"Anthony, Piers - Bio of a Space Tyrant 01 - Refugee" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

One of the peripheral pirates strode forward to intercept my father. Another went after Faith. My father was not a man of violence, but he could not tolerate abuse of his children. He raised one fist in warning as he met the pirate. It was not that he wanted to fight, but that he had to give some signal that the limit of our tolerance had been approached. Even confused refugees could only be pushed so far.

The pirate drew his curved sword. "Get back!" another refugee cried, catching my father by his other arm and drawing him back into the throng. The pirate, satisfied by this act of retreat, scowled and did not pursue.

Meanwhile, the other pirate reached Faith, who now stood close beside me, no longer protesting my leadership. He caught her by the elbow. She screamed-and I launched myself at the man.

I caught him in a clumsy tackle about the legs, making him stumble. This brought a feeling of deja vu to me, the sensation of having been here before. My mind is like that; I make odd connections at the least convenient times. A teacher once told me that it is a sign of creativity, that can be useful if properly harnessed. I had tackled a man before, rescuing my sister-

A fist like a block of ice-rock clubbed me on the ear.

There is a peculiar agony to the injured ear; my very brain seemed to shake inside my skull.

The pirate had knocked me down with the same almost careless contempt the Horse had applied to the old man. It was as effective. I sat up, my ear seeing red stars. For a moment I was disorganized, not doing more than hurting and watching.

The pirate hauled Faith into the open. She screamed again and wrenched herself away. Her blouse tore, leaving a shred in the man's grip. He cursed in the manner of his kind and lunged for her again.

I scrambled up and launched myself at him a second time. This time I didn't tackle, I butted. The man was leaning toward me, reaching for Faith; I brushed past her and struck him dead center with the top of my head.

His arms were outstretched; he had no protection from my blow. His mouth was open, as he was about to say something. I was braced for the impact; even so, it was one spine-deadening collision.

The air whooshed out of the pirate like gas from a punctured bag, while I dropped half-stunned to the deck. Now my whole head saw stars, and they had heated from red to white! We were both lightweight in the fractional gravity of the bubble, but our inertial mass remained intact; there had been nothing light about the butt!

I lay prone, waiting for the shock to let go of my system. I was conscious, but somehow couldn't get my limbs to coordinate. I heard the pirates shouting, and Faith's voice as she turned about and returned to me. "Hope!" she cried. "Are you all right? Oh, they've hurt him!"

I presumed that "him" was me, news for a third party. I tried to tell her I would be all right in a moment, when the universe stopped gyrating quite so wildly and my head shrank back to manageable dimension, but only a grunt came out. Maybe that sound actually issued from the pirate next to me, who was surely hurting as much as I was. Maybe with luck, I had managed to separate his ribs.

But now other pirates charged in. "Hack that boy apart!" the Horse cried, and rough hands hauled me into the air.

My dizziness abated rapidly; there is nothing like a specific threat to one's life to concentrate his attention!

Faith screamed again-that was one thing she was good at!-and flung her arms about me as my feet touched the deck. The scream was ill-timed; at that moment all the pirates were doing was standing me on my feet and supporting me as I wobbled woozily. Their intent was unlikely to be kind, but in that instant no one was actually doing me violence, despite their leader's order. Maybe it had been intended to cow the other refugees, rather than to be implemented literally. I make this point, with the advantage of retrospection, because of the importance of that particular scream.

Ill-timed it was, but that scream electrified the refugees in a manner no prior event had. Suddenly they were acting, all at once, as if choreographed by a larger power. Four of them grabbed the pirate beside me, stripping him from me. Others jumped on the one I had stunned with my butt. Still others went after the oncoming pirates.

The refugee throng had been transformed from an apathetic, frightened mass to a fighting force. Faith's third scream had done it. It remains unclear to me why her first or second screams had not had that effect. Perhaps the first ones had primed the group. I like to understand human motives, and sometimes they defy reasonable explanation.

At any rate, in moments all the pirates except their leader had been caught and disarmed, surprised by the suddenness and ferocity of the refugee reaction and overwhelmed by our much greater number.

The Horse stood, however, not with a drawn sword, but with a drawn laser pistol. This was another matter, for though a laser lacked the brute force of a sword, it could do its damage a great deal faster, particularly when played across the face.

"Turn loose my men," the Horse said sternly.

My father spoke up. I knew he did not like this sort of showdown, but he was, after all, our leader, and with Faith and me involved he was also personally responsible. "Get out of this bubble!" he said. "You're nothing but robbers!"

The Horse's weapon swung to cover my father. I tensed despite my continuing discomfort, knowing that little weapon could puncture a man's eyeballs and cruelly blind him before he could even blink.

"Who are you?" said the pirate.

"Major Hubris," my father responded.