[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.The missile would reach its target.Then she erased record of having tracked the second rocket, then erased record of the erasure.Next, she pulled out of the pack of hunters she had sent after the first nuclear missile.Let them do their work without her help.She called one of them out of formation and flicked inside its pov.At the proper moment—preferably at the last possible moment—she would make sure the nuclear bomb’s damage was limited.Because, if she failed completely as Coordinator of Protection, her master plan would never see the red of blood.She must maintain their respect.She had to play each move just right.Timing would be everything.Then shatter the peace, set free the flood of revenge.The nuclear missile emerged undamaged through the net of stationary mines.Good; that means it is protected against plasma, and will survive the first few blasts from tube cannons.Her little hunter would rendezvous with it just before it struck home.She would be credited with personally saving a station.Good, good; only a hero could press forward plans such as hers.Clarisse’s mind sizzled with activity, running half a dozen programs at once.She danced in her element, energized by the inhuman fierceness of laser-like focus, driving her hate rather than being driven by it.Triton 3: Liu Miru“I’m stepping inside the object’s apparent entryway,” Miru stated.Within, the impression of organic motion increased.He took a deep breath and strode forward.The corner of his eye caught a brightening in one part of the melted horizon.“That would be our attackers,” he said, sadly.He almost stopped and turned back—he felt a foolish sort of guilt for abandoning his brothers and sisters during their time of danger, especially Pang—but the inside of the object would be the safest place to wait out the storm, anyway.They would need someone unhurt who could assist them in whatever emergency relief they might need.By himself, he could do nothing against the energies released in a nuclear reaction.I am sorry, dear Pang.I will return to you as soon as I am able.He took another step.One boot crossed beyond the edge of the wall.A tingling sensation ran up his leg.A final step.His body moved within the confines of the archway.The brown tunnel around him constricted and stretched infinitely long, hissing with the sound of a jet streaking away.He felt himself shatter, disperse.He began to scream in rising wavelengths of light and other radiations.No one answered.FOUR: EarthFury 2Nadir leaped from the car while it was still decelerating, rifle across his chest.His boots sank ankle-deep into the cool sand.A few seconds later, he was running behind the car, using it as a shield while he got his bearings and sized up the tall stone fortress.Almost unconsciously, Nadir ordered his three grenadiers to launch sonic grenades inside the walls, to soften up the opposition.The fort rose like a computer button silhouetted against the bright horizon, a trigger ready to be depressed.It looked ancient in form—various blocky rooftops were just visible beyond the girdle wall, mud-brick archways joining them—but modern in condition.None of the stone blocks were chipped, the corners were sharp where walls joined, the crenellation was crisply defined like peg-teeth biting the sky.The only visible openings were peaked windows shaped like Medieval arrow-slits.Nadir smiled, savoring this ripe mouthful of life just before what would surely be their heaviest engagement, listening to the monopera surge through his mind.The lyrics had begun to mutate; the program would soon reach its climax, and then its end.By definition, a monopera must not change substantially from one day to the next, must remain fixed in a transcendent moment.Once it begins to stray from its orchestrated form, once the singers begin to toy with the preset lyrics, it ceases to be a monopera.This piece’s popularity must have begun to wane; one sure way to dramatically, though temporarily, increase subscriptions is to alter a monopera.Everyone wants to watch the death of a great piece of art.Nadir sighed.“Tactical position Gamma!” Jhishra’s suddenly appearing avatar bellowed.It vanished just as quickly, a flicker of virtual life to accompany a burst of verbal static.Nadir slowed from a jog to a walk to a motionless crouch behind the bulletproof car’s curved flank, twenty meters from the six-meter-high walls.He watched Paolo climb into the stowage area behind the seats, near the supplies, and settle with his rifle pointed up at the sand-colored walls.The unit’s other cars spread out siege-style, encircling the 100-meter base of the structure.The heavy EMMA-B atop the Boss’ truck swiveled toward the top of the wall.When all were still, Jhishra 3-verded again.“Niks assuming firing positions! Fire at will, firefight code one.”Nadir frowned, blinking, then realized Jhishra was right.Yellow Sotoi Guntai uniforms lined the wall, visible between the thick crenellation.At least 50 of them, rifles pointed down at the unit.Nadir hadn’t noticed them a moment ago.He frowned and ran a quick fumigator-program through his chip to rid his card of the apparent camouflage feed, then prepared to fight.Crack-thup, eighteen EMMAs whined simultaneously like a plague of locusts chewing at the smooth walls.Enemy soldiers toppled down one after another, disappearing behind their ramparts as shaped ceramics slipped through their bodies.Their few particle rifles screamed and common powder-guns boomed down upon the spines the desert had grown overnight.Still they died, their weapons falling impotently to the ground where time would eventually bury them in sand.Sometimes the weapons’ users tumbled afterward to lie crooked among the weeds that cowered near the walls.Nadir chose targets and fired, fired, consumed by the monopera and its mechanical military accompaniment, reveling in this validation of life.A quick scan told him all his boys were still unharmed.Target, one-second burst, verify kill; target [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.The missile would reach its target.Then she erased record of having tracked the second rocket, then erased record of the erasure.Next, she pulled out of the pack of hunters she had sent after the first nuclear missile.Let them do their work without her help.She called one of them out of formation and flicked inside its pov.At the proper moment—preferably at the last possible moment—she would make sure the nuclear bomb’s damage was limited.Because, if she failed completely as Coordinator of Protection, her master plan would never see the red of blood.She must maintain their respect.She had to play each move just right.Timing would be everything.Then shatter the peace, set free the flood of revenge.The nuclear missile emerged undamaged through the net of stationary mines.Good; that means it is protected against plasma, and will survive the first few blasts from tube cannons.Her little hunter would rendezvous with it just before it struck home.She would be credited with personally saving a station.Good, good; only a hero could press forward plans such as hers.Clarisse’s mind sizzled with activity, running half a dozen programs at once.She danced in her element, energized by the inhuman fierceness of laser-like focus, driving her hate rather than being driven by it.Triton 3: Liu Miru“I’m stepping inside the object’s apparent entryway,” Miru stated.Within, the impression of organic motion increased.He took a deep breath and strode forward.The corner of his eye caught a brightening in one part of the melted horizon.“That would be our attackers,” he said, sadly.He almost stopped and turned back—he felt a foolish sort of guilt for abandoning his brothers and sisters during their time of danger, especially Pang—but the inside of the object would be the safest place to wait out the storm, anyway.They would need someone unhurt who could assist them in whatever emergency relief they might need.By himself, he could do nothing against the energies released in a nuclear reaction.I am sorry, dear Pang.I will return to you as soon as I am able.He took another step.One boot crossed beyond the edge of the wall.A tingling sensation ran up his leg.A final step.His body moved within the confines of the archway.The brown tunnel around him constricted and stretched infinitely long, hissing with the sound of a jet streaking away.He felt himself shatter, disperse.He began to scream in rising wavelengths of light and other radiations.No one answered.FOUR: EarthFury 2Nadir leaped from the car while it was still decelerating, rifle across his chest.His boots sank ankle-deep into the cool sand.A few seconds later, he was running behind the car, using it as a shield while he got his bearings and sized up the tall stone fortress.Almost unconsciously, Nadir ordered his three grenadiers to launch sonic grenades inside the walls, to soften up the opposition.The fort rose like a computer button silhouetted against the bright horizon, a trigger ready to be depressed.It looked ancient in form—various blocky rooftops were just visible beyond the girdle wall, mud-brick archways joining them—but modern in condition.None of the stone blocks were chipped, the corners were sharp where walls joined, the crenellation was crisply defined like peg-teeth biting the sky.The only visible openings were peaked windows shaped like Medieval arrow-slits.Nadir smiled, savoring this ripe mouthful of life just before what would surely be their heaviest engagement, listening to the monopera surge through his mind.The lyrics had begun to mutate; the program would soon reach its climax, and then its end.By definition, a monopera must not change substantially from one day to the next, must remain fixed in a transcendent moment.Once it begins to stray from its orchestrated form, once the singers begin to toy with the preset lyrics, it ceases to be a monopera.This piece’s popularity must have begun to wane; one sure way to dramatically, though temporarily, increase subscriptions is to alter a monopera.Everyone wants to watch the death of a great piece of art.Nadir sighed.“Tactical position Gamma!” Jhishra’s suddenly appearing avatar bellowed.It vanished just as quickly, a flicker of virtual life to accompany a burst of verbal static.Nadir slowed from a jog to a walk to a motionless crouch behind the bulletproof car’s curved flank, twenty meters from the six-meter-high walls.He watched Paolo climb into the stowage area behind the seats, near the supplies, and settle with his rifle pointed up at the sand-colored walls.The unit’s other cars spread out siege-style, encircling the 100-meter base of the structure.The heavy EMMA-B atop the Boss’ truck swiveled toward the top of the wall.When all were still, Jhishra 3-verded again.“Niks assuming firing positions! Fire at will, firefight code one.”Nadir frowned, blinking, then realized Jhishra was right.Yellow Sotoi Guntai uniforms lined the wall, visible between the thick crenellation.At least 50 of them, rifles pointed down at the unit.Nadir hadn’t noticed them a moment ago.He frowned and ran a quick fumigator-program through his chip to rid his card of the apparent camouflage feed, then prepared to fight.Crack-thup, eighteen EMMAs whined simultaneously like a plague of locusts chewing at the smooth walls.Enemy soldiers toppled down one after another, disappearing behind their ramparts as shaped ceramics slipped through their bodies.Their few particle rifles screamed and common powder-guns boomed down upon the spines the desert had grown overnight.Still they died, their weapons falling impotently to the ground where time would eventually bury them in sand.Sometimes the weapons’ users tumbled afterward to lie crooked among the weeds that cowered near the walls.Nadir chose targets and fired, fired, consumed by the monopera and its mechanical military accompaniment, reveling in this validation of life.A quick scan told him all his boys were still unharmed.Target, one-second burst, verify kill; target [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]