Chameleon by Otto Gramm (new reading .TXT) 📕

– And what’s that stilath for? Why cap wants it?

Linda felt relieved when ice between them began to melt. She drank some cold tea, wrinkled and put the mug back.

– This needs a good wash and a goo-ood disinfection! – Resting her hands on the table, she sent to Alex her living look. – A stilath is a kind of key that can open doors if you choose the correct code.

– Like the gates?

– Sort of. It’s hard to explain.

– They generate worm-holes. – Mitch answered, as he again unexpectedly appeared in the room. – There you go. – Handing Alex his shoes, he went to the table and began to look at its contents with some peacockery. – I came with peace! – He drawled in a dead voice, looking into your Linda’s favorite mug. – Do you know what it is? – He asked Alex.

– Um... entry through space I guess. – He replied, putting on his shoes.

– Aw! You’re quite smart for... – He was interrupted by a good head slap. – Aye! What’s that for?!

Linda snatched out the mug and sent an eloquent glance to Mitch.

– What? He knows more than you do!

– So why would he need these entries if he has gates? – Alex intervened, wanting to extinguish the looming conflict. – Or does he want to expand his opportunities?

– Comparing stilath and gates... – Skorvi was quite brightened with this question. – ...is like comparing our Chameleon with some biplane.

– I don’t know all the features of the ship... – He rose, testing the plasticine. – But I got the point. Gates are connected only among themselves and the stilath is not limited and can deliver anywhere.

– Wright! Has Diego put this in your head?

– I have 28 years of academic experience behind me, Mitch.

– Did you write a doctorate there?

– No, but served as the material for at least a dozen of them.

Linda could not resist and gave a loud giggle.

– Not as bad as an anatomical Museum. – Skorvi said. – We wanted once to drop Shad in a mortuary to scare interns. He’s good at pretending dead. Plus – he’s cold-resistant.

– Though Kyle found it out. – Linda hemmed, smiling. – I don’t know what he did, but the three plotters flew out of the room with girl squeals.

– He programmed the window! – Mitch explained, displeased. – We saw the Zingai fleet attacking us; they cut off the electronics and then depressurized the glass. We knew it this was nonsense, but it was scary.

All three laughed.

– Thanks, Linda. We won’t detain you anymore. – Alex gave her a polite hand.

– Lin. – She stared at his hand and hesitated for a second, but then answered his gesture. – Quit these ceremonies; I’m not a good example of tact.

– He’s hot too. – Mitch added, waiting at the doorstep. – Loves throwing on the bed.

– Does he? – She playfully arced her brow. – Though, it’s pity to hear that from you, Skorvi.

– It was an accident! – Alex uttered quickly.

– Aw! Is that a blush? – She clasped his hand harder, as he wanted to let go. – This stony face hides so many demons! I wanna know them closer.

– You have enough trouble! – Koldoum almost roared when he finally released his hand.

– And here it is – your true predatory mug! – Linda beamed. – I like it!

– Sorry for taking you too long. – Alex mumbled and rushed out into the corridor.

– Always welcome. – She answered calmly, when the door finally closed.

Once in the corridor, the new leant against the wall and caught his breath.

– Man, you’re in trouble! – Skorvi chuckled, looking at the closed door of Mrs. Presley’s room

– Strong grip. – Alex said, stretching his hand.

– Like a Bulldog. And her temper switches from a “bunny” mode to a “hungry tigress” faster than you blink. You’d better be watchful with her.

– I’ll try to keep the distance.

– Inside of this vessel? It’s big but not enough especially when her demons are unleashed. Although, sometimes I’d prefer a cold space...

– You can depressurize your window. – Alex chuckled ironically.

– And push her out to hell! – Mitch finished with a touch lyrics, slightly tilting the head. His black eyebrow rose and he gave Alex his special sly look. – But we get along somehow; the main thing is not to touch her sensitive topics. – Mitch ruffled his hair with his usual gesture. – Okay, let’s go, Casanova.

The men went to the tail of the ship.

– So what are these topics?

– Interest grows? – Skorvi hemmed. – Elvis, Las Vegas, dams, golf, religion and her personal life.

– What did not suit her dams and Elvis?

– I don’t know. – The boy answered on the walk. – That’s what Nicky told me as soon as I was here. If you are so curious, ask her yourself, I wouldn’t risk... We’ve had enough with spiritual talks.

Mitch walked in front, his hands in his pockets, and slightly bounced. Looking at his back, Alex increasingly agreed with Linda’s statement, which he had heard during the exam, about the English origin of this young man. After accidentally "hacking" the ship, Koldoum knew that Skorvi had joined them when he was 34 years old. So now, he’s about forty. However, his shuffling gait with raised shoulders, his manner to turn back his whole body like he had no neck at all, his playfully leaping intonation (with such a low and hoarse timbre) openly declared a protest whether to age moldiness, or to English snobbery, or to something else that Alex didn’t know.

– So I’m not here the only one with problems?

– Na-ah! We all are complicated and multi-layered. – Mitch’s voice came quieter and his shoulders sagged, which made him seem a little higher. – Like matryoshka dolls, which at each new conversation open up some new side, often quite an unexpected one.

– Where are we heading? – Newcomer asked, as soon as they reached the end of the corridor.

– You’ll see. – Roused, Mitch regained his usual mien and again walked hopping.

Alex recognized this place for it was here Kyle had once invited him to follow him... just recently, or ages ago? Then, seeing only escape route – either due to a hard shock, or to the obsession, inspired by the telepath – he didn’t pay attention to anything else. In any case, only now Alex noticed that the corridor ended in a wide doorway with several doors.

– What’s behind them? – He asked, nodding.

– Cargo and technical compartments. Will dwells there now, always fixes, turns screws, perfects. He’s good in techniques! And who would’ve thought that he used to be a medieval Scottish warrior.

Having said that, Mitch bit his lip. He cautiously looked at Alex, but the man quietly replied:

– I was already told about the crew’s archaism. Although, frankly, I suspected something about him. He really has too much of... Renaissance.

– What exactly?

Alex shrugged, with his hands in his pockets.

– Simplicity of character, military prowess, some kind of unspoiled romance.

– And you have clear mind as for... um... Sorry.

– Show already where you took me.

With a quiet hem, Mitch pushed the wall and at once, a doorway-coupe appeared in it. After some effort of the Englishman, the door slowly pulled away and Alex saw a steeply rising spiral staircase. Before walking in, he ran his foot on the step.

– Do not be afraid, it won’t fall down! – Skorvi giggled going up.

– I believe you. I’m just fascinated by the exoticism of totally unsanitary conditions. – He said, examining his footprints on the floor.

– A-ah! – Mitch laughed. Then he added philosophically: – Even in space, there is dust. Squeamish?

– Not at all.

– Then up and forward. – English commanded. – The best is up ahead.

As Alex rose, he saw that the staircase ended with another tightly closed door, which turned out to be far more stubborn than the first one.

– Curse you! – Mitch yelled, scratching his hand after an unsuccessful first attempt to open it.

– Need help?

– Yeah, I guess.

Only when both men applied their strengths, the door reluctantly succumbed and with a soft creak moved away.

– Phew! – Skorvi said, shaking off his clothes. – Screw it! Well, no touch panels, no sound isolation and no electronics: you’ll have to open it with your hands.

– I can take it. – Alex calmly answered, as he examined the door canopy. – A little grease and work is done.

– Well, this is a loft. – Mitch announced.

Hardly glancing around a new domain, Koldoum froze in amazement. What he saw was beyond all descriptions. A spacious room, piled high with rubbish and drowning in the dust and mud, seemed to him the most vivid wondrous thing of all that he had already seen around. Everywhere there were boxes of different sizes, stuffed with incomprehensible tinsel, bales, coiled rolls, rags, sheets of metal and light, elastic plastic, pieces of furniture, unusual shapes of details and many other things. However, the most interesting was at the top: a huge convex glass ceiling, descending on low walls and a beautiful starry sky behind it. Six supports, like those he had seen in the gym, stood in two rows, connected by crossbeams.

– So what do you say? – Mitch asked when Alex sat down on one of the bales.

– I’m speechless. – The voice of the new came with a genuine delight.

– Cool place, I agree. – Skorvi stood opposite, leaned against a prop. – I wanted to settle here, but Cap gave one condition: you do the cleaning yourself.

– And this was the end of your ardor?

– Alas! By the way, the same conditions for you.

– Fair enough, but I’ll pass.

– You don’t take it?

– Of course I do! I mean the cleaning.

– Ha! Kyle said you’re an aesthete.

– But not a pedant.

Soon they were carried away by a talking. Mitch turned out to be an open and accommodating young man, not a fool or a simpleton, which he had seemed to be at first glance. He acquired this stage role in school and successfully used it till this day.

– It makes me feel better. – He explained, inclining his head to the side and pointing at Alex his sharp green eyes. – They’ll take less and ask less. And the one who needs it, will see the very essence.

– Still waters hide icebergs the best.

– Exactly! – Skorvi made a quiet, low, not his typical laughter. – And I learned the hard way the consequence of being stormy...

At the request of Alex, the young Englishman told about his former life in London. He was raised by his mother and he hardly remembered his father. His mom worked tirelessly and Mitch couldn’t even remember how she looked in the day light, only her tired, wrinkled face in the meager night illumination of their wretched apartment.

– I secretly started working when I was ten. Swept the fuel stations, washed the cars. Once the boss’s cash register broke and I could repair it, though I’d never seen such a technique before. And there it began. At fourteen, I collected my first computer. It was the first pc in three districts of London I knew.

Mitch revealed in himself a programmer talent. His secret cherry pie turned into a solid salary and he began to work hard. He wanted to take his mom to America, but, alas, this dream never came true: his mother appeared to be at the wrong time and in the wrong tube. After that, he turned away from the Koran and renounced Islam.

– Moved to another area. A couple of years later I started creating websites... then became a hacker: they paid more.

Few years later, he was one of the best hackers in Britain. Officially worked as a courier