"Paul Preuss - Venus Prime 1 - Breaking Strain" - читать интересную книгу автора (Preuss Paul)

was writhing on the floor, plucking at the thing in his midriff. тАЬHelp me, help me!тАЭ he gasped to the
nurses who were already trying their fumbling best to help him. A woman in a pilotтАЩs uniform thrust the
nurses aside and bent to catch his words, but a sudden hooting of sirens filled the air. тАЬAfter her! Take
her . . .тАЭ he gasped at the pilot, then tried to shove her out of the way. He screeched in painтАУthe
hypodermic had come out in his hand, but not all of itтАУтАЬTake her to the director!тАЭ Then his voice rose in
a terrified howlтАУтАЬOh, help me, help meтАЭтАУas the questing hair-fine remnant of the needle pierced and
paralyzed his heart.


A nurse slammed into L. N.тАЩs room and found it deserted. One side of the bed had collapsed on the
floor. The window sash had been thrust up and the yellowing lace curtains were stirring in the frigid
outside airтАУan iron bar was thrust like a spear through the screen of heavy wire that covered the outside
of the window, twisting it aside. The iron bar in the screen had been part of the bed frame.

The nurse rushed to the window as the rising pitch of twin turbine engines reached a near-supersonic
shriek. Black against the frozen brown grass of the lawn below, a sleek shape ascended and hovered, a
viperlike snout quested this way and that under the thump, thump of counter-rotating rotors.

The pilot stumbled into the room, holding a drawn pistol; she shoved the nurse away from the window.
Below, the black tactical helicopter rose another couple of meters, leaned forward, and skimmed off
over the fence between two poplars, hugging the ground.

тАЬDamm it!тАЭ The pilot watched in disbelief, not bothering to waste any rounds on the armored machine.
тАЬWho the hell is in that thing?тАЭ

тАЬShe is,тАЭ said the nurse.

тАЬWho the hell is she?тАЭ

тАЬThe one we were hiding here. The one he wanted you to take to the director.тАЭ

The pilot stared after the helicopter until it dropped into an arroyo beyond the highway and failed to
reappear. She swore and turned away.


Sparta had no clear idea what she was doing. The irregular frozen ground was racing past a meter or two
beneath the skids, the arroyoтАЩs low mud and gravel walls swaying too close to the whirling tips of the
blades as she played with the stick and pedals. She dug up gravel with a skid: the machine lurched,
declined to flip over, flew on.



file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry/Bureaub...0-%20Venus%20Prime%201%20-%20Breaking%20Strain.html (15 of 182)23-12-2006 18:54:42
 ARTHUR C. CLARKE'S VENUS PRIME: VOLUME I

A moving map of the terrain was displayed in space in front of Sparta, holographically superimposed
upon the reality she saw through the windscreen. Just now she was flying uphillтАУthe interstate
magneplane tracks she had crossed before finding the arroyo now reappeared in front of her, carried on a
steel trestle, barring her path. She flew under the trestle. The howl of the aircraftтАЩs engines echoed for a
split second, and one rotor rang sharp and clear from nicking a steel pylon.