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

nursery and spoke into the microphone, Butch did feel the vibrations underfoot. He recognized
their identity with the vibrations he’d learned to detect in air.
He made a skipping exultant hop and jump. It was plainly the uttermost expression of
satisfaction. And then his tiny foot pattered and scratched furiously on the floor. It made a
peculiar scratchy tapping. noise which the microphone picked up. Butch watched Worden’s face,
making the sounds which were like highly elaborated ***footf ails***.
“No dice, Butch,” said Worden unhappily. “I can’t understand it. But it looks as if you’ve
started your treason already. This’ll help wipe out some of your folks.”

He reported it reluctantly to the head of the station.
Microphones were immediately set into the rocky crater floor outside the station and


file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Murray%20Leinster%20-%20Keyhole.txt (4 of 8) [10/16/2004 4:43:52 PM]
 file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Murray%20Leinster%20-%20Keyhole.txt

others were made ready for exploring parties to use for the detection of Moon creatures near them.
Oddly enough, the microphones by the station yielded results right away.
It was near sunset. Butch had been captured near the middle of the three-hundred-and-
thirty-four-hour lunar day. In all the hours between—a week by Earth time—he had had no
nourishment of any sort. Worden had conscientiously offered him every edible and inedible
substance in the station. Then at least one sample of every mineral in the station collection.
Butch regarded them all with interest but without appetite. Worden—liking Butch—expected him to
die of starvation and thought it a good idea. Better than encompassing the death of all his race,
anyhow. And it did seem to him that Butch was beginning to show a certain sluggishness, a certain
lack of bounce and energy. He thought it was weakness from hunger.
Sunset progressed. Yard by yard, fathom by fathom, half-mile by half-mile, the shadows of
the miles-high western walls of Tycho crept across the crater floor. There came a time when only
the central hump had sunlight. Then the shadow began to creep up the eastern walls. Presently the
last thin jagged line of light would vanish and the colossal cup of the crater would be filled to
overflowing with the night.
Worden watched the incandescent sunlight growing even narrower on the cliffs. He would see
no other sunlight for two weeks’ Earth time. Then abruptly an alarm bell rang. It clanged
stridently, furiously. Doors hissed shut, dividing the station into airtight sections.
Loudspeakers snapped, “Noises in the rock outside! Sounds like Moon creatures talking
nearby! They may plan an attack! Everybody into spacesuits and get guts ready!”
At just that instant the last thin sliver of sunshine disappeared. Worden thought
instantly of Butch. There was no spacesuit to fit him. Then he grimaced a little. Butch didn’t
need a spacesuit.
Worden got into the clumsy outfit. The lights dimmed. The harsh airless space outside the
station was suddenly bathed in light. The multimillion-lumen beam, made to guide rocket ships to a
landing even at night, was turned on to expose any creatures with designs on its owners. It was
startling to see how little space was really lighted by the beam and how much of stark blackness
spread on beyond.
The loudspeaker snapped again. “Two Moon creatures! Running away! They’re zigzagging!
Anybody who wants to take a shot—” The voice paused. It didn’t matter. Nobody is a crack shot in a
spacesuit. “They left something behind!” said the voice in the loudspeaker. It was sharp and
uneasy. -
“I’ll take a look at that,” said Worden. His own voice startled him but he was depressed.
“I’ve got a hunch what it is.”