"A. E. Van Vogt - The Silkie" - читать интересную книгу автора (Van Vogt A E)

beauty of utility.

The building to which Cemp was taken was a soaring dome with minarets. He was guided to a lock,
where only two of the breathers, Mensa and a male named Grig, stayed with him.

The water level began to drop, and air hissed in. Cemp transformed quickly into his human shape and
stepped out of the airlock into the corridor of a modern air-conditioned building. All three were in the
nude.

The man said to the woman, 'Take him to your apartment. Give him the clothes. As soon as I call, bring
him to Apartment One upstairs.'

Grig was walking off, when Cemp stopped him. 'Where did you get that information?' he demanded.

The V hesitated, visibly frightened at being challenged by a Silkie. The expression on his face changed,
and he seemed to be listening.

Instantly, Cemp activated the waking centers of a portion of his sensory equipment that he had let sleep
and waited for a response on one or more 'channels.' Much as a man who smells a strong odor of
sulphur wrinkles his nose or as someone who touches a red-hot object jerks involuntarily away, he
expected a sensation from one of the numerous senses that were now ready. He got nothing.
It was true that in his human state, he was not so sensitive as when he was in the Silkie state. But such a
totally negative result was outside his experience.

Grig said, 'He says... as soon as you're dressed... come.'

'Who says?'

Grig was surprised. 'The boy,' he replied. His manner indicated: Who else?

As he dried himself and put on the clothes Mensa handed him, Cemp found himself wondering why she
believed herself insane. He asked cautiously, 'Why do V's have a poor opinion of themselves?'

'Because there's something better тАФ Silkies.' Her tone was angry, but there were tears of frustration in
her eyes. She went on wearily, 'I can't explain it, but I've felt shattered ever since I was a child. Right
now I have an irrational hope that you will want to take me over and possess me. I want to be your
slave.'
 Though her jet-black hair was still matted and wet, it was obvious that she had told the truth about her
appearance. Her skin was creamy white, her body slim, with graceful curves. As a breather, she was
beautiful.

Cemp had no alternative. Within the next hour, he might need what help she could give. He said quietly,
'I accept you as my slave.'

Her response was violent In a single convulsion of movement, she ran over to him, writhing out of her
upper garments until they draped low on her hips. 'Take me!' she said urgently. 'Take me as a woman!'

Cemp, who was married to a young woman of the Special People, released himself. 'Slaves don't
demand,' he said in a firm tone. 'Slaves are used at the will of their masters. And my first demand as your
master is, open your mind to me.'