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

earwise, for he heard the strange mouth-noises just as they came out and then something in his head
twisted them around and made them into perfectly understandable English.
Nor was that all. For, as he sat listening to the creatures talk, he began to get the same double
image in another way. That is, he still saw the bearlike creature behind the desk as the weird sort of
animal he was, while out of the sound of his voice, or from something else, there gradually built up in
Eldridge's mind a picture of a thin, rather harassed-looking gray-haired man in something resembling a
uniform, but at the same time not quite a uniform. It was the sort of effect an army general might get if he
wore his stars and a Sam Browne belt over a civilian double-breasted suit. Similarly, the other creature
sitting facing the one behind the desk, at the desk's side, was a young and black-haired man with
something of the laboratory about him, and the creature further back, seated almost against the wall, was
neither soldier nor scientist, but a heavy older man with a sort of book-won wisdom in him.
"You see, commander," the young one with the black-haired image was saying, "perfectly restored.
At least on the physical and mental levels."
"Good, doctor, good," the outlandish syllables from the one behind the desk translated themselves
in Eldridge's head. "And you say it . . . he, I should say . . . will be able to understand?"
"Certainly, sir," said the doctor-psychologist—whatever-he-was. "Identification is absolute—"
"But I mean comprehend—encompass—" The creature behind the desk moved one paw slightly.
"Follow what we tell him—"
The doctor turned his ursinoid head toward the third member of the group. This one spoke slowly,
in a deeper voice.
"The culture allows. Certainly."
The one behind the desk bowed slightly to the oldest one.
"Certainly, Academician, certainly."
***
They then fell silent, all looking back at Eldridge, who returned their gaze with equivalent interest.
There was something unnatural about the whole proceeding. Both sides were regarding the other with
the completely blunt and unshielded curiosity given to freaks.
The silence stretched out. It became tinged with a certain embarrassment. Gradually a mutual
recognition arose that no one really wanted to be the first to address an alien being directly.
"It . . . he is comfortable?" asked the commander, turning once more to the doctor.
"I should say so," replied the doctor, slowly. "As far as we know. . . ."
Turning back to Eldridge, the commander said, "Eldridge-timothyparker, I suppose you wonder
where you are?"
Caution and habit put a clamp on Eldridge's tongue. He hesitated about answering so long that the
commander turned in distress to the doctor, who reassured him with a slight movement of the head.
"Well, speak up," said the commander, "we'll be able to understand you, just as you're able to
understand us. Nothing's going to hurt you; and anything you say won't have the slightest effect on
your . . . er . . . situation."
He paused again, looking at Eldridge for a comment. Eldridge still held his silence, but one of his
hands unconsciously made a short, fumbling motion at his breast pocket.
"My pipe—" said Eldridge.
The three looked at each other. They looked back at Eldridge.
"We have it," said the doctor. "After a while we may give it back to you. For now . . . we cannot
allow . . . it would not suit us."
"Smoke bother you?" said Eldridge, with a touch of his native canniness.
"It does not bother us. It is . . . merely . . . distasteful," said the commander. "Let's get on. I'm going
to tell you where you are, first. You're on a world roughly similar to your own, but many . . ." he
hesitated, looking at the academician.
"Light-years," supplemented the deep voice. " . . . Light-years in terms of what a year means to
you," went on the commander, with growing briskness. "Many light-years distant from your home. We