"Gordon R. Dickson - Danger-Human" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

years."
He looked at Eldridge, who said nothing.
"To go on, then. What we know of your race is based upon two sources
of information. History. And Legend. The history is sketchy. It rests on
archaeological discoveries for the most part. The legend is even sketchier
and-fantastic."
He paused again. Still Eldridge guarded his tongue.


"Briefly, there is a race that has three times broken out to overrun this
mapped area of our galaxy and dominate other civilized cultures-until
some inherent lack or weakness in the individual caused the component
parts of this advance to die out. The periods of these outbreaks has always
been disastrous for the dominated cultures and uniformly without benefit
to the race I am talking about. In the case of each outbreak, though the
home planet was destroyed and all known remnants of the advancing race
hunted out, unknown seed communities remained to furnish the material
for a new advance some thousands of years later. That race," said the
academician, and coughed--or at least made some kind of noise in his
throat, "is your own."
Eldridge watched the other carefully and without moving.
"We see your race, therefore," went on the academician, and Eldridge
received the mental impression of an elderly man putting the tips of his
fingers together judiciously, "as one with great or overwhelming natural
talents, but unfortunately also with one great natural flaw. This flaw seems
to be a desire--almost a need--to acquire and possess things. To reach out,
encompass, and absorb. It is not," shrugged the academician, "a unique
trait. Other races have it-but not to such an extent that it makes them a
threat to their co-existing cultures. Yet, this in itself is not the real
problem. If it was a simple matter of rapacity, a combination of other
races should be able to contain your people. There is a natural inevitable
balance of that sort continually at work in the galaxy. No," said the
academician, and paused, looking at the commander.
"Go on. Go on," said the commander. The academician bowed.
"No, it is not that simple. As a guide to what remains, we have only the
legend, made anew and reinforced after each outward sweep of you
people. We know that there must be something more than we have
found--and we have studied you carefully, both your home world and now
you, personally. There must be something more in you, some genius, some
capability above the normal, to account for the fantastic nature of your
race's previous successes. But the legend says only-- Danger, Human!
High Explosive. Do not touch --and we find nothing in you to justify the
warning."
He sighed. Or at least Eldridge received a sudden, unexpected
intimation of deep weariness.
"Because of a number of factors-too numerous to go into and most of
them not understandable to you-it is our race which must deal with this
problem for the rest of the galaxy. What can we do? We dare not leave you
be until you grow strong and come out once more. And the legend
expressly warns us against touching you in any way. So we have chosen to