"Tepper, Sheri S - A Plague Of Angels - plangel4" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepper Sherri)

indisposition (so he said) prevented it. Now he moves restlessly among his kindred, trying to draw the severed lines of power into his own hands.
Only certain Mittys and Berklis are out, working methodically from fallen walker to fallen walker, each of them armed with a small, hastily built device that will, so says The Mitty, do more than merely deactivate. The walkers, wherever they are, must be located one by one and once and forever killed, their bodies dragged to a rocky pit, and in that place, burned.

In the control section of the shuttle, Ellel awakes from a days-long sleep. Ander is no longer beside her. He has gone to his own space to rest; at least, the telltale before her says that space number two is occupied, so she assumes he is resting.
She yawns, leaning forward to look out the windows onto the universe. There before her something sparkles, something glitters, something not natural, a created thing, a gem against the darkness of heaven. Beyond it is the luminous slice of the moon, a slender arc, rimming the earth's shadow.
Tiny explosions of joy erupt inside her, like the explosions of firecrackers, one after another, little poplets of happiness. Herself, here, as she planned to be. The station there, growing visibly larger as she watches. The moon, lovely in its pearly splendor. Soon she will be there, she and her walkers, and her people. The weapons will be dismantled and stowed aboard. Perhaps some walkers and people will stay on the station. There have been'discussions of that possibility. And there will be walkers on the moon!
The station is closer. It looks much as she has envisioned it, much as the plans describe it. A huge wheel spinning in space, attached by four spokes to an unmoving hub where the shuttle will dock. And there, protruding from the unmoving hub, are the particular things she is most interested in. The mighty sun cannons that will make her invincible upon earth, their lenses glittering, almost as though in greeting.
"Oh, Daddy!" she murmurs in her delight. "Look at them! Will you look at them!"
To her eyes they have an elegance, a simplicity that she finds lovely. According to the accounts she has seen, they were tested on earth before they were installed here, so she knows they will work on earth as they do here. With considerably less efficiency, true, but they will work. Of all possible earthly opponents, only the Edgers have worried her until now. The Edgers are enigmatic. They are self-contained and self-satisfied. But when the Edgers know she has these, they will not dare stand against her. Not for long, at any rate.
And there, nearby--the unfinished starship! Just as she has been told. Actually, it is less finished than she hoped, but still--nothing that can't be


402 Sheri S. Tepper

managed. Later. What a pity Ander didn't stay here in the control section. He won't be able to see from where he is! She thinks of waking him and discards the notion. This time is too precious. She thinks of arousing Daddy and letting him watch the approach, discarding this notion as well. Recreating him was an indulgence. It was a kind of madness. She has known that all along, but when she could not let the world see the reality of Empress Evel, she needed that secret source of support and confirmation. What happened to her face, her body, had not dissuaded her. But now she laughs abruptly at revelation. Here, now, she doesn't need him anymore!
Slowly, slowly, the station comes closer, the great wheel growing until it occupies the entire window, until she can see only part of it: the hub, to her left, its bay gaping.
She shifts uncomfortably. The shuttle should be coming directly into that bay, but instead it seems aimed at the empty space between hub and wheel. A spoke of that wheel slides across her vision. Space. Space. Another spoke slides by, closer. Space. Space. And a spoke yet again, almost touching the shuttle! Barely clearing before the shuttle moves past it!
The shuttle has gone past! Past the station! It has slid between two spokes of the wheel with contemptuous ease. Leaving the station behind.
Frantically, Ellel brings the rear viewers onto the screen, verifying what she already knows. The station is behind them. They have not stopped at the station.
Has the fool girl misunderstood? Does she believe they intended to go to the moon first'? Surely not!
Ellel releases her belt, flinging herself up with such force, she bumps her head on the panel above herself. She pulls her way toward the guidance booth. The girl still sits, as unmoving as before. Did Ander give her some other instruction'? Is this his fault'? Breathing hard, Ellel goes on by, back past the toilets and the galley into the living space, stopping aghast at the sight of her own door open. Unlocked and open. And inside, exposed to the
view of anyone, everyone, what has been her own secret.Ander! Who else but Ander'?
Raging, she goes past, to the second cubicle, stops at the open door, storms in, then catches herself with a scream of half-fury, half-surprise as floating red globules stir in the air she has disturbed by her entry, wobble and bump against her, to break stickily against her clothing, against her skin, staining her with blood.
Blood. Ander's blood. And he, bobbing around the space like an unwieldy balloon. And the door beyond his open, and the next. All of them, open.
Raging, screaming, she goes down the long tubelike corridor, seeing in every cubicle the same, bodies still strapped into bunks with great globules


(Continued from lront llap)

A PLAGUE OF ANGELS 403
of blood floating everywhere. Dead. All of them dead. Anders and Ellels
both!
Howling, she catapults back to the guidance booth. Her hand on the girl's
wrist. No pulse. Her hand on the girl's neck. No pulse. Her hand on the
breast. No breath. The girl is no longer living. Despite the hostages, the girl
has brought them this far and then died. Died!
And there, behind her ear, a small wound. A tiny, precise wound. Unlike
the other carnage, this wound has bled hardly at all.
Was it Artder who did this? Ander who did all this?
A chuckling sound. She looks up to see the bird, the strange bird, the bird
with the rapier beak sitting upon a pipe that runs along the central corridor.
There is blood upon its beak, and it is watching her.
Ander did not do this.
Stunned into utter quiet, El/el looks out the glassy panes once more in the
direction of their flight, seeing all too clearly where they are going. Their
impetus will take them past the moon, beyond the moon, and on toward the
silent mockery of the oh-so-distant stars.
Behind her, the guardian-angel chuckles sadly once more.

The former hostages had assembled on the terrace above the canyons, to lean upon the parapet while Nimwes and Qualary set out tea and hot soup, and Tom, with bandaged head and arm, fumbled with the controls of the air screen that warmed the place. His Wisdom was there, and a scatter of Gaddirs.