JК
The Lovers :: Фармер Филип Хосе
Страница: 80 из 127Thething screamed and tried to crawl away on all fours. The Terran leaped upon it with both feet and drove it sprawling to the cement. He pressed his heel against its thin neck and shoved with all the strength of his leg. The neck cracked, and the thing lay still. Its lower jaw dropped open and exposed two rows of tiny needle teeth. The mouth's rudimentary arms wigwagged feebly for a while and then drooped.
Hal's chest heaved in agony. He couldn't get enough air. His guts quivered and threatened to force their way through his throat. Then they did, and Hal bent over, retching.
All at once, he was sober. By that time Pornsen had quit screaming. He was lying huddled on his side in the gutter. Hal turned him over and shuddered at what he saw. The eyes were partly burned out, and the lips were gray with large blisters. The tongue, sticking from the mouth, was swollen and lumpy. Evidently, Pornsen had swallowed some of the venom.
Hal straightened up and walked away. A wog patrol would find the gapt's body and turn it over to the Earthmen. Let the hierarchy figure out what had happened. Pornsen was dead, and now that he was, Yarrow admitted to himself what he had never allowed himself to admit before this time. He had hated Pornsen. And he was glad that he was dead. If Pornsen had suffered horribly, so what? His pains were brief, but the pain and grief he had caused Hal had lasted for almost thirty years.
A sound behind him made him whirl around.
'Fobo?'
There was a moan, followed by pain-garbled words.
'Pornsen? You can't be... you're... dead.'
But Pornsen was alive. He was standing up, swaying.
He held his hands out before him to feel his way and took a few weak, exploratory steps.
For a moment, Hal was so panicked he thought of running away. But he forced himself to remain rooted and to think rationally.
If the wogs did find Pornsen, they'd turn him over to the doctors of the Gabriel. And the doctors would give Pornsen new eyes from the meat bank and would inject regeneratives into him. In two weeks, Pornsen's tongue would grow out again. And he'd talk. Forerunner, how he'd talk!
Two weeks? Now! There was nothing to prevent Pornsen from writing.
Pornsen groaned with physical pain; Hal, with mental.
There was only one thing to do.
He went up to Pornsen and seized his hand. The gapt flinched and said something unintelligible.
'It's Hal,' said Yarrow.
Pornsen reached out his free hand and pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket. Hal released the other hand.
Hal's chest heaved in agony. He couldn't get enough air. His guts quivered and threatened to force their way through his throat. Then they did, and Hal bent over, retching.
All at once, he was sober. By that time Pornsen had quit screaming. He was lying huddled on his side in the gutter. Hal turned him over and shuddered at what he saw. The eyes were partly burned out, and the lips were gray with large blisters. The tongue, sticking from the mouth, was swollen and lumpy. Evidently, Pornsen had swallowed some of the venom.
Hal straightened up and walked away. A wog patrol would find the gapt's body and turn it over to the Earthmen. Let the hierarchy figure out what had happened. Pornsen was dead, and now that he was, Yarrow admitted to himself what he had never allowed himself to admit before this time. He had hated Pornsen. And he was glad that he was dead. If Pornsen had suffered horribly, so what? His pains were brief, but the pain and grief he had caused Hal had lasted for almost thirty years.
A sound behind him made him whirl around.
'Fobo?'
There was a moan, followed by pain-garbled words.
'Pornsen? You can't be... you're... dead.'
But Pornsen was alive. He was standing up, swaying.
He held his hands out before him to feel his way and took a few weak, exploratory steps.
For a moment, Hal was so panicked he thought of running away. But he forced himself to remain rooted and to think rationally.
If the wogs did find Pornsen, they'd turn him over to the doctors of the Gabriel. And the doctors would give Pornsen new eyes from the meat bank and would inject regeneratives into him. In two weeks, Pornsen's tongue would grow out again. And he'd talk. Forerunner, how he'd talk!
Two weeks? Now! There was nothing to prevent Pornsen from writing.
Pornsen groaned with physical pain; Hal, with mental.
There was only one thing to do.
He went up to Pornsen and seized his hand. The gapt flinched and said something unintelligible.
'It's Hal,' said Yarrow.
Pornsen reached out his free hand and pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket. Hal released the other hand.