"Alan Dean Foster - Flinx 11 - Running from the Deity" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

could not have defined with precision the exact nature of what it was that he was searching for. But, like
the caressing hand of a beautiful woman, he would know it when he felt it. Out, out, away from the ship,
away from himself, he searched. His field of perception was an expanding balloon. But no matter how
much he relaxed, even with PipтАЩs aid he sensed nothing. Only emptiness.


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 Running


Occasionally, as the Teacher drove onward through the outer reaches of the Commonwealth, his Talent
was tickled by sparks of sentience. A flash of feeling from distant Tipendemos and, later, stronger bursts
of emotion out of Almaggee. Then, more nothingness as he left the region of developed systems and
sped through space-plus toward the Blight.

There were worlds in that vast section of the Sagittarius Arm that had once been inhabited, and worlds
that were habitable still. No doubt someday, as the human and thranx population continued to expand in
every direction, those worlds would once again resound to the voices of sentience. But not for a while
yet. The Commonwealth itself encompassed an enormous section of space replete with hundreds of
worlds yet to be settled or even explored by robotic probes. However enticing, the ancient worlds of the
Blight would have to wait.

In its search for those who had built it, the wandering Tar-Aiym weapons platform would have hundreds
of square parsecs in which to roam without encountering intelligent life of any kind. Making contact
with anything in so vast a place seemed impossible. What swayed Flinx to try was the imploring of those
wiser than himself. That, and the fact that on more than one occasion in his short life he had already
achieved the impossible.

Having more or less resolved in his own mind to at least attempt the search, the last thing he expected as
he entered the Blight was to have his resolution temporarily countermanded by his own ship.

He was taking his ease, as he so often did, in the central lounge. With its malleable waterfalls and pond,
its fountain that sent heavy water trickling down and light water floating upward as decorative bubbles,
it was far and away the most relaxing part of the unique vessel. Hailing from many worlds, the lush
greenery that now packed every corner of the carefully maintained chamber filled it with wondrous
scents and extra oxygen. Of course, he could have achieved a similar effect by simply directing the ship-
mind to alter the composition of the internal atmosphere. But artificially regenerated oxygen lacked the
subtle smells that accompanied air exhaled by growing things. Merely reclining among the running
water and miniature forest helped him to unwind, and allowed his mind to roam free of anxiety and
headaches. Green, he reflected, was good for the soul.

Nearby, Pip was pursuing something through the underbrush. It was harmless, or it would not be on
board the ship. It was also confined to the lounge area. Chasing such harmless bits of decorative
ambulatory life gave her something to do.

Unlike me, he thought.

тАЬThere is a problem.тАЭ

Reluctantly, he bestirred himself from daydreaming of warm beaches on a recently visited world, and