"Frederik Pohl - The Candle Maker" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pohl Frederick)

GEROUS WITHOUT IMMEDIATE PERMANENT RETURN
TO EARTH. REQUEST IMMEDIATE CLEARANCE FOR
REPLACEMENT AND RETIREMENT.
KELLEM, MARS
Doane gloated, "He's retiring! Low-pressure asthma, my
foot! I thought the stink from General Mercantile would
drive him out!"
The Director said in a level tone, "Kellem almost died
last week, Doane."
"All right." Doane shrugged. "It makes no difference.
In any case, I demand to be consulted in choosing his
successor."
The Director eyed him. "You do, do you?" He pressed
a button on his desk and said, "Ask Ne Mieek to come
in." A sexy contralto replied, "Yes, sir."
The Director looked at Doane. "Ever seen a Martian?"
he asked. "You take such an interest in them, I wonder
if you've ever met one. Face-to-face, I mean; the pictures
don't quite do them justice. No? Well, it's about time
you did."
He stood up and gestured toward the door.
"Jaffa Doane," he said, "meet Ne Mieek."
Doane rose and turned to see who was coming in. He
swallowed. "How do you do," he managed to say.
A suppressed sighing sound came from the thing that
dragged itself through the doorway. Doane thought it
formed words in a sort of airless whisper, the sound that
might be made by a man with a slashed throat.
It went: "GI'd f n'w y" The vowels were almost
inaudible, the consonants as though they were being forced
out against a gag. It was English, all right; you could
make it out if you tried.
But if the thing's words were understandable, its ex-
pression was not. As the Director had said, you had to
meet a Martian in the flesh; photos did not give more than
a hint. On the squashed, whitely translucent face was what
Doane thought a grin of savage glee, while the huge dull
eyes held inexpressible sorrow. Neither interpretation,
Doane told himself, meant much; that was anthrophomor-
phic thinking, and dangerous. But those looks took a little
getting used to, all the same.
"Don't try to shake hands with him, Mr. Doane," said
the Director. "He hasn't any."
It was true. Four supple, articulated tentacles waved
around the .Martian's midsection, but there were no hands
or arms. The pear-shaped body was supported on stubby
little legs which had neither knee nor ankle, as far as
Jaffa Doane could see.
The Director was saying, "Ne Mieek is the Martian
legate here in Washington and, like Kellem, the strain of