"Continuing Time - 04 - The AI War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moran Daniel Keys)

airlock door slid shut and locked—
Trent’s p-suit lost pressure. He glanced down and saw a clean laser score across
his abdomen; he’d felt nothing, but it had breached the suit. His suit reacted
as it had been designed, minimizing the exposure to death pressure: the suit
clamped tight around Trent’s waist and chest, exposing his midriff to vacuum.
Trent could feel the skin on his stomach prickling as the hard vacuum tugged at
it.
Trent had never noticed before how long it took for the airlock to pressurize.
The inner airlock door would not open until the airlock chamber was at a full
atmosphere; if the Elite managed to burn through the outer airlock door first,
the inner door would not open at all.
The ground beneath Trent’s feet vibrated. He could imagine the scene outside,
the improbably strong Elite swatting aside the sleds as they lined up to shoot
at the door—
A red spot appeared on the outer airlock door. A second spot. A third. They
converged on each other—
The inner airlock door began to slide open; Trent squeezed through the instant
it was wide enough for him, with Reverend Andy right behind him. The outer
airlock door glowed white, and then the glowing metal bowed outward with the
enormous pressure of the air behind it, and abruptly gave way, spraying the PKF
Elite on the surface outside with the molten metal.
Downsiders, thought Trent as the sirens went off. The inner airlock door slammed
shut with a huge clang: if someone had been caught in the way, even an Elite,
the door would have punched through them. Design decisions: better one person
die, or lose a limb, than an entire corridor full.
On outspeakers throughout Ceres, and across all radio channels, the message
blared out: “ALERT! AIRLOCK BREACH AT DOWNLOT 104! AIRLOCK BREACH AT DOWNLOT
104! DEATH PRESSURE BREACH AT DOWNLOT 104!”
The corridor was deserted; it was just after midnight, Greenwich Mean Time, on
Tuesday, January 20, 2080: four hours since Chuck Clearmountain had asked Trent
if he was Trent. The asteroid’s eighty thousand Hare Krishnas, forty thousand
Buddhists, and three thousand Hindus were all sleeping. Trent turned and kicked
off down the raw stone corridor, pulling his helmet off as Reverend Andy
followed him. He came to a public systerm and punched Emergency, Broadcast, and
his voice boomed out across all of Gandhi CityState:
“THIS IS TRENT THE UNCATCHABLE, THE MAN WHO’S BEEN LIVING AMONG YOU AS THE
PILGRIM AUGUSTUS ALLEN. A SQUAD OF ELITE CYBORGS ARE CUTTING THROUGH THE LOCK AT
DOWNLOT 104 AS I SPEAK. STAY IN YOUR QUARTERS AND THE ELITE WON’T HARM YOU;
THEY’RE AFTER ME. THIS IS TRENT THE UNCATCHABLE: STAY IN YOUR QUARTERS!”
Reverend Andy had his helmet cracked open when Trent turned around; he started
to speak and Trent overrode him. “Call Vatsayama let them know Elite are here
then go to Downlot 16. I’m going to get my simulations I can’t let them fall
into PKF hands, if I don’t make it to Down-16 in fifteen minutes go, I’ll see
you at the Board meeting on Mars,” and as Reverend Andy opened his mouth again
Trent raised his voice, “You are a fifty-six year old preacher and the Elite
will kill you!” Trent yelled into his face, “Go now!”
He did not wait to see if Reverend Andy was listening to him: he turned and
kicked off down the corridor, heading for the nearest drop shaft that led to the
lower levels.