"Kristine Kathryn Rusch - The Room of Lost Souls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

Usually being in the skip with the windows clear feels as if youтАЩre
inside a piece of black glass moving through open space. Right now, it
seems as if weтАЩve crashed into a junkyard. A blown wall opens to space on
our left side. Beneath us, the habitatтАЩs floor is in shreds. Above us is the
sturdy floor of the next level, and to our right is the line, leading to the
RoomтАЩs door.

KarlтАЩs already halfway down the lead. Mikk is hurrying to catch up.

I look at their breathing and heart rates. TheyтАЩre in the normal range.
But itтАЩs not like Karl to move that fast.

I touch the communication panel. тАЬYou seeing something?тАЭ

тАЬThereтАЩs not a lot between the skip and the door, Boss.тАЭ ThereтАЩs
laughter in KarlтАЩs voice, as if he expected me to ask this question. тАЬRelax.тАЭ

I take my hand off the panel. Roderick is glaring at me, but in his
expression I can see resignation. He knows that IтАЩm going to run this skip
while KarlтАЩs gone.

Roderick also knows he has no recourse. Even when Karl returns,
telling on me wonтАЩt make any difference. Karl wonтАЩt ban me from these
missions. If he does, IтАЩll declare this entire trip a bust and leave. Then IтАЩll
return on my own or with a new team and dive it all again.

Karl reaches the door and tugs on the lead, checking its hold. It
seems to be fine. Mikk arrives a moment later. His feet are curled beneath
him, but they could just as easily brush against the floor.

This is the part of MikkтАЩs dive that I would hateтАФfloating there, waiting
for Karl to do the actual work. For the first time since Karl changed our
plans, IтАЩm happy to be in the skip. At least I can pace here.

Karl runs a gloved hand along the doorтАЩs edge. The cameras on his
wrist light up and show what we saw on our preliminary diveтАФthat the edges
of this door are pockmarkedтАФnot from time or debrisтАФbut from people
trying to break in. The metal is smoother here than anywhere else, as if
countless people have run their gloved hands along the edges in the past.

тАЬItтАЩs beautiful, isnтАЩt it?тАЭ my mother asks me through her suit. She
turns her head toward me just a little, and I can see the outlines of her
face through her headpiece. Behind her something hums.

Sweat has formed on my forehead. Goddamn Karl, heтАЩs right. I would
have gotten lost in my own head, in my own memories, if I had gone in
alone on this first trip.

I shake my head as if I can free it from the past and settle into the