"James Van Pelt - Lashawnda at the End" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pelt James Van)

Delicate-looking orange leaves covered her cheeks, and her neck was bumpy with sprouts ready to
break through.

At least they didnтАЩt suffer. The sporeтАЩs toxins operated as a powerful opiate. Marvin spent the last hour
babbling and laughing, weaker and weaker, until the last thing he said was, тАЬItтАЩs God at the end.тАЭ

A quick analysis of the spores revealed an enzyme they needed to sprout, and we were inoculated with
an enzyme blocker, but everyone was more rigorous decontaminating now.

Lashawnda said, тАЬCome on, Spencer. I want to show you something.тАЭ

We walked downhill toward the closest gully and its forest. She limped, the result of a deteriorating hip
replacement. Like most people her vintage, sheтАЩd gone through numerous reconstructive procedures, but
you wouldnтАЩt know it to look at her. SheтАЩd stabilized her looks as a forty-year-old, almost a tenth her
real age. Pixie-like features with character lines radiating from the mouth. Just below the ears, dark hair
with hints of gray. Slender in the waist. DancerтАЩs legs. Economical in her movements whether she was
sorting plant samples or washing her face. Four hundred years! I studied her when she wasnтАЩt looking.

I picked thirty for myself. Physically it was a good place to be. I didnтАЩt tire easily. My stockiness
contrasted well to her slight build.

Lashawnda suffered from cascading cancers, each treatable eruption triggering the next until the body
gives up. SheтАЩd told me she had a couple of laps around the sun left at best. тАЬPapaver will be my last
stop,тАЭ sheтАЩd said during the long trip here. Of course, once weтАЩve slept with everyone else (and all the
possible combinations of three or four at the same time), and the novelty of inter-ship politicking has
worn thin, we all say weтАЩre done with planet hopping forever.

I suppose it was inevitable Lashawnda and I ended up together on the ship. I was the second oldest by a
century, and she had one-hundred-and-fifty years on me, plus she laughed often and liked to talk. WeтАЩd
go to bed and converse for a couple hours before sleeping. IтАЩd grown tired of energetic couplings with
partners I had nothing to say to afterwards. My own two-hundred-fifty years hung like a heavy coat.
What did I have to say to someone whoтАЩd been kicking around for only sixty or ninety years?

I cared for her more than anyone in my memory, and she was dying.

When we reached the gully, she said, тАЬWhatтАЩs amazing is that there are so many plants. Papaver should
be like Mars. Same age. Lighter gravity and solar wind should have stripped its atmosphere. Unlike
Mars, however, Papaver held onto its water, and the plants take care of the air.тАЭ

Except for the warped orange and brown and yellow тАЬtreesтАЭ in front of us, that looked more like twisted
pipes than plants, we could have been in an arctic desert.

тАЬDarn little water,тАЭ I said, thinking about our empty tanks.

тАЬDarn littlefree water, but quite a bit locked into the biomass. Did you see the survey results I sent you
yesterday?тАЭ

We pushed through the first branches. Despite their brittle looks, the stems were supple. They waved
back into place after we passed. Broad, waxy leaves that covered the sun side of each branch bent to
face us as we came close. I found their mobility unnerving. They were like blank eyes following our