"Christopher Hinz - Paratwa 03 - The Paratwa" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hinz Christopher)

"You may as well be comfortable," suggested Buff, pointing to Impleton's prone form. Saw-beard sat
down beside his partner and rested the back of his head on Impleton's ample gut. Buff gave a quick
touch with the neuropad. Saw-beard's eyes glazed over as he entered induced sleep.

"Let's go," said Gillian.

They began to jog up the alley, around the bend, retracing their path, toward the huge gate that Impleton
had keyed open for them, toward the sanctuary of the street. Their boots splashed against puddles,
spraying the canyon walls with the foul conglomeration of liquids, like twin-rotored boats leaving
overlapping wakes.

"What's Fin Whirl?" asked Gillian, picking up the pace. It felt good to run hard, run fast, keep the body
stimulated.

"I don't think you should go there," said Buff, the distaste in her voice easily discernible.

"We have to."

Buff did not reply. She was a Costeau, and she would do what was necessary. They had been partners
for over a month now, ever since that Venus Cluster debacle in Irrya.

Their near-fatal encounter with Slasher and ShooterтАФtwo tways of the vicious tripartite assassin who
had been ravaging the ColoniesтАФhad provided a commonality of cause. Buff needed to avenge the death
of her friend Martha; Gillian needed to keep his inner turbulence under control.

"What's Fin Whirl?" he repeated.

"It's a place where games are played . . . dangerous games." She paused. "I don't think you should go
there."

They reached the end of the alley, jogged to a halt in front of the massive service gate. Gillian found the
control panel on the left wall, pressed the button. Silently, the gate slid open.

They emerged onto the narrow side street, deserted except for an old man seated on a stoop across the
way, his head encased in a metallic shroudтАФa ree-feeтАФa self-powered programmable holo, providing a
sensual experience as rich as the wearer's darkest fantasies. The man was muttering to himself:

"Now, silkyтАФonto the floor. Onto your knees. Give us what we've been asking for. Ground it, silky.
Ground it good. Make it earth, silky. Make it wet as the world. ..."

Behind them, the gate closed automatically. They headed quickly up the street toward one of the main
boulevards, three blocks away, to a place where Sirak-Brath began to lose its shadows, where its
fantasies became accessible to all.

"Is Fin Whirl an entertainment complex?" probed Gillian. "A fantasy club?"

"It's no fantasy. It's very real."

"But a place of enjoyment, nonetheless?"