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

He surely had not learned such terms from his expensive tutors!

Faith blushed from her collar to her ears. She tried to walk away from the insulting man, but he coasted close and took hold of her arm. I saw the several rings on the fingers of his hand, set with diamonds and rubies, displaying his inordinate wealth. The hand was quite clean and uncallused; he had never performed physical labor. "Come on-you low-class girls do it all the time, don't you? I'll give you two dollars if you're good." The Jovian dollar- that was our currency too-had been revalued many times, and currently was worth about what it had been seven hundred years ago, back on Planet Earth. That was one of the things I had learned in the school it had cost my father so many of those same dollars to send us to. I also understood the ancient vernacular significance of the two-dollar figure. It was an allusion to the fee of prostitutes.

My anger was building up like pressure in the boiler of a steam machine, but I contained it. Slumming scions could have foul mouths and manners, but it was best to tolerate these and stay out of trouble. All men are not equal, in the domes of Callisto.

Faith tried to wrest her arm free, but the man hauled her roughly in to him. She screamed helplessly. I suppose it would have been better if she had kicked or scratched him, but she had practiced being the helpless type so long it was now second nature.

Then Spirit did what I had lacked the nerve to do: She put her foot against the rim of the saucer and tilted it up. Its gravity lens made it and the man aboard it very light, so it responded readily to her pressure. The shield was partial, so that the saucer would not float away when not in use. About 95 percent of the weight of vehicle and user was eliminated, enabling the propeller in the base to lift and move the mass readily. The null-gee effect was narrow and limited, so that the air above was not unduly disturbed. The first saucers, when gravity shielding was new, had borne their users along in perpetual clouds of turbulence, and minor tornadoes had been known to form above them, contributing to the awkwardness. But the refinement of the shield to make a curving and self-limiting null-gee zone had solved that problem, and the saucers were now quite common. (I use "shield" and "lens" interchangeably here; I should not, but the technical distinctions are beyond my expertise, so I go with the ignorant majority in this case. As I understand it, there is no shield, but the lens performs the office admirably.) The saucers use very little power, and, though they aren't generally fast, they are fun. Larger saucers can do considerably more, of course.

But I digress, as is my fault. The point is, it does require fair balance and skill to ride such a saucer, for the passenger's weight reduction is proportional to the amount of the body within the region of shielding and the angle of the shielding disk. It is a common misconception that a grav-shield angled sidewise abates gravity sidewise; of course that could never be true. Such an angle merely reduces the size of the null-gee region. Thus a person floating too high can always bring himself down by tilting the shield. Properly managed, the saucers provide precisely controlled individual flotation, with the rider drawing his body into the shielded region to increase lift, and extending it beyond that region to increase weight and make a gentle descent.

So when Spirit tilted the saucer, two things happened. Its cross section intercepting the planetary gravity diminished slightly-and the man aboard it found himself angled to a greater extent outside that field. Naturally the saucer sank under his increasing weight. It also threw him off balance, so that yet more of his body projected from the shielded zone.

Balancing on a gravity lens has been described as similar to balancing on a surfboard or skateboard-which provides modern folk a hint of the fun the ancients had-and a slight miscue could quickly become calamitous.

It was so in this case. Only the man's grip on Faith's arm steadied him, enabling him to jump off the saucer instead of being dumped on his face. Shaken and furious, he whirled about-just in time to spy the burgeoning smirk on my face.

I had not done the deed, but I was certainly guilty of appreciating it. "I'll teach you!" he cried angrily in that idiomatic expression that means the opposite. He released Faith and concentrated on me. Behind him the vacant saucer righted itself and hovered in place, as it was programmed to do. It had not failed him; he had failed it, with a little help from Spirit.

The scion was substantially older and larger than I, for five years can be a tremendous distinction in this period of life, and I was afraid of him. I did not want to fight him. I have never regarded myself as a creature of violence in the most propitious circumstances, and this one was least propitious. At the same time, I was aware that this development had distracted his malign attention from Faith, and that it would return to her the moment he settled with me. Therefore I could not seek to elude him. Not until my sister was safe. That was the onus attached to my privilege of being male.

"Get on home, girls," I snapped peremptorily.

Spirit started to go, knowing it was best, though she didn't like leaving me. By herself she would have stayed, but she was aware that the real threat was to Faith, who had to be moved out of danger.

But Faith, less perceptive of the realities of the situation, had the endearing loyalty of the Hubris family. She did not go. "You can't fight him, Hope," she protested, her voice quavering with reaction and fear.

"I won't fight the twerp," the scion snarled. Again I take a liberty with the translation, ameliorating the essential term. "I'll only jam his head into a wall to teach him his place. Then I'll deal with you." And he made a small gesture of universal and impolite significance.

Emboldened by my awareness of the peril of our situation, I never paused to see the horrified blush I knew was crossing Faith's face. I punched the scion in the stomach.

It was a foolish gesture. He was not only larger than I, he was in better physical condition. He looked clean and soft, but he had access to expensive complete-nutrition foods tailored to his specific chemistry, while my stature had been somewhat retarded by sometimes inadequate diet. He could go regularly to a private gymnasium for expertly supervised exercise crafted to be entertaining and efficient, while I got mine playing handball in the back alleys. Even if I had been his age and size, I could not have matched his training and endurance. This was a gross mismatch.

The scion smiled grimly, well aware of these aspects. He might not have completely enjoyed the various facets of his training, since he might have preferred at any given time to be out slumming in the city, as he was now, but he had nevertheless profited from them. He assumed a competent fighting stance, body balanced, fists elevated. I had hit him; I had not hurt him, but I was committed by the convention of our culture that transcended the difference in our stations. A person who hits another had better be ready to fight.

The scion stepped forward, leading with his left fist, his right cocked for the punishing follow-up. In that moment I saw Faith standing frozen to my right and Spirit to my left. My older sister was terrified, but my younger one, who now had a pretext to stay, was intrigued.

I ducked and dodged, of course. Fights are an integral part of youth, and though I never sought them-perhaps I should say because I never sought them-I had had my share. I am a quick study on most things, and pain is a most effective tutor. I had been hurt so many times that my response had become virtually instinctive. It was not that I had any special competence in fisticuffs or any delusion about winning, but I could at least put up a respectable defense, considering the disparity in our forces. Like the scion, I had been an unwilling student, but I had mastered the essentials.

The scion turned with a sneer, unsurprised at his miss. Only a complete fool stands still to take a direct hit. He retained his poise. He had only been testing, anyway. He stepped forward again, jabbing with his left, still saving his right for the opportunity to score. He was too smart to swing wildly; he knew he would catch me in due course unless I fled, in which case he would have undistracted access to Faith. This was, in its fashion, merely a preliminary to that access. He was, perversely, showing off for her, impressing her by beating up her little brother. He had no need of her pleasure or her acquiescence, just her respect, to feed his id. He was the dragonslayer who would get the fair maid-in his own perception.

Young as I was and inexperienced as I was, I still understood that the sexual drive is superficial compared to the human need for recognition and favor. This man could have bought willing sex elsewhere, or possibly even had it from Faith had he chosen to dazzle her with some costly gift or tour of the realm of the rich. But that would have lacked the cutting edge of this little drama. The thing a person works for has more value than the thing too easily obtained. Also, it seemed to be a requirement of his need that the girl he got be inferior, someone to be coerced in an alley rather than wooed like a lady. A certain kind of upbringing fosters that attitude. To that type of perception, sex could not be enjoyable unless it was dirty.

Meanwhile I dodged again, not allowing my thoughts to interfere with the immediate business of self-preservation. The scion shifted to face me again, satisfied to bide his time while Faith watched. Now I was fielding information about him: the way he moved, the standard procedure he employed, the glances he made at Faith to be sure he was sufficiently impressing her. He was larger and stronger and healthier than I, but not actually faster, and certainly not more versatile. He was using no imagination in his attack, relying solely on basic moves. He was in fact limited by his arrogant attitude and his certainty of success.

He came at me a third time, and I ducked a third time-but this time I did not dodge aside. I launched myself at his knees, tackling him, my shoulder striking his thigh in front and shoving him back. The force of my strike and the surprise of my attack gave me an advantage I lacked in conventional combat. But this was not convention; this was the street. The rules were not exactly what the scion might have been taught, here.

The scion stepped back, surprised, but did not fall. He had maintained good balance, as he had been trained to do, and it is in fact very hard to dump a balanced opponent. But he had lost his poise. As I had anticipated, he was unprepared to deal with atypical strategy. The odds remained uneven, but not as much so as before.