"Huff, Tanya - What Ho, Magic!" - читать интересную книгу автора (Huff Tanya)

"Looks like you're out of the contract," Kelly had told him. "I never did get you to your father. "
"You never said you would:," Erik had replied. "You said you'd take me home." He'd spread his hands and grinned. Sometime in the last few days, he'd lost one of his front teeth. "This is home."
Kelly'd thought back over the terms of the deal. The kid was right. The contract held. She'd grinned back at him.
"You grew fond of the boy?" the dowager asked.
Kelly snorted. "Not likely." The smile came slowly. "But he's a good kid."
"He is my immortality." She stopped the vehicle. "We are here."
Standing, Kelly peered out at her ship then headed for the door.
"Captain Chase."
She turned.
"You have not requested payment for returning my grandson Ц both my grandsons Ц to me."
Kelly met the dowager's eyes squarely. "I have a contract with your immortality. When Erik is Shahinshah, I'll be back to collect."
The older woman spread her hands. "I will have him for many years yet. When you return, who can say if he will remember yourЕcontract?"
Kelly's lips lifted off her teeth. "I'll take that chance," she said, and left.
"What's the big idea?" Kelly gasped; peeling herself out of the acceleration couch as the Valkyrie lifted into space at full power.
"Just ridding myself of the stink of that place, Boss. Another minute down there and I'd have rusted solid."
"You don't rust," Kelly reminded her. "But I know what you mean."
"We're clear for Susumu. Where to?"
"I seem to recollect we have rocks to sell." She ran her hand through her hair and swung her boots up on the console. "Plot a course for Elite."
"Elite?" Had Val possessed eyebrows, they would've gone up. "Does that mean people won't be shooting at us anymore?"
"No more than they used to," Kelly said with a grin. "We're free and clear."
"Not exactly."
"What do mean, not exactly?"
The ship hesitated before answering. "Technically, there's an intruder in the lounge."
"An intruder?"
"Within human parameters but small."
"Val!" Kelly's feet hit the floor. "How could you?" she demanded racing for the lounge.
"Come one step closer and I'll shoot."
"Erik! What are you doing here?"
"I want to go with you."
As the Valkyrie moved farther away, two dreadnoughts whipped around from the far side of the planet.
"You can't. Put the gun down."
Val picked the ships up on her scanners then switched to visual. At the moment, they showed as shadows against the planet but they were catching up fast.
"I don't want to be Shahinshah."
"We've been through that already."
"I want to be a smuggler like you."
"For the last time, Erik, I am not a smuggler. Now putЕthe gunЕERIK!"

This story is a classic example of how people are a writer's best resource. While I was working at Bakka (an SF bookstore in Toronto, Ontario) one of our customers who worked as an inspector for the Toronto Transit Commission told me the story of a little known but real disaster that occurred during the construction of the Toronto subway system.
Essentially, UNDERGROUND is the sequel to that story. I've always thought it would make a good Outer Limits episode.

UNDERGROUND

He always preferred being under things Ц under the covers, under the bed, under the porch in the cool damp hollow that smelled of earth and wood and secrets. When, on his fourteenth birthday, an Uncle took him spelunking, he slid down through the narrow entrance to the first cave like he was going home. Not once did he worry about the weight of rock pressing down from above, not once did he think that there might be dangers in the caverns. It took threats of violence to get him to leave.
Had his parents lived in the right place or had he received the right encouragement, he would have been a miner, going joyfully into the embrace of the earth, going topside reluctantly at the end of his shift. Unfortunately, his parents lived in Scarborough, a suburb engulfed by the urban sprawl of Toronto, and there wasn't a high school guidance councilor in the country who'd consider mining an intelligent career choice.
He found the next best thing.
"Pick up your feet, kid. Trip down here and the next thing you know one of the old red rockets comes by and slices, dices, makes julienne fries Ц whatever the hell they are Ц and your career in subway maintenance ends real fast. You know what I mean?"
He shrugged. "Yeah. I guess."
"You guess?" Carl Reed rolled his eyes and pounded gently on the wall with one massive fist as he walked. "No guessing down here, kid. You gotta know. Know when it's safe to move, when to stay out of the way. Mostly, we work the tunnels after the system shuts down and all the trains have been put to bed but since tonight's your first night, well, I thought I ought to let you in on the first lesson a subway man learns if he's gonna survive."
The kid wet his lips. The air stirred. The roar of a thousand pounds of machinery blew into his face, filling his nose and throat with the smell and taste of iron and oil and ozone. "Uh, Carl, isn't thatЕ?"
"The train? Yeah. Come on, it hasn't even hit the curve yet, we've got plenty of time."