"E. E. Doc Smith - Subspace 2 - Subspace Encounter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

to make a pass at him. She was a high Eleven, an Able, and he was a mere Thirty-Six;
more than one-third down the status scale toward being nothing at all. Beyond making
sure she was a non-psi he had not read her mind, not even the most superficial of her
surface thoughts, and he did not read it now. Very few if any top-bracket psiontists were
or are peeping toms.

"Subspace Technologist First Sonrodnar Rodnar of Slaar, I've been . . ." she began,
formally, but broke off and went on in a strangely altered tone, "Oh, down the cliff with
that stuff!" Dropping the folder onto the desk, she got up, walked around to face him-he
got up, too, of course-took his right hand in both of hers, and squeezed it hard. Her face
paled, then flushed, and her nostrils began to flare as she went on, "I watched you kill
that utterly unspeakable louse of a Garshan the other night. . . .тАЭ

A light flashed on in Rodnar's mind. He knew the connection, in strongly passionate
women, between violent death and sex; and his own quick passion began to flame into
being. But he wondered. That was days ago . . . it wouldn't last this long . . . or could it?
And how could a top-drawer FirSecan Able--ever have had enough to do with even a
high-star Garshan to hate him that much?

But there was more to come, and worse. ". . . and I reveled in every second of it," the
girl went on. "Death of Eagles, how I hated that slimy, nolligenous pfauld! So when your
dossier; with your request for an interview, hit my desk I became completely unstuck. I
owed you so much. . . . I'd been wondering so much what-or how to . . ." She broke off
and licked a lip with the tip of her tongue, for the man was moving.

He tossed his sling to the floor and, with left arm dangling carefully loose, he stepped up
to her until his chest just touched her breasts. "Yes?" he asked quietly.

She started to nod, then shook her head. "Uh-uh," she said, quite evidently very much
against both will and desire. "I shouldn't've-we mustn't-that ghastly wound; we'd tear it
wide open.тАЭ

"Uh-uh," he disagreed. "It ought to be stuck together strong enough to hold by this time, I
should think. Anyway, so what? Even if we do pull a few stitches Doc can stick 'em back
in." He put his good arm powerfully around her and the dam broke-their two bodies tried
mightily to weld themselves full length into one . . . and, all unconsciously, his left arm

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came up and went to work in sync with his right.

"Um-m-m-nh?" he asked, after a little of that. His mouth was in no position to talk.

Neither was hers. "Umnh-hmnh!" she agreed, enthusiastically, and managed to move her
head enough, without interfering in the least with what they were doing, to indicate what
was evidently the door to a room that was even more inner and more private than her
inner private office. And, awkwardly-blissfully unwilling to give up any iota of contact-still
straining together-the two turned toward the door . . . and Rodnar caught his breath,
flinched uncontrollably, and stopped dead in his tracks, his face turning white.

"Oh?...Oh!... Oh, no!" she cried, in three entirely different tones, pulling away from him