"John Dalmas - The Three-Cornered War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dalmas John)

to be harassed and driven from their kill by robber scavengers, among which the
foremost were the pack-roving protogarthids, and later the early Garthids themselves,
tough, aggressive, relentless. Intelligent.
Now, after some two million years, the species looked not so different from its
ancestors. Their crania were notably larger, their heavy fighting teeth a little smaller,
their scaly skin less tough. But except for their crania, they were remarkably like their
forebears—obligatory carnivores with powerful jaws and teeth. Their frames were still
powerful, though their muscles seldom so sinewy and tough.
Two figures stood by the railing. The giant was the Surrogate of God, the smaller his
chief counselor. The Surrogate was of the guardian gender, of course, seven feet tall
and 440 pounds. His pantaloons were a sort of exaggerated plus fours, as wide as a
Varangian's, their vividly colorful pattern at odds with the black motif of the city's
architecture. His only other garb was a sort of vest, resembling a kabe-shima, its
enormous padded shoulders ending in upcurved black horns. His counselor, a foot and a
half shorter and only 40 percent of the
Surrogate's mass, wore nothing below his plain blue-green vest. He was of the healer

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John Dalmas - The Three-Cornered War


gender, and had risen through the bureaucracy.
The evening was a pleasant 125 degrees Fahrenheit. Their balcony, a thousand feet
above the pavement, overlooked the traditional landscape, its genetically restored herds
of prey vaguely visible in the dusk. To the west, a molten smear showed where the sun
had set. To the east, stars already gleamed. It was on these the two Garthids gazed.
The aliens may not have arrived with bad intentions," the Surrogate said. "But suppose
for a moment they did."
His counselor answered diffidently. "It is possible of course, Your Potency. But the
reports suggest they arrived innocently, lashed out in fear, then fled. I doubt we shall
see them again."
The Surrogate's parietal hood flared slightly, its fringe of vestigial "horns" rigid. There
are passing encounters," he said. "Mere armed incidents. But there are also wars. The
difference is vast. We must be prepared, which includes being informed."
The chief counselor recalled a proverb: He who snoops the canebrake may rouse the
dragon. But he'd said enough.
The Surrogate continued: "We must develop a sentry system which can monitor a zone
at least a parsec across. No such thing has ever been attempted, but I am assured it is
technically and economically possible. I may also decide to scout the intruder's
extrapolated course, and perhaps discover its system of origin or destination. Our
success in that depends on their having followed a constant course over a very long
distance. And we will begin preparation for possible hostilities. To start with, this will
consist of preparing an infrastructure for a full war effort, in case one is needed.
Meanwhile the expansion of existing forces can be moderate."
The two old friends continued to gaze starward. Finally the chief counselor spoke
again: "We have not fought another species than ourselves since we destroyed die Chil-
ness-pakth, in the time of the Ninth Khroknash, more than eighteen thousand years
ago."
The Surrogate nodded. "In the pride of our youth. But perhaps it is time."
"I will pray on it."