JК
World Of Ptavvs :: Нивен Ларри
Страница: 112 из 127"
Larry raised his cigarette and tapped it with a forefinger. The ash fell slower than mist past his gaze and disappeared from sight. "There's something I should tell you," he said.
"Condense it. My time is short; I have to find something."
"I don't think you should own the Earth any more. I'll stop you if I can."
Kzanol's eating tendrils were doing something strange. Larry couldn't see what it was. "You think like a slave. Not a ptavv, a slave. You have no conceivable reason to warn me."
"That's my problem."
"Quite. DON'T MOVE UNTIL I RETURN." The command carried overtones of disgust. A dark blur that was Kzanol moved and vanished.
Alone in the pilot room, Larry listened to the clanking, squeaking, and mental cursing that meant Kzanol was searching for something. He heard when the thrint sharply ordered the pilot to return to life and show him AT ONCE where he'd hidden the contaminated portable radar… The command, a mere explosion of frustration, stopped suddenly. So did the sounds of search.
Presently Larry heard the airlock chugging to itself.
The clerk was a middleman. It was his job to set priorities on messages sent into and received from deep space. At three in the morning he answered the ring of the outside phone.
"Hello, Arms Maser Transceiving Station," he said a little sleepily. It had been a dull night.
It was no longer dull. The small brunette who looked out of his screen was startlingly beautiful, especially to the man who saw her unexpectedly in the dead hours.
"Hello. I have a message for Lucas Garner. He's on the way to Neptune, I think."
"Lucas Garner? What I mean, what's the message?"
"Tell him that my husband is back to normal, and he should take it into consideration. It's very important."
"And who is your husband?"
"Larry Greenberg. That's G-r-e"
"Yes, I know. But he's beyond Neptune by now. Wouldn't Garner already know anything you know about Greenberg?"
"Not unless he's telepathic."
It was a tricky decision for a clerk. Maser messages cost like uranium, less because of the power needed and the wear and tear on the delicate machines than because of the difficulty of finding the.target. But only Garner could decide whether an undependable «hunch» was important to him. The clerk risked his job and sent the message.
The fire had slowed now. Most of the unburned hydrogen had been blown before the fire, until it was congested into a cloud mass opposite on Pluto from the resting place of the Golden Circle .
Larry raised his cigarette and tapped it with a forefinger. The ash fell slower than mist past his gaze and disappeared from sight. "There's something I should tell you," he said.
"Condense it. My time is short; I have to find something."
"I don't think you should own the Earth any more. I'll stop you if I can."
Kzanol's eating tendrils were doing something strange. Larry couldn't see what it was. "You think like a slave. Not a ptavv, a slave. You have no conceivable reason to warn me."
"That's my problem."
"Quite. DON'T MOVE UNTIL I RETURN." The command carried overtones of disgust. A dark blur that was Kzanol moved and vanished.
Alone in the pilot room, Larry listened to the clanking, squeaking, and mental cursing that meant Kzanol was searching for something. He heard when the thrint sharply ordered the pilot to return to life and show him AT ONCE where he'd hidden the contaminated portable radar… The command, a mere explosion of frustration, stopped suddenly. So did the sounds of search.
Presently Larry heard the airlock chugging to itself.
The clerk was a middleman. It was his job to set priorities on messages sent into and received from deep space. At three in the morning he answered the ring of the outside phone.
"Hello, Arms Maser Transceiving Station," he said a little sleepily. It had been a dull night.
It was no longer dull. The small brunette who looked out of his screen was startlingly beautiful, especially to the man who saw her unexpectedly in the dead hours.
"Hello. I have a message for Lucas Garner. He's on the way to Neptune, I think."
"Lucas Garner? What I mean, what's the message?"
"Tell him that my husband is back to normal, and he should take it into consideration. It's very important."
"And who is your husband?"
"Larry Greenberg. That's G-r-e"
"Yes, I know. But he's beyond Neptune by now. Wouldn't Garner already know anything you know about Greenberg?"
"Not unless he's telepathic."
It was a tricky decision for a clerk. Maser messages cost like uranium, less because of the power needed and the wear and tear on the delicate machines than because of the difficulty of finding the.target. But only Garner could decide whether an undependable «hunch» was important to him. The clerk risked his job and sent the message.
The fire had slowed now. Most of the unburned hydrogen had been blown before the fire, until it was congested into a cloud mass opposite on Pluto from the resting place of the Golden Circle .