"Alan Dean Foster - Flinx 5 - Flinx in Flux" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

dealing Flinx anything stronger than a harsh word.
That afternoon he wandered back to the hotel, discouraged and puzzled. The woman
lay where he had left her. At the moment she was lying on her back. As he eyed
her, it occurred to him that while he had done wonders for her wounds, her
appearance remained unchanged. She still wore plenty of dirt and grime.
He spent an hour cleaning her face, shoulders, arms, and legs with a washcloth.
Thin red streaks had replaced the weals on her legs where the millimite bugs had
dug, and the drill bug holes were already closing. The worst of her bruises were
almost gone.
He lay down for a short nap, exhausted from the journey out of the Ingre and his
efforts on her behalf. He might have slept through the night if the screaming
had not awakened him.
Chapter Four

Instantly he was up and searching. Looking every bit as beautiful awake as she
had while asleep, his guest stood across the room. In her right hand she
clutched a small but wicked little knife. Her eyes were wild.
Pip hovered before her, little more than a couple of meters from her face and
well within attack range. Scrap flew nervous circles around his mother. The
young minidrag's constant movement was unsettling the woman more than Pip's
hovering.
Flinx took it all in in a second and wondered what the hell was going on. The
knife did not make any sense. Neither did Pip's threatening posture, unless you
assumed the knife had been aimed at her master. But why would she want to
threaten him while he slept?
That was when she noticed him sitting up on the bed. Her eyes barely flicked
away from the flying snake. "Call them off, damn you, call them off!"
Flinx did so with a casual thought. Pip darted back to the bed.
The woman's breathing slowed, and the arm holding the knife dropped. "How did
you do that?"
"All Alaspinian minidrags are emotional telepaths. Sometimes they'll bond with a
person. Pip is mine‑she's the adult. The adolescent's name is Scrap."
"Cute," she said tensely, "real cute." Then she shuddered and lowered her head.
"I don't know how you found me. What now? Are you going to beat me up again? Why
don't you just kill me and get it over with? I've answered all your questions."
Flinx's gaze narrowed. "I didn't beat you up, and I have no intention of killing
you. If I held any malign intentions toward you, d'you think I'd have fixed you
upsтАЮ
Her head came up quickly. She studied him for a long moment. "You aren't one of
them?" she asked hesitantly.
"No I'm not, whoever `them' are."
"Deity." She let out a long sigh, at which point her legs turned to rubber and
she had to lean against the wall for support. The knife clattered silently on
the hardwood floor.
Flinx slid off the bed and started toward her, halting when she stiffened. She
still did not trust him, and after what she had been through, he could hardly
blame her.
"I'm not here to hurt you." He spoke slowly, soothingly. "I'll help if I can."
Her eyes shifted from him to the flying snake. Slowly she bent to recover the