"Alan Dean Foster - Humanx 2 - Cachalot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

pecially handsome, or rich, or a sexual magician. What
he had been, she thought, startled at the sudden knot
that had formed in her chest, was enthusiastic. About
everything. And comfortable. He had been oh so
comfortable. Like her battered old Nymph under-
water camera, the fraying Elatridez Encyclopedia of
Commonwealth Marine Life, the voodoo necklace her
great-grandmother had given her on her second birth-
day—which she still wore, incongruously, around her

neck—Silvio had been comfortable.

She missed having him around, just as she would
have missed the encyclopedia or the necklace. Lots of
other women probably missed him also. She had kept
an open mind, though. Each time. Until after Rachael
was bom. The funny thing was, Silvio never truly un-
derstood the reason behind her fury. He liked everyone
and everything—too much. But then he had died. The

CACHALOT 9

hurt had died with him. Now she was only occasionally
plagued by a hurt of a different kind.

As it kissed the outer fringe of atmosphere, the shut-
tle lurched slightly. Below was the culmination of a
dream, of twenty years' hard work. She had performed
well for the various companies that had employed
her, even better when the government services called
on her expertise. Twenty years of choosing exploitable
salt domes. A year on the anthology of poisonous
Riviera system marine life. Four years of arduous
work among the seallike natives of Largesse, then back
to still more dull, boring government research. Always
she had kept up with the latest techniques, the latest
developments and discoveries. Always wishing for
something that could carry her to the mecca of all ma-
rine biologists: Cachalot.

Now that goal had been realized. The ocean world
lay close beneath her, shining with nacreous beauty,
awaiting her with promises of wonder and a mystery
yet to be solved. If anything could ignite the genius
that Cora knew lay hidden inside her daughter's head,

it would be Cachalot.
Though she continued to press against the port and
search hard with those huge and sensitive eyes, she
could not locate any of the widely scattered islands