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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
There really is a flying saucer on the roof. There s a man in it. He says his
name is William Dulac, and that he s from Louisiana. C. R.
Benjamin made a face. Well. That explains everything, doesn t it? That s
not all, sir. There are four aliens with him. He says there are lots more of
them waiting down in the Caribbean.
Really? What would they be doing there now when the season doesn t start till
November?
A large bald man in his thirties appeared in the doorway, and the assistant
gratefully made way for him.
Benjamin squinted at the new arrival. Marcus? Don t tell me they suckered you
into this, too? The city editor had a deep, bemused voice. It s for real,
C.R. I mean, it s not huge, but you couldn t helicopter it onto the roof.
What is all this? Benjamin rose sourly from his recliner. Can t I get any
work done around here? If you people want to play jokes, fine, but have the
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decency and common sense to wait until lunchtime!
The city editor edged into the room while the editorial assistant uttered a
strangled sound and ducked into a corner.
Something tall entered, ducking to clear the doorjamb. Its angular form was
covered with fine gray fur and a tight-fighting jumpsuit cut off at knees and
elbows. Additionally it wore a belt studded with strange devices. Long arms
hung toward the floor. A toothy elongated muzzle sniffed constantly at the
air. It was followed by something resembling a small tailless dinosaur,
differently clad and equipped, which advanced with the stride of a nervous
ballet dancer. In succession appeared an extremely hairy, muscular dwarf, an
ostrich clad in haute couture, and a man.
Should I call Security? The city editor hovered near a wall panel. Silently
C. R. Benjamin regarded his visitors, ignoring the rising clamor in the
hallway beyond. Eventually his gaze settled on the sole Human among them.
Tell me one thing, young man. Do you really have a flying saucer on the roof
of my building?
It s only an atmospheric shuttle, Will told him. It s not even
saucer-shaped.
I see. You know how people are. Always reaching for the easy description.
That s why it s so hard to find good writers anymore. They all seem to use the
same words. He glanced at his city editor. No
Security, Marcus. But do close the door.
The city editor nodded, did as he was told despite the crowd that was now
pressing tight around the portal.
C. R. Benjamin slowly took his seat. We re not going to have any trouble
here, are we, Mister& what was your name, son?
Dulac. William Dulac.
If you were in Nawlins right now, what would you likely be having for lunch?
Will frowned but replied. Oyster po boy.
The editor nodded approvingly. Then you are from Louisiana. If you re a
fraud, you re a Southern fraud, and at least they re more interesting than
most. The noise in the hall was growing louder.
Marcus, tell those people to get back to their desks and that everything in
here is under control. The city editor complied. Gratefully, Will thought.
The pretty editorial assistant accompanied him without having to be told. C.
R. Benjamin rubbed his hands together theatrically. I like stories that walk
into my office. It s cheaper than paying correspondents. Now then, if this is
some kind of elaborate gag or stunt now s the time to enlighten me, son.
You re not from the Fox network, are you? I know our reviewers been giving
their new shows hell.
We re not from Fox, sir, and this is no gag. I sincerely wish it was. These
people, and he indicated his silent companions, really are from other
worlds. Each represents a different species. They re united in an
organization they call the Weave.
Benjamin waved a hand. I suppose you ll allow me time and means to confirm
what you re saying?
Right now I m only operating on what I can see and hear, which is no way for a
journalist to act.
My friends are amenable to physical examinations, Will assured him. They
understand your caution because they ve encountered it before, on other worlds
that they ve visited. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
