The City Who Fought
- Автор: Маккефри Энн, Стирлинг Стивен Майкл
- Серия: brainship #4
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The City Who Fought». Краткое содержание книги:
Simeon's love of wargaming would find unexpected uses when the brutal Kolnari attack the nearby colony planet, Bethel. Sheltering the colony's refugee's brought the city an invitation to serious trouble with Kolnari pirates.
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah," he seemed to be whispering directly into her ear, "and without using your implant."
"Wow," she said, touching her ear, "that's spooky. How did you do that?"
"Just threw my voice-heterodyning waves from multiple sources. It takes practice, but as you saw, the effect is worth it."
She shook her head, wide-eyed. "If you can come up with something visual to go with that, they'll be running for their ships the first day."
"Can't overdo it. It'll be easiest if they're alone when they see these things, otherwise it could be considered suspicious. I'll sound Joat out. That girl's a fountain of ideas."
Channa winced and forbore to ask what kind. Chaundra's comments almost visibly flooded back into her conscious mind.
"Don't let it worry you, she's a good kid," Simeon said emphatically.
"I don't want to think about it."
"You really are concerned about Rachel's sanity, aren't you?"
Amos and Channa were settled comfortably on the settee. Simeon had tactfully withdrawn his image from the pillar screen, leaving a strikingly realistic crackling fire in its place. Somehow he had even manage to replicate the scent of burning cedarwood. Amos had had to tactilely reassure himself that the fire was an image.
"Yes, she is definitely unstable," he said, his shoulders sagging hopelessly. "Among all the other problems, I must worry about this! It is so… so petty."
"Humans can be a remarkably petty species," Channa said philosophically. Particularly that hysterical bitch Rachel. "When you get down to cases, lots of 'big issues' have been decided on personal matters. From Harmodias and Aristogetion on down." Amos looked blank. "Two ancient Greeks. Never mind. Briefly, a government was overthrown because of a love-triangle."
Amos sighed again and reached for his snifter of brandy. "I care nothing about her and my best friend would give his life for her," he said, shaking his head. "Channa-"
"Yes?"
"I know here-" he touched his head "-that this… delusion of hers has nothing to do with me. But here-" he touched his heart "-I cannot help but feel that I must somehow be to blame. I was a… caller-of-spirit: you would say a preacher. Oh, yes, I knew that half the women in those crowds were in love with me. What of it? I would never touch any of them, for that would be dishonorable and destroy my cause more surely than any other offense. The folk of Bethel are… inflexible about such matters. Yet if I knew and accepted love, if it flattered my vanity, am I not in some manner responsible? How desperate she must be, and how lonely. It is sad."
Channa patted his arm and smiled soothingly. "From your description, it was never this bad before. If you're to blame, then so is every charismatic politician and holo star since time began. Her… delusion… may have been aggravated by those drugs, although she's not responding to medication. Simeon, has anyone talked to Chaundra about this?"
"Not yet," he said, after a tactful pause to suggest he hadn't been listening.
"I have decided to keep her under my eye," Amos said, adding reluctantly, "Mental care, the cure of souls. It is part of our religion that only those consecrated can perform cures of the human soul."
"Mmm." Your religion sucks wind, she thought silently. No sense in offending Amos, of course. Humans shouldn't be forced to take religion. That should be free choice. "Maybe we'd better let Chaundra know that Rachel isn't responding to treatment. She may need stronger calmers. Let's face it, when the pirates arrive, you're going to have a surfeit of problems to keep under your eyes."
"I can keep my eye on more than one thing at a time, Channa," Simeon cut in abruptly. "Simeon-Amos?"
He nodded. "I agree with Channa. I will speak with the doctor of this. This is my burden, my obligation. I will do it." He rose and disappeared into his room, shoulders bowed.
Channa shook her head, "You'd think he was sending her off to be executed."
"Who knows how his people view psych treatment? Confession seems to be a major element in their religion. To him, treating this as a medical problem could be equivalent to blasphemy."
"Hmph." She turned to squint at his column. "By the way, don't try to tell me that you didn't enjoy that little interruption, Simeon. I know you too well by now."
"Okay." His voice was downright cheery.
She smiled ruefully. "Just don't make a habit of it, okay?"
"There are no guarantees in life, Channa."
"Oh, no? If I ever get the idea that you're engineering any more little disruptions of my love life, I guarantee that you'll regret it."
"Hey, be reasonable, Channa! What could I possibly have to do with Rachel going bonkers? I didn't even let her into the lounge. I could have, y'know."
Channa shrugged and grunted.
"I thought about not telling you she was trying to beat the door down, I really did. But then I figured she'd go grab a laser and cut her way in. And, of course, if she had caught you two in flagrante delicto, she wouldn't have stopped at cutting up doors."
"Oh, thank you, Simeon, you are such a hero, saving me from a fate worse than death and death itself. Consider yourself hugged and slobbered over in an ecstasy of gratitude."
"That's short for 'my attitude's back,' isn't it?"
She got up and started for her room. "Yes, Simeon, my attitude's back."
"Well, why? What did I do?"
She spun on her heel and threw up her hands. "I'm horny, all right? I'm horny and I'm frustrated!" The door snapped shut behind her.
Simeon shut down his pickups in the lounge, escaping the charged atmosphere in the only way he could. Sheesh, he thought. Softshells were strange.
Chapter Fifteen
"Nothing, Great Lord. Nothing but rebroadcasts of the same warning message."
"Tsssk. You have had no success in monitoring internal communications?"
"No, Great Lord."
This time Baila's voice held a slight touch of resentment. This was no backwater, no half-barbarian slum that used electro-magnetic signals for internal communication. This was a sophisticated Central Worlds installation they were planning to attack. It had internal optical circuitry. What did the Great Lord expect her to do? Fly over to the station and burn her way through to tap a line?
We are all impatient, Belazir thought. The Clan impulse was to leap upon the prey and take it. Loot it bare, move on. They had been very successful following that course of action for a long time.
"Any other ships?"
"None since that freighter who acknowledged their warning beacon and sheered off," she said.
"Serig."
"Command me, lord." The verbal formula was more than routine in Serig's mouth; he fairly quivered with anticipation.
"We will move in exactly one-point-five hours from next day-cycle termination." This was about three hours Terran Standard time, since Kolnar rotated more slowly than Manhome. "All vessels to launch their seekers simultaneously and then begin subspace jamming pulses. Strangler and Age of Darkness will remain on combat over-watch, ready to provide fire support as necessary. Dreadful Bride and Shark will move in to the upper and lower polar axis respectively and force-dock, then occupy the station. Here are the areas to be secured."
His hands keyed a sequence, and the schematic of the SSS-900-C was overlaid with color-coded plans for movement.