A. E. Van Vogt - The Silkie.pdf - A. E. Van Vogt - borsukomiks

Table of Contents

The Silkie

PROLOGUE

III

VII

VIII

XII

XIII

XIV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV

XXVI

XXVII

XXVIII

XXIX

XXX

XXXI

XXXII

XXXIII

(E-book Version 1.0 — first release. Scanned, Spellchecked & Checked against D.T. June 2003)

(Back Blurb)

The Silkie — a living spaceship, impervious to heat and cold, virtually indestructible and capable of

travelling at supersonic speeds.

The Silkie — similar to a human being, but not the same. Highly intelligent.

The Silkie — able to live under the oceans with the ease of a dolphin and the speed of a shark.

The Silkie — a modern angel or a computerised demon?

The Silkie — friend of Earth, or a pitiless, alien destroyer?

Other books by this author available from New English Library:

WEAPON SHOPS OF ISHER

THE WEAPON MAKERS

QUEST FOR THE FUTURE

CHILDREN OF TOMORROW

THE FAR-OUT WORLDS OF A. E. VAN VOGT

EMPIRE OF THE ATOM

THE WIZARD OF LINN

MORE THAN SUPERHUMAN

The Silkie

A. E. Van Vogt

NEW ENGLISH LIBRARY

TIMES MIRROR

First published in the United States of America by Ace Books in 1969

FIRST NEL PAPERBACK EDITION FEBRUARY 1973

Reprinted June 1973

This new edition October 1977

Conditions of sale: This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not. by way of trade or otherwise, be lent,

resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other

than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the

subsequent purchaser.

NEL Books are published by

New English Library Limited from Barnard's Inn, Holborn, London EC1N 2JR.

Made and printed in Great Britain by Hunt Barnard Printing Ltd., Aylesbury, Bucks.

45003549 2

PROLOGUE

T HE STREET of the Haitian city had been excruciatingly hot to Marie's feet, like walking over sheets

of heated metal. It was cooler in the garden, but she had to come out from under the shady trees into the

sun where the old man sat. Now he laughed unpleasantly, showing his even white false teeth.

He said, 'Put up money to raise a sunken treasure ship? Think I'm a fool!'

He laughed again, then blinked his eyes at her with a weary lasciviousness. He added significantly, 'Now,

of course, if a pretty young thing like you could be nice to an old man...'

He waited, sunning himself like a wrinkled toad, soaking the heat into bones that seemed no longer

capable of warming themselves. Despite the sun, he shivered as if he were cold.

Marie Lederle studied him with curious eyes. She had been brought up by a sea captain with a lusty

sense of humor, and now she was merely surprised that this old lecher could still get a moist gleam in his

eye at the sight of a young woman.

She said steadily, 'The ship went down during the war near an island off Santa Yuile. It was my father's

last command, so when the company refused to sponsor an expedition, he decided to go after private

capital. A friend suggested you.'

That was a lie; she had made inquiries. He was merely the latest of a long list of prospects. She went on

quickly, 'And for heaven's sake, don't get outraged. There are still people who have the adventurous

spirit. Why shouldn't an old gambler like you, Mr Reicher, spend his last days doing something exciting?'

The perfect teeth showed in a grin behind the almost lipless mouth. 'There you have the answer, my

dear.' His tone was more pleasant. 'My spare money is going into medical research. I'm still hoping a

discovery will be made.... ' He shrugged his thin shoulders, and naked fear showed on his face. 'I don't

long for the grave, you know.'

For a moment, Marie felt sorry for him. She thought of the time when she, too, would be old and

rickety. The thought passed by like a cloud in a summer sky. She had a more pressing problem.

'Then you're not interested?'

'Not in the slightest.'

'Not even a little bit?'

'Not even one-tenth of one per cent,' said Reicher unpleasantly.

She left him with a final, 'If you change your mind, you'll find us tied up to pier four in the Golden Marie.

She walked back to the harbor, where the small cabin cruiser baked in the sun alongside an uneven row

of similar boats. They were mostly seagoing vessels, many of them pleasure craft from the United States.

Aboard them were people who played bridge and danced to music from expensive phonographs and

lolled in the sun. Marie found herself disliking them because they had ample money and were not like

herself and her father, nearly broke and beginning to feel desperate.

She climbed aboard, burning her fingers on the hot wood. Angrily, she slapped her hand against her

thigh, stinging the heat pain out of them.

'That you, Marie?' Her father's voice came from somewhere in the bowels of the vessel.

'Yes, George.'

'I've got an appointment with a fellow named Sawyer. There'll be quite a few retired bigshots there. One

more chance, you know.'

Marie said nothing but watched him silently as he came into view. He had on his best uniform, but time

had done subtle things to him, and he was no longer the strong, handsome man of her childhood. His

temples were gray, and his nose and cheeks were marked indelibly with the wordless trademark of many

vintners.

He strode over and kissed her. 'I'm hoping particularly to talk to a wealthy old codger — Reicher —

who'll be there.'

Marie parted her lips to tell him that it would be no use. She changed her mind. She had noticed that his

uniform still impressed people. Reicher might not find it so easy to turn down a mature, cultured man.

Not till he had gone did she wonder suddenly what kind of meeting could bring Mr Reicher out of his

hideaway.

She ate a leisurely lunch of fruit from the refrigerator and then composed a poem that sang of the cool

delights of the tropical seas where the sun was as hot as a murderer's ire. After filing the poem away in a

drawer filled with other bits and pieces of verse, she sat on deck under an awning and watched the sea

and the harbor scene around her. The waves glittered in the afternoon sunlight and reflections sparkled or

glared from the white bows of the small craft and from the white walls of the town buildings. It was a

scene that still fascinated, but she wasn't sure any more whether she loved it or hated it.

It's beautiful here, she thought, but dangerous for a penniless father and daughter.

She shuddered at the extent of that danger, then shrugged defiantly and thought, At worst I could

always do something.

She wasn't exactly sure what.

She went below decks finally and put on her bathing suit, and presently she was paddling around in the

warm, gently pulsing sea. The swimming was euthanasia, of course — another day gone the way of a

hundred like it, each like a little pebble dropped into the ocean of time, sunk without a trace.

She looked back over that avenue of sun-brightened days, individually delightful, collectively disturbing

since she was wasting away her life.

And she was, for the n th time, about to make some worthy resolve about her future, when she grew

aware that over on the fancy sailing yacht moored a hundred feet away, Sylvia Haskins had come on

deck and was beckoning to her.

Dutifully, Marie swam over and climbed wetly and reluctantly aboard. She detested Henry Haskins,

Sylvia's husband, so she was relieved when Sylvia said, 'Henry has gone to a meeting in connection with

a big medical discovery, and we're going out to some island near here to have a look at something or

somebody on whom it's been successfully used.'

Marie said, 'Oh!'

Her picture of Henry Haskins probably differed from his wife's. A cold-blooded bedroom athlete — as

described by himself — Henry had several times tried to corner Marie. He had desisted only when

confronted with the pointed edge of a knife presented and manipulated with a firmness that convinced

him that here was one 'crow' he was not going to get.

Henry called women crows, and they pretended that this was a cute way he had of being different.

Compared with her husband, Sylvia was mild, friendly, ineffectual, good-hearted — traits made much of

by Henry. 'Silly is such a good-hearted crow,' he would say in a fond tone.

To Marie, the possibility that someone had found a method of prolonging Henry's life was a shuddery

idea. But what interested her was the information that he was at a meeting. It seemed instantly certain —

in a town the size of Santa Yuile — that it was the same meeting her father had gone to. She said so.

Sylvia exclaimed, 'Maybe then it isn't goodbye. I believe Mr Peddy and old Grayson and the Heintzes

and Jimmy Butt and at least two or three others are in on it.'

And old Reicher, thought Marie. Oh, my God!

'Here comes your father now!' said Sylvia..

Captain Lederle saw where she was and stopped. He looked up at the women, rubbing his hands and

exuding enthusiasm. 'Get my room cleaned up, Marie, as soon as you can. Mr Reicher is coming aboard

this evening, and tomorrow at dawn we leave for Echo Island.'

Marie asked no questions before the eager-eared Sylvia Haskins. 'Okay, George,' she said cheerfully.

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