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The Lovers :: Фармер Филип Хосе
Страница: 82 из 127When the crustacea, arachnida, and insecta had formed exoskeletons and many legs, Grandfather Wog the Nth had not gone along with them. He had refused to harden his delicate cuticle skin into chitin. Instead, he had erected a skeleton inside the flesh. But his central nervous system was still ventral, and the feat of shifting spinal nerves and spine from front to back was beyond him. So, he had formed the spine where it had to be. And the rest of his skeleton had to go along. The inner parts of a wog were unmistakably different from a mammal's. But if the form was different, the function was similar.
Hal would have liked to investigate further, but he had work to do.
Work which he hated.
Pornsen wrote something in the notebook and handed it to Hal.
Son, I am in terrible pain. Please don't hesitate about taking me to the ship. I will not betray you. Have I ever broken a promise to you? I love you.
Hal thought, The only promise you ever made to me was to whip me.
He looked at the shadows between the trees. The pale bodies of the ants were like a forest of mushrooms. Waiting until he left.
Pornsen mumbled something and sat down on the grass. His head drooped.
'Why do I have to do this?' murmured Hal.
He thought, I don't have to. Jeannette and I could throw ourselves on the mercy of the wogs. Fobo would be the one to go to. The wogs could hide us. But would they do it? If I could be sure, But I can't. They might surrender us to the Uzzites.
'No use putting it off,' he murmured.
He groaned, and he said, 'Why must I do this? Why couldn't he have died back there?
He drew a long knife from a sheath in his boot.
At that moment, Pornsen raised his head and looked upward with scarred eyes. His hand groped for Hal. A ghastly caricature of a smile formed on his burned lips.
Hal raised his knife until its point was about six inches from Pornsen's throat.
'Jeannette, I am doing this for you!' Hal said loudly.
But the knifepoint did not move, and, after a few seconds, it dropped.
'I can't do it,' Hal said. 'Can't.'
Yet, he must do something, something which would either keep Pornsen from informing on him or would remove him and Jeannette from the scene of danger.
Moreover, he had to see that Pornsen was given medical care. The suffering of the man was making him sick, making him writhe with empathy. If he could have killed Pornsen, he would have put an end to that suffering. But he could not do it.
Hal would have liked to investigate further, but he had work to do.
Work which he hated.
Pornsen wrote something in the notebook and handed it to Hal.
Son, I am in terrible pain. Please don't hesitate about taking me to the ship. I will not betray you. Have I ever broken a promise to you? I love you.
Hal thought, The only promise you ever made to me was to whip me.
He looked at the shadows between the trees. The pale bodies of the ants were like a forest of mushrooms. Waiting until he left.
Pornsen mumbled something and sat down on the grass. His head drooped.
'Why do I have to do this?' murmured Hal.
He thought, I don't have to. Jeannette and I could throw ourselves on the mercy of the wogs. Fobo would be the one to go to. The wogs could hide us. But would they do it? If I could be sure, But I can't. They might surrender us to the Uzzites.
'No use putting it off,' he murmured.
He groaned, and he said, 'Why must I do this? Why couldn't he have died back there?
He drew a long knife from a sheath in his boot.
At that moment, Pornsen raised his head and looked upward with scarred eyes. His hand groped for Hal. A ghastly caricature of a smile formed on his burned lips.
Hal raised his knife until its point was about six inches from Pornsen's throat.
'Jeannette, I am doing this for you!' Hal said loudly.
But the knifepoint did not move, and, after a few seconds, it dropped.
'I can't do it,' Hal said. 'Can't.'
Yet, he must do something, something which would either keep Pornsen from informing on him or would remove him and Jeannette from the scene of danger.
Moreover, he had to see that Pornsen was given medical care. The suffering of the man was making him sick, making him writhe with empathy. If he could have killed Pornsen, he would have put an end to that suffering. But he could not do it.