"Gardner Dozois & Jonathan Strahan - The New Space Opera" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dozois Gardner)

тАЬI was young. I still had my milk teethтАж IтАЩm not like Baal, because I have been brought up differently. If
I were in his place, things would be better for the Others. I truly believe thatтАФтАЭ She meant the Ki, the
prey-nations. тАЬBut I know what has to be done for KiAn. I want this rescue package to work. Baal is
the one who will make it happen, and I support him in every way.тАЭ

She smiled, close-lipped, no flash of sharp white: I saw the poised steel in her, hidden by ingrained
self-suppression. And she changed the subject, with composure. Unexpected boldness, unexpected
finesseтАФ

тАЬDebra, is it true that Blue people have secret superpowers?тАЭ

I laughed and shook my head. тАЬIтАЩm afraid not. No talking flowers here!тАЭ

****

Pel├й tried to get the DP software to change our codenames. He maintained that тАЬBaalтАЭ and тАЬTiamaatтАЭ
were not even from the same mythology, and if we were going to invoke the gods, those two should be
Aztecs: Huehueteotl, ripping the living heart from his victimsтАжThe bots refused. They said they didnтАЩt
care if they were mixing their mysticisms. Codenames were a device to avoid accidental offense until the
system had assimilated a new user language. тАЬBaalтАЭ and тАЬTiamaatтАЭ were perfectly adequate, and the
Meso-American names had too many characters.

****

I had dinner with Baal, in the Sensitive Visitor Facility. He was charming company: we ate vegetarian
fusion cuisine, and I tried not to think about the butchered meat in the kitchen of his suite. On the other
side of the room, bull-shouldered Colonel HaaтАЩagaan ate alone; glancing at us covertly with small, sad
eyes from between the folds of his slaty head-hide. Shamaz had been hard hit by what had happened in
the Hopes and Dreams Park. But his orange and yellow aura-tag was still bright; and I knew mine was
too. By the ruthless measures of interstellar diplomacy, everything was still going well; set for success.

If things had been different I might have joined Pel├й again when I was finally off duty. As it was, I retired
to my room, switched all the decor, including ceiling and floor, to starry void, mixed myself a kicking
neuro-chemical cocktail, and applied the popper to my throat. Eyedrops are faster, but I wanted the
delay, I wanted to feel myself coming apart. Surrounded by directionless immensity, I sipped chilled
water, brooding. How can a people have World Government, space-flight-level industrialization, numinal
in-telligence, and yet the ruling caste are still killing and eating the peasants? How can they do that, when
practically everyone on KiAn admits they are a single species, differently adapted: and they knew that
before we told them. How can we be back here, the Great Powers and their grisly parasites: making the
same moves, the same old mistakes, the same old hateful compromises, that our Singularity was
supposed to cure forever?

Why is moral development so difficult? Why are predators charismatic?

The knots in my frontal lobes were combed out by airy fingers, I fell into the sea of possibilities, I went to
the place of terror and joy that no one un-derstands unless they have been there. I asked my question
and I didnтАЩt get an answer, you never get an answer. Yet when I came to the shallows again, when I laid
myself, exhausted, on this dark and confused shore, I knew what I was going to do: I had seen it.

But there always has to be an emotional reason. IтАЩd known about BaalтАЩs views before I arrived. IтАЩd