"Kristine Katheryn Rusch - Alien Influences" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

been stolen.тАЭ


II
Sleep. Narrow trader bunk, not built for his long frame. Dream voices, half-remembered:

...we'll be able to leave...

...the Dancers do it...
...It'll hurt, but that won't matter. You'll grow up...

...Stop, please...

...Just another minute...

...Stop!!!...

...the other hand...

...ssstttooooppp....

He forced himself awake, heart pounding, mouth dry. The trapped feeling still filled him. He rolled off the
bunk, stood, listened to the even breathing of the other sleepers. He hadn't had the dream since when?
The penal colony? The last trading ship? He couldn't remember. He had tried to put it out of his mind.
Obviously that hadn't worked.

Trapped. He had started the spiral when she said the word trapped. He leaned against the door, felt the
cool plastic against his forehead. The memory voices still rang in his head. If someone had listened, then
maybe...

But no. The past was past. He would work for her, but he would follow his own reasons.


III
Her gallery was less than he had expected. Shoved into a small corner of the merchant's wing of Rotan
Base, the gallery had a storefront of only a few meters. Inside hung the standard work by standard artists:
an Ashley rendition of the galaxy, done in blacks and pinks; a D.B. portrait of the sphynix, a red-haired
catlike creature from Yater; a Dugas statue of a young girl dancing. Nothing new, nothing unique, not
even in the manner of display. All the pieces were self-illuminated against dark walls and stands, a small
red light beside each indicating the place for credit purchases.

The gallery was even more of a surprise after she had told him her tale of woe: she claimed to have the
best guards on Rotan, an elaborate security system, and special checking. He saw no evidence of them.
Her storefront was the same as the others, complete with mesh framing that cascaded at closing each
evening.

The gallery smelled dry, dustless. He wanted to sneeze, just to see particles in the air. The air's
cleanliness, at least, was unusual. He would have to check the filtration system. The sculpture probably
hadn't disappeared at all. Some overeager viewer probably opened the container, the wind escaped, and
the sculpture returned to the grains of sand it was. No great mystery, certainly not worth 120,000