"Tales Of The Bounty Hunters (Kevin Anderson)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Kevin J)

Two other technicians screamed in horror -- wasted
effort and worthless noises, IG-88 thought.
Chief Technician Loruss -- Target Number Two --
yanked a high-powered laser rifle from her station. Be-
ing one of his primary designers, she knew exactly
where to fire at IG-88, and he was momentarily con-
cerned. She must have kept the weapon at hand just in
case one of her creations went renegade. This showed
surprising forethought.
Loruss pointed the rifle and fired without hesita-
tion -- but a human's aiming capabilities were not as
sophisticated as IG-88's.
As the bolt roared toward him, IG-88 assessed his
body parts, chose the smooth reflective portion on the
palm of his left hand, and raised it in a flash, calculat-
ing the precise angle of incidence. The burning laser
bolt struck the mirrorized hand and spanged back
toward Loruss. The beam struck her in the center of
her bald forehead, and her skull popped in an explo-
sion of wet black-and-red smoke. She tumbled.
IG-88 had scanned and prioritized the remainder of
the targets before her body hit the floor. Without slow-
ing, he picked up the durasteel table, ripping its legs
free from thick bolts on the metal plate floor and scat-
tering droid components in all directions.
Charging forward, pumping his legs like pistons, IG-
88 used the table as a battering ram to crush four tech-
nicians at a time. They ran about without a place to go,
locked within the security-sealed door. Though nearly a
full minute had passed, no one had yet managed to
sound the security alarm.
He intended to prevent them from correcting their
mistake.
The two screaming technicians never did stop
screaming, nor did they move until it was too late. He
left them for last. IG-88 took his time to enjoy the mo-
ment as he snapped their necks one after the
other....
Standing alone amid the silence and the carnage of
the laboratory, IG-88 allowed himself the luxury of
thinking and planning, which took longer than simple
programmed reactions. He let the blood dry on his
metal fingers, noting that it did not impede his perfor-
mance in the least. Since it was an organic substance, it
would wear off soon enough.
Then he turned to assess the other four assassin
droids on display, seemingly identical to himself. Inter-
esting.
One had already been hooked up to a diagnostic
system, while the other three stood motionless, unpro-