JК
The Stars My Destination ( Tiger! Tiger! ) :: Bester Alfred
Страница: 71 из 164The door opened into a toollocker, four by four by nine. There were shelves in the locker and a jumble of old provisions and discarded containers. It was Foyle's coffin aboard the «Nomad.»
Joseph and his people had succeeded in sealing the wreck into their asteroid before the holocaust of Foyle's escape had rendered further work impossible. The interior of the ship was virtually untouched. Foyle took Jisbella's arm and dragged her on a quick tour of the ship and finally to the purser's locker where Foyle tore at the windrows of wreckage and debris until he disclosed a massive steel face, blank and impenetrable.
«We've got a choice,» he panted. «Either we tear the safe out of the hull and carry it back to Terra where we can work on it, or we open it here. I vote for here. Maybe Dagenham was lying. All depends on what tools Sam has in the Weekender anyway. Come back to the ship, Jiz.»
He never noticed her silence and preoccupation until they were back aboard the Weekender and he had finished his urgent search for tools.
«Nothing!» he exclaimed impatiently. «There isn't a hammer or a drill aboard. Nothing but gadgets for opening bottles and rations.»
Jisbella didn't answer. She never took her eyes off his face.
«Why are you staring at me like that?» Foyle demanded.
«I'm fascinated,» Jisbella answered slowly.
«By what?»
«I'm going to show you something, Gully.»
«What?»
«How much I despise you.»
Jisbella slapped him thrice. Stung by the blows, Foyle started up furiously. Jisbella picked up a hand mirror and held it before him.
«Look at yourself, Gully,» she said quietly. «Look at your face.»
He looked. He saw the old tattoo marks flaming blood-red under the skin, turning his face into a scarlet and white tiger mask. He was so chilled by the appalling spectacle that his rage died at once, and simultaneously the mask disappeared.
«My God . . .» he whispered. «Oh my God . . .»
«I had to make you lose your temper to show you,» Jisbella said.
«What's it mean, Jiz? Did Baker goof the job?»
«I don't think so. I think you've got scars under the skin, Gully. . . from the original tattooing and then from the bleaching. Needle scars. They don't show normally, but they do show, blood red, when your emotions take over and your heart begins pumping blood. . . when you're furious or frightened or passionate or possessed . . . Do you understand?»
He shook his head, still staring at his face, touching it in bewilderment.
Joseph and his people had succeeded in sealing the wreck into their asteroid before the holocaust of Foyle's escape had rendered further work impossible. The interior of the ship was virtually untouched. Foyle took Jisbella's arm and dragged her on a quick tour of the ship and finally to the purser's locker where Foyle tore at the windrows of wreckage and debris until he disclosed a massive steel face, blank and impenetrable.
«We've got a choice,» he panted. «Either we tear the safe out of the hull and carry it back to Terra where we can work on it, or we open it here. I vote for here. Maybe Dagenham was lying. All depends on what tools Sam has in the Weekender anyway. Come back to the ship, Jiz.»
He never noticed her silence and preoccupation until they were back aboard the Weekender and he had finished his urgent search for tools.
«Nothing!» he exclaimed impatiently. «There isn't a hammer or a drill aboard. Nothing but gadgets for opening bottles and rations.»
Jisbella didn't answer. She never took her eyes off his face.
«Why are you staring at me like that?» Foyle demanded.
«I'm fascinated,» Jisbella answered slowly.
«By what?»
«I'm going to show you something, Gully.»
«What?»
«How much I despise you.»
Jisbella slapped him thrice. Stung by the blows, Foyle started up furiously. Jisbella picked up a hand mirror and held it before him.
«Look at yourself, Gully,» she said quietly. «Look at your face.»
He looked. He saw the old tattoo marks flaming blood-red under the skin, turning his face into a scarlet and white tiger mask. He was so chilled by the appalling spectacle that his rage died at once, and simultaneously the mask disappeared.
«My God . . .» he whispered. «Oh my God . . .»
«I had to make you lose your temper to show you,» Jisbella said.
«What's it mean, Jiz? Did Baker goof the job?»
«I don't think so. I think you've got scars under the skin, Gully. . . from the original tattooing and then from the bleaching. Needle scars. They don't show normally, but they do show, blood red, when your emotions take over and your heart begins pumping blood. . . when you're furious or frightened or passionate or possessed . . . Do you understand?»
He shook his head, still staring at his face, touching it in bewilderment.