"Julian May - Rampart Worlds 3 - Sagittarius Whorl" - читать интересную книгу автора (May Julian)

I realized instantly that my situation had changed. Some instinct warned me not to
open my eyes and not to move. I had sense enough to obey.
I was out of the tank, breathing ambient air, lying on my back on a firm, slightly
inclined surface, head cradled in a comfortable pillow. Warm and dry, not hurtingтАФand
surprisingly alert, even though I still had no notion of my identity or what had happened
to me.
Alien voices were speaking and I felt gentle pokes and prods in different parts of my
anatomy. Two Haluk individuals who called each other Miruviak and Avilik were right
beside me, performing some sort of physical examination. The suffixes of their names
indicated that one was male and one female. They were not wearing translators. My
knowledge of the Haluk language is imperfect and I could understand only part of their
conversation, which seemed to refer to my condition. I was apparently in satisfactory
shape, and after a few minutes they covered me to the chin with a soft blanket and moved
off, still talking.
I heard one of them say: "The blah blah authority figure is soul-glowing about the
blah of the dystasis blah blah."
I understood that to mean that a Haluk VIP, perhaps my old chum the Servant of
Servants of Luk, was happy about the results of some sort of dystasis procedure.
"Dystasis" was the same word in English and Halukese because a human had illegally
introduced it to the aliens.
The remarks that followed were spoken some distance away, couched in medical
jargon almost totally incomprehensible to me. I risked cracking open my eyelids.
1 could see most of the room. It was at least six meters square and looked like an
accommodation in a superior Haluk hotel catering to humans, situated on one of their
long-settled colonial planets. With the human-Haluk rapprochement in place in the
Perseus Spur, I'd once stayed in a similar place.
Good. You remembered that. Now try to remember something essentialтАФlike who you
are!
The furnishings, except for scattered pieces of mysterious technical apparatus with
blinking telltales, were an eclectic mix of alien and Earth designs. On my right, where the
wall was completely shrouded in opaque draperies, were exotic chairs, a low table, stands
holding Haluk bioluminescent lamps with quaint shades, and an elaborate human-style
infomedia credenza. To the left, in an open-plan adjacent room, was a wet barтАФno booze
visibleтАФand a compact kitchen, also human in design. An alcove held a tall case full of
e-books and slates, plus a collection of anonymous small cabinets constructed of exotic
materials. The head of my bed was against one wall. Another bed stood on the opposite
side of the room, flanked by an open bathroom door with a human-type sink visible. A
second door in that wall was closed.
 The two Haluk medical technicians, wearing human-style pale green hospital scrubs
and murmuring quiet comments, hovered over the occupant of the other bed, who lay
motionless while the aliens studied him. I didn't have a very good view of the patient, but
I could tell that he was a good-sized human male with a fairly powerful build. A small
console with what looked like medical monitoring equipment stood at his bedside.
I caught the question: "If a third demiclone is not required, then why not discard the
blah?"
The female Haluk said, "This is a very blah demiclone, Miruviak. He must be taught
blah blah blah and blah before blah his mission. Some of the teaching will be done by
the human blah who taught blah blah. But blah from the blah over there is also needed.
Our orders are to keep him alive until the blah decides he is blah blah."
Not very enlightening. In fact, ominous.