"George R. R. Martin - The Stone City" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

“Yes,” Holt said. He removed the battered ship's cap that matched his frayed gray uniform, and he waited
—a thin, pale man with receding brown hair and a stubborn chin.

The foxman interlocked slim, six-fingered hands and smiled a swift thin smile. “No berth, Holt,” he said.
“Sorry. No ship today.”

“I heard a ship last night,” Holt said. “I could hear it all the way over in the stone city. Get me a berth on
it. I'm qualified. I know standard drive, and I can run a Dan'lai jump-gun. I have credentials.”

“Yes, yes.” Again the snapping smile. “But there is no ship. Next week, perhaps. Next week perhaps a
man-ship will come. Then you'll have a berth, Holt, I swear it, I promise you. You a good jump man,
right? You tell me. I get you a berth. But next week, next week. No ship now.”

Holt bit his lip and leaned forward, spreading his hands on the desktop, the cap crushed beneath one fist.
“Next week you won't be here,” he said. “Or if you are, you won't recognize me, won't remember
anything you promised. Get me a berth on the ship that came last night.”

“Ah,” said the Dan'la. “No berth. Not a man-ship, Holt. No berth for a man.”

“I don't care. I'll take any ship. I'll work with Dan'lai, ullies, Cedrans, anything. Jumps are all the same.
Get me on the ship that came in last night.”

“But there was no ship, Holt,” the foxman said. His teeth flashed, then were gone again. “I tell you,
Holt. No ship, no ship. Next week, come back. Come back, next week.” There was dismissal in his tone.
Holt had learned to recognize it. Once, months ago, he'd stayed and tried to argue. But the desk-fox had
summoned others to drag him away. For a week afterward, all the doors had been locked in the
mornings. Now Holt knew when to leave.

Outside in the wan light, he leaned briefly against the windwall and tried to still his shaking hands. He
must keep busy, he reminded himself. He needed money, food tokens, so that was one task he could set
to. He could visit the Shed, maybe look up Sunderland. As for a berth, there was always tomorrow. He
had to be patient.

With a brief glance up at MacDonald, who had not been patient, Holt went off down the vacant streets of

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 The Stone City

the city of the shipless.

****

Even as a child, Holt had loved the stars. He used to walk at night, during the years of high cold when
the iceforests bloomed on Ymir. Straight out he would go, for kilometers, crunching the snow beneath
until the lights of town were lost behind him and he stood alone in the glistening blue-white wonderland
of frost-flowers and icewebs and bitterblooms. Then he would look up.

WinterYear nights on Ymir are clear and still and very black. There is no moon. The stars and the
silence are everything.