[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
think you are. As such, you have certain responsibilities. You will stay, won't you?" Alex hesitated, looked over at Grig, who nodded. He paused long enough to hug the tough-skinned alien, not giving a damn what any of the exalted spectators might make of this peculiar human gesture. Grig understood its meaning readily enough, though, and so did Enduran. Then the two of them started out the doorway. The crowd of representatives and officials made way for them. As the door opened, an alien fanfare greeted their appearance. They found themselves on a balcony, looking out across a sea of enthusiastic alien faces. He'd been ready for this. Enduran and the others had told him what to expect. What he was not prepared for was the sight of the elderly figure seated on a nearby mobile platform. Two uniformed Rylan medics stood at attention on either side of the tiny vehicle. Ignoring the crowd, Alex ran toward the newcomer. "Centauri! You're supposed to be dead!" The old man grinned. "I'm supposed to be a lot o' things, my boy, but deceased ain't one of 'em. My people are a tough bunch, and I'm the toughest of the lot, even if I am what your kind would call a cantankerous old coot." "What means 'coot'?" Grig asked. "It's a bird that can make a living just about anywhere," Alex explained. Grig nodded knowingly. "How appropriate." "But I saw you die . . . after you brought me back to the base," Alex insisted. "The medic working on you . . . " Centauri shook his head. "Oh, I was good and dead, all right. Let me tell you, being dead's no picnic, boy. But my people are tough. The body can expire, but it takes the brain a long time to die. They were able to bring the rest of me back. The important thing was that the memory patterns stayed intact. Just Page 106 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html like puttin' a puzzle back together, except the medics had to build me a few new pieces." He looked Alex over thoughtfully, taking in the new uniform, the new attitude, the recently bestowed decorations. "What about you? What are you going to do now, Starfighter?" Alex turned to gaze out across the cheering sea of alien faces, at the impossible skyline of the capital city of Rylos beyond. Everything had happened so quickly. Events had swept him up in their grasp and left him with little time for thinking about such things as "after." "I don't know," he whispered. It was cold out. Or maybe it wasn't, but it felt chilly to Maggie. She sat on the edge of the porch that ran across the front of the general store. Where are you, Alex? Too far away for me to imagine? That's what the machine that looked like you said. Where is that? I don't even know what part of the sky to look at. "Alex?" another voice called out. A light breeze stirred the dust in front of the store. A hunting spider scrambled across the open space, searching for some unfortunate arthropod smaller than itself. "Alex?" the voice called again, a note of concern attached to it now. That was Mrs. Rogan. How much should she be told? The Beta Unit hadn't forced any guidelines on Maggie, had told her to use her own judgment. It was her world, her people. Her life. She rose. It was time for Alex's mother, at least, to learn the truth. Mrs. Rogan might throw her and her incredible story out of the trailer, but she felt bound to try. She patted Mr. President and left. Behind her lights, sounds, movement familiar and yet different. The videogame on the porch was going gently berserk, humming and flashing, vibrating on its levelers. Maggie didn't see, concentrating on how she'd tell Mrs. Rogan. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html Just as she didn't see the old weathervane atop the store begin to spin wildly, even though there was hardly any wind. It picked up speed, soon was rotating fast enough to be little more than a blur in the night. Between the trailers Maggie paused, thoughtful. Granny was leaning out of a window nearby, a thick cigar smoking between her fingers. "Granny, have you seen Alex?" "Can't say as I have. That boy's been kind of scarce here lately." She gestured with the stogie. "You're not the only one lookin' for him, neither." "I heard Mrs. Rogan." "She ain't the only one." Figures appeared, exiting the Rogan trailer and walking toward Maggie. She recognized several of her friends along with Mrs. Rogan, and one non-friend; Jack Blake. She stood and waited for them. "You want to know where Alex is?" Blake was saying as soon as he spotted her, "ask Maggie. She knows. She was with him when he stole my pickup." "He did not steal it," Maggie shot back angrily. "He borrowed it." "Yeah?" Blake was snarling at her, not the least bit affectionate now. More important things were at stake. "Then where is it?" Maggie thought back to the wild chase in the truck and the robot's little surprise box under the dash and the incinerating heat when the pickup had smashed into the alien assassin's ship and said nothing. "Maggie," Mrs. Rogan asked in a gentle but no-nonsense voice, "where's Alex?" "Where's my truck!" Blake yelled, without giving her a chance to reply. "Where's your boyfriend?" Maggie ignored him, wondering that she could ever have found him even slightly attractive, and kept a lid on her temper as she spoke to Mrs. Rogan. It was apparent that no one was going to leave until they got some answers. She'd just have to try and explain as best she could. "Mrs. Rogan, it's like this about Alex. He isn't ..." Page 107 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html The dogs began to howl. All the dogs, not just Mr. President. They were joined by the cats. If Mrs. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |