon, the tripod, and the pot, into which she flung the strips of half-smoked porondu.