"Alan Dean Foster & Eric Frank Russell - Design for Great Day" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

White teeth were sharp and pointed in front, flat in back. Fine hairs screened the nasal portals, filtering
the cool air as it was inhaled. The rear feet were heavily shod in thick boots; the center pair were
sheathed in thick gloves, while the upper were left free. They were tailless and large-rumped. Short
pants, center-body vests, and upper torso garments were fastened with invisible closures. These boasted
a variety of pockets and pouches in addition to insignia and other marks of individual identification.
Overlaid on the entire arrangement was a network of wide but light straps resembling a dray animal’s
harness, which was designed to support a variety of military equipment.

Although it was not for them to decide what action to take against this sorry-looking object from the
unknown, they had plenty of curiosity concerning it, and no little apprehension. Much of their nosiness
was stimulated by the knowledge that the vessel was of no identifiable type, despite the fact that they
could recognize all the seventy basic patterns common to their entire region. Of course, none of them
were specialists and there was always the possibility of a recent discovery or two that had yet to be
included in the regularly reviewed journals. In addition, there was also the possibility it might be an
experimental device of their own invention.

Granting all this, the complete lack of external protrusions was disconcerting. The flattened ovoid showed
no weapons port, no communications antenna: nothing. There was a suggestion of a single, narrow port
at one end, but it was not transparent, and those who strained for a look could see nothing inside.

The possibility of it being a remotely guided or purely mechanical vehicle was not to be discounted.
Drones were used extensively by both sides, both for surveillance and communications. Of one thing they
could be certain: thus far it was being anything but wildly communicative.

As for their apprehension, that was a consequence of the sheer nonchalance of the visitor’s arrival. Ever
since its presence had been noted, communications of every kind, from panic to unbridled fury to open
curiosity, had been burning up the comm systems. The little vessel had burst like a superswift projectile
through the overlapping system of detectors that enveloped the planet, treated the outlying orbital stations
and atmospheric patrols with disdain, and sat itself down not in some obscure canyon or camouflaging
forest, but within clear view of the capital city.

Something drastic would have to be done about it. On that point one and all regardless of position or
rank were agreed. But the appropriate tactics would be defined by authority, not by underlings.

So they hung around in dips and hollows and behind rocks, and scratched and held their weapons, and
hankered for their superiors in the city to wake up and come running.

Circumstances have an importunate way of forcing themselves upon the noncommittal. Time, unlike a
great many individuals, is impatient. In much the same way that the planetary defenses had been brought
to naught by bland presentation of an accomplished fact, so were the guards now similarly disturbed.
Giving distant sluggards no time to make up their minds and spring into action, a gap appeared in the side
of the ovoid and a thing came out.

This small movement had a way of focusing the attention of the surrounding hexapods wonderfully. They
abruptly sprang into action. Or rather into position, no other action being immediately required. Superbly
prepared, each individual took his place according to training. Small and heavy portable weapons were
tuned to maximum, inter-sextet communications engaged, and shielding activated. The result was a
condition of armed readiness sufficient to make superiors proud and adversaries think twice before doing
anything that might be interpreted as a hostile move.