"Charles Stross - Red, Hot and Dark" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

looked away for a moment. Then: "I just want to get it over with. The fear, not knowing.
We live among animals who could turn on us at any time. What could be worse than
that? Face it, professor. When it comes down to it, we are all kin. And that's all the
humans will see if they learn of us."

Oleg held up his hands again. "With these, how can I trust you?" he asked, simply.

Andrei held up a key. "How can I trust you, if you won't even tell me what you're running
from?" he asked. "Say it. You can't hide forever."

"Say what ..." Oleg's mouth was dry, his heart pounding; he barely noticed that the
tension of years was melting away from him as he let his real face peep through, let the
darkness that had been raised in his childhood soul reveal itself to his captor.

"We know about the taiga."

"The taiga ..." Oleg swallowed, breaking out in sweat. "What do you mean?" He looked
at Andrei, terrified beyond rational cause; he had expected them to kill him, not dig up his
past.

"We know what you did. All we want you to do is to do it again. How does that sound?"
It was a plea rather than a threat, and it spoke to Oleg. "Is it so bad that you must forget
even who you were, what you did?"

"You're mad," Oleg whispered, falling back on his last defense.

Andrei shook his head sadly. "If I am mad, then so are you," he said, turning away.
"Think about it professor: it's not so much. And you will do it, don't you? Because you
want to. See you later ..."
He left. And Oleg sweated out the rest of the flight, cold as ice and frightened as a ghost.
Because, when he forced himself to confront the issue, Andrei was substantially correct.
Nothing would please him more than do to away with these turbulent humans, except for
the cost of returning to his own worst nightmare ...

"They took off two hours ago, outbound for the Kola peninsula on a 192 with long-range
fuel tanks and a detachment of military police. Looks like they're clear of you."

"Shit." Valentina thumped the table so hard that the telephone on it bounced. "Can't you
do anything about it?"

"Like what? Take then down?" The voice on the other end of the line was sardonic. "Be
sensible! He's only a dissident --"

She hung up angrily. "Well?" called the base political officer from across the room.

"Air Defense says no," she muttered; "well fuck 'em!"

"You could follow them," suggested the captain, complacent in his insularity. "It's only a
slow cargo plane."