"Mike Resnick - Tales Of The Galactic Midway - Alien-Tamer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

?” came the cold, passionless, translated tones.
“The one and only,” replied Monk. “That's what I was about to tell you when you ran
off.”
“Your translating mechanism has not been adjusted to function in my language.”
“I notice thatyours works just dandy formine ,” said Monk suspiciously. “How
come?”
“Mr. Ahasuerus had a member of the Corporation drop this device off here some
weeks ago.”
“Well, bully for him. I always knew he was good for something.” Monk fumbled in
his shirt pocket for a moment, then pulled out a crumpled piece of note paper. “You're
Braxtos, right?”
“You must be mispronouncing my name rather badly,” said the creature. “Even the
translator can't make sense out of what you said.” It paused. “My name is—” There
was a silence, as the translating device was unable to come up with a human
equivalent.
“Win a few, lose a few,” muttered Monk. “It didn't come out at this end either. You
must have one hell of a tongue-twister.”
“I shall assume that you meant no insult, and that the translation was in error,” said
the creature.
“This may come as a shock to you, or perhaps a pleasant surprise,” said Monk, “but I
don't know what the hell you're talking about.”
“My tongue is not twisted.” To support its statement, it pointed to a small insect that
was flying near its face, turned toward it, and darted out its tongue and engulfed it.
“Straightest goddamned tongue I ever saw,” said Monk devoutly. “And now, if we're
all through introducing ourselves and slaughtering innocent insects, is there any
chance that I might be able to see the animals?”
“That is why I am here.”
“Good. I just hope they look as weird as you do,” said Monk. Then he added quickly,
“Meaning no offense.”
“No offense is taken,” replied the creature. “If you will follow me, I shall lead you to
my vehicle.” It paused, as if considering its next statement. “As long as we are being
frank with each other, I wonder if I might make a small request?”
“Shoot.”
“Please do not walk too close to me or make any sudden movements.”
“Might instinctively go for me with your tongue, huh?”
“No,” said the creature. “I am here to show you the animals, and I will do my job—
but I must confess that I find your appearance quite terrifying.”
“Figures,” muttered Monk, slowing his pace.
They soon arrived at an open vehicle—carwould be the wrong word for it—and sat as
far from each other as possible. As they began traveling across the flat, carefully
tended fields, Monk noticed that the odor actually intensified once they got away
from the spaceport. He tried to ignore it by studying his surroundings, but soon gave
it up, as they didn't change much from one mile to the next—except perhaps to look a
little more like Indianapolis and a little less like Springfield, which at least had an
occasional gorge or gully.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, they began going into the foothills of the
mountain range he had seen upon arriving, and he realized that it was indeed much
closer and much smaller than he had thought. Still, he was grateful for any change of
scenery, no matter how minute, and for his own amusement he tried to guess which of
the small variety of trees and shrubs smelled the worst.