"Barry B. Longyear - The Hangingstone Rat" - читать интересную книгу автора (Longyear Barry)

I turned around slowly. Farther up-slope something was burning. I
stumbled uphill far enough to see the cruiserтАЩs remains: twisted black metal
pieces, flames still licking up from the few bits of remaining upholstery and
combustible forensic supplies it had contained. The disembodied hand of
the large walking mech was on the ground next to a few scorched feathers
and charred bits of flesh. Thin piece of bone, something that looked like the
tail of a rat. I couldnтАЩt make out either the ratтАЩs or ShadтАЩs bio receivers. Just
then the universe went as black as NewgateтАЩs knocker and I fell, wondering
as I did so if I was going to die again.
 ****

From later accounts I gather Sergeant Vickers grew concerned when,
shortly after losing my signal, the sound of a great explosion came from the
south. He had an air ambulance come immediately, and they managed to
piece enough of me together to get me to camp hospital alive. When I first
regained consciousness, however, it was night, and I was in Royal Devon &
Exeter Hospital in the city. I knew I hadnтАЩt died because, unlike my original
demise, I awakened in the same body replete with every broken bone and
aching cell. Topping the pain inventory was a headache that could gobble
steel ingots and blow off razor wire. Soon there was a fellow stabbing into
my retinas with an intense light beam and asking my name, the year, and
the name of the reigning monarch. When the spots cleared and I managed
a look at the bleeder, he appeared as though he ought to be peddling used
trusses: slicked black hair, widowтАЩs peak, pinched up dark eyes, a
hand-painted tie, and a nose like a broken rudder. The nametag on his
white coat was red, but I couldnтАЩt focus well enough to read it. The manтАЩs
voice came through in tinny flat tones and only through my left ear. I
pointed.

тАЬTemporary hearing assistance patch attached to your left temple,тАЭ he
said. тАЬCan you tell me your name?тАЭ

тАЬI believe I can.тАЭ

He waited for a moment, then raised his evil-looking little eyebrows.
тАЬWhat is it?тАЭ

тАЬJaggers. Detective Inspector Harrington Jaggers, Devon ABCD.тАЭ I
looked at my surroundings. The room was small, off-white and white, a
screen to my right displaying my vital signs to anyone who might wander in.
On the wall opposite my bed I could make out a framed photo of what
appeared to be a Quay scene: Cricklepit Bridge from Waterside. Shad had
loved it down at the Quay.

тАЬI fancy they call you Harry, eh?тАЭ

I looked in the direction of the voice and apparently the truss monger
had failed to remove himself. тАЬMy wife calls me Harry. However, sir, you
may address me by my nickname.тАЭ