"Eric Frank Russell - Basic Right" - читать интересную книгу автора (Russell Eric Frank)

Zalumar said to Heisham, "You are in charge of the nominal roll. What is our present strength?"
"Fourteen hundred seventy, sire."
"So we're down one hundred thirty, eh?" observed Zalumar, watching Fox as he said it but getting no
visible reaction.
"Yes, sire," agreed Heisham, too well-pleased with himself to be sobered by statistics.
"A self-satisfied smirk is at least a pleasant change from Lakin's miserable features," commented
Zalumar. "What has made you so happy?"
"I have been awarded a Black Belt," informed Heisham, swelling with pride.
"You have been awarded it? By whom?"
"By the Terrans, sire."
 Zalumar frowned. "There can be no worth-while award on a world where anything may be
confiscated."
"A Black Belt means nothing if merely grabbed," explained Heisham. "Its value lies in the fact that it
must be won. I got mine at the risk of my neck."
"So we're down one-thirty and you've been trying to make it one-thirty-one. No wonder the men get
careless when senior officers set such a bad example. What is this thing you have won?"
"It's like this, sire," said Heisham. "Over a year ago I was telling a bunch of Terrans that we warriors
are raised like warriors. We don't play silly games like chess, for instance. Our favorite sport is wrestling.
We spend a lot of our childhood learning how to break the other fellow's arm. The natural result is that
every Raidan is a first-class wrestler and hence an efficient fighting-machine."
"So—?" prompted Zalumar.
"A medium-sized Terran showed great interest, asked what style of wrestling we used. I offered to
show him. Well, when I recovered consciousness—"
"Eh?" ejaculated Zalumar.
"When I recovered consciousness," Heisham persisted, "he was still there, leaning against the wall
and looking at me. A lot of witnesses were hanging around, all of them Terrans, and in the circumstances
there was nothing I could do about this fellow except kill him then and there."
"Quite right," approved Zalumar, nodding emphatically.
"So I snatched him in dead earnest and when they'd picked me off the floor again I asked—"
"Huh?"
"I asked him to show me how he'd done it. He said it would need a series of lessons. So I made
arrangements and took the lessons, every one of them. I passed tests and examinations and persisted
until I was perfect." He stopped while he inflated his chest to suitable size. "And now I have won a Black
Belt."
Zalumar switched attention to Fox. "Did you have any hand in this matter?"
"No, sire."
"It is just as well. Folly is reprehensible enough—I would not tolerate Terran encouragement of it."
He turned back to Heisham. "Nobody has anything to teach us. But you, a senior officer, consent to take
lessons from the conquered."
"I don't think it matters much, sire," offered Heisham, unabashed.
"Why doesn't it?"
"I learned their technique, mastered it, and applied it better than they could themselves. To win my
prize I had to overcome twenty of them one after the other. Therefore it can be said that I have taught
them how to play their own game."
"Humph!" Zalumar was slightly mollified but still suspicious. "How do you know that they didn't let
you throw them?"
"They didn't appear to do so, sire."
"Appearances aren't always what they seem," Zalumar said, dryly. He thought a bit, went on, "How
did it happen that the medium-sized Terran mastered you in the first place?"
"I was caught napping by his extraordinary technique. This Terran wrestling is very peculiar."