"Kevin O'Donnel Jr. - The Journeys of McGill Feighan 03 - Lava" - читать интересную книгу автора (O'Donnell Jr Kevin)

"Honest, I'm sorry, but I'm standby Minder tonight, and they just called
me. Please?"
He made a face, a histrionic pout, to mock that which he actually felt.
"Please?"
"Okay." He closed his eyes, concentratedтАФ *PING*тАФ then, suddenly
weary, turned to the other two. "How's it going, Sam?"
"Neat, McGill! H'nik's five hundred years old, did you know that? And
this is the thirty-ninth planet it's been to, and it met my mother! And she
wants us to visit her."
"Really?" It was an effort to be polite. "When did you meet Sahaang?"
The alien's speaking-spines rustled together. "When we first met she
barely cast a shadow at all, but fascinated me even then; I returned to visit
her recently, and she directed me to you."
"Oh?" Leaning back till the stucco wall bit into his shoulders, he wondered
how to deal tactfully with what had to be coming. "What, ahтАФ?"
"I will come directly to the point, McGill Feighan. I am researching the
Far Being RetzglaranтАФ"
"Somehow, I knew you'd say that."
"I have been told that shortly after you broke into the world, you had a
most curious encounter with an agent of the Far Being, and that that
encounter has altered the entire course of your life."
He nodded. "H'nik, if you're researching the Far Being, maybe you can
tell me: What is the Far Being? What species, whatтАФ"
"My studies, even after all these centuries, have barely begun to penetrate
the mystery that is Retzglaran; one web of evidence, however, suggests that
it is the last scion of an ancient stock of space-farers."
Feighan frowned. It did not jibe with what he had learned on his own.
"But I thoughtтАФ"
"That is one web of evidence, McGill Feighan, or perhaps only a portion
of one web. Yet there are many, many others; I would seek your help in
determining on which prowls the true Spinner."
He shrugged. "If I canтАФask away."
H'nik's spines scraped in apparent agitation. "No, no. I would question
you longer."
"Well, you can stay a day or two if you like. IтАФ"
"No, no. I would question you longer."
He sighed. "How much longer?"
"Eight hours a day for perhaps a year."
Feighan blinked, and forced a chuckle. "No, I'm sorry, that's impossible."
Before H'nik could reply, Greystein shouted in the living room. "No
fucking way!"
Feighan turned. "What's the matter?"
Greystein joined them on the terrace, a printout in his hand. His cheeks
were pale; spilled beer stained his pants. He thrust the sheet of paper at
Feighan. "Read it yourself."
He did. It said: "Report to Behavior Modification Center immediately."