"Andrew J. Offutt - Spaceways 08 - Under Twin Suns" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

Scarlet hills and amber skies,
Gentlebeings with loving eyes;
All these I leave to search for a dream
That will cure the wand'rer in me.
You say it must be glamorous For those who travel out through space. You know not the dark, endless night Nor the
solitude we face.
(reprise chorus)
/ know not of my journey's end Nor the time nor toll it will have me spend. But / must see what I've never seen And
know what I've never known.
Scarlet hills and amber skies, Gentlebeings with loving eyes; All these I leave to search for a dream That will cure
the wand'rer in me.

-Ann Morris

1

"They were undoubtedly the weirdest bunch I ever seen come off a spacer, I swear."
"Tell me, Jahl. Go ahead, describe them, please. What did you see?"
"Uh, don't get me wrong, Inspector. They was all Galactics, I mean. Humans, I mean. Except the Jarp, of course. But
everybody accepts Jarps."
Stevedore Jahl waited, but the official across the table just kept staring with Those Eyes. Emotionless eyes.
Hooded, unreadable eyes like brown rocks, flat as a snake's eyes.
Inspector Snake-eyes, Jahl thought.
The recorder light was off. Jahl knew the little thing responded to a voice, starting instantly and shutting itself off
when the voice subsided. Jahl gave it another sidelong glance, and swallowed.
"Right," the stevedore said, and just had to watch the glo-red light on the inspector's recorder. It flashed hot red at
the single word, then went dull orange. It seemed to return Jahl's stare, waiting. Staring like a cat. Like the inspector, all
blank-eyed. It made Jahl nervous. Better to handle and load machines than have them give you blank looks and wait
for you to talk to them!
11
12
Jahl wanted to scratch, down in the coverall crotch, and refrained only with an effort of will. Holy cess! This was
the first time Jahleh Ord had ever face-to-faced with The Gray Organization! It made Jahl feel nervous as a hust in a
mosque.
Or as a stevedore on space station Soljer, having to talk to the superest of super-spooks: TGO.
"Right," Jahl said again. "First, the ship." The recorder's light went bip . . . blip, blip-bip.
"Would you stop looking at the light on my recorder and tell me your story, Stevedore First Ord? Try to relax!
You're getting out of work talking to me, but I didn't come here to settle down with you for life."
That didn't make Jahl relax, but it did promote a grin. "No. No, Inspector. Uh no uh the ship-" And there went Jahl's
eyes again, straying in the direction of that damned blinking machine.
The inspector heaved a sigh. "The thing just makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it. All right then, Jahl. I've got a
pretty good memory. We'll just dispense with it. There." An un-uniformed sleeve rustled as the TGO investigator shut
the recorder off completely, and even handed it to Jahl. "Here, you hold the flainin' thing. Let's just talk, Jahl."
"Oh, I, uh, I'm s-thanks, Inspector. I do feel better. That little light just . . . you sure it's all right not to record? You
won't get in trouble or anything, will yer?"
The smile was tiny. "I won't get in trouble, Jahl, and neither will you. Promise. Tell me about that spaceship."
Jahl heaved a deep sigh and was visibly more re-laxed. Good, the inspector thought. Everything Jahl said would be
recorded on the biochip contained in one of the decorative slubs of contrasting thread in this blouse, anyhow. The
circuits were unbelievably tiny, far tinier than the ones in any imaginable microproces-sor. And it was pure organic, a
little (! smaller than little!) cluster of synthetic molecules.