"Niven, Larry & Jerry Pournelle - Moties - 02 - The Gripping Hand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

Crimean Tartars Group:

MERLIN, young Master
OZMA, senior Master
VICTORIA, Mediator
DOCTOR DOOLITTLE, Physician
POLLYANNA, Apprentice Mediator

Khanate Group:

HARLEQUIN, Mediator





PART I SNOW GHOST


I would not spend another such a night
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days,
So full of dismal terror was the time!

- William Shakespeare, King Richard III

1 Interaction Nook


0 God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

- William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2


A severed head spun across black sky. He had been a Marine: square jaw, close-cropped blond hair, glittering dead eyes. The slack mouth tried to speak. "Tell them," it said. "Stop them." Vacuum made its skin puffy, and blood made frozen bubbles on the thick neck. "Wake them. Wake them up. Mr. Bury, sir, wake up," it said urgently. The sky swarmed with small six-limbed shapes. They thrashed in the vacuum, found their balance, and swain toward him, past him, toward the battleship Lenin. Vacuum swallowed his scream. "Wake up." they chittered at him. "Please, Excellency, you must wake up."
His Excellency, Horace Hussein Al-Shamlan Bury, Trader and Magnate, jerked and twitched and was sitting upright. He shook his head and forced his eyes open.
The small, dark man was standing a safe distance away. Bury said, "Nabil. What time is it?"
"It's two in the morning, Excellency. Mr. Renner insisted. He said to tell you, 'The gripping hand.'"
Bury blinked. "Is he drunk?"
"Very. I woke Cynthia. She's making espresso for him. I made him take vitamins and drink some water. He was attacked outside the house. We killed all three, Excellency."
"Careless." So: three corpses. At least Renner had some excuse for waking him.
"Mr. Renner was drunk and I was asleep when the alarms rang," Nabil apologized. "Sir, they were using firearms."
"All right. The gripping hand? Renner's been watching too many holoflicks."
"Yes, sir. Excellency, I should be seeing to things."
"Yes, the bodies. We'll want to know all about those. The gripping hand?" Bury eased out of the water bed. His head spun with the motion, and all his joints creaked in protest. "Ill be right down. Have coffee for me, real coffee. Allah help you both if you woke me for nothing but a mugging."

Renner's fine new Spartan tunic was covered with blood, still wet. He had trouble focusing his eyes. He was already talking as Bury took Turkish coffee from Cynthia and sat down.
"They were waiting outside," he said. "I sent the taxi off and started for the door. Two stepped out of God knows where. One grabbed my arms from behind. One sprayed Peaceable Sam in my face. I think that's what it was; I didn't try to sniff it. Held my breath. Bit the alarm tooth and ejected my sleeve gun and sprayed him back. He fell against me. Sounded like popcorn going off all through his body. That's where all the blood came from. The guy behind me, I sprayed his feet."
Nabil was at a console, monitoring as one of Bury's agents began an autopsy on the first of the dead muggers. He looked up to say, "Mr. Renner had called in that he was coming, so the staff was waiting for him, of course. When we heard the alarm they were ready."
"Ready," Renner said. "Nabil, I haven't thanked you. Horace, he deserves a bonus, Horace."
Bury sipped at sweet Turkish coffee in a tiny cup. Renner gulped at what Nabil had given him: evil black espresso, service for four in a full-sized mug with a lemon slice floating it in. It popped his eyes open and stood his hair on end.