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.
"Sorry, Joat, seven is pretty good really, and there's nothing to say that we can't share these around. Right, Channa? Channa? Ollie-ollie in-free!"
Channa grinned smugly at Amos. "He really can't see us, can he?" Then she pulled gently at the rod.
"How nice of you to drop in," Simeon said in a sour tone. Damned if I'll let you know how much that bothers me.
"Sorry," Channa said. "I know it bothers you," she subvocalized. Somehow Sim connected it with being cut off from his sensory input. Me, now I'm a sensory input? She turned to Joat. "Um, do you actually have to have it on your person for it to work? Or would it work if, say I had it on the desk beside me?"
"It should keep you disappeared if you stay very close to it. You're not really blanked out. It's more like a local override command to the sensor not to record you, you know? I didn't really measure it very close." Joat gave a self-deprecating twitch of her hands. "I need more theory and stuff, I know."
"Well, I'm impressed, Joat." She clapped her hands together. "Let's celebrate, and send out for dinner." She took the rod out of Amos's hands and unsnapped it.
"You know," Simeon commented as Amos reappeared, "this invention of Joat's could be the biggest boon to burglars since hacking."
Channa froze, then looked over at Joat. The girl managed to look sweet, innocent and furtive at the same moment. It was true. AI-driven surveillance was universal in public places. So were attempts to counteract it. Joat's seemed to work better than most. Of course, once the device was publicized, counter-measures would be initiated. No wonder Joat wanted to keep her ace-in-the-hole secret.
Well, of course she steals! Simeon whispered in her ear. How did you think she survived before you took a hand?
"Like many swords," Amos agreed, "it is two edged. But, they will be of help, and I shall enjoy testing mine." He smiled at Channa.
Channa looked at Simeon's column. "Just think, we'll be able to keep secrets from you, Sim. How will you stand it?"
Amos tiptoed carefully out of Joat's room. "She never woke," he said in a half-whisper. "I put a blanket over her."
Channa shook her head. Joat's subconscious seemed to know who to trust. This evening was the first time she had noticed the girl sleeping with the limp, irresistible finality of the trusting child. She'd also had a long, hard, if triumphant, day.
"I thought she'd never get enough of your stories about Bethel," she said. And neither would I. It didn't have the urban sophistication of Senalgal, but Amos could make his world and his way of life sound… beautiful, she decided. Of course, he was an eloquent man, and he was describing what he truly loved. He had described what she had always yearned for in a planet-side posting: the hugeness, the variousness, the aliveness of a breathing world.
"It was as much for me as for her," Amos said, leaning back on the sofa and raising his face to the ceiling, eyes closed. "I speak, and I see what can never be again."
She put a hand on his. "Bethel will be freed and made beautiful again. The Kolnar only stripped the surface, not the nature of the planet."
"Yes. Yes, I believe-must believe that." His fingers curled around hers; fine long-fingered hands, a little calloused.
From riding horses, she thought. A sport she had only read of before. Simeon had provided holos, and riding looked more dangerous and exciting than piloting mini-shuttles.
"Yet when the enemy are driven off, the wounds… and beyond that. We need to change, we must change. More than I thought or wished, and I was a rebellious youngster, a radical, a breaker of images, or so they called me." He turned his head to her. "The enormity of the task ahead frightens me, overwhelms me. Yet with help…"
Oh, great, she thought. To herself: "Lost prince of beautiful, exotic planet, seeks helpmate/companion/lover to assist in rescue/reconstruction. Requires intelligent, forceful manager with strong sense of duty. Will furnish lifelong love and affection, plus palaces, estates, interesting experiences. Apply Amos ben Sierra Nueva." What was that quotation? Get thee behind me, Satan?
Amos sat quietly beside her and placed Joat's box in her lap. His glance was filled with meaning. Channa opened the box and they each took out a crystal-tipped rod. Then they glanced at Simeon's column with identical scheming smiles and clicked the two parts together.
Amos leaned over. They kissed; she stroked his dark hair and gently cupped the back of his head in her hand.
"It is good to have privacy," he said huskily.
"Yes," she agreed, "it is good." And it adds spice, she thought. Like sneaking out of bounds when you're in school.
Simeon watched Channa's door open and close, though no one appeared to be near it. He suppressed a burst of resentment. He had told them he'd turn off the sensors if they requested it. But no, they'd just gone and shut him out without a word…
What is the universe coming to? he thought in irritation. Besides, there's a child present!
A child who had presented him with a techno-itch he could not scratch. On reflection, he decided the analogy was maddeningly accurate. Try as he might, his attention came looping back to the nagging gaps in his recordings. He was accustomed to knowing everything that went on. Joat's earlier white-noise machines and attention-deflectors were minor irritations compared to this newest gadget. Of course, she hadn't had access to the engineering labs before this.
"The child was probably born with a microtool in her hand," he muttered. Now, how did the wands function? Joat had, after all, given him a hint. She might be a genius, but Simeon was a shellperson, with all the computer power and experience that implied.
And I'm also constitutionally unable to resist picking up the gauntlet, he thought happily. There were times when the only way to get rid of a temptation was to give in to it…
I can't believe this, he told himself, fifteen minutes later. Equipment made by the best minds in the Central Worlds flummoxed by a preteen! Which confirmed long-held thoughts about the quality of minds attracted to the Central Worlds bureaucracy. Simeon had long thought that it was a private miracle he hadn't come out prosthetized into a camel, since the design teams were committees. Now, he must meet this challenge.
Channa arched her back against Amos's weight, her hands caressed the slick, silken skin of his back. He kissed her throat and she sighed happily, ready for-
"Oh, Chaaannaaa, I seee yooou."
"Ack, ckgak!"
Amos raised his head from the crook of her neck to look at her. The mixture of puzzlement and sensuality on his face looked very silly, not to mention slightly nauseated. Simeon laughed.
Oh, this is terrible, Channa thought. Yet it was impossible not to see the moment from Simeon's point of view for a second. She laughed, caught between rage and helpless mirth. Amos bobbed up and down with her laughter. His expression assumed a martyred quality that caused her to lose control completely.
"Channa," he said desperately, rolling off and holding her in his arms. "Channa, my darling-are you all right?"
She struggled to speak, to reassure him that her sanity was intact. "Sim… Sim… he… hehe… hehehe," she had to avoid the word he. "Sim…" she gasped, "my implant… he… hehe, mmrrmph… can see us."