"Keith Laumer - Galactic Odyssey" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laumer Keith)

metal underneath. That was kind of strange, but all it meant to me then was that I wouldnтАЩt be
crawling into that haystack after all.
The sleet was coming down thicker than ever now. I put my nose up and sniffed, caught a whiff
of frying bacon and coffee that made my jaws ache. All of a sudden, my stomach remembered its
complaint and tried to tie itself into a hard knot. I went back through tall weeds past some rusty
iron that used to be farm machinery, and across a rutted drive toward the silo. I didnтАЩt know much
about silos except that they were where you stored the corn, but at least it had walls and a roof. If
I could get in there, I might find a dry spot to hide in. I reached a door set in the curved wall; it
opened and I slid inside, into dim light and a flow of warm air.
Across the room, there was an inner door standing open, and I could see steps going up: glass
steps on chrome-plated rails. The soft light and the warm air were coming from there. I went up,
moving on instinct, like the first fish crawling out on land, reached the top and was in a room full
of pipes and tubes and machinery and a smell like the inside of a TX set. Weary as I was, this
didnтАЩt look like a place to curl up in.
I made it up another turn of the spiral stair, came out in a space where big shapes like cotton
bales were stacked, with dark spaces between them. There was a smell like a fresh-tarred road
here. I groped toward the deepest shadow I could find, and my hand touched somethingsoft.Inthe
faint light from the stairwell it looked like mink or sable, except that it was an electric -blue color. I didnтАЩt
let that worry me. I crawled up on top of the stack and put my face down in the velvety fluff and
let all the strings break at once .


3
 In the dream, I was a burglar, holed up in somebody elseтАЩs house, hiding in the closet, and in a
minute theyтАЩd find me and haul me out and ride me into town in a police car to sit under the lights
and answer questions about every unsolved chicken-stealing in the county in the past five years.
The feet were coming up the stairs, coming closer. Somebody said something and a womanтАЩs voice
answered in a foreign language. They went away and the dream faded. . . .
. . . And then the noise started.
It was a thin, high -pitched shrilling, like one of those whistles you call the dog with. It went
right between my bones and pried at the joints. It got louder, and angrier, like bees boiling out of
a hive, and I was awake now, and trying to get up; but a big hand came down and mashed me flat.
I tried to get enough breath in to yell, but the air had turned to syrup. I just had time to remember
the day back in Pineville when the Chevy rolled off the rack at Uncle JasonтАЩs gas station and
pinned a man under the back b umper. Then it all went red and I was someplace else, going over
Niagara Falls in a big rubber balloon, wearing a cement life jacket, while thousands cheered.




4

When I woke up, I heard voices.
тАЬ . . . talking rot now. ItтАЩs nothing to do with me.тАЭ This was a manтАЩs voice, speaking with an
English accent. He sounded as if he were a little amused by something.
тАЬI mark well tтАЩwas thee I charged with the integrity oтАЩ the vessel!тАЭ This one sounded big, and
mad. He had a strange way of talking, but I cou ld understand most of the words all right. Then a
girl spoke, but in another language. She had a nice, clear, sweet voice. She sounded worried.
тАЬNo harm done, Desroy.тАЭ The first man gave a soft laugh. тАЬAnd it might be a spot of good luck,
at that. Perhaps heтАЩll make a replacement for Jongo.тАЭ