"Babylon 5 - The Nautilus Coil - J Gregory Keyes (txt)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Babylon 5)

the guard. "Let him in, Antony." She turned and walked up the corridor.
Fuming, Garibaldi followed.

"Is he here?" he asked.

"No," Lyta said, "Mr. Bester is not here."

Garibaldi took Lyta by the arm and swung her around. She jerked back and her
eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Go ahead," he snapped. "Do it. Mindfrag me or whatever it is you're trying
to threaten with that stare of yours. But I've had it with you. I agreed to
finance your little revolution and you agreed to help me get Bester. Now,
let's see. Out of this deal you've gotten about ten million credits, three
ships, and enough weapons to shoot every man, woman, and child in Calcutta
with a different gun. Now let's count up the receipts on my side. You were
going to remove Bester's little mindblock," he tapped his head. "Golly! It's
still there! How do you like that? And Bester? He's still alive and free. To
make things even happier, four days ago I get a call in the priority code we
agreed on -- no explanation, no note from you, just a 'come quick.' Well,
lady, I {/came/} quick, way the hell out to this miserable ball of ice. My
ship is put under guns, your little fashion thug stalls me, and then you show
up and treat me like something you found on your shoe. Now -- you tell me
what's going on, or you can just screw this. All of it. Pay your own damn
bills."

For an instant, Garibaldi thought he had pushed her too far, that he would
see those eyes go all black and have his mind shredded like so much lettuce
for a Cobb salad. But then her face softened, and a little of the old Lyta
peeked through her hard mask -- the quiet, compassionate, slightly na;i"ve
woman he had first met on Babylon 5.

"I'm a little ... on edge," she said. "Psi Corps has been turning all of the
screws, and Bester in particular seems to have gone completely around the
bend. From what information we get, the rehabilitation camps have become
killing fields. We've lost a lot of good people. {/My/} people, Michael," she
closed her eyes, but when she opened them they were still Human. "You're
right. I shouldn't take it out on you."

"Lyta -- just tell me what this is all about. Pretty please."

She nodded. "Do you know where we are?"

"Is this a trick question, or one of Byron's deep philosophical ruminations
on the nature of being? I got here, after all. Go to Jupiter, hang a left,
first big sphere of cracked ice on the right."

"I apologised, Michael. Can't we just have a conversation?"

He bit back another sharp comment, then sighed. "We can try. Let's start