"Frank Herbert - Whipping Star" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

She had already vacated the float-home, and McKie could sense the living
entity's resentment. He had shattered the idyll which the float-home had been
conditioned to create. The float-home would return to its former affability
once he was gone. They were gentle creatures, susceptible to sentient
irritation.

McKie packed, leaving his toolkit aside. He examined it: a selection of
stims, plastipicks, explosives in various denominations, raygens,
multigoggles, pentrates, a wad of uniflesh, solvos, miniputer, Taprisiot life
monitor, holoscan blanks, rupters, comparators . . . all in order. The
toolkit was a fitted wallet which he concealed in an inner pocket of his
nondescript jacket.

He packed a few changes of clothing in a single bag, consigned the rest of his
possessions to BuSab storage, left them for pickup in a sealpack which he
stored on a couple of chairdogs. They appeared to share the float-home's
resentment. They remained immobile even when he patted them affectionately.

Ah, well. . . .

He still felt guilty.

McKie sighed, took out his S'eye key. This jump was going to cost the Bureau
megacredits. Cordiality lay halfway across their universe.

Jumpdoors still seemed to be working, but it disturbed McKie that he must make
this journey by a means which was dependent upon a Caleban. Eerie situation.
S'eye jumpdoors had become so common that most sentients accepted them without
question. McKie had shared this common acceptance before the max-alert. Now
he wondered at himself. Casual acceptance demonstrated how easily rational
thought could be directed by wishful thinking. This was a common
susceptibility of all sentients. The Caleban jumpdoor had been fully accepted
by the Confederated Sentients for some ninety standard years. But in that
time, only eighty-three Calebans were known to have identified themselves.

McKie flipped the key in his hand, caught it deftly.

Why had the Calebans refused to part with their gift unless everyone agreed to
call it a "S'eye"? What was so important about a name?

I should be on my way, McKie told himself. Still he delayed.

Eighty-three Calebans.

The max-alert had been explicit in its demand for secrecy and its outline of
the problem: Calebans had been disappearing one by one. Disappearing -- if
that was what the Caleban manifestation could be called. And each
disappearance had been accompanied by a massive wave of sentient deaths and
insanity.