"Reed, Robert - TheRemoras" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

"Though I'd have come either way."

Quee Lee's apartment, loyal and watchful, wouldn't allow anything nasty to
happen to her. She took a step forward, closing some of the distance. "This is
about money being owed? Is that right?"

"Yes, miss."

"For what, if I might ask?"

Orleans didn't explain in clear terms. "Think of it as an old gambling debt."
More was involved, he implied. "A very old debt, I'm afraid, and Perri's refused
me a thousand times."

She could imagine it. Her husband had his share of failings, incompetence and a
self-serving attitude among them. She loved Perri in a controlled way, but his
flaws were obvious. "I'm sorry," she replied, "but I'm not responsible for his
debts." She made herself sound hard, knowing it was best. "I hope you didn't
come all this way because you heard he was married." Married to a woman of some
means, she thought to herself. In secret.

"No, no, no!" The grotesque face seemed injured. Both eyes became larger, and a
thin tongue, white as ice, licked at the lipless edge of the mouth. "Honestly,
we don't follow the news about passengers. I just assumed Perri was living with
someone. I know him, you see . . . my hope was to come and make my case to
whomever I found, winning a comrade. An ally. Someone who might become my
advocate." A hopeful pause, then he said, "When Perri does come here, will you
explain to him what's right and what is not? Can you, please?" Another pause,
then he added, "Even a lowly Remora knows the difference between right and wrong
miss."

That wasn't fair, calling himself lowly. And he seemed to be painting her as
some flavor of bigot, which she wasn't. She didn't look at him as lowly, and
morality wasn't her private possession. Both of them were human, after all.
Their souls were linked by a charming and handsome, manipulative user . . . by
her darling husband . . . and Quee Lee felt a sudden anger directed at Perri,
almost shuddering in front of this stranger.

"Miss?"

"How much?" she asked. "How much does he owe you, and how soon will you need
it?"

Orleans answered the second question first, lifting an arm with a sickly whine
coming from his shoulder. "Can you hear it?" he asked. As if she were deaf. "My
seals need to be replaced, or at least refurbished. Yesterday, if possible." The
arm bent, and the elbow whined. "I already spent my savings rebuilding my
reactor."

Quee Lee knew enough about lifesuits to appreciate his circumstances. Remoras