"Andrew J. Offutt - Spaceways 10 - The Yoke of Shen" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

On the other hand she might merely have redshifted, with a care to leave no trail. Her mental-emotional state, after
all, had been rotten. Devitalized.
"She knew we'd try to find her," one of the red-suited searchers said.
They were five, crew of a ship called Sunmother and former crew of one called Satana, all but one of them. They
searched for Sunmother's owner, who was also their friend.
They were the spacer's captain, Quindarissa, who was very shapely and very black; and Cinnabar and Sweetface of
Jarpi, who were very orange; and Trafalgar and Kalahari Cuw of Outreach. The latter were presumably brother and
sister, without one feature in common. A quintet in uni-form: all five wore attractive crimson jumpsuits with
wide-bottomed legs and black sashes. One of them also wore a (prodigiously) wide-brimmed hat, and one of the Jarps
wore no translahelm but spoke Erts as well as any Galactic.
In quest of Janjaglaya Wye they haunted the streets by days and bars night after night, but got neither drunk nor
laid. Every hotel had been checked. The fourth day passed, and then the fourth night.
That evening, in a persimmon-walled bar-lounge hung
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with smoky purple fronds, the one who wore the eleven-gallon hat said, "She was all torn up and mixed up. She lied to
Quindy and left us, and she vanished. I say she intended to vanish. We're looking for Janja-and so is Janja. She
doesn't want to be found. Not until she finds herself, anyhow-herself and some new purpose, direction for her life."
"Oh dammit damn it," his lean sister-supposed sister- said, wearing a padded bra under her red clingsuit as part of
her disguise because her figure provided nothing what-ever to change the suit's drape in front and she had after all
until recently been a pirate wanted on various planets and by various extraplanetary policer agencies.
She stared down at the tabletop and said, "How could she! We're her friends! We-we 1 . . . 1 . . . "
Her companions did not comment on her inability to say the word "love" or comment on the fact that never before
had they seen her so much as try. They had never seen her display this kind of emotion; the caring kind.
They were two, her companions. Captain Quindarissa and Cinnabar were in another lounge or roaming the nighted
streets of Yamato, hopeful of spotting Janjaglaya Wye who had been Janja of Aglaya.
"How . . . could . . . she!"
Trafalgar drew deep breath and Sweetface said, "Please don't answer. We all know. It was a retourniquet question.''
"Rhetorical," Trafalgar said without thinking, and quickly put on his best boyish smile while he gave the Jarp a wink
to prove that the correction had been automatic and under stress, not serious or really critical.
Sweetface neither returned the wink nor smiled. Kalahari stared down at the tabletop. The silence was dark brown.
They were all edgy.
"You know what I think?" That was the Outie-the real Outie.
"No," Kalahari told the tabletop, "but I'll bet I'm going to find out."
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"I think we should quit holding back, and get drank."
Kalahari's only reply was to reach for her plass, made shiny to resemble lacquer. She picked it up and drained its
orange-amber contents. Then she held it above her head, at the horizontal. A waiter saw and nodded; Kalahari
lowered the plass.
"I'm with you," she said. "No more reds."
The orange hermaphrodite and the man from Outreach nodded. No more little red antintoxicant tabs. They would
drink to get drank. In their society that was a matter of choice, as was obesity or even being overweight; and hair
color. Kalahari Cuw's, which had been prass (by her own choice), was now jet.
Stupid to be sitting here paying for it, really, when up on the ship they had free source of alcohol! But what the
vug-all of them were rich, anyhow. Except Sweetface.
Sweetface was one of them, but it was not a member of the Satana Coalition. The other four were. And Janja was.
They had been enslaved on the "unknown" planet Knor and had escaped with enough jewelry-mounted gemstones to
make them wealthy. Sweetface was the latecomer. They had also fled their Knorman captivity with that free source of
alcohol up on the ship.
After that they drank morosely to get drank, and they succeeded.
They came too to a momentous decision-another one., of more import than getting drank-and agreed solemnly to it.