"Murray Leinster - Exploration Team" - читать интересную книгу автора (Leinster Murray)

 The new arrival gazed blankly. He moved, startled. Then Huyghens called:
“Hello, there! Don’t worry about the bears! They’re friends!”
Sitka reached the newcomer. He went warily downwind from him and
sniffed. The smell was satisfactory. Man-smell. Sitka sat down with the solid
impact of more than a ton of bear-meat landing on packed dirt. He regarded the
man amiably. Sourdough said “Whoosh!” and went on to sample the air beyond the
clearing. Huyghens approached. The newcomer wore the uniform of the Colonial
Survey. That was bad. It bore the insignia of a senior officer. Worse.
“Hah!” said the just-landed man. “Where are the robots? What in all the
nineteen hells are these creatures? Why did you shift your station? I’m Roane,
here to make a progress report on your colony.”
Huyghens said:
“What colony?”
“Loren Two Robot Installation—” Then Roane said indignantly, “Don’t tell
me that that idiot skipper dropped me at the wrong place! This is Loren Two,
isn’t it? And this is the landing field. But where are your robots? You should
have the beginning of a grid up! What the devil’s happened here and what are
these beasts?”
Huyghens grimaced.
“This,” he said politely, “is an illegal, unlicensed settlement. I’m a
criminal. These beasts are my confederates. If you don’t want to associate
with criminals you needn’t, of course, but I doubt if you’ll live till morning
unless you accept my hospitality while I think over what to do about your
landing. In reason, I ought to shoot you.”
Faro Nell came to a halt behind Huyghens, which was her proper post in
all out-door movement. Nugget, however, saw a new human. Nugget was a cub,
and, therefore, friendly. He ambled forward ingratiat
ingly. He was four feet high at the shoulders, on all fours. He wriggled
bashfully as he approached Roane. He sneezed, because he was embarrassed.
His mother overtook him swiftly and cuffed him to one side. He wailed.
The wail of a six-hundred-pound Kodiak bear-cub is a remarkable sound. Roane
gave ground a pace.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that we’d better talk things over. But if
this is an illegal colony, of course you’re under arrest and anything you say
will be used against you.”
Huyghens grimaced again.
“Right,” he said. “But now if you’ll walk close to me, we’ll head back
to the station. I’d have Sourdough carry your bag—he likes to carry things—but
he may need his teeth. We’ve half a mile to travel.” He turned to the animals.
“Let’s go!” he said commandingly. “Back to the station! Hup!”
Grunting, Sitka Pete arose and took up his duties as advanced point of a
combat team. Sourdough trailed, swinging widely to one side and another.
Huyghens and Roane moved together. Faro Nell and Nugget brought up the rear.
Which, of course, was the only relatively safe way for anybody to travel on
Loren Two, in the jungle, a good half mile from one’s fortresslike residence.
But there was only one incident on the way back. It was a nightwalker,
made hysterical by the lane of light. It poured through the underbrush,
uttering cries like maniacal laughter.
Sourdough brought it down, a good ten yards from Huyghens. When it was
all over, Nugget bristled up to the dead creature, uttering cubgrowls. He