"William C. Dietz - The Prison Planet" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dietz William)

While part of her mind considered the situation at hand, and wondered what kind of
punishment Murphy would mete out, another part, a part she hadn't used in a long time, noticed
Renn was good-looking. Ignoring the blood, she saw light brown hair and even features. The way
Murphy had taken him apart, the idiot obviously knew nothing about hand-to-hand combat. But he had
guts, by God, guts enough to fight for what he assumed was an abused dog. Something deep down in a
hidden recess of her being softened, and then gave way entirely, causing the other part of her
mind to groan in disgust. "You've got to be kidding, you a female cyberdog, falling for some
incompetent clown who can't even throw a decent punch! Don't you have enough problems? All he'll
do is cause you more pain. How stupid can you get?"
The hidden part of her sighed, and answered, "Very, very stupid I'm afraid."
Suddenly Murphy's voice came from somewhere behind her. She tried to turn, but nothing


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happened. His voice was tight with rage. "All right, all right, I'll leave him alone.
I still say 1 oughtta kill them both right now ... but you're right . . . those clowns in
Internal Affairs would go crazy ... so I'll let Swamp do it for me. Strap 'em down . . . we're
goin' dirtside."
Seconds later two medics picked her up, carried her across the hold, and dumped her into a
cargo net. They were none too gentle, but thanks to Murphy's stunner, she couldn't feel a thing.
Moments later Renn was dumped in beside her. He bounced a couple of times and then lay still.
Although the net was designed for fragile cargo, and was suspended by a network of shock cords, it
wasn't intended for living organisms. Apparently the ride down would be part of Murphy's
punishment.
A few minutes later repellor beams pushed the shuttle out and away from the larger vessel.
Seconds later it blasted down towards the planet below. The shuttle's pilot was a cheerful middle-
aged woman nicknamed Aunt Sally. She had the pleasant easygoing manner of a favorite aunt. And her
graying hair, lined face, and matronly figure did nothing to ruin the image. Matronly or not, Aunt
Sally was one hot shuttle pilot, and everybody knew it. As she slipped the shuttle into a
descending orbit, she lit a cigarillo, and watched Murphy out of the corner of her eye. He hated
the damned things which was reason enough to smoke them. As she puffed the cigar into life Murphy
wrinkled his nose. She knew he wanted to complain but didn't dare. Aunt Sally grinned. Screw him.
He might be the captain of the guards, but this was her shuttle.
At first the descent wasn't too bad. But as time went on, and the effects of the stunner
began to wear off, things got worse. Now more and more sensory input was making it through to
Marla's brain, and she wished it wasn't. She'd always been prone to motion sickness . . . and her
transformation into a cyborg hadn't lessened the problem. Each time the shuttle hit a new layer of
air, it bucked violently, causing the shock-mounted cargo net to move every which way. It made her
dizzy. Gritting her teeth, she fought the darkness that threatened to engulf her. Battle-trained
Class III cyberdogs don't faint.
Meanwhile Renn groaned and tried to turn over. He was coming to.
"Good," she thought. "Because God knows what's waiting dirtside." Then the shuttle hit an
air pocket, and seemed to drop like a rock, and a wave of blackness pulled Marla under.
At first Renn thought he'd passed from one nightmare into another. He could still see
Murphy's huge fists coming at him and hear the meaty thump as they hit his face. It had continued
long after he'd ceased to feel it, and ceased to care. Then came the welcome darkness of death.
But now his peace had been shattered by a confusing mix of sensations. The pain he could
understand—it might be part of death—but the motion didn't make sense at all. How could you feel