"Breath's A Ware That Will Not Keep" - читать интересную книгу автора (Monteleone Thomas F)

"Different?" The word did not sit well in his mind. The Monitors were planned to be quite similar. "How do you mean?"

"You're kinder," she said. "More understanding, I think. It's just easier to talk with you."

"Thank you, Feraxya. I'm just trying to be myself, though."

"Your mate is very lucky to have someone like you," she said candidly. "I guess I should tell you that I've thought about having you myself. Even though I know it's impossible."

Ben paused for a moment, stirred and somewhat shaken by the mental image her suggestion brought to mind. "You could use your Id Tapes if you really wanted-" He tried to be helpful but she interrupted him.

"That's little more than masturbation."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was just trying to suggest something that might help, that's all."

"You're sweet. But that's not what I want from you. If I could have it my way it would be like the dream. I had a real body, like you, and we were going through

the City at night. It was bright and beautiful. Sometimes I wish it could have been like that."

She paused, and Cipriano searched for any subliminal meaning in her words. There were people who would interpret them as dangerous. He wondered what she meant by them. "It wasn't meant to be," he said finally, shallowly.

"I know. And the Host-Mothers are needed. Someone must serve," she said slowly, as if she were contemplating the implications of what she was saying.

"That's true," he said. "Besides-"

Cipriano was interrupted by the chatter of his console. The results from the morning's test began to flash upon his grid. A large graph appeared and flickered violently superimposed over the graph was a one word message: CRITICAL.

"Just a minute, Feraxya," he said, staring at the alarm signal in semi shock. "Uh, . . . some of then results have just come in and I've got to check them; out. I'll get back to you as soon as I can, okay?"

"All right, Ben. We can talk later."

He threw off the helmet and depressed several digital,
keys, requesting clarification of the warning signal.

Cipriano read through the figures, double-checked
them, and started an entire new series of tests to,
ensure against errors.

As the console began to click and chatter with the new instructions, he called his Superior, Faro Barstowe. Several seconds passed before the man's lean, fox like face appeared on the screen: "Yes, what is it?"

"Cipriano here. Breeder Tank 0078-D. Generic' name: Feraxya. My routine monitoring has picked up; what looks like a nucleotide dysfunction. Probable cause' is an inadequate enzyme transfer. Too early to tell yet. Just calling to let you know that I'm running a double check."


Barstowe's face seemed tense. "Let's see . . You've got a litter of thirty. RNA Code 45a7c. Superior Range., Administrator Class. That sound right?"

"Yes, sir. That's right," said Cipriano, watching the
man's small shining eyes burn into him, even through the screen.

"All right, Cipriano. It's been sixty-four days since implantation. That makes it too late for an in vitro injection to change or rectify the enzyme transfer. Collect all the data you can from the second scan. I'll call Bioneering and send some men over there to see what's up. That's all for now." The screen blacked out, leaving Ben with the cool sounds of the console.

When he read through the second test results, he knew that they only confirmed what he had first imagined. There was indeed a dysfunction in Feraxya's system; but he could do nothing until the Bioneers arrived. His first thought was to contact her, so that she would be aware of what was happening inside her great body. But he knew that would not be possible until he received word from Barstowe.