"Tuning, William - Terro-Human - Fuzzy 04 - Fuzzy Bones 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tuning William)

The agreement with Governor Rainsford's Colonial Government that allowed the Company to mine on that rich sunstone deposit inside the Fuzzy Reservation was going to work out all right, too-no matter if it did cost a hefty royalty for the privilege. The continued input of sunstones owned by the Company would keep the Company in a tough position which virtually amounted to control of sunstone prices. That had been an early horror that haunted Grego right after the Fuzzy Trial; one hundred million sols in the sunstone vault combined with the prospect of a free market in sunstones could have badly eroded the Company's worth if a gang of prospectors had gotten together and formed a co-operative to sell directly to someone like the Couperin Cartel-who had the money to drive down the buying price and drive up the selling price by controlling inventories.

The private communication screen chimed softly from inside the apartment. Grego's eyes snapped open and he got to his feet to answer it, casting a glance toward where three Fuzzies were laying out an intricate pattern of colored tiles and plastic rods.

As he suspected, the caller was Colonial Governor Ben Rainsford. Ben had left off his own two Fuzzies, Flora and Fauna, to spend the afternoon with Grego's Diamond. Diamond was very happy with Pappy Vic, but he did get lonesome for the company of other Fuzzies. Have to do something about that one of these days.

"Of course, Governor," Grego was saying to the image in the screen-a rumpled little man with bristling red whiskers who still wore bush clothes, even though he was the chief executive of a planetary government. "1730 will be quite convenient. Perhaps you 'd care to join me in a cocktail if you can spare the time."

"I'd be delighted," Ben Rainsford said. "In fact there's something I think we should chat about, and this will be a good opportunity to talk."

Grego bid Rainsford good-day and switched off the screen. He chuckled to himself as he returned to the terrace. How times change, he thought. When Fuzzy business started, Rainsford wanted nothing so much as to nail my skin to the fence and use it for target practice.

He stopped on the terrace, stretched and yawned, then looked down the wide valley below Mallorysport. Clouds were rolling up from the horizon. It looked like rain.

Just as the first large drops of rain splatted down onto the terrace, the doorway chimed and Grego admitted Ben Rainsford. The two men exchanged greetings and some small talk. Then Grego turned toward the terrace and motioned for Rainsford to follow him. "Before the rain really gets going, I want you to take a look at what the kids have been doing," he said.

As they stepped out into the afternoon light, which was now dimmed by the overcast, a fork of lightning split the sky, followed by the roll of thunder marching up the valley.

The Fuzzies looked up at the sky, decided it was really going to rain, and trotted toward the open terrace doors.

"Come on, Pappy Vic. Do-bizzo," Diamond said, "Bizzo; fazzu. Get fur all wet."

"Hokay, Diamond," Grego said. "So jash-ah; jos Flora and Fauna. I'll just show Unka Ben this pretty thing."

Rainsford stooped to get a better look at the design, which the three Fuzzies had created, paying no attention to the big raindrops which were making dark spots on his khaki jacket.

"Well?" he said to Grego. He spread his hands, then put them back on his knees. "What's unusual about it?"

"Nothing," Grego said, "except that I've noticed the spiral design seems to be a favorite of Fuzzies, but I can't imagine where they've seen it before. You're the expert xeno-naturalist. What's the answer?"

"The first answer," Rainsford said as he shuddered under the increasing rain, "is to get in out of the wet. Let's have that drink."

Both men moved briskly across the terrace, into the living room, and Grego closed the doors just as another clap of thunder boomed.

The Fuzzies had already drifted into the Fuzzy-room, just off the kitchen, and were watching a screenplay. They knew quite well that this was the time of day when the Big Ones drank tosh-td-waji-bad-tasting water-and made Big One talk.

"Thank you, Victor," Colonial Governor Rainsford said, accepting a glass, then settled back on the couch.

Grego dropped into his favorite chair. "Well, Bennett," he began, "where do they get that spiral design?"

"Why, from nature, I suppose," Rainsford said. "All manner of spiral-shaped things in nature-flower stamens, snail shells, rams' horns, seed pods-that sort of thing."

"Not on Zarathustra," Grego said.

Rainsford looked at him with a quick movement of his head. "What?"

"The Mother Nature who drew the plans for Zarathustra," Grego replied, "favored the concentric circle design over the spiral design. Featherleaf tree, pool-ball fruit, tandavine beans-all manner of plants grow in layered round shapes."

Rainsford stared at him, as if to say, who's the scientist here, you or me?