"Dave Wolverton - Siren Song at Midnight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wolverton Dave)

General Torres had modified to better adapt to life on other planets. They were an aquatic breed and had
lived off the coast of Chile for years. By morning, the streets were ablaze with news of the attack by тАЬLos
Sirenos,тАЭthe Sirens. The detonation of seven bombs was heralded as if it were a major war, and the
Alliance of Nations began to hunt the Sirens. The news fascinated me, not because I longed for
vengeance against the chimeras, but because the work of the genetic engineers who created these beings
was similar to my own, yet a far greater art.

After the attack, the news showed Brazilian mothers mourning for children who had washed out to sea as
the Amazon flooded; showed twisted wreckage, tiny orphans desperate for food. One commentator told
how it could only have been a few Sirens who were gallantly bidding for control of EarthтАЩs waterways,
trying to stop the plankton harvesters that continually stole food from their mouths. But his voice was
drowned by others who decried the SirensтАЩ тАЬcrime against humanity.тАЭ Experts paraded through the
media, telling how destruction along the Rio Negro was only the beginning. They said millions in China
and India would starve without the plankton harvesters, and they hinted hunger would strike in South
America because of the loss of our fisheries.

My father had risen to become Director for the Pacific Fisheries Commission, so I called him on
commlink to ask if these reports were accurate. He weighed each word, saying, тАЬThe Chinese pay so
little for fishing rights, we wonтАЩt miss it. In three months, theyтАЩll be harvesting like always.тАЭ He sounded
harried, tired, and I imagined he was under great pressure.

For a couple of days my friend Rosalinda recorded news holes about the chimeras. We planned to watch
the holos for entertainment, but as the holos displayed, I was horrified. Our Marines hooked electronic
sniffers to stunners that looked like torpedoes; with these they hunted the Sirens by scent. When they
scored a hit, they dragged the stunned Siren from the water, shrieking and flapping its tail. The sirens had
pale blue scales covering their bodies, the color of the summer sky on the horizon, and icy green eyes
and hair the silver of mountain water. Their women were delicate, with an unearthly beauty, and their
cries as they were dragged from the waters sounded like the song of dolphins mingled with a human
scream.

Most captured Sirens were women and children who could not swim fast enough to evade the stunners,
and the powerful chemical jolt of the stunners was too much for them. Many women and children died.
As we watched the children cling to dead mothers wrapped in seaweed, and as we listened to the wails
of pain and grief, the horror struck in a way we would not have understood if we had seen the single
broadcast of each capture as it happened. We lost our innocence, and Rosalinda ended up hugging me,
offering me comfort late into the night. After that, I had no stomach for news. I avoided listening to it, did
not think about it. I tried to put it out of mind.

Then, my world changed. On September 15 as I worked in my lab, a man crept inтАФa pale man with an
effeminate face, dressed in putrid-smelling street clothes, carrying a metal bar. His hand bled as if heтАЩd
cut it while prying the back door open. He stalked toward me nervously, sweat glistening on his brow,
swinging the bar into his palm, watching side hallways for signs of others. My coworkers had gone home
an hour before. We were alone. The way he looked, I thought I would be lucky if he only raped me.

тАЬJosephina,тАЭ he said quickly. тАЬJosephina Elegante? Daughter to Stef├бn?тАЭ I nodded dumbly, backed
away. He lurched toward me. тАЬHere, get these to your father! It ismem-set! тАЭ He held out two small
gelatin capsules the color of urine.

тАЬWhat?тАЭ I asked, so frightened I did not know what to do.