"Murray Leinster - Keyhole (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Leinster Murray)

busily. He discovered for himself that it had to be pointed at Worden to catch the vibrations.
Worden was. unhappy. He would have preferred Butch to be a little less rational. But for
the next lesson he presented Butch with a really thin metal diaphragm stretched across a hoop.
Butch caught the idea at once.
When Worden made his next report to Earth he felt angry.
“Butch has no experience of sound as we have, of course,” he said curtly. “There’s no air
on the Moon. But sound travels through rocks. He’s sensitive to vibrations in solid objects just
as a deaf person can feel the vibrations of a dance floor if the music is loud enough.
“Maybe Butch’s kind has a language or a code of sounds sent through the rock underfoot.
They do communicate somehow! And if they’ve brains and a means of communication they aren’t
animals and shouldn’t be exterminated for our convenience!”
He stopped. The chief biologist of the Space Exploration Bureau was at the other end of
the communication beam then. After the necessary pause for distance his voice came blandly.
“Splendid, Worden! Splendid reasoning! But we have to take the longer view. Exploration of
Mars and Venus is a very popular idea with the public. If we are to have funds—and the
appropriations come up for a vote shortly—we have to make progress toward the nearer planets. The
public demands it. Unless we can begin work on a refueling base on the Moon, public interest will
cease!”
Worden said urgently, “Suppose I send some pictures of Butch? He’s very human, sir! He’s
extraordinarily appealing! He has personality! A reel or two of Butch at his lessons ought to be
popular!”
Again that irritating wait while his voice traveled a quarter million miles at the speed
of light and the wait for the reply.
“The—ah—lunar creatures, Worden,” said the chief biologist regretfully, “have killed a
number of men who have been publicized as martyrs to science. We cannot give favorable publicity
to creatures that have killed men!” Then he added blandly, “But you are progressing splendidly,
Worden—splendidly! Carry on!”
His image faded from the video screen. Worden said naughty words as he turned away-. He’d
come to like Butch. Butch trusted him. Butch now slid down from that crazy perch of his and came
rushing to his arms every time he entered the nursery.
Butch was ridiculously small—no more than eighteen inches high. He was preposterously
light and fragile in his nursery, where only Moon gravity obtained. And Butch was such an earnest
little creature, so soberly absorbed in everything that Worden showed him!
He was still fascinated by the phenomena of sound. Humming or singing—even Worden’s
humming and singing—entranced him. When Worden’s lips moved now Butch struck an attitude and held
up the hoop diaphragm with a tiny finger pressed to it to catch the vibrations Worden’s voice
made.
Now too when he grasped an idea Worden tried to convey, he tended to swagger. He became
more human in his actions with every session of human contact. Once, indeed, Worden looked at the
video screens which spied on Butch and saw him—all alone— solemnly going through every gesture and
every movement Worden had made. He was pretending to give a lesson to an imaginary still tinier
companion. He was pretending to be Worden, apparently for his own satisfaction!
Worden felt a lump in his throat. He was enormously fond of the little mite. It was
painful that he had just left Butch to help in the construction of a vibrator microphone device
which would transfer his voice to rock vibrations and simultaneously pick up any other vibrations
that might be made in return.
If the members of Butch’s race did communicate by tapping on rocks or the like, men could
eavesdrop on them—could locate them, could detect ambushes in preparation, and apply mankind’s
deadly military countermeasures.
Worden hoped the gadget wouldn’t work. But it did. When he put it on the floor of the