"Continuing Time - 04 - The AI War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moran Daniel Keys)

his head. УToo bad.Ф He brought forward the gun he had been trying to hide
behind his back.
Trent said, УI wouldnТt do that.Ф
Behind the assassin, Porky PigТs beatified holographic image radiated love and
compassion. The assassin said, УIТm sorry about this.Ф
He aimed carefully and fired twice.
The bullets left the barrel of the gun at 850 meters per second and struck Trent
square in the chest. TrentТs camouflage scalesuit went rigid all over under the
impact; the shots knocked him from his feet, sent him tumbling backward twenty
meters through the vacuum, across the rocky surface of the asteroid, through the
Roadrunner exhibitЧ
УBeep! Beep beep!Ф The Roadrunner zipped out of the way; the Coyote came alive
and chased Trent through their display, missed him of course, fingers clutching
after TrentТs toes as TrentТs scalesuited body left the Roadrunner exhibit and
tumbled on into the Ren and Stimpy exhibit, fetching up against the backdrop.
Ren came alive and screamed УYou iiiidiot!Ф as Trent broke the laser beam that
informed the holo of the presence of an audience. УLook what youТve done!Ф

There was no air in his lungs and his chest ached as though it had been struck
by a sledgehammer. Trent sipped air in shallow gasps, waiting for the pain to go
away, waiting until he could breathe again. He stared up at the stars through
his helmetТs faceplate; the stars stared back down at him, cool and distant and
indifferent to one genieТs brush with death.
Off somewhere to his left, Sol shone, a light so bright his faceplate blacked it
out.
He thought distantly, Downsider.
УЕthe Big Sleep, you stupid, bloated fool ЕФ
After over ten years in space, Trent no longer considered himself a downsider.
It was a mistake no one not fresh from Earth would have made. No SpaceFarer, no
loonie, Halfer, or Belter Е nobody but a downsider would have tried to shoot him
with an impact weapon while standing on the surface of a one kilometer long
asteroid that had no gravity to speak of.
With his right hand, Trent reached over and tapped the radio bar on his left
wrist.
УЧmeans Death! Death you imbeЧФ The shrieking ChihuahuaТs voice ceased in
mid-word.
After most of a minute had passed, a extra-large form in a custom scalesuit,
much like TrentТs own, appeared and floated over Trent.
Over their secure suit channel, TrentТs УbodyguardФЧAndrew Strawberry, a
Reverend of the Temples of Eris, former World Football League starЧsaid, УWhat
are you doing down there?Ф
Fighting for breath, Trent answered through his inskin, had the inskin transmit
the message to his suit radio, which turned it into speech for Reverend Andy. I
got shot.
Reverend Andy did something that might have looked vaguely amusing to a
downsider fresh from Earth; he held his hands out at right angles to his body,
briefly mirroring the crucified holograph of Porky Pig, ten meters behind him.
The maneuvering rockets at his wrists came alive, two strong blasts; he did a
slow pirouette, three hundred and sixty degrees. УI donТt see him.Ф
УPeople donТt Е listen,Ф said Trent, gasping for breath. УNobody ever listens.Ф