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

known that he would hunt and kill тАЬweaklingтАЭ Ki, as was his traditional right, and not just once, heтАЩd do it
whenever the opportunity arose; and IтАЩd still been undecided. It was Tiamaat who made the difference.
IтАЩd met her, skin on skin as we say. I knew what the briefing had not been able to tell me. She was no
cipher, superficially тАЬcivilizedтАЭ by her education, she was suppressed. I had heard that cry of despair and
anger, when she saw what Baal had done. I had talked to her. I knew she had strength and cunning, as
well as good intentions. A latent dominance, the will and ability to be a leader.

I saw BaalтАЩs look of challenge and trust, even nowтАФ

But Tiamaat deserved saving, and I would save her.

****

The talks went on. Morale was low on the DP side, because the refugee-camp incident had shown us
where we stood; but the Ki delegates were happyтАФinsanely, infuriatingly. The тАЬtraditional diet of the AnтАЭ
was some-thing they refused to discuss, and they were going to get their planet rebuilt anyway. The
young An leaders spent very little time at the conference table. Baal was indifferentтАФhe had people to
understand these things for himтАФ and Tiamaat could not be present without him. This caused a rift. Their
aides, the only other An around, were restricted to the SV Facility suites (we care assistants may be
crazy but weтАЩre not entirely stupid). Pel├й and I were fully occupied, making sure our separate charges
werenтАЩt left moping alone. Pel├й took Tiamaat shopping and visiting museums (virtual and actual). I found
that Baal loved to roam, just as I do myself, and took him exploring the lesser-known sights.

We talked about his background. Allegedly, heтАЩd given up a promising career in the Space Marines to
take on the leadership. When IтАЩd assured myself that his pilot skills were real, he wasnтАЩt just a toy-soldier
aristo, I fi-nally took him on the long float through the permanent umbilical, to Right Speranza.

We had to suit up at the other end.

тАЬWhatтАЩs this?тАЭ demanded Baal, grinning. тАЬAre we going outside?тАЭ

тАЬYouтАЩll see. ItтАЩs an excursion I thought youтАЩd enjoy.тАЭ
The suits were programmable. I watched him set one up for his size and bulk, and knew he was fine: but
I put him through the routines, to make sure. Then I took him into the vast open cavern of the DPтАЩs
missile reposi-tory, which we crossed like flies in a cathedral, hooking our tethers to the girders, drifting
over the ranked silos of deep-space interceptors, the giant housing of particle cannons.

All of it obsolete, like castle walls in the age of heavy artillery; but it looks convincing on the manifest, and
who knows? тАЬModernтАЭ armies have been destroyed by Zulu spears; it never pays to ignore the
conventional weaponsтАФ

тАЬIs this a weapons bay?тАЭ the monster exclaimed, scandalized, on suit radio.

тАЬOf course,тАЭ said I. тАЬSperanza can defend herself, if she has to.тАЭ

I let us into a smaller hangar, through a lock on the cavern wall, and filled it with air and pressure and
lights. We were completely alone. Left Speranza is a natural object, a hollowed asteroid. Right is
artificial, and itтАЩs a danger-ous place for sentient bipeds. The proximity of the torus can have
unpre-dictable and bizarre effects, not to mention the tissue-frying radiation that washes through at
random intervals. But we would be fine for a short while. We fixed tethers, opened our faceplates and