"E. C. Tubb - Stardeath" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

"An animal?"
"That and more. You fit and we need you -- need you enough to spring you out of this trap. But I'm
not begging. There are others, maybe not as well suited, but available and a damned sight easier to find."
"Then get one," he said. "But when you hand him over, be prepared to add that nice, neat uniform,
your rank, your office, your career. The bastards who put me in here aren't gentle. Fail them and you'll
find out just how hard they can be."
"I know."
The admission gave him victory, but he did not make the mistake of pressing it too hard. She could
see him marched back to hell and think her career cheap at the price.
"Get me out of here," he said. "Get me some decent clothes and take me somewhere I can feel
human again. And tell me what all this is about."
****
The first took time, the second money, the third cooperation she was reluctant to give.
"My job was to get you," she said. "The details will come later."
"But you know them?"
"Some of them. Enough to know how important this is. Enough to be scared."
They sat on the terrace of a hotel which emulated a mountain in its soaring flight toward the stars.
Facets of crystal caught and magnified the lights of distant beacons and the transient gleams of passing
aircraft. Erica's hair shone with burnished perfection in the brilliance; her face was angelic.
The illusion was created by too many lonely hours, Varl knew; he busied himself with the meal. The
woman had ordered and the table was loaded with a profusion of dishes, each holding a succulent
delight. Varl probed with the pointed sticks provided, lifting, tasting, recognizing flavors and discovering
tastes he had never known existed.
"Luxury," he said. "Who is footing the bill?"
''I'm allowed expenses."
"That isn't answering my question."
"What does it matter? Call it reparation. A bribe. Compensation."
"And you?"
"I don't come with the meal." For a moment her face froze to match her eyes. "Don't get the wrong
idea, Varl. You can push too hard."
"I was curious as to who was backing you." He speared a morsel of meat and chewed, not speaking
again until he had swallowed. "The Pui-Chi Consortium valued that cargo at about three times its loaded
worth. They might have had the idea that I cached it. A meal, a pretty woman, some money spent in
bribes -- some would think it a good investment."
"Did you? Cache the cargo, I mean?"
His shrug matched the enigma of his smile.
"Not that you'd tell me if you had," she said. "But it doesn't matter. I'm working for Earth
Confederation, and all expenses are taken care of. Incidentally, we leave tomorrow morning. Early, I'm
afraid, but I didn't think you'd object."
"I don't."
"No." She looked at the ground lying dark below the terrace, at the strings of lights, the
condominiums, the shopping malls, the industrial complex. "Civilization," she mused. "It looks so safe, yet
how thin is the veneer. Sometimes, when I realize just how thin, it scares me." Then, abruptly, she said,
"Did you find it hard to kill?"
"I learned how in the Venegian Sector."
"Things," she said. "Insects -- it isn't the same."
He made no comment, lifting his glass to sip at his wine; the light from the crystals adorning the
building illuminated his face and gave it a harsh bleakness.
"You must have been young then," she said. "During the war, I mean. Little more than a boy. And
yet you learned to kill -- or so you say. What did they look like? Wasps? Spiders? Ants?"