"Walter Jon Williams - Metropolitan - 02 - City On Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Walter John)

The journey has left her without an appetite. And gangster hospitality is something she could do without.
"No," she says. "Thank you.Ф
He sits, inhales smoke, blows it out, then leans forward and props his elbows on his desk. "What do you think of our little community?Ф
"I think it could use some light," Aiah says.
Nictitating membranes eclipse a third of the Sergeant's eyes. "Has Ethemark told you of my proposition?Ф
Aiah looks at her deputy. "No. He hasn't.Ф
"Simply this," Lamarath says. "I want my people to be left alone until things change outside.Ф
So this visit is, perhaps inevitably, official. Aiah straightens her back, puts her feet flat on the floor, clasps her hands in her lap. The proper civil servant, ready to bargain.
"Change how?" she asks.
Lamarath jabs his cigar into the ashtray. "My people need a lot of things.Ф
"Housing, obviously. Medical care.Ф
Aiah looks at Ethemark, who shifts uneasily in his seat. "That isn't our department," she points out. "We're strictly plasm hunters.Ф
"That plasm is all we've got," Lamarath says. "That and the strength of our bodies. The plasm we steal doesn't amount to much, and if we sometimes tap some electricity or fresh water, or steal some phone or video service, or even motor off with some equipment left lying around on the quays, well, that doesn't add up to a great deal.Ф
"But the half-worlds are vulnerable," Ethemark points out.
"Yes." Lamarath's husky voice grates with anger. "If your superiors demand some cheap victories, the half-worlds are where you can find them on short notice. The cops can bust up ten half-worlds per day for weeks, and it will all look very good on videoЧ'Dockyard thieves arrested. Underworld plasm theft ring broken up. Fifty suspects taken into custody. Vagrants dispersed from illegal, unsanitary settlement.'ЧWe know how this sort of thing works, you see.Ф
"It's happened often enough," Ethemark says. "The cops get enough complaints from their superiors, they'll come after the easy targets instead of the real thieves. The real thieves can afford better payoffs.Ф
"If you disperse the people here," Lamarath says, "there's no housing for them, so they'll have to find another half-world; and in the meantime you've taken everything they own and deprived them of protection. Our plasm is all that keeps the Silver Hand off our necks, not to mention the fact that we use it for doctoring and so on." He turns and looks up at the huge snake hanging on the wall. "Right, Doc?Ф
The snake slowly raises its head. "Absolutely," it says.
Cold terror floods Aiah's veins. It isn't a snake, it's some kind of twisted human beingЧthe thing's bald head is that of an old man, with wizened features, deep brown skin, and glittering, yellow eyes. Writhing feathery tentacles circle the creature's neck.
"This is Doctor Romus," Lamarath adds. "He's my advisor.Ф
"The title, like that of Sergeant, goes with the job," Romus says, then adds, "Pleased to meet you." His voice is high-pitched, with odd, reedlike overtones.
"Hello," Aiah manages. Her nails dig into her thighs, a reminder not to run screaming from the room.
"I would have greeted you earlier," Romus says, "but I was engaged in a little act of telepresence." He turns to Lamarath. "The Mokhrath Canal house is still active.Ф
Lamarath nods. "Thank you, Doctor.Ф
"My pleasure.Ф
Dr. Romus isn't hanging from a hook, Aiah realizes, it's a plasm connection. He's a mage, and he's been on a mission.
Lamarath opens a drawer, pulls out a folder, and pushes it across the desk.
"The twisted get around, you know," he says. "People make a point of not seeing us, or think we're too stupid to understand; or they employ us for things that aren't strictly legal.Ф
Aiah finds a reply bubbling from her lips. "My people, too," she says. The Jaspeeris had never known quite what to do with the Barkazils. Her teachers at school, and her superiors at the Authority, had always been faintly surprised whenever she said something intelligent.
Lamarath gives her a curious look at this remark. He nudges the folder toward Aiah again. "This is for you. A list of twelve plasm houses in this district. Most of them Silver Hand, some not.Ф
Aiah restrains the impulse to take the folder, clasps her hands in her lap again. "Please understand," she says. "I'm not in a position to really dictate policy.Ф
Lamarath frowns at her. "Influence policy," he says. "That's all I ask.Ф
Aiah takes a breath. "All I can assure you," she says carefully, "is that any minorЧI do mean minorЧplasm thefts in the half-worlds will not be given a high priority by my department.Ф
"I will speak to my ... counterparts in other half-worlds," Lamarath says. "I hope to be able to provide you with more information along these lines.Ф
She looks at himЧher heart bangs in her throat, and it's difficult to steady her gaze into the huge dark eyesЧand she takes good care with her words. "I will be grateful for any information. But understand that I will make no bargains with anyone concerning any plasm thefts brought to my attention. I can't set policy. All I can say is that, from the limited knowledge I have of the subject, the half-worlds will not be a high priority.Ф
Lamarath holds her eyes for a long momentЧbehind her own composed expression, Aiah thinks wildly of assassination, of how no one knows she is here and how she could so easily be disposed ofЧand then gives a brief nod and reaches for another cigar.
"That will have to do, then," he says.
"Nice to have met you," says Dr. Romus.
Aiah's mind swims as she follows Ethemark out of the barge. The boy Craftig waits outside, playing on the deck plates with toy figures of the Lynxoid Brothers, and cheerfully leads them aloft and back to the landing, then calls "Long live the revolution!" as the boat begins its journey to the open air.
Outside the day has became overcast, a skein of gray cloud over the Shield, and Aiah shivers in the faint light. She considers the bargain she has just madeЧfor it was a bargain, deny it though she wouldЧand wonders if she is a fool. She can't even tell if she's just been bribed. If she has become the hireling of some minor gangster, and betrayed everything she holds dear, all through ignorance, or fear for her life, or through some hopeless flaw in herself.
Whatever decisions she makes, correct or not, corrupt or not, she knows she will pay for them sooner or later. She only hopes the payment is something that she can bear.
A STATUTE AGAINST THE WILL OF GOD IS NO LA W.
A THOUGHT-MESSAGE FROM HIS PERFECTION, THE PROPHET OF AJASItem #5: Gil? Item #6: Family?There's yesterday's list, its final two items still a weight on her conscience. Aiah still can't bring herself to contact Gil, but she decides she can talk to someone else back in Jaspeer and at least let them know she's well.
She looks at a wall clock: 20:04, halfway through third shift. People at home are probably still awake. Aiah goes to the communications array set into the wall near her bed, dons the headsetЧa nice lightweight model, with gold accents on the earpieces and the mouthpiece, a far cry from the heavy black plastic rig she's accustomed toЧand then presses the bright silver keys to connect her to her grandmother Galaiah back in Jaspeer.
"Hello?Ф
"Nana?" Aiah says. "This is Aiah.Ф
"It's Aiah!" the woman bellows to someone else in the room. Aiah winces at her grandmother's volume. There's a sudden expectant babble of voices in the background, but then Galaiah hushes them.
"Where are you?" she demands. "Are you all right?Ф
Aiah turns down the headset volume. Her grandmother is a bit deaf and has a tendency to shout.
"I'm fine, Nana. I'm in Caraqui, and I have a new job.Ф