"Alan Dean Foster - Humanx 2 - Cachalot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)like a silver leaf toward the atmospheric sea immedi-
ately below. Though it displayed the motions normally indicative of life, the shadow was but a dead thing that served to convoy the living, a shuttlecraft falling from the KK drive transport that dwarfed it like a worker termite leaving its queen. The argent arrowhead shape turned slightly. Its rear exuded puffs of white, and the craft began to drop more rapidly, more confidently, toward the world be- low, a world of all adamantine blue-white, a great azurite globe laced with a delicate matrix of cloud. A full complement of twelve passengers stared out the shuttle's ports as the vessel curved into its approach pattern. Some stared at the nearing surface expectantly, thoughts of incipient fortune percolating through their minds. Others were more relaxed. These were the re- 6 CACHALOT turning inhabitants, sick of space and land, anxious growing sphere with neither anticipation nor greed. They were full of the tales of the strange life and beauty that slid tantalizingly through the planetary ocean. Only one stared fixedly at the surface with the gaze of a first-time lover, youthful exhilaration mixing with the calm detachment of the mature scientist. Cora Xamantina kept her nose pressed against the port. An air release below prevented her breath from fogging it. Intense reflected light from Cachalot's star made her obsidian skin appear polished behind the glassalloy. It shone on the high cheekbones that hinted at Amerind heritage, on the delicate features almost eclipsed by those protruding structures. Only the vast black eyes, coins of the night, stood out in that heart-shaped face. They darted excitedly from one section of the globe to another. Her hair, tied in a single thick braid that ran to her waist, swung like a pendulum with her move- ments. Physically Cora Xamantina was in her midforties. Mentally she was somewhat older. Emotionally she |
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