[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
have shot her.
He'd been very tired, and she had been warm, and comforting, and understanding,
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and had raised intriguing issues of mutual interest, and the two of them had
been very alone.
The look on his face must have been close enough to its Human equivalent for her
to recognize. "You know, I thought about helping you stay free for a while. I
really did." She shifted her legs around. "It must be terrible to be all alone
so far from friends and family and familiar surroundings. But it would only have
postponed the inevitable, and you had two loaded weapons. You might've shot at
someone, and they might've shot back. I didn't want to see you killed."
"Why should you care?" He stared searchingly. "What difference does it make to
you what happens to one enemy soldier?"
"Because I'm not sure you are an enemy." She sucked on the slim, silvery stick.
Fragrant haze momentarily obscured her expression.
One of her male counterparts glanced at her. ' 'What's that supposed to mean,
Heida?"
"Have you looked at him? I mean, taken a really good, close look at him?"
The woman holding the gun on Ranji responded. "We all saw the images. They were
pretty detailed. He's supposed to be some kind of a cross, isn't he? A mutated
Ashregan?''
"Maybe," Trondheim murmured. "Or maybe something else."
"Not our business to propose answers.'' The man pulled a tab on his empty meal
pack and watched as it turned to biodegradable powder. "We track; Research and
Development pontificates.''
Ranji marveled at his calmness. He could have been angry at her but he wasn't.
After all, it wasn't as if she'd betrayed an intimacy. Their brief interaction
had been nothing more than a scientific experiment. She'd as much as said so.
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They were representatives, albeit compatible representatives, of two different
species. She could not "betray" him if she wanted to.
If he was angry at anyone it was at himself. For succumbing, for letting down
his guard. He drew what consolation he could from the knowledge that nothing in
his training had prepared him for what had transpired the previous night.
They were very careful with him this time. Everyone had heard the story of his
escape, and they were determined not to repeat the error of his earlier escort.
The sled that arrived to pluck the Trackers and their prisoner off the mountain
carne equipped with limb restraints and a lockable compartment hastily installed
for the benefit of a single important guest. It afforded him privacy while
easing the minds of his hosts.
He saw Heida Trondheim several times during the flight back down the mountain as
the sled retraced in minutes terrain it had taken him days to cross on foot, but
they did not speak. He did not feel so inclined and she appeared uncertain and
hesitant.
The sled sped through orchards and across fields of rippling grains. Eventually
it approached another range of mountains, lower and less impressive than those
which had given Ranji temporary shelter. The sled hovered while a barrier in one
yellow-brown hillside parted. It closed behind the vehicle as it ducked inside.
He'd expected an underground base. The Weave would not be likely to place it on
the surface where the import of its presence might disturb the civilized
inhabitants.
The apartment they gave him was spacious, even luxurious, his quarters
commensurate with the importance they attached to him. That did not make it any
less a cell. There were scenic viewscreens on which he could call up custom
landscapes, but no windows. A cursory inspection of his new home suggested
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
strongly that he would not be escaping it any time soon.
Well, he had managed to unsettle them for a couple of weeks, he still had the
tenets of the Purpose to console him, and he was alive and intact. Opportunities
to create mischief might again present themselves.
He was provided with captured or synthesized Ashregan entertainment and food. It
was rather more hospitality than he would have expected from Humans, but then
he'd seen no Humans since his arrival. Apparently the base was staffed
principally by Hivistahm, O'o'yan, S'van, and of course, Yula. One day a
chelatinous, alien Turlog stopped by to gaze inscrutably, its eyes weaving
lazily at the tips of extensible stalks, but no Humans came to visit him.
There were periodic interview sessions conducted by methodical Hivistahm and,
once, a pair of Massood. He spoke freely about himself, refusing only those
queries which he thought might have some slight military value. They did not
press him on those questions he declined to answer. Not yet. This was because
they were far more interested in him than in any information he carried.
The medical tests and examinations were far more intimidating, though he was
never hurt or subjected to any painful stimulation. It was the unfamiliarity of
the equipment and procedures, the fact that he had no idea what to expect, that
he found daunting.
Once they slid him on a pallet into a machine that enclosed him like a
cylindrical coffin and bathed his body in light of alternating colors and
intensity. As with similar tests, he emerged physically unscathed but mentally
apprehensive, and as always no unpleasant aftereffects resulted.
They took samples of his blood, of his waste and his skin, hair, and bone. He
was probed and prodded, scanned and scoped, calibrated and appraised. It went on
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
endlessly. In all that time he, saw not a single Human, and why should he? They
were soldiers, warriors, not scientists and research specialists. They did not
study; they destroyed.
He was not especially displeased, only piqued by their absence. It would have [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
have shot her.
He'd been very tired, and she had been warm, and comforting, and understanding,
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
and had raised intriguing issues of mutual interest, and the two of them had
been very alone.
The look on his face must have been close enough to its Human equivalent for her
to recognize. "You know, I thought about helping you stay free for a while. I
really did." She shifted her legs around. "It must be terrible to be all alone
so far from friends and family and familiar surroundings. But it would only have
postponed the inevitable, and you had two loaded weapons. You might've shot at
someone, and they might've shot back. I didn't want to see you killed."
"Why should you care?" He stared searchingly. "What difference does it make to
you what happens to one enemy soldier?"
"Because I'm not sure you are an enemy." She sucked on the slim, silvery stick.
Fragrant haze momentarily obscured her expression.
One of her male counterparts glanced at her. ' 'What's that supposed to mean,
Heida?"
"Have you looked at him? I mean, taken a really good, close look at him?"
The woman holding the gun on Ranji responded. "We all saw the images. They were
pretty detailed. He's supposed to be some kind of a cross, isn't he? A mutated
Ashregan?''
"Maybe," Trondheim murmured. "Or maybe something else."
"Not our business to propose answers.'' The man pulled a tab on his empty meal
pack and watched as it turned to biodegradable powder. "We track; Research and
Development pontificates.''
Ranji marveled at his calmness. He could have been angry at her but he wasn't.
After all, it wasn't as if she'd betrayed an intimacy. Their brief interaction
had been nothing more than a scientific experiment. She'd as much as said so.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
They were representatives, albeit compatible representatives, of two different
species. She could not "betray" him if she wanted to.
If he was angry at anyone it was at himself. For succumbing, for letting down
his guard. He drew what consolation he could from the knowledge that nothing in
his training had prepared him for what had transpired the previous night.
They were very careful with him this time. Everyone had heard the story of his
escape, and they were determined not to repeat the error of his earlier escort.
The sled that arrived to pluck the Trackers and their prisoner off the mountain
carne equipped with limb restraints and a lockable compartment hastily installed
for the benefit of a single important guest. It afforded him privacy while
easing the minds of his hosts.
He saw Heida Trondheim several times during the flight back down the mountain as
the sled retraced in minutes terrain it had taken him days to cross on foot, but
they did not speak. He did not feel so inclined and she appeared uncertain and
hesitant.
The sled sped through orchards and across fields of rippling grains. Eventually
it approached another range of mountains, lower and less impressive than those
which had given Ranji temporary shelter. The sled hovered while a barrier in one
yellow-brown hillside parted. It closed behind the vehicle as it ducked inside.
He'd expected an underground base. The Weave would not be likely to place it on
the surface where the import of its presence might disturb the civilized
inhabitants.
The apartment they gave him was spacious, even luxurious, his quarters
commensurate with the importance they attached to him. That did not make it any
less a cell. There were scenic viewscreens on which he could call up custom
landscapes, but no windows. A cursory inspection of his new home suggested
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
strongly that he would not be escaping it any time soon.
Well, he had managed to unsettle them for a couple of weeks, he still had the
tenets of the Purpose to console him, and he was alive and intact. Opportunities
to create mischief might again present themselves.
He was provided with captured or synthesized Ashregan entertainment and food. It
was rather more hospitality than he would have expected from Humans, but then
he'd seen no Humans since his arrival. Apparently the base was staffed
principally by Hivistahm, O'o'yan, S'van, and of course, Yula. One day a
chelatinous, alien Turlog stopped by to gaze inscrutably, its eyes weaving
lazily at the tips of extensible stalks, but no Humans came to visit him.
There were periodic interview sessions conducted by methodical Hivistahm and,
once, a pair of Massood. He spoke freely about himself, refusing only those
queries which he thought might have some slight military value. They did not
press him on those questions he declined to answer. Not yet. This was because
they were far more interested in him than in any information he carried.
The medical tests and examinations were far more intimidating, though he was
never hurt or subjected to any painful stimulation. It was the unfamiliarity of
the equipment and procedures, the fact that he had no idea what to expect, that
he found daunting.
Once they slid him on a pallet into a machine that enclosed him like a
cylindrical coffin and bathed his body in light of alternating colors and
intensity. As with similar tests, he emerged physically unscathed but mentally
apprehensive, and as always no unpleasant aftereffects resulted.
They took samples of his blood, of his waste and his skin, hair, and bone. He
was probed and prodded, scanned and scoped, calibrated and appraised. It went on
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
endlessly. In all that time he, saw not a single Human, and why should he? They
were soldiers, warriors, not scientists and research specialists. They did not
study; they destroyed.
He was not especially displeased, only piqued by their absence. It would have [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]