"Lee Killough - Symphony for a Lost Traveler" - читать интересную книгу автора (Killough Lee)

hated it. She tried to look an apology at the orchestra.
Just then the applause began... a single pair of hands, joined by another, then another, the sound
swelling until the thunder of it shook the dome. Ashendene grinned and urged her onto her feet. And one
by one the guests stood, too. The most powerful men and women in the solar system rose to their feet,
their hands still pounding together in approval.
 Cimela remembered bowing to the guests and orchestra, remembered the orchestra bowing; then
everything blurred into a crowd of people surrounding her with congratulations. She floated on a cloud of
euphoria that did not dissipate even when the ballroom emptied and she stood alone with Ashendene and
a few servants.
She hugged him in sheer joy, throwing herself into his lap. "Kerel, thank you for giving me the chance
to write this symphony."
"I thank you for creating it. Every one of them has asked to invest in the starship corporation." Then
his arms tightened around her.
Somehow, without much surprise, she found herself in his private dome, in his bed; and the lovemaking
made a celebration indeed, sweet and deeply satisfying as moonwine and her music together. Ashendene
might be crippled, but not disabled, she discovered.
Some long time later she woke beneath the glorious blaze of stars and sat up in the bed, dreamily
watching them. What happened next? Her contract with Ashendene gave her all rights to Lost Traveler,
so she supposed she should take it back to Earth. After news of the alien ship spread, interest ought to
run high.
She sat up more, smiling at the room, a place as surreal as the paintings: bookcases and the
overburdened desk beneath stars and the lunar ringwall. She would miss the room, and probably
Ashendene.
Cimela slid out of bed to pad naked along the bookcases, touching the antique objects and peering at
their titles: fairy tales, science fiction, astrophysics, planetology, psychology. One book lay on the desk:
another collection of fairy tales with a square of stiff paper marking The Pied Piper of Hamlyn. Amused,
she started to read the story, then noticed that the other side of the marker held a holophoto. But what
of? She tilted it to the light of the floor, frowning. The thing looked like a misshapen porpoise... more like
a giant slug, except that gray-green feathery-looking scales covered it and one end sprouted three
tentacle limbs, two tipped in triple talons, the third ending in a cluster of smaller tentacles, and all situated
around a great fang-filled maw. Eyes scattered back along the great body, faceted opals peering through
the fronds.
Faceted opals? The hair raised on Cimela's back.
The book of fairy tales dropped forgotten to the desk as she pawed through the rest of the papers
piled there. What she wanted lay under where the book had lain: more holos and a lengthy report Cimela
studied every holo and read the report, anger boiling up in her. That lying bastard!
"What are you doing, Cimela?"
She slapped the report down on the desk and whirled. "You lying son of a bitch! Golden-feathered
aliens? The only similarity between the fraud and these holos is the eyes!"
He sat up. "Yes."
Her hands clenched to keep from spreading into claws. "You let me make Lost Traveler a fraud!"
Ashendene frowned. "Only the visuals are... inaccurate."
"Only!" He destroyed her artistic integrity and said only? "You-- " No pejorative seemed vile enough
to describe him. "Why did you do it!"
The moondust eyes regarded her solemnly. "Because I want man to go to the stars, and they won't if
they think that the stars are inhabited by fanged slugs."
Angrily Cimela paced, flinging her head. "That's ridiculous. You lied about the age of the ship, too.
That report says it's three million years old-- and the aliens were chlorine breathers. They could be
extinct by now, and even if they aren't, we don't have much chance of contacting or trading with them. It
doesn't make any difference if they're out there."