Philip Jose Farmer - WOT 5 - The Lavalite World

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PHILIP JOSE FARMER - THE LAVALITE WORLD (book V in World of Tiers
series)-1977
(Scanned by: Kislany)
CHAPTER ONE
KICKAHA WAS A quicksilver Proteus.
Few could match his speed in adapting to change. But on Earth and on
other planets of the pocket universes, the hills, mountains, valleys, plains,
the rivers, lakes, and seas, seldom altered. Their permanence of form and
location were taken for granted.
There were small local changes. Floods, earthquakes, avalanches, tidal
waves reshaped the earth. But the effects were, in the time scale of an
individual, in the lifetime of a nation, minute.
A mountain might walk, but the hundreds of thousands of generations
living at its foot would not know it. Only God or a geologist would see its
movements as the dash of a mouse for a hole.
Not here.
Even cocksure, unfazed Kickaha, who could react to change as quickly as
a mirror reflects an image, was nervous. But he wasn't going to let anyone
else know it. To the others he seemed insanely cool. That was because they
were going mad.
CHAPTER TWO
THEY HAD GONE TO sleep during the "night". Kickaha had taken the first
watch. Urthona, Ore, Anana, and McKay had made themselves as comfortable as
they could on the rusty-red tough grass and soon had fallen asleep. Their camp
was at the bottom of a shallow valley ringed by low hills. Grass was the only
vegetation in the valley. The tops of the hills, however, were lined with the
silhouettes of trees. These were about ten feet tall. Though there was little
breeze, they swayed back and forth.
When he had started the watch, he had seen only a few on the hilltops.
As time passed, more and more had appeared. They had ranged themselves beside
the early comers until they were a solid line. There was no telling how many
were on the other side of the hills. What he was sure of was that the trees
were waiting until "dawn". Then, if the humans did not come to them, they
would come down the hills after them.
The sky was a uniform dark red except for a few black slowly floating
shapes. Clouds. The enormous reddish mass, visually six times the size of
Earth's moon, had disappeared from the sky. It would be back, though he didn't
know when.
He sat down and rubbed his legs. They still hurt from the accident that
had taken place twelve "days" ago. The pain in his chest had almost ceased,
however. He was recovering, but he was not as agile and strong as he needed to
be.
That the gravity was less than Earth's helped him, though.
He lay down for a minute. No enemy, human or beast, was going to attack.
They would have to get through those killer trees first. Only the elephants
and the giant variety of moosoids were big enough to do that. He wished that
some of these would show up. They fed upon trees. However, at this distance
Kickaha couldn't determine just what type of killer plants they were. Some
were so fearsomely armed that even the big beasts avoided them.
How in hell had the trees detected the little party? They had a keen
olfactory sense, but he doubted that the wind was strong enough to carry the
odor of the party up over the hills. The visual ability of the plants was
limited. They could see shapes through the multifaceted insectine eyes ringing
the upper parts of their trunks. But at this distance and in this light, they
might as well be blind.
One or more of their scouts must have come up a hill and caught a
molecule or two of human odor. That was, after all, nothing to be surprised
about. He and the others stank. The little water they had been able to find
was used for drinking only. If they didn't locate more water tomorrow, they'd
have to start drinking their own urine. It could be recycled twice before it
became poisonous.
Also, if they didn't kill something soon, they would be too weak from
hunger to walk.
He rubbed the barrel of the hand-beamer with the fingers of his left
hand. Its battery had only a few full-power discharges available. Then it
would be exhausted. So far, he and Anana had refrained from using any of the
power. It was the only thing that allowed them to keep the upper hand over the
other three. It was also their only strong defense against the big predators.
But when "dawn" came, he was going to go hunting. They had to eat, and they
could drink blood to quench their thirst.
First, though, they had to get through the trees. Doing that might use
up the battery. It also might not be enough. There could be a thousand trees
on the other side of the hills.
The clouds were thickening. Perhaps, at long last, rain would come. If
it rained as hard as Urthona said it did, it might fill this cup-shaped
valley. They'd have to drown or charge into the trees. Some choice.
He lay on his back for a few minutes. Now he could hear faint creaks and
groans and an occasional mutter. The earth was moving under him. Heat flowed
along his back and his legs. It felt almost as warm as a human body. Under the
densely packed blades and the thick tangle of roots, energy was being
dissipated. The earth was shifting slowly. In what direction, toward what
shapes, he did not know.
He could wait. One of his virtues was an almost-animal patience. Be a
leopard, a wolf. Lie still and evaluate the situation. When action was called
for, he would explode. Unfortunately, his injured leg and his weakness
handicapped him. Where he had once been dynamite, he was now only black
gunpowder.
He sat up and looked around. The dark reddish light smoldered around
him. The trees formed a waving wall on the hill tops. The others of the party
lay on their sides or their backs. McKay was snoring. Anana was muttering
something in her native language, a speech older than Earth itself. Urthona's
eyes were open, and he was looking directly at Kickaha. Was he hoping to catch
him unawares and get hold of the beamer?
No. He was sleeping, his mouth and eyes open. Kickaha, having risen and
come close to him, could hear the gentle burbling from his dry lips. The eyes
looked glazed.
Kickaha licked his own sandpaper lips and swallowed. He brought the
wristwatch, which he'd borrowed from Anana, close to his eyes. He pressed the
minute stud on its side, and four glowing figures appeared briefly on the
face. They were the numerical signs of the Lords. In Earth numerals, 15:12.
They did not mean anything here. There was no sun; the sky provided light and
some heat. In any event, this planet had no steady rotation on any one plane,
and there were no stars. The great reddish mass that had moved slowly across
the sky, becoming larger every day, was no genuine moon. It was a temporary
satellite, and it was falling.
There were no shadows except under one peculiar condition. There was no
north, south, east, and west. Anana's watch had compass capabilities, but they
were useless. This great body on which he stood had no nickel-steel core, no
electromagnetic field, no north or south pole. Properly speaking, it wasn't a
planet.
And the ground was rising now. He could not detect that by its motion,
since that was so slow. But the hills had definitely become lower.
The watch had one useful function. It did mark the forward movement of
time. It would tell him when his hour and a half of sentinel duty was over.
When it was time to rouse Anana, he walked to her. But she sat up before
he was within twelve feet. She knew that it was her turn. She had told herself
to wake at the proper time, and a well-developed sense, a sort of biological
clock within her, had set off its alarm.
Anana was beautiful, but she was beginning to look gaunt. Her cheekbones
protruded, her cheeks were beginning to sink in, her large dark-blue eyes were
ringed with the shadows of fatigue. Her lips were cracked, and that once soft
white skin was dirty and rough-looking. Though she had sweat much in the
twelve days they'd been here, there were still traces of smoke on her neck.
"You don't look so good yourself," she said, smiling.
Normally, her voice was a rich contralto, but now it was gravelly.
She stood up. She was slim but broad-shouldered and full-breasted. She
was only two inches shorter than his six feet one inch, was as strong as any
man her weight, and inside fifty yards she could outrun him. Why not? She had
had ten thousand years to develop her physical potentialities.
She took a comb from the back pocket of her torn bellbottom trousers and
straightened out her long hair, as black as a Crow Indian's.
"There. Is that better?" she said, smiling. Her teeth were very white
and perfect. Only thirty years ago, she'd had tooth buds implanted, the
hundredth set in a series.
"Not bad for a starving dehydrated old woman," he said. "In fact, if I
was up to it ... "
He quit grinning, and he waved his hand to indicate the hilltops. "We've
got visitors."
It was difficult in this light to see if she'd turned pale. Her voice
was steady. "If they're bearing fruit, we'll eat."
He thought it better not to say that they might be eaten instead.
He handed her the beamer. It looked like a six-shooter revolver. But the
cartridges were batteries, of which only one now had a charge. The barrel
contained a mechanism which could be adjusted to shoot a ray that could cut
through a tree or inflict a slight burn or a stunning blow.
Kickaha went back to where his bow and a quiver of arrows lay. He was an
excellent archer, but so far only two of his arrows had struck game. The
animals were wary, and it had been impossible, except twice, to get close
enough to any to shoot. Both kills had been small gazelles, not enough to fill
the bellies of five adults in twelve days. Anana had gotten a hare with a
throw of her light axe, but a long-legged baboon had dashed out from behind a
hill, scooped it up, and run off with it.
Kickaha picked up the bow and quiver, and they walked three hundred feet
away from the sleepers. Here he lay down and went to sleep. His knife was
thrust upright into the ground, ready to be snatched in case of attack. Anana
had her beamer, a light throwing axe, and a knife for defense.
They were not worried at this time about the trees. They just wanted to
keep distance between them and the others. When Anana's watch was over, she
would wake up McKay. Then she'd return to lie down by Kickaha. She and her
mate were not overly concerned about one of the others trying to sneak up on
them while they slept. Anana had told them that her wristwatch had a device
which would sound an alarm if anybody with a mass large enough to be dangerous
came close. She was lying, though the device was something that a Lord could
have. They probably wondered if she was deceiving them. However, they did not
care to test her. She had said that if anyone tried to attack them, she would
kill him immediately. They knew that she would do so.
CHAPTER THREE
HE AWOKE, SWEATING from the heat, the bright light of "day" plucking at
his eyes. The sky had become a fiery light red. The clouds were gone, taking
their precious moisture elsewhere. But he was no longer in a valley. The hills
had come down, flattened out into a plain. And the party was now on a small
hill.
He was surprised. The rate of change had been greater than he'd
expected. Urthona, however, had said that the reshaping occasionally
accelerated. Nothing was constant or predictable here. So, he shouldn't have
been surprised.
The trees still ringed them. There were several thousand, and now some
scouts were advancing toward the just-born hill. They were about ten feet
tall. The trunks were barrel-shaped and covered with a smooth greenish bark.
Large round dark eyes circled the trunk near its top. On one side was an
opening, the mouth. Inside it was soft flexible tissue and two hard ridges
holding shark-like teeth. According to Urthona, the plants were half-protein,
and the digestive system was much like an animal's. The anus was the terminus
of the digestive system, but it was also located in the mouth.
Urthona should know. He had designed them.
"They don't have any diseases, so there's no reason why the feces
shouldn't pass through the mouth," Urthona had said.
"They must have bad breath," Kickaha had said. "But then nobody's going
to kiss them, are they?"
He, Anana, and McKay had laughed. Urthona and Red Ore had looked
disgusted. Their sense of humor had atrophied. Or perhaps they'd never had
much.
Above the head of the tree was a growth of many slender stems rising two
feet straight up. Broad green leaves, heart-shaped, covered the stems. From
the trunk radiated six short branches, each three feet long, a pair on each
side, in three ranks. These had short twigs supporting large round leaves.
Between each ring of branches was a tentacle, about twelve feet long and as
supple as an octopus's. A pair of tentacles also grew from the base.
The latter helped balance the trunk as it moved on two short kneeless
legs ending in huge round barky toeless feet. When the tree temporarily
changed from an ambulatory to sedentary state, the lower tentacles bored into
the soil, grew roots, and sucked sustenance from the ground. The roots could
be easily broken off and the tentacles withdrawn when the tree decided to move
on.
Kickaha had asked Urthona why he had had such a clumsy unnatural monster
made in his biolabs.
"It pleased me to do so."
Urthona probably was wishing he hadn't done so. He had wakened the
others, and all were staring at the weird-and frightening-creatures.
Kickaha walked up to him. "How do they communicate?"
"Through pheromones. Various substances they emit. There are about
thirty of these, and a tree smelling them receives various signals. They don't
think; their brains are about the size of a dinosaur's. They react on the
instinctive-or robotic-level. They have a well-developed herd instinct,
though."
"Any of these pheromones stimulate fear?"
"Yes. But you have to make one of them afraid, and there's nothing in
this situation to scare them."
"I was thinking," Kickaha said, "that it's too bad you don't carry
around a vial of fear-pheromones."
"I used to," Urthona said.
The nearest scout had halted thirty feet away. Kickaha looked at Anana,
who was sixty feet from the group. Her beamer was ready for trouble from the
three men or the tree.
Kickaha walked to the scout and stopped ten feet from it. It waved its
greenish tentacles. Others were coming to join it, though not on a run. He
estimated that with those legs they could go perhaps a mile an hour. But then
he didn't know their full potentiality. Urthona didn't remember how fast they
could go.
Even as he walked down toward the tree, he could feel the earth swelling
beneath him, could see the rate of its shaping increase. The air became
warmer, and spaces had appeared between the blades of grass. The earth was
black and greasy-looking. If the shaping stopped, and there was no change for
three days, the grass would grow enough to fill in the bare spots.
The thousand or so plants were still moving but more slowly. They leaned
forward on their rigid legs, their tentacles extended to support them.
Kickaha looked closely at the nearest one and saw about a dozen apple-
red spheres dangling from the branches. He called to Urthona. "Is their fruit
good to eat?"
"For birds, yes," Urthona said. "I don't remember. But I can't think why
I should have made them poisonous for humans."
"Knowing you, I'd say you could have done it for laughs," Kickaha said.
He motioned to Angus McKay to come to him. The black came to him warily,
though his caution was engendered by the tree, not Kickaha.
McKay was an inch shorter than Kickaha but about thirty pounds heavier.
Not much of the additional weight was fat, though. He was dressed in black
levis, socks, and boots. He'd long ago shed his shirt and the leather jacket
of the motorcyclist, but he still carried his helmet. Kickaha had insisted
that it be retained to catch rainwater in, if for nothing else.
McKay was a professional criminal, a product of Detroit who'd come out
to Los Angeles to be one of Urthona's hired killers. Of course, he had not
known then that Urthona was a Lord. He had never been sure what Urthona, whom
he knew as Mr. Callister, did. But he'd been paid well, and if Mr. Callister
wasn't in a business which competed with other mobs, that was all to the good.
And Mr. Callister certainly seemed to know how to handle the police.
That day which seemed so long ago, he'd had a free afternoon. He'd
started drinking in a tavern in Watts. After picking up a good-looking if
loudmouthed woman, he'd driven her to his apartment in Hollywood. They'd gone
to bed almost at once, after which he fell asleep. The telephone woke him up.
It was Callister, excited, obviously in some kind of trouble. Emergency,
though he didn't say what it was. McKay was to come to him at once. He was to
bring his .45 automatic with him.
That helped to sober him up. Mr. Callister must really be in trouble if
he would say openly, over a phone that could be tapped, that he was to be
armed. Then the first of the troubles started. The woman was gone, and with
her his wallet-five hundred dollars and his credit cards-and his car keys.
When he looked out the window into the parking space behind the
building, he saw that the car was gone, too. If it hadn't been that he was
needed so quickly, he would have laughed. Ripped off by a hooker! A dumb one
at that, since he would be tracking her down. He'd get his wallet back and its
contents, if they were still around. And his car, too. He wouldn't kill the
woman, but he would rough her up a bit to teach her a lesson. He was a
professional, and professionals didn't kill except for money or in self-
defense.
So he'd put on his bike clothes and wheeled out on it, speeding along in
the night, ready to outrun the pigs if they saw him. Callister was waiting for
him. The other bodyguards weren't around. He didn't ask Callister where they
were, since the boss didn't like questions. But Callister volunteered, anyway.
The others were in a car which had been wrecked while chasing a man and a
woman. They were not dead, but they were too injured to be of any use.
Callister then had described the couple he was after, but he didn't say
why he wanted them.
Callister had stood for a moment, biting his lip. He was a big handsome
honky, his curly hair yellow, his eyes a strange bright green, his face
something like the movie actor's, Paul Newman.
Abruptly, he went to a cabinet, pulled a little box about the size of a
sugar cube from his pocket, held it over the lock, and the door swung open.
Callister removed a strange-looking device from the cabinet. McKay had
never seen anything like it before, but he knew it was a weapon. It had a
gunstock to which was affixed a short thick barrel, like a sawed-off shotgun.
"I've changed my mind," Callister said. "Use this, leave your .45 here.
We may be where we won't want anybody to hear gunfire. Here, I'll show you how
to use it."
McKay, watching him demonstrate, began to feel a little numb. It was the
first step into a series of events which made him feel as if he'd been
magically transformed into an actor in a science-fiction movie. If he'd had
any sense, he would have taken off then. But there wasn't one man on Earth
that could have foreseen that five minutes later he wouldn't even be on Earth.
He was still goggle-eyed when, demonstrating the "beamer", Callister had
cut a chair in half. He was handed a metal vest. At least, it looked and felt
like steel. But it was flexible.
Callister put one on, too, and then he said something in a foreign
language. A large circular area on the wall began glowing, then the glow
disappeared, and he was staring into another world.
"Step through the gate," Callister said. He was holding a hand weapon
disguised as a revolver. It wasn't pointed at McKay, but McKay felt that it
would be if he refused.
Callister followed him in. McKay guessed that Callister was using him as
a shield, but he didn't protest. If he did, he might be sliced in half. They
went through another "gate" and were in still another world or dimension or
whatever. And then things really began to happen. While Callister was sneaking
up on their quarry, McKay circled around through the trees. All of a sudden,
hell broke loose. There was this big red-haired guy with, believe it or not, a
bow and arrows.
He was behind a tree, and McKay sliced the branches of the tree off on
one side. That was to scare the archer, since Callister had said that he
wanted the guy-his name was Kickaha, crazy!-alive. But Kickaha had shot an
arrow and McKay certainly knew where it had been aimed. Only a part of his
body was not hidden by the tree behind which he was concealed. But the arrow
had struck McKay on the only part showing, his shoulder.
If he hadn't been wearing that vest, he'd have been skewered. Even as it
was, the shock of the arrow knocked him down. His beamer flew away from his
opening hands, and, its power still on, it rolled away.
Then, the biggest wolf-a wolf!-McKay had ever seen had gotten caught in
the ray, and it had died, cut into four different parts. McKay was lucky. If
the beamer had fallen pointing the other way, it would have severed him.
Though he was stunned, his shoulder and arm completely numb, he managed to get
up and to run, crouching over, to another tree. He was cursing because
Callister had made him leave his automatic behind. He sure as hell wasn't
going into the clearing after the beamer. Not when Kickaha could shoot an
arrow like that.
Besides, he felt that he was in over his head about fifty fathoms.
There was a hell of a lot of action after that, but McKay didn't see
much of it. He climbed up on a house-sized boulder, using the projections and
holes in it, hauling himself up with one hand. Later he wondered why he'd gone
up where he could be trapped. But he had been in a complete panic, and it had
seemed a logical thing to do. Maybe no one would think of looking for him up
there. He could lie down flat and hide until things settled down. If the boss
won, he'd come down. He could claim then that he'd gone up there to get a
bird's-eye view of the terrain so he could call out to Callister the location
of his enemies.
Meanwhile, his beamer burned itself out, half-melting a large boulder
fifty feet from it while doing so.
He saw Callister running toward the couple and another man, and he
thought Callister had control of the situation. Then the red-haired Kickaha,
who was lying on the ground, had said something to the woman. And she'd lifted
a funny-looking trumpet to her lips and started blowing some notes. Callister
had suddenly stopped, yelled something, and then he'd run like a striped-ass
ape away from them.
And suddenly they were in another world. If things had been bad before,
they were now about as bad as they could be. Well, maybe not quite as bad. At
least, he was alive. But there had been times when he'd wished he wasn't.
So here he was, twelve "days" later. Much had been explained to him,
mostly by Kickaha. But he still couldn't believe that Callister, whose real
name was Urthona, and Red Ore and Anana were thousands of years old. Nor that
they had come from another world, what Kickaha called a pocket universe. That
is, an artificial continuum, what the science-fiction movies called the fourth
dimension, something like that.
The Lords, as they called themselves, claimed to have made Earth. Not
only that, the sun, the other planets, the stars-which weren't really stars,
they just looked like they were-the whole damn universe.
In fact, they claimed to have created the ancestors of all Earth people
in laboratories.
Not only that-it made his brain bob up and down, like a cork on an ocean
wave-there were many artificial pocket universes. They'd been constructed to
have different physical laws than those on Earth's universe.
Apparently, some ten thousand or so years ago, the Lords had split. Each
had gone off to his or her own little world to rule it. And they'd become
enemies, out to get each other's ass.
Which explained why Urthona and Ore, Anana's own uncles, had tried to
kill her and each other.
Then there was Kickaha. He'd been born Paul Janus Finnegan in 1918 in
some small town in Indiana. After World War II he'd gone to the University of
Indiana as a freshman, but before a year was up he was involved with the
Lords. He'd first lived on a peculiar world he called the World of Tiers.
There he'd gotten the name of Kickaha from a tribe of Indians that lived on
one level of the planet, which seemed to be constructed like the tower of
babel or the leaning tower of Pisa. Or whatever. Indians? Yes, because the
Lord of that world, Jadawin, had populated various levels with people he'd
abducted from Earth.
It was very confusing. Jadawin hadn't always lived on the home planet of
the Lords or in his own private cosmos. For a while he'd been a citizen of
Earth, and he hadn't even known it because of amnesia. Then... to hell with
it. It made McKay's head ache to think about it. But some day, when there was
time enough, if he lived long enough, he'd get it all straightened out. If he
wasn't completely nuts before then.
CHAPTER FOUR
KlCKAHA SAID, "I'm a Hoosier appleknocker, Angus. So I'm going to get us
some fresh fruit. But I need your help. We can't get close because of those
tentacles. However, the tree has one weak point in its defense. Like a lot of
people, it can't keep its mouth shut.
"So, I'm going to shoot an arrow into its mouth. It may not kill it, but
it's going to hurt it. Hopefully, the impact will knock it over. This bow
packs a hell of a wallop. As soon as the thing's hit, you run up and throw
this axe at a branch. Try to hit a cluster of apples if you can. Then I'll
decoy it away from the apples on the ground."
He handed Anana's light throwing axe to McKay.
"What about those?" McKay said, pointing at three trees which were only
twenty feet below their intended victim. They were coming slowly but steadily.
"Maybe we can get their apples, too. We need that fruit, Angus. We need
the nourishment, and we need the water in them."
"You don't have to explain that," McKay said.
"I'm like the tree. I can't keep my mouth shut," Kickaha said, smiling.
He fitted an arrow to the string, aimed, and released it. It shot true,
plunging deep into the O-shaped orifice. The plant had just raised the two
tentacles to take another step upward and then to fall slightly forward to
catch itself on the rubbery extensions. Kickaha had loosed the shaft just as
it was off balance. It fell backward, and it lay on its hinder part. The
tentacles threshed, but it could not get up by itself. The branches extending
from its side prevented its rolling over even if it had been capable,
otherwise, of doing so.
Kickaha gave a whoop and put a hand on McKay's shoulder.
"Never mind throwing the axe. The apples are knocked off. Hot damn!"
The three trees below it had stopped for a moment. They moved on up.
There had not been a sound from their mouths, but to the two men the many
rolling eyes seemed to indicate some sort of communication. According to
Urthona, however, the creatures were incapable of thought. But they did
cooperate on an instinctual level, as ants did. Now they were evidently coming
to assist their fallen mate.
Kickaha ran ahead of McKay, who had hesitated. He looked behind him. The
two male Lords were standing about sixty feet above them. Anana, beamer in
hand, was watching, her head moving back and forth to keep all within eye-
range.
Urthona had, of course, told McKay to kill Anana and Kickaha if he ever
got a chance. But if he hit the redhead from behind with the axe, he'd be shot
down by Anana. Besides, he was beginning to think that he had a better chance
of survival if he joined up with Anana and Kickaha. Anyway, Kickaha was the
only one who didn't treat him as if he was a nigger. Not that the Lords had
any feeling for blacks as such. They regarded everybody but Lords as some sort
of nigger. And they weren't friendly with their own kind.
McKay ran forward and stopped just out of reach of a threshing tentacle.
He picked up eight apples, stuffing four in the pockets of his levis and
holding two in each hand.
When he straightened up, he gasped. That crazy Kickaha had leaped onto
the fallen tree and was now pulling the arrow from the hole. As he raised the
shaft, its head dripping with a pale sticky fluid, he was enwrapped by a
tentacle around his waist. Instead of fighting it, he rammed his right foot
deep into the hole. And he twisted sideways.
The next moment he was flying backward toward McKay, flung by a
convulsive motion of the tentacle, no doubt caused by intense pain.
McKay, instead of ducking, grabbed Kickaha and they both went down. The
catcher suffered more punishment than the caught, but for a minute or more
they both lay on the ground, Kickaha on top of McKay. Then the redhead rolled
off and got to his feet.
He looked down at McKay. "You okay?"
摘要：

PHILIPJOSEFARMER-THELAVALITEWORLD(bookVinWorldofTiersseries)-1977(Scannedby:Kislany)CHAPTERONEKICKAHAWASAquicksilverProteus.Fewcouldmatchhisspeedinadaptingtochange.ButonEarthandonotherplanetsofthepocketuniverses,thehills,mountains,valleys,plains,therivers,lakes,andseas,seldomaltered.Theirpermanenceo...

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分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：151 页 大小：343.22KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-13

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