"David G. Hartwell - Years best sf 11" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hartwell David G)

clicks from here. Pretty goddamned Fantastic. "Good job, Jesse. I'm about 50 percent less likely to kill
you now that you've started talking. What's the name and registration number of your vehicle there?"

"I don'tтАж have one. It's homemade."

"I kind of figured. So you never registered this thing with the Coordinator Group?"

"We can't afford the fee," the voice said. "We don't produce anything to trade, you know."

"I've got that information on my screen, yeah. Only it's dangerous to be out here without the
Coordinators knowing what you're about. Guy like me is likely to shoot first and explain the situation to
the oversight board later. They usually don't care much. Tell you what, Jesse Marslarsen. Let's give your
ship a name. I'm going to call it JAFR."

"What is that, a random code?"

"No," I said. I was about to tell him what it stood for, then I thought better of it. "Yes, that's what it is."
Jesse didn't sound like he had much of a sense of humor there. "Now we're going to do pretty much what
the Coordinators do when they register a flight. I'm going to ask what your business is, where you're
going and why, and then I'm going to find out what you've got on board. The whole purpose is so we can
let the people at your destination know that you're no danger and they're safe to let you dock. If they're
willing to pay for that information, of course."

"Well, I guess there isn't much I can do to stop you," Jesse said. "I'm willing to tell you the whole story
and let you on board to inspect, but you're not going to give any assurances to the people I'm on my way
to see."

"Why is that, Jesse?"

"Because I'm going to kill them."

The probes I brought with me to the JAFR confirmed what Jesse had told me. He was transporting a
rather hefty thermonuclear device buried in the rock and ice that was his ship. He had no other ordnance,
no weapons of any kind. Just one honking great bomb, a standard ion drive, and a rather meager
lifesupport bubble. I was rather impressed that they had gone to the trouble to outfit this crummy little
ship with a lifeboat and a distress radio. Perhaps a futile gesture in this sparsely populated region, but
you had to give them points for thinking ahead. The rest of the ship was barely adequate. It would have

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 Jarpe, Matthew - City of Reason

been cramped space for one human, but there were two people in there. Two young people.

I entered the ship through a short tunnel that led to an airlock. They let me in without protest or threat,
but I kept my battle armor on anyway. Not just to be safe, but because talking to the blank metal
faceplate and the array of sensors made people nervous. I like the answers I get from nervous people.

Jesse Marslarsen was just a kid, good darkhaired thinfaced Martian stock. The High Fantastic Empire
was working on emotions, according to their published manifesto. They were using some genetic
modifications and some hardware implants toтАж I don't know, conquer emotions or get in touch with