"Foster, Alan Dean - Alien Nation" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

saying much. Still, the similarities between Newcomer and human being were
extraordinary, the differences slight. Slight, but disturbing. A Newcomer
never looked quite right.
 a

Fedorchuk wasn't through. He was enjoying himself. "You got your green
card, buddy? You didn't leave home without it? I wouldn't want to have
to take you in."
There were other cops at the bar. Some knew Fedorchuk, others did not.
Most found their colleague's clever sally amusing. Henry simply stared
expectantly back at Fedorchuk. There was no malice in his eyes, no pain
in his expression. He blinked once. Then he turned to carry the heavy
trays of dirty glasses back into the kitchen.
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The car was as ugly as the section of town it was patrolling. Low and
squat, multiple layers of paint having long since merged into an Ur-green,
it trundled along the streets of the alien part of Los Angeles
unappreciated and little remarked upon. Sykes and Tuggle wouldn't have
traded it for the newest, hottest freeway cruiser in the department. The
slugmobile had character if not class. Since its occupants had no class
either, they found it quite satisfactory.
Its guts were a dirty m6lange of parts ancient and new. Only one mechanic
at the station garage dared go near it. The others were either disdainful
of the arcane collection of machinery, or afraid of it. Or afraid of what
detectives Sykes and Tuggle might do to them if they screwed up the
precious pile of ambulatory junk. The two bore an unreasonable affection
for their vehicle, even for men working in L.A., where divorce actions
were known to sometimes center on custody not of children, but of the
family road machines.
The slugmobile hardly ever broke down. Its profile was dangerous, but the
old steel sides would turn bullets that would rip fight through the
flanks of the new carbonfiber composite auto frames. It took good care
of the two men who used it to cruise the dark back streets of the
metropolis, and they in their turn looked after it.
The alien section of Los Angeles wasn't all that different 9
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from the rest of the great urban sprawl. A little dirtier than most areas,
grimmer than many, with only the occasional unexpected touch to remind a
visitor that it was populated largely by refugees from another world.
Sometimes you had to know just where to look in order to be able to tell
where you were. Sykes and Tuggle had been on the street a long time and knew
where to look.
Newcomers filled the oversized chairs of a grungy allnight diner. The chair
backs and seats had been locally modified to accept their expansive frames.
Another Newcomer emerged from a double doorway off on their right as the
slugmobile slid down the street. Tuggle noted the inscription on the window
next to the doors. The old laundromat had been converted into a night
school for aliens.