"Charles Stross - Trunk and Disorderly" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

Bunkers, each with their own color-coordinated suite of Doomsday Weapon
Control Consoles, for those occasions on which one is required to entertain
multiple planetary overlords simultaneously.)

If the palace was maintained the old-fashioned wayтАФby squishy
servantsтАФit would be completely unmanageable: but it was designed in the
immediate aftermath of the Martian hyper-scabies outbreak of 2407 that
finished off those bits of the Solar System that hadnтАЩt already been
clobbered by the Great Downsizing. Consequently itтАЩs full of shiny clicky
things that scuttle about when youтАЩre not watching and get underfoot as they
polish the marble flags and repair the amazingly intricate lapis lazuli
mosaics and re-fill the oil lamps with extra-virgin olive oil. It still needs a
sizable human staff to run it, but not the army youтАЩd expect for a pile several
sizes larger than the Vatican Hilton.

I bounced out of the boarding tube into the entrance hall and right into
the outstretched arms of Abdul, flanked by two stern, silent types with
swords, and a supporting cast of houris, hashishin, and hangers-on.
тАЬRalphie-san!тАЭ he cried, kissing me on both cheeks and turning to show me
off to the crowd: тАЬI want you all to meet my honored guest, Ralph
MacDonald Suzuki of MacDonald, Fifth Earl of That Clan, a genuine
Japanese Highland Laird from old Scotland! Ralphie is a fellow skydiver
and all-around good egg. Ralph, this isтАФharrumph!тАФVladimir Illich of
Ulianov, Chief Commissar of the Soviet Onion.тАЭ Ulianov grinned: under the
false pate I could see it was our old drinking chum Boris the Tsarevitch.
тАЬAnd thisтАФwhy, Edgy! I didnтАЩt recognize you in that! Is it a llama? How very
realistic!тАЭ

тАЬNo, is meant to be a monkey,тАЭ explained Wolfblack, twirling so that
his false camel-skin disguise flapped about. I opened my mouth to tell him
that the barrel Miss Feng had strapped to his back to provide support for
the hump had slipped, but he turned to Abdul: тАЬYou like?тАЭ

тАЬJolly good, that outfit!тАЭ

тАЬPip pip,тАЭ said Toadsworth, whirring alongside with a glass of the old
neurotoxins gripped in one telescoping manipulator. I think it might have
been a high-bandwidth infoburst rather than a toast, but due to my
unfortunate hereditary allergy to implants IтАЩm very bad at spotting that kind
of thing. тАЬWhich way to the bar, old fellow?тАЭ

тАЬThat way,тАЭ suggested Ibn Cut-Throat, springing from a hidden
trapdoor behind a Ming vase. He pointed through an archway at one side of
the hall. тАЬBe seeing you!тАЭ His eyeballs gleamed with villainous pro-mise.

A black-robed figure in a full veil was staring at me from behind two
implausibly weaponized clankie hashishin at the back of the party. I got an
odd feeling about them, but before I could say anything Toadsworth
snagged my free hand in his gripper and began to tug me toward the old
tipple-station. тАЬCome-on! Inebriate!тАЭ He buzzed: тАЬall enemies of sobriety