"Paxson, Diana L - The Dancer of Chimaera" - читать интересную книгу автора (Paxson Diana L)

They looked up at the anonymous dusk of the Station's dome.

"I'd like to show them to you," he said. "In deep space the sky's pure carbon black, and the stars burn steady and bright as glowflies." He paused, trying to find words for the glory. "Could you see the stars from your home planet?"

"I-don't know," she replied. "I remember being on ships, and on other Stations under domes, but I think I must have left home when I was very young.... I don't remember it at all."

Johnny felt an immediate protective surge and drew her arm within his. "When the war is over I'll show you all the worlds. There are fields of multicolored grasses at home. You run through them and the wind cools your face with the scent of flowers."

"It would be good to run free and see the sky," she said wistfully. "Since you've been here, have you been outside?"

"No," he replied. "I've seen pictures. It doesn't look like a bad world-a little hot maybe. Too bad there's not enough oxygen in the air for men to breathe."

"I think they mean to terraform it, after the war."

"Well, that can't be long now," he said confidently. "It's been going badly lately, I know-the Shifters are in the next system now. But the Project is almost complete. Duprey says the Mindshield they've installed will stop the psychbending the Shifters have been using to get through. Soon all our ships will have it too." She stopped, facing him. Johnny realized with a shock that they had reached the end of the residence complex where the few nonmilitary personnel on the Station lived. He paused in front of the entry, fighting a shiver of impending loss. "Are you cold?" she asked softly. "Cold? No-"

"You sure? You don't look well. Do you want to come up with me? I can fix you some stimo ..." He stared at her. "It's not much of a place, I guess-" she went on. "Not on what the bar pays me. But I brew stimo as well as any autosnacky!"

"Oh! Of course-sure, Mariposa, I'd be honored to come in!" She was right. It was not much of a place-a room about as big as his cubby on the Glinka, with walls the original no-glare green and fold-down furniture. There was one window. Only a poster advertising Mariposa stuck to the wall and some clothing thrown over a chair marked it as her room. Johnny looked about him, his gaze sliding quickly past the curtain that gave nominal privacy to the bedcorner, and came to rest on the girl. She smiled and turned to pull down the kitchen controls. He lifted the clothes from the chair and sat down, searching for something to say. "Mariposa, do you like it here?" he got out at last, "I mean, are the people nice to you?"

"Oh yes-a Station isn't the prettiest place in the universe, but everyone's polite."

He looked at her thin shoulders and the defenseless line of her back.

"All the men?" he asked, his voice hoarse suddenly.

"Why would they bother me?" she said quietly, stirring the brew.

"But you're--a dancer-" The words burst out of him.

"And that's all I am," she flared. "Look at me. I'm not much temptation even on stage with all my fittings on, and without them-" She thrust the bulb into his hands and started to turn away.

He held it without drinking, looking at her. "Mariposa, I think you're beautiful..."

Something flickered behind her eyes. "I'm not.,. Johnny, you mustn't say that!"

"But lots of men-" he began, and then, when she began to shake her head, felt the betraying blush begin and fade and didn't care. "You mean that no one-that you haven't ever-"

She hugged herself, swaying. Johnny got up and stepped toward her, realized that he was still holding the stirno bulb, and set it down.

"Mariposa," he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean . .." She didn't seem to have heard him. Moving with an urgency beyond his analysis, he took her in his arms.

She stood rigid in his embrace, still shaking. But she relaxed suddenly when his mouth touched hers. It was a long kiss, if a little clumsy, and when he released her at last, her eyes had gone unfocused and huge in her pale face.

"What is it?" she asked tonelessly. "What is happening- Oh, Johnny," she cried, seeing him at last. "Let me go! I love you-please go!"

He held her, dismay warring with an exaltation that burned upward from his belly to his brain. She had said, "I love you..."

The girl quivered suddenly, then sighed. Her eyes were glittering; she watched him with a look he had never seen before. Alarm pulsed along his nerves, but even as he started to release her, she gripped his arms and pulled his head down to hers. His body jerked as their lips touched once more. Mariposa held him now. Her body was hard, her scent sharp and sweet. He wondered vaguely how she had gotten a perfume like the flowers of the faranelle trees at home. Then he stopped thinking at all. Their clothing was stripped off and they stumbled toward the bed. The current was passing through him more violently now, but he could not break away. As they struggled on the bed, his flesh was melded to hers and their bodies convulsed as one. But it was Mariposa who screamed as in a flash of ecstasy his body went beyond his control entirely and he was consumed. Above their heads, the little window brightened as the terrible light of Chimaera's dawn filtered through the Dome. The light in the window had flared and faded once more to dusk when Mariposa rose. Her hair had come undone. She shook it back over her shoulders and then stretched lazily, arching her body in content. She stepped over to the fresher, rotated luxuriously under its needling spray. After a few moments she stepped out, slipped past the motionless body on the bed, and began, with full, sensuous strokes, to brush out her hair. It was not until she had finished dressing and had picked up her cloak to go out that she glanced at the figure on the bed, a last faint sadness momentarily humanizing her face. "Have you seen Johnny tonight?" Duprey gestured toward the empty seat beside Mendos as he sat down. "No, but he'll be here-he never misses Mariposa's show."