"George R. R. Martin - Override" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

got a good lungful of water.
The dead man died first. And its fingers weakened.
Finally, his lungs near bursting, Kabaraijian forced his way free, and kicked to the surface. The water
was only chest high. He stood on the unmoving corpse, keeping it under while he sucked in great drafts
of air.
The launch had impaled itself on a crest of jagged rocks that rose from the water off to one side of
the exit. The passage from the cave was still at hand, outlined in shadow a few short feet away. But now,
was it safety? Without a launch? Kabaraijian considered making his way out on foot, and gave up the
idea instantly. There were too many miles to go before he reached simple daylight, let alone the safety of
the river station. It would mean being hunted in the darkness by whatever remained of his corpse crew.
The prospect sent a chill down his back. No, better to stay and face his attacker.
He kicked free of the corpse, and moved to the debris of his launch, still hung up on the rocks that
had caught it. Shielded by the wreck, he'd be difficult to find, or at least to see. And if his enemy couldn't
see him, it would be hard to send the corpses against him.
Meanwhile, maybe he could find his enemy.
His enemy. Who? Bartling, of course. It had to be Bartling, or one of his hirelings. Who else?
But where? They had to be close, within sight of the beach. You can't run a corpse by remote
control; the sense feedback isn't good enough. The only senses you get are vision and hearing, and them
dimly. You have to see the corpse, see what it's doing, and what you want it to do. So Bartling's man
was around here somewhere. In the cave. But where?
And how? Kabaraijian considered that. It must be the other launch that Cochran had heard.
Someone must have been following them, someone with an override box. Maybe Bartling had a tracer
put on his launch during the night.
Only how'd he know which launch to trace?
Kabaraijian bent slightly so only his head showed above the water, and looked out around the end of
the ruined launch. The beach was a white sand smear across the dim green length of the huge cavern.
There was no noise but the water slapping the side of the boat. But there was motion. The second launch
had been pulled free of the sand, and one of the corpses was climbing on board. The others, moving
slowly, were wading out into the underground pool. Their picks rested on their shoulders.
They were coming for him. The enemy suspected he was still here. The enemy was hunting for him.
Again, he was tempted to dive toward the exit, to run and swim back toward daylight, out of this awful
dimness where his own corpses stalked him with cold faces and colder hands.
He squelched the impulse. He might get a head start while they searched the cavern. But, with the
launch, they'd make it up in no time. He could try to lose them in the intricacies of the caves. But if they
got ahead of him, they could just wait at caves' end. No, no. He had to stay here, and find his enemy.
But where? He scanned the cave, and saw nothing. It was a great expanse of murky green; stone
and water and beaches. The pool was dotted by a few large rocks rising from the water. A man might be
hiding behind them. But not a launch. There was nothing big enough to hide a launch. Maybe the enemy
wore aquagear? But Cochran had heard a launch ...
The corpse boat was halfway across the cavern, heading for the exit. It was his dead-man seated at
the controls, the brown-haired one. The other two corpses trailed, as they walked slowly across the
shallow pool in the wake of the launch.
Three dead men; stalking. But somewhere their handler was hiding. The man with the override box.
Their mind and their will. But where?
The launch was coming closer. Was it leaving? Maybe they thought he'd run for it? Or . . . no,
probably the enemy was going to blockade the exit, and then search the cave.
Did they see him? Did they know where he was?
Suddenly he remembered his corpse controller, and his hand fumbled under water to make sure it
was still intact. It was. And working; controllers were watertight. It no longer controlled. But it still might
be useful ...