A Gun for Dinosaur and Other Imaginative Tales
- Автор: Де Камп Лайон Спрэг
- Год: 1969
- Язык: английский
- Год: Curtis Books
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «A Gun for Dinosaur and Other Imaginative Tales». Краткое содержание книги:
"Considering their ancestry, it is natural. How is my Tsit-sav?"
"Fine."
"Has he behaving?"
"Very well. He's a responsible youngster."
"We of Hwrajar-Pchum all are, by comparison."
"Tsitsav has taken the Gordonian, Kranakiloa, under his wing."
"Wing?"
"Protection. Gordonians are jolly enough but carry playfulness to the point of damn foolishness."
"I know. They clown even in ze most solemn moments at the Conference."
They walked in silence. Riegel glanced with affection towards the tall solemn Ahlian. He had found Ahlians the most attractive of the delegates, though most Terrans considered them stuffed-shirty. Their rigid morality struck most earth-men as either hypocritical or impractical. At the same time, it made the more flexible Terrans uncomfortable in their presence. Perhaps Norman Riegel liked them because he was a little like an Ahlian himself.
Uzhegh spoke: "Here we are. Where do I putting zis container?"
They were walking up the driveway of the Scarron estate. The estate had been for sale since Mrs. Scarron died at the ripe but not exceptional age of 143. None of the heirs wanted the place to live in, as the mansion was considered a white elephant.
When the Conference had begun, the Terran bureau that coped with other-worldly visitors sought a means of caring for their young. The bureau had therefore approached Riegel, as the local head of the Society for Interplanetary Union. He, in turn, persuaded the Scarron heirs to lend the mansion rent-free for the summer and a furniture dealer to lend some second-hand furniture. Riegel and his wife, childless themselves, moved into the mansion and ran it as a school-camp for young off-earthers.
Now the Constitution was about to be signed and the extraterrestrial young given back to their parents. The Riegels intended to give the young ones a last farewell party.
Somebody saw Riegel and Uzhegh. The twenty-three off-earthers poured out, walking, running, hopping, and slithering. The one that looked a little like an aard-vark, for instance, was Gnish Axal, the Vza from Altair V. They talked in various approximations of English, except the Wanian whose vocal organs did not work in the human aural range, the Thomasonian who communicated by sign-language, and the two Borisovians who talked by flashing built-in colored lights.
The Gordonian, Kranakiloa, flowed out with the rest. It looked something like an oversized otter with six limbs. The Gordonians presented a problem to the Conference. They had the lowest intelligence of any species represented, though they talked and used tools. There had been discussion of putting them under a trusteeship, but the delegates could not agree on any plan.
Kranakiloa danced around Riegel and Uzhegh, squeaking: "Gimme! Gimme!" and snatching at the container of ice cream.
Tsitsav, the young Ahlian, caught the Gordonian, shook it, and said: "Run off and play or I will thpank you."
Tsitsav was about as tall as Riegel, though of even lighter build. He spoke in his own language to Uzhegh, who responded. Their long forked tongues flickered out, touched, and vanished. Riegel had an impression that the older Ahlian was devoted to his offspring. But it was hard to tell, because, to an outsider, Ahlians' faces seemed expressionless.
The Ahlians walked off claw in claw. Alice Riegel came out and shooed the off-earthers back to their playground. She gave Riegel a sharp look and said:
"What's the matter, darling?"
"Nothing. Just the young thugs at the post office." Riegel gave details.
"Shouldn't you tell the police?"
"That wouldn't do any good, I've told you. They haven't done anything to be arrested for."
"Couldn't they stretch disorderly conduct to cover it?"
"Maybe, but they won't. You know how people are. 'Nothing's too good for our kids' — and they won't believe what 'our kids' are up to."
A wild look came into Riegel's eye and a shrill hoarse tone into his voice. The effect was startling, as his manner was normally urbane and self-possessed. "Some day I'll get a gun and mow the little bastards down! King Herod had the right idea."
"Now, dear," said Alice Riegel. "You need a good strong cup of tea."
"What I need," said Riegel, "is a set of crosses, some spikes, and a hammer."
"The party's coming fine," said Alice brightly. "They've been as good as gold, except that Gnish started to dig up the front lawn for grubs, and I caught Kranakiloa dancing on the high-diving springboard. When I ordered him down he just laughed."
"What did you do?"
"Oh, Tsitsav hauled him down and spanked him, though it's a little like spanking a piece of steel cable."
"They are tough. How about the pool?"
"We've drained and scrubbed it. Doctor Lofting's coming over to give them their final checkups and help with the party."
"Good old Doc! Without him and Tsitsav I don't know how we'd have survived."
The five youths leaned against the front of the post office. Fisher, having picked himself up, glowered at the backs of Riegel and the Ahlian. He said:
"Now we just gotta spatter those ..." He rolled out a string of epithets that stigmatized his subjects' legitimacy, ancestry, chances of salvation, and sexual habits all at once. "We're not gonna let 'em get away with that!"
"What you got in mind, spud?" said Meehan.
"Listen. Longpants bought a gallon of ice cream. That means a party for all the little off-earthers, see? Now, have we all got baseball bats?"
"I don't have none," said Snow.
"Then we'll bust into old man Rizzi's sporting-goods store and get you one. Now, here's what we'll do ..."
He was finishing his explanation when Doctor Lofting got out of his car and walked towards the post office. Again the ventriloquistic muttering arose:
"Look at old Whiskers."
"Bet he chews it in his sleep."
"Nah, that's to make him look like a doctor."
"Him a doctor? Just a drunken old bum."
"He couldn't doctor a horse."
At the entrance to the post office, Lofting turned and said pleasantly: "Boys, if you're trying to make a date with me, you're wasting your time. I'm not that kind of guy."
Then he went in. Lofting at this stage was neither old nor drunken; merely convivial and middle-aged. A widower, he had been drawn to the Riegels by a common interest in the Society for Interplanetary Union. His beard was the only unconventional thing about him, though it was enough to draw the attention of the five.
As Lofting got back in his automobile, Carmichael said: "Sassy little bastard, ain't he?"
"Some day we'll pay him a visit," said Snow.
"Hey, not till we've worked Riegel over!" said Fisher.
"Okay," said Meehan. "Time enough to figure something out for Doc later. Let's meet at twenty-hundred ..."
The parry went beautifully through the long August evening. The young off-earthers sang and romped and played games, all but Gnish the Vza, who lay panting in the heat, and the spidery Martian who was not built for Terran gravity.
Alice Riegel looked at the darkening sky. The Gordonian was getting out of hand, prancing around and nipping the other guests to get them to chase it. Twice Norman Riegel had ordered it down from the high-diving tower of the empty pool.
Lightning flashed and thunder growled. Zeu, the Morenan, threw its tentacles around Alice Riegel in terror. She called:
"Dear! We'd better take them inside."
Riegel looked skyward. "Not yet. It won't rain for another half-hour."
Meehan's gang watched the proceedings through a privet hedge on the grounds. While Mrs. Scarron lived, her gardener had kept the hedge in trim, but now it had shot up to a height of ten feet. From where they stood, the youths could see the mob of young extra-terrestrials playing behind the house. They could not, however, see the kitchen door, which was hidden by a corner of the rambling edifice.