"Alastair Reynolds - A Spy In Europa" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Alastair)

"It doesn't matter." He flattened the gill-flaps down, watching - only

slightly nauseated - as they puckered with each exhalation. "Are we

finished?"

"Just some final bloodwork," she said. "To make sure everything's still

working. Then you can go and swim with the fishes."

While she was busy at one of her consoles, surrounded by false-colour

entoptics of his gullet - he asked her: "Do you have the weapon?"

Cholok nodded absently and opened a drawer, fishing out a hand-held

medical laser. "Not much," she said. "I disabled the yield-suppresser, but

you'd have to aim it at someone's eyes to do much damage."

Vargovic hefted the laser, scrutinising the controls in its contoured

haft. Then he grabbed Cholok's head and twisted her around, dousing her

face with the laser's actinic-blue beam. There were two consecutive

popping sounds as her eyeballs evaporated.

"What, like that?"



Conventional scalpels did the rest.

He rinsed the blood, dressed and left the medical centre alone, travelling

kilometres down-city, to where Cadmus-Asterius narrowed to a point. Even

though there were many gillies moving freely through the city - they were

volunteers, by and large, with full Demarchy rights - he did not linger in

public for long. Within a few minutes he was safe within a warren of
 collagen-walled service tunnels, frequented only by technicians, servitors

or other gill-workers. The late Cholok had been right; breathing air was

harder now; it felt too thin.