"Anderson, Kevin J - Seven Suns 4 - 2005 - Scattered Suns" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Kevin J)

But when he saw what the hydrogues were doing, his excitement drained away into a bottomless pit. The creatures stood around the transparent coffin and activated a vent on the sides, slowly letting in their own atmosphere.
Trapped inside, Gomez began to struggle and pound even more furiously.
"What are they doing?" Anjea said.
"They're gradually increasing the pressure. They're opening up his chamber to the outside environment."
"That'll kill him."
"I think that's the idea."
Inside the coffin-shaped transport bubble, Gomez grew wild. The hydrogues looked down at him, as if studying his reaction for later discussion. Gomez pounded, kicked. His mouth stretched open in a scream. His eyes were wide and bulging.
"Stop it!" It was useless, and Robb knew it. The other captives moaned or cried.
As the pressure continued to increase, Gomez finally ceased his thrashing. His eyeballs hemorrhaged, and blood began to run out of his nose and ears. By now all of his internal organs must have been crushed. Robb blinked tears from his eyes. He wanted to look away from the horror, but couldn't.
The hydrogues didn't stop there. Even after Gomez had been killed, they continued to let the atmospheric pressure grow greater and greater, until the dead prisoner's body began to snap and implode, all of its structure breaking down.
It took almost ten minutes for the body to be squeezed into a gruesome paste. Then the three implacable hydrogues unsealed the halves of the coffin and upended it to pour out the gelatinous pulp. The reddish mess, spangled with splinters of bone, spread out in a heap outside among the hydrogues' geometrical structures. The three quicksilver figures stared at the runny mess, as if waiting to see if it would form itself into a body like their own. Instead, the organic matter that had been Charles Gomez simply bubbled and oozed.
The hydrogues finally left. What had they hoped to accomplish? What had they expected? Was it some sort of cruel experiment? A torture? A punishment, or even amusement? Robb didn't speak; the other captives remained sullen and silent.
"We'll never get out of here alive," Anjea said.
Then, as the remaining prisoners backed toward the rear of their protective chamber again, the hydrogues came forward to take another experimental subject.

12
ADAR ZAN'NH
From his command nucleus, the Adar stared in disbelief at the images from the besieged docking bay. His escort troops, protocol officers, and reception committee lay sprawled on the deck, cut down by stunners or beaten senseless. The doors were sealed, all access blocked. Rusa'h had barricaded himself in with his hostages, and demanded the impossible.
"Get our engineers and constructors working. I want them to break through that door. Recapture my docking bay." Grudgingly Zan'nh added, "Keep the Hyrillka Designate alive, if possible . . . but do what you must."
Teams outside the sealed doors were using cutters and prybars, but the barriers had been designed to hold even against an explosion.
Knowing Zan'nh was eavesdropping, the Designate showed no compassion, not a trace of emotion, as he ordered his rebels to gather the stunned reception committee. Rusa'h sat in his imitation chrysalis chair, directing his followers. "You have little time remaining, Adar. Surrender this warliner, or I will begin executing captives."
Zan'nh found it inconceivable that his uncle would do such a thing. But he had already slain Pery'h. . . .
The Adar called to his communications operator. "Have we heard from Qul Fan'nh? Warn him that the Prime Designate may also attempt treachery. I do not understand what is happening here, but we dare not trust Thor'h."
"No response from the first warliner, Adar. The qul does not respond to our communications."
An icy fist gripped Zan'nh's heart. Was he already too late?
"Your time is up, Adar," Rusa'h announced, leaning close to the imager so that his expressionless face filled the screen. "By hesitating, you force me to demonstrate that my demands must be taken seriously."
Attender kithmen moved his chrysalis chair to give the imagers a full view. The Designate raised a hand, and two of his brainwashed guards dragged the groggy primary protocol officer into view. He had not yet fully recovered from the effects of being stunned. "This one will be first."
Zan'nh observed with growing alarm. How far would Rusa'h carry this mockery? "Uncle, wait! Allow me to-"
The Hyrillka Designate gestured calmly and sat back in his cushions. The two guards slid crystal blades from jeweled sheaths at their sides, then moved with mechanical efficiency. One stabbed the protocol officer in the chest. The other drew the sharp edge along his throat. Arterial blood poured out in a foaming stream. The two guards released the body, letting the dead man slump to the deck plates. They stood back, their uniforms splashed with Ildiran blood.
Zan'nh gasped. Two of his officers in the command nucleus became noisily ill. "You . . . you have killed-"
By commandeering the imaging network, Rusa'h had transmitted the gruesome scene to every crewmember aboard all forty-seven warliners. "In another three minutes, I will execute a second victim. I should point out that as the effects of the stunners begin to wear off, the hostages will feel the agony of death more acutely. The reaction through thethism will then be more painful to all of you."
"Stop this!" Zan'nh demanded.
"You know how to stop it, Adar. I urge you not to let the slaughter continue." His voice was bland, smug.
On a private channel, Zan'nh demanded of his security crew, "How soon can you break through?"
"At least a standard hour. This is solid metal plating."
"Bekh!"The fist squeezed tighter in Zan'nh's chest, and his mind raced for options. Through thethism, his father would be able to sense the danger, but not the details . . . only that something was wrong. He wished Adar Kori'nh could be there to give him advice. What would his mentor have done? How could he put an end to this? Designate Rusa'h was insane!
Three minutes thundered by.
Zan'nh had intimidated human skyminers. He had traveled to disaster-stricken colonies, and he had performed intricate war-game maneuvers. He had fought hydrogues. But this hostage situation, the cold and blatant threat of murder after murder, had paralyzed him as if he were no more than a novice. Zan'nh had heard of wild, irrational behavior by human heroes and madmen, but never anIldiran . He had no experience with incomprehensible situations like this.
In spite of such heinous, inconceivable behavior, the Hyrillka Designate was still the Mage-Imperator's brother. He was still an Ildiran.
But Zan'nh did not dare allow the rebellious Designate to seize these warliners. What did Rusa'h intend to do with the ships, that he was willing to commit murder to gain them? Without fresh victims, though, Rusa'h would have no leverage. To prevent greater failure, should Zan'nh just coldly sacrifice all seventy hostages, let the Designate and his rebels slaughter them?
How could he live with that, stand by and do nothing? He was the Adar of the Solar Navy! Those hostages were his loyal soldiers. He had led them into battle against the hydrogues at Hrel-oro. After they had been hammered by the enemy aliens and suffered the devastating loss of an entire warliner, Zan'nh had brought them to Hyrillka so they could regain their strength and confidence. How could he fail again? How could he abandon them?
"It is time for your second lesson," the Designate said. "You have wasted time, and three minutes pass so swiftly."
Zan'nh shouted into the speaker. "No! Let me send in an aide to discuss your demands-"
Rusa'h was not interested in listening. "There is nothing to discuss, nothing to negotiate. I have been perfectly clear." His followers dragged forward a struggling female guard this time. "Eventually you will learn, Adar. You have always been intelligent, nephew, though deluded by the Mage-Imperator."
They stripped the female guard of her body armor and left her vulnerable. The effects of the stunner had worn off completely by the time they raised their assassination knives.
"I ask again, Zan'nh-do you yield?" Rusa'h said. "Do you surrender these warliners to my cause?"
"I cannot." He struggled to find steel within him. "You must not have access to-"
The Hyrillka Designate nodded, and his followers once again stabbed and slashed. The female guard gurgled as she bled to death; her body fell beside the first victim on the deck.
Each death tortured him like a red-hot needle in the eye. Zan'nh felt the screaming response resounding through thethism . He felt her die.
"How many more bodies must you pile up, Adar? You know you will surrender eventually. How many more useless executions will you face?"