"Bud Sparhawk - Alba Krystal" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sparhawk Bud)

decompress. The others are different from me: they've still got their throats and mouths through which
they can blow out great gusts of air. Me, I'm stuck with a set of book gills around the throat that are a
great asset as depth but terrible for degassing. I can't even cuss with the rest, my larynx having been
sacrificed to make room for the gills. Nonetheless I manage to sign my feelings pretty well to everyone
within finger sight.

By the time we were down to one-and-a-fraction atmospheres we'd even reconciled ourselves to
accepting what the greenies had done. Shoot, it must have cost them a bundle in reaction mass just to
divert and bring her to the station. I felt sorry for the next humans that had to deal with that crew. "Full
accounting due: balance for delivery of human child to Federation station A-116, lost purchases Cr.20
per hour, fuel expenditures of, _etc . . . etc . . . etc_."

In their cockeyed way they'd be right; every human was responsible for his own kind. I'd be the last to
say that their ledger-book morality was any worse than ours. At least they didn't war among their own
kind.

Jorge was the first one through the lock and into the sleeping chamber where Alice had put the kid. The
rest of us were just a little behind, me being the last, still sick with the cramps and aches of various sorts.
I pushed my way through the strangely silent group surrounding the bunks to get a glimpse of the child the
greenies had left.

You can't blame Alice for calling her a child. After all, the only humans she's seen since she was activated
have been the normal station keepers such as Jack and us modified deep miners. I guess that's why she
took the word of the lizards that this was a child. Since the lizards live about ten centuries each they're a
little biased about things like age.

"Wow," James whistled. "What a set of legs!" A murmur of agreement swept the crew as their eyes
gazed on the slumbering figure.

She was a woman the like of which we'd not seen since our modified service had begun. A normal girl
from the delicately tapering toes up the smooth flesh to the crowning glory of her hair -- with all of the
pleasant diversions along the way that mean the difference between average and normal. After all, even a
real beast would have looked good to our horny crowd, but this beauty . . .

"She looks familiar somehow," Jim said and rubbed his chin. "I think I've seen her somewhere before."

The shuffling of our bodies and whispered admirations must have disturbed the girl for her eyes began to
flutter and then flew open as she gazed dead level into our eyes. She gave a little stifled cry and jumped
up from the bunks, a wild look in her eyes.

If we thought she was lovely laying down our opinions changed when she stood and we could see the
muscle tone of her magnificent body. No sagging flesh or loose folds on her. Aside from a delightful little
jiggle here and there she was as tight as a drum. Premodified memories came flooding back about girls
looking that way. I let out a long sigh for what was past and the gills converted it to a flubbering gurgle.
Oh, to be six feet tall again, I wished.

"Who . . . who are you?" she asked with a trembling voice as her eyes darted from face to face.

Doc reached out and patted her on the behind, which was about even with his chest, in a reassuring way.
"Be calm," he said in a deep voice, as if he were ready to put the make on her. "You're among friends."