"Green,.Sharon.-.Diana.Santee.2.-.Gateway.To.Xanadu" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Sharon)

I took my face out of the water so that I could sigh deeply, wondering what the hell I was going to do. The cat in question wasn't a housecat but a hunting cat, and the bird wasn't a cagebird but a mutated hunting hawk. If they ever got down to it in a serious way more than feathers and fur would fly, but the cat didn't seem prepared to back off, and the bird was beginning to feel her talons flexing in pure reflex. If something didn't happen to establish a truce between them, the upcoming months would not be at all pleasant, but the hawk didn't want a truce on the cat's terms. I damned well couldn't accept a truce on Val's terms, not and still look myself in the face when I brushed my hair. He could stare until he was blue in the face, but I'd be damned if I'd let it stampede me.

With which strong-minded resolve I finished my shower, let the air blowers dry me, then marched out of the shower stall. The small exercise room was empty, but when I turned the corner into the salon, I ran smack into the cause of my frenzied fluttering in the flesh.

"Hey, be careful!" Val said with touching concern, grabbing my arms to keep me from going over backward at the collision. Then he grinned faintly and observed, "Small ship, isn't it?"

"Not that small," I muttered to myself and began to step around him, but suddenly he was in my way again. I looked up at him with what must have been automatic talon flexing, and he immediately held up a conciliatory hand.

"I'm really not trying to crowd you," he said. "It's just that I have a problem, and I need your help with it."

I studied his very innocent face for a minute, knowing damned well he was trying to con me, but still said, "What problem?"

"It's right this way," he said, stepping aside and gesturing with one hand. "Come on and I'll show you."

I half expected him to lead the way to his bunk, but his actual destination turned out to be the galley. He led me up to the synthoserver, then turned and gestured at it over his shoulder.

"I can't eat what that thing puts out," he said, the distaste in his expression testifying to the truth of his words. "No matter what color or shape or texture it comes out in, it all tastes the same and I can't eat it. If that's all this ship has in the way of food, I'm not going to make it to your Federation."

He was looking down at me in a strange way, obviously not kidding about the syntho, but at the same time pleased he had found something I couldn't ignore him about. I was that close to telling him he'd get used to the syntho after a while and if he didn't he could starve with my blessing, when I suddenly got a better idea. The ship was, after all, a luxury yacht, and I could do with a little luxury.

"If it's fresh food you want, the dispenser's over here," I told him, pointing out the recess on the opposite side of the galley. "The ship needs about ten minutes to thaw out whatever you decide on, and operating instructions for the broiler grill-oven are in that cabinet, right next to the seasoning, utensils and plates. If you don't like syntho, you have to cook your own. Enjoy your meal."

For the second time in five minutes I started to walk around him, but even a ten-year-old could have blocked the doorway without trying. Val, about as far as you can get from a ten-year-old, was trying, and what a surprise that turned out to be.

"I'm not very good at following instructions like that," the man who had helped rebuild my ship said in a coaxing voice, at the same time looking down at me with a smile in his dark black eyes. "Why don't you stay here and help me, and then we can both enjoy the meal."

I let myself stiffen enough for him to notice, then glared up at him.

"You don't have to rub it in!" I hissed with enough venom to widen his eyes in startlement. "If I knew how to cook, don't you think I'd be eating food instead of syntho? Don't think you can embarrass me about it, because you can't! I'm good enough at enough other things that cooking doesn't mean a thing! Not a thing! Now, get out of my way!"

He retreated in confusion at my tirade, giving me enough room to stalk out of the galley, then let me carry my coffee away to the control room without saying a word. I settled myself and the coffee in the pilot's seat, activated the forward screens, then grinned faintly as I sipped and watched our not-yet-visible progress through the deep black. Syntho might not taste very good until you got used to it, but it was more nutritionally balanced than natural food, it helped keep you in better shape physically during a dead-time trip like the one we were currently on-and it was incredibly convenient for people like me who didn't care to be bothered with cooking. If Val reacted to my play-acting the way I expected him to, I'd have my choice of the syntho or an already-cooked meal of natural food for the rest of the trip. Already-cooked by Val. If he ever found out I cooked well enough to suit just about anybody I'd probably have to defend myself, but life without risk is nothing more than existing. I put my heels up on the edge of the board, sipped at my coffee, and began thinking about how long I ought to resist being invited to dinner.

I stayed in the control room until I finished my coffee, went to my cabin to read and nap for a while, then returned to the exercise area to run through those forms I hadn't gotten to earlier. I would have thought Val had disappeared off the ship if I hadn't heard the muted clatter and movements every time I passed the galley; his new preoccupation was taking all of his attention, an absolute blessing as far as I was concerned. The change of being out from under surveillance for a while made it more than worth it. When I finished the forms I showered again, then sat down to read.

It was just about 1800 hours AST when I put my book aside, too distracted to sit there any longer. I hadn't been particularly hungry earlier that day so all I'd had was coffee, but just then I was feeling the hollowness clear down to my ankles. I'd been expecting Val to figure out how to use the cooking unit, but there was always the possibility he would turn out to be King Thumbs in anything domestic. It would b^ too bad all the way around, but I could survive easily on syntho, and Val would just have to learn to like it. I left my cabin and went straight to the galley and the syntho server, ignoring the galley's other occupant until my wrist was grabbed in a big hand before I could touch the selector dial.

"You don't want any of that," I was told in very firm tones, the hand pulling me gently around and away from the server. "Don't you remember how hard it is to dispose of bodies on this ship?"

"If I don't get any of that, you'll be faced with the need to make the effort," I pointed out, moving my wrist in his hand. "I happen to be hungry, and I'd like to get something to eat. "

"Then let's get you something to eat," he said with a faint grin, heading me toward the other side of the galley before turning my wrist loose. "Is there some place with more elbow room where we can set this out?"

"This" turned out to be more courses of fresh-cooked food than I ever expected to see before I got back to the Federation, all kept nice and warm behind the holder panels surrounding the cooker. I could now understand why I hadn't smelled any of his efforts, but not why he hadn't already begun digging in.

"There's a pull-out table in the salon you can use," I answered. "I'll have mine in a minute, and then I'll be out of your way."

I tried to turn away from the open holder panels, but the hand in the middle of my back wasn't allowing that. My avenue of retreat was well blocked off.

"What's the matter, are you too good to eat with me?" Val asked softly, making sure his arm stayed in my way. "Are you afraid to try it in case you like it? It takes a big person to accept a shortcoming, Diana, but I thought you were big enough to do it. Was I wrong?"