"George R. R. Martin -- Second Helpings" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

She returned to the landing deck and climbed around a few of the derelict starships Tuf had there. She
stood in the armory and gazed on a frightening array of weapons, some of them obsolete, some of them
unrecognizable, some of them forbidden.
She wandered down the dim vastness of the central shaft that cored the ship, walked the full thirty kays
of its length, her bootsteps echoing overhead, her breath coming hard by the end of her daily treks.
Around her were cloning vats, growth tanks, microsurgeries, and computer stations in staggering
profusion. Ninety percent of the vats were empty, but here and there the Portmaster found life growing.
She peered through dusty glass and thick, translucent fluids at dim, living shapes, shapes as small as her
hand, and shapes as large as a tubetrain. It made her feel cold.
In fact, the whole ship seemed chilly and somehow frightening to Tolly Mune.
The only real warmth was to be found on the tiny portion of the top deck where Haviland Tuf spent his
nights and days. The long, narrow communications room he had refitted as his central control was cozy
and comfortable. His quarters were crowded with worn, overstuffed furniture and an amazing assortment
of bric-a-brac accumulated in his voyagings. The smell of food and beer permeated the air here,
bootsteps did not echo so, and there was light and noise and life. And cats.
TufтАЩs cats had free run of most of the ship, but most of them seemed to prefer to stay close to Tuf
himself. He had seven now. Chaos, a long-haired gray tom with imperious eyes and an indolent,
dominating manner, was the lord of all he surveyed. He could most often be found sitting on top of TufтАЩs
master console in the control chamber, his bushy tail twitching like a metronome. Havoc had lost energy
and gained weight in five years. She did not seem to recognize the Portmaster at first, but after a few
days the old familiarity returned, and Havoc took up the acquaintance where it had dropped, and
sometimes even accompanied Tolly on her wanderings.
Then there were Ingratitude, Doubt, Hostility, and Suspicion. тАЬThe kittens,тАЭ Tuf called them, though they
were really young cats now, тАЬborn of Chao s and Havoc, madam. Originally they comprised a litter of
five. I left Foolishness behind on Namor.тАЭ
тАЬItтАЩs always best to leave foolishness behind,тАЭ she said. тАЬI never figured you to part with a cat, though.тАЭ
тАЬFoolishness developed an inexplicable fondness for a vexing and unpredictable young woman of
Namorian origin,тАЭ he said. тАЬSince I had many cats and she had none, it seemed the appropriate gesture
under the circumstances. Although the feline is a splendid and admirable creature, it remains relatively
scarce in this sad modern galaxy. Thus my innate generosity and sense of duty to my fellow humans
prompt me to offer cats to worlds such as Namor. A culture with cats is richer and more humane than
one deprived of their unique companionship.тАЭ
тАЬRight,тАЭ said Tolly Mune, smiling. Hostility was near at hand. She scooped him up carefully, stroked him.
His fur was very soft. тАЬStrange names you gave this lot.тАЭ
тАЬPerhaps more apt to human nature than to the feline,тАЭ Tuf agreed. тАЬI bestowed them on a whim.тАЭ
Ingratitude, Doubt, and Suspicion were gray, like their father; Hostility was black and white like Havoc.
Doubt was noisy and fat, Hostility was aggressive and rambunctious, Suspicion was shy and liked to hide
under TufтАЩs chair. They liked to play together, a boisterous cat pack, and seemed to find Tolly Mune
endlessly fascinating, climbing all over her whenever she paid Tuf a visit. Sometimes they turned up in the
least likely places. Hostility landed on her back one day as she ascended an escalator, and the surprise
left her breathless and shocked. She grew accustomed to having Doubt in her lap during meals, begging
slivers of food.
And then there was the seventh cat: Dax.
Dax, with fur the color of night and eyes like small golden lamps. Dax, the single most lethargic vermin
she had ever seen, who preferred being carried to walking. Dax, who peered from TufтАЩs pocket, or out
from beneath his cap, who sat on his knees or rode on his shoulder. Dax; who never played with the
older kittens, who seldom made a sound, whose golden glance could somehow displace even huge,
lordly Chaos from a chair both of them coveted. The black kitten was with Tuf constantly. тАЬYour
familiar,тАЭ Tolly Mune said to him one mealtime, after she had been aboard for nearly twenty days. She
pointed a knife. тАЬThat makes you a...what was the term?тАЭ