"Resnick, Mike - Oracle 3 - Prophet" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

"And then, since you're going to have to start earning your keep, I want you to go into the galley and make me up some dinner." He paused. "Soya products only. No red meat, no dairy products."
"I don't see how that makes you a better killer," said Neil.
"It makes me a healthier one," responded Lomax. "I've got high blood pressure and a high cholesterol count. No sense letting these control patches I wear do all the work."
The young man smiled. "You're kidding."
"Why should you think so?"
"I just can't imagine the Gravedancer sticking medical patches in his body for that stuff."
An amused smile crossed Lomax's face. "You probably can't imagine that I've got a prosthetic eye and that my current set of teeth is three years old, either."
"Is that true?"
"Kid, there are very few whole men walking around the Inner Frontier," answered Lomax. "Now go send those messages."
Neil activated the radio and spoke briefly to his father, who was alternately distressed and enraged, but finally realized that there was nothing he could do about the situation, and even volunteered to send some money ahead to Olympus, an offer the young man refused.
Then they ate, the young man insisting on having the same bland food as Lomax.
Finally they strapped themselves into the bunks that folded out from the bulkhead in the short corridor between the galley and the cargo area, and went to sleep.
Lomax awoke with a start an hour later.
"Shit!" he muttered.
"What is it?" asked Neil, sitting up abruptly.
"I put us on autopilot, but I forgot to activate the avoidance sensors. We're probably okay, but it'd be just my luck to smash into the only damned meteor within five parsecs."
"I'll take care of it," said Neil, walking to the control panel.
"Wait a minute and I'll hit the lights," said Lomax.
"Not necessary," came the answer.
"Even if you know where the sensor control is, you still have to be able to see it to make the adjustment."
"It's done," said Neil, returning to his cot in total darkness.
"How the hell did you do it?" asked Lomax.
"I thought I told you: I work with computers. I was picking up some parts when I met you."
"So?"
"A couple of years ago I programmed a pair of microchips for infrared vision and had them surgically inserted in my eyes."
"You can really see in the dark?"
"Sure," said Neil.
"Amazing!" muttered Lomax.
"Oh, that's nothing. I've got chips in me that enhance my hearing and my sense of smell, too."
"You designed 'em yourself?"
"It' s what I do."
"I suppose if you had to, you could probably design one that would speed up all your reactions," said Lomax.
"Given enough time, I probably could. Why?"
"It might prove useful where you're going."
"You know, it never occurred to me," admitted Neil thoughtfully.
"Well, it's an idea, anyway," said Lomax, lying back down on his cot.
"It's a damned good idea, Gravedancer," said Neil. "If I'm going to live on the Frontier, I ought to be . . . well, prepared."
"Nothing wrong with that," agreed Lomax. "Out here you need any edge you can get. I just went up against a man who had a laser built into a fake finger. Never spotted it. If the fat old man I'm working for hadn't been a little more alert than I was, I wouldn't have lived long enough to get to Greycloud."
"A weapon in a prosthetic finger . . ." mused Neil. "I could do that." He considered the proposition. "Hell, I could turn my whole body into a killing machine."
"Who do you plan on killing?" asked Lomax.
"No one."
"Then why bother?"
"Because one of these days someone may want to kill me, and it's best to be prepared."
'Contrary to what you may have seen on the video, life on the Inner Frontier isn't one prolonged gunfight," said Lomax.
"Yours is."
"My life is like anyone else' s in my profession," replied Lomax. "Endless stretches of boredom, punctuated by very brief periods of danger that make you wonder what was so wrong with the boredom in the first place."
"Well, it can't hurt to be prepared," said the young man stubbornly. "After all, you suggested it."
"I know," said Lomax sleepily. "You do what you want to do."
"I'll start designing what I need on the ship's computer in the morning."
"Fine," yawned Lomax. "At least I know what to call you now."