"Fitch-SarahAtTheTidePool" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fitch Marina)

"Everything should have a defense," Sarah said softly.

STILL AND quiet, Sarah watches the tide pool. Her knees are a little unsteady;
she places a hand carefully on the rock, avoiding the sharp edges of the mussels
and barnacles. A wave breaks over the far rocks in a plume of spray, the froth
surging to beat against the outcrop where Sarah waits. It sluices into her tide
pool, washing over the anemones so that they bloom into mums of tiny, undulating
fingers. Timidly, the hermit crab creeps from between their stalks.

Sarah exclaims and leans forward. The hermit crab's shell glistens, as black as
Richard's eyes.

Sarah looked anywhere but at Jason Whitcomb as he spoke. Her gaze traveled the
lab: a fifty-gallon tank of nudibranchs, two STMs with fractal display screens,
a multitude of cupboards, clean white counters, the coffin-shaped glass
flotation tank, the refrigeration room. And that was just what she could see.
Behind the counter and cupboards where Jason Whitcomb perched sat the Mitsubishi
molecular computer, laser diode spectrometer, a centrifuge surrounded by rows of
test tubes and pipettes; beyond that a door leading to a hall lined with the
other labs and the tiny windowless rooms that housed shared equipment.

The only world Sarah knew.

"-- is vital to the company," Jason Whitcomb said. "We need that skin to keep us
afloat -- keep us competitive. Dr. Huron?"

Sarah blinked, turned to meet his gaze. "Mr. Whitcomb?"

"Jason, please," he said.

Sarah nodded absently.

"Anyway, as you know there has been maximum security around your project --"

"What do you want from me?"

"Sarah --"

"Dr. Huron, please."

He pursed his lips. "Dr. Huron," he said distinctly. "One of our competitors,
Hansen Biomedicals, is on the verge of developing their own arti -- uh,
'organic' skin, despite the fact that a year ago they had no such project on
record."

Sarah shook her head. "If they can create an organic skin, more power to them.
Without it, people aren't going to be able to lead normal lives. What we're
talking about is survival, Mr. Whitcomb."

"Jason." He straightened. With his shoulders squared, he looked even more