"Robert Reed - Marrow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

struck, and they were dead. Shipboard extinctions were more common than any captain would admit.
Some of their passengers proved too frail to endure any long journey. Mass suicides and private wars
claimed others. Yet as Washen often reminded herself, for every failed species, a hundred others thrived,
or at least managed to etch out some little corner of this glorious ship where they could hold their own.

"Wherever the leech are, I'm sure they're well."

"Of course they are," Diu replied, knowing what was polite. "Of course."

In the face of ignorance, captains should make positive sounds.

Washen noticed how even when standing still, Diu was moving, his flesh practically vibrating, as if the
water inside him was ready to boil.

"So, madam . . . I'm dying to know what you think! What's our mission? What's so important that the
Master pulls us all the way down here?"

"Yes," said a second voice. "What's your best bad guess, darling?"

Miocene had joined them. One of a handful of Submasters in attendance, she was rumored to be the
Master's favorite. An imperious, narrow-faced woman, she was a full head taller than the others, dressed
in rich robes, her brindle-colored hair brushing against the ceiling. Yet she stood erect, refusing to dip her
head for the simple sake of comfort.

"Not that you know more than any of us," the Submaster persisted. "But what do you think the
Master wants?"

The room seemed to grow quiet. Captains held their breath, secretly delighted that it was Washen
who had to endure Miocene's attentions.

"Well," Washen began, "I can count several hundred clues."

A razor smile formed. "And they are?"

"Us." They were standing near one of the room's few windowsтАФa wide slit of thick, distorting plastic.
There was nothing outside but blackness and vacuum; an ocean of liquid hydrogen, vast and calm and
brutally cold, lay some fifty kilometers below them. Nothing was visible in the window but their own
murky reflections. Washen saw everyone at a glance. She regarded her own handsome, ageless face,
black hair pulled back in a sensible bun and streaked with enough white to lend authority, her wide
chocolate eyes betraying confidence with a twist of deserved pleasure. "The Master selected us, and
we're the clues."

Miocene glanced at her own reflection. "And who are we?"

"The elite of the elite." Washen put names to the faces, listing bonuses and promotions earned over
the last millennia. "Manka is a new second-grade. Aasleen was in charge of the last engine upgrade,
which came in below budget and five months early. Saluki and Westfall have won the Master's award for
duty ten times each." She gestured at the captain beside her, saying, "And there's Diu, of course. Already
an eleventh-grade, which is astonishing. You came on board the shipтАФwarn me if I'm wrongтАФas just
another passenger."