"Robert F. Young - The Star Eel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

 The eel's black tentacle feels its way up Starfinder's right leg, up his abdomen, up his sternum, and
coils itself around his neck.
This is not the first time he has been to Samarra. On his previous visits he has always been able to
elude Death at the last minute by dodging down a dark alley or by blending with the crowd in the market
place. But this time there is no dark alley available and the market place is empty.
The black tentacle coils itself more tightly around his neck. Red-ness gathers along the edges of his
vision, moves inward like a curtain closing at the end of a play. The name of the play is Starfinder and
the Star Eel; the roaring in his ears is the sound of applause. Now the house lights start going out, one
by one. The audience departs till only one playgoer remains тАФ a girl with bobbed banged hair and eyes
the hue of a flower that grows in the idyllic hills south of Swerz. She is sitting white-faced in the front row,
just beyond the dimming footlights.
"Let him go, Pasha. Let him go!"
The prosthetic tentacles relax, fall away. Starfinder sags to his knees. He feels warm fingers
mas-saging his throat, a faint softness against his cheek. Something warm and wet and exceedingly small
drops upon his forehead. He hears a distant voice: "Starfinder, Starfinder, I didn't mean for him to hurt
you. Oh, Starfinder, I'm so glad you're all right!"
They sit down in the pale phosphorescence with their backs against the hacked-out bulkhead. "You
could have warned me," Starfinder whispers. "You had time before I closed the door."
"I thought it was funny, your thinking you could plug Pasha back in. There's a hidden trap door in the
larder; so I knew I could get out. I wanted to teach you a lesson. I never dreamed you'd find the console
so soon."
The anguished double hiero-glyph that appeared in their minds before appears again, this time at a
more acute angleтАФ

Yes, whale тАФ I know.
The look of wonderment has returned to Ciely's face. "What is the star for, Starfinder?"
"It represents his ganglion."
"Oh."
"The place where he dreams his dreams and thinks his thoughts. Whatever they may be. The most
remarkable thing about him, Ceily, isn't his size, or even his ability to dive into the past, as you might
think. It's his intelligence and sensitivity. He's ten times smarter than I am, and sometimes I think he's far
more civilized."
"I caught a glimpse of him just before Pasha attached himself to his back. I тАФ I almost wished Pasha
hadn't. He seemed beautiful, in a way."
"He is beautiful, Ciely."
"Is he beautiful inside?"
"Very beautiful. Would you like to see?"
"... All right."

It is cold in the belly of the whale. They can see their breaths. The phosphorescence emanating from
the bulkheads has paled to a pearly glow.
Hiding his impatience, Star-finder takes the girl on an official tour. It is time-consuming and seemingly
malapropos, but it is the only way he knows to save the whale. He shows her the elegant dining hall, the
immaculate galley, the speckless staterooms. He es-corts her past the empty echoing holds. Together
they look in upon the blooming hydroponic gardens, gaze through the cobalt lens of the duodenal
window, which Starfinder himself installed, into the fiery maw where ordinary matter is trans-formed into
2-omicron-vii. They linger for a while in the well-appointed lounge while Ceily drinks a can of cherry
soda. They look in upon the storeroom where enough provisions are piled to last either of them half a
lifetime. They descend to the lowest deck and inspect the whale's drive tissue. They visit the gray
generator com-partment, the recycling station and the atmosphere-control room. Fin-ally they ascend the