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

He still had air. That was good, air was good. The faceplate was still cracked, maybe a little worse than
before, but it was holding his air in. All you could ask of from a faceplate, really, particularly one that had
taken a round from an autoshot square on. Holding in the air was an excellent beginning, excellent ending,
excellent everything.

All he could see were stars and part of Ceres, off in one corner of the faceplate. They'd hit on the
Temple's dark side.

Abruptly the universe came back into focus. Trent's inskin reintegrated --

They drifted together, Trent and Elite Captain Colbert, only a few meters above the surface of the
Temple. Trent's scalesuit still had the left hand locked around Colbert's right wrist. The Elite was not
moving, which was certainly more good news and nothing to complain about. The Elite was as far away
from Trent as he could get with Trent's scalesuit locked onto his combat suit.

Broken left ankle, Trent guessed. Wrenched left knee. Dislocated right knee, and the ligaments, already
stiffened by past injuries, had probably gone with the socket. Cracked ribs, sure. The scalesuit was not in
much better shape than the protoplasm it protected: the hand locked around Colbert's suit would not
unlock, the faceplate was cracked, and something was wrong with the airplant. The airplant was the least
of Trent's worries; he expected he'd be dead or safe before he had to worry about foul air.

What a bad day this is turning out to be, Trent thought.

A voice came, silently, over his secure channel: Trent!

Over the general bands, at the same time, he got: "Ehhhh, what's up, Doc?"

This is Captain Bittan. We're locked in on your beacon and are en route to the
Temple. E.T.A. six minutes. There's a PKF corvette in the area, so be careful.

Laughing hurt. "Now they tell me," Trent whispered aloud.

"Hey, Buddy. Yeah, you, pal."

Trent calculated, blasted once with his free wrist rocket. He and Elite Captain Colbert rotated together,
lovers holding hands.

It was Bugs. Trent had known it, from the voice, that Brooklyn accent. He stood there with a carrot in
one hand, hovering over the Temple's rocky surface, eyeing Trent skeptically. "We're closed, pal. You
and yer, uh, friend dere, you gotta leave."

Command , said Trent. This is an emergency. We require immediate medical
attention. We need to get into pressure.

The holograph of Bugs Bunny hesitated, said, "Look, pal, why cause trouble for yourself -- " and then the
voice ceased and Bugs vanished. A different voice said, "Do not move. Medbots from Ceres CityState
are being routed to your location with a pressurized ambulance."

Trent closed his eyes and floated in the pain. Jesus and Harry. Only a few more minutes.