JК
The Stars My Destination ( Tiger! Tiger! ) :: Bester Alfred
Страница: 130 из 164»
«Captain?»
«I don't like what's inside her. It's all sick and dark. It hurts. I want to go home.»
«Ask her. Was she captain of the 'Vorga'?»
«Yes. Please, please, please don't make me go inside her any more. It's twisty and hurts. I don't like her.»
«Tell her I'm the man she wouldn't pick up on September i6, 2436. Tell her it's taken a long time but I've finally come to settle the account. Tell her I'm going to pay her back.»
«I d-don't understand. Don't understand.»
«Tell her I'm going to kill her, slow and hard. Tell her I've got a stateroom aboard my yawl, fitted up just like my locker aboard 'Nomad' where I rotted for six months . . . where she ordered 'Vorga' to leave me to die. Tell her she's going to rot and die just like me. Tell her!» Foyle shook the wizened child furiously. «Make her feel it. Don't let her get away by turning Skoptsy. Tell her I kill her filthy. Read me and tell her!»
«She . . . Sir-She didn't give that order.»
«What!»
«I c-can't understand her.»
«She didn't give the order to scuttle me?»
«I'm afraid to go in.»
«Go in, you little son of a bitch, or I'll take you apart. What does she mean?»
The child wailed; the woman writhed; Foyle fumed. «Go in! Go in! Get it out of her. Jesus Christ, why does the only telepath on Mars have to be a child? Sigurd! Sigurd, listen to me. Ask her: Did she give the order to scuttle the reffs?»
«No. No!»
«No she didn't or no you won't?»
«She didn't.»
«Did she give the order to pass 'Nomad' by?»
«She's twisty and sicky. Oh please! NAN-N-I-E! I want to go home. Want to go.»
«Did she give the order to pass 'Nomad' by?»
''No.»
«She didn't?»
«No. Take me home.»
«Ask her who did.»
«I want my Nannie.»
«Ask her who could give her an order. She was captain aboard her own ship. Who could command her? Ask her!»
«I want my Nannie.»
«Ask her!»
«No. No. No. I'm afraid. She's sick. She's dark and black. She's bad. I don't understand her. I want my Nannie. I want to go home.»
The child was shrieking and shaking; Foyle was shouting. The echoes thundered. As Foyle reached for the child in a rage, his eyes were blinded by brilliant light. The entire catacomb was illuminated by the Burning Man. Foyle's image stood before him, face hideous, clothes on fire, the blazing eyes fixed on the convulsing Skoptsy that had been Lindsey Joyce.
«Captain?»
«I don't like what's inside her. It's all sick and dark. It hurts. I want to go home.»
«Ask her. Was she captain of the 'Vorga'?»
«Yes. Please, please, please don't make me go inside her any more. It's twisty and hurts. I don't like her.»
«Tell her I'm the man she wouldn't pick up on September i6, 2436. Tell her it's taken a long time but I've finally come to settle the account. Tell her I'm going to pay her back.»
«I d-don't understand. Don't understand.»
«Tell her I'm going to kill her, slow and hard. Tell her I've got a stateroom aboard my yawl, fitted up just like my locker aboard 'Nomad' where I rotted for six months . . . where she ordered 'Vorga' to leave me to die. Tell her she's going to rot and die just like me. Tell her!» Foyle shook the wizened child furiously. «Make her feel it. Don't let her get away by turning Skoptsy. Tell her I kill her filthy. Read me and tell her!»
«She . . . Sir-She didn't give that order.»
«What!»
«I c-can't understand her.»
«She didn't give the order to scuttle me?»
«I'm afraid to go in.»
«Go in, you little son of a bitch, or I'll take you apart. What does she mean?»
The child wailed; the woman writhed; Foyle fumed. «Go in! Go in! Get it out of her. Jesus Christ, why does the only telepath on Mars have to be a child? Sigurd! Sigurd, listen to me. Ask her: Did she give the order to scuttle the reffs?»
«No. No!»
«No she didn't or no you won't?»
«She didn't.»
«Did she give the order to pass 'Nomad' by?»
«She's twisty and sicky. Oh please! NAN-N-I-E! I want to go home. Want to go.»
«Did she give the order to pass 'Nomad' by?»
''No.»
«She didn't?»
«No. Take me home.»
«Ask her who did.»
«I want my Nannie.»
«Ask her who could give her an order. She was captain aboard her own ship. Who could command her? Ask her!»
«I want my Nannie.»
«Ask her!»
«No. No. No. I'm afraid. She's sick. She's dark and black. She's bad. I don't understand her. I want my Nannie. I want to go home.»
The child was shrieking and shaking; Foyle was shouting. The echoes thundered. As Foyle reached for the child in a rage, his eyes were blinded by brilliant light. The entire catacomb was illuminated by the Burning Man. Foyle's image stood before him, face hideous, clothes on fire, the blazing eyes fixed on the convulsing Skoptsy that had been Lindsey Joyce.