"Lawrence Watt-Evans - War Surplus 01 - The Cyborg And The Sorcerers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

"What? Wizards?" he said aloud, simultaneously sub-vocalizing, "Look, computer, I ..." Slant was
becoming thoroughly confused trying to carry on two vitally important conversations at the same
time—particularly since the spoken conversation was in a strange language, and involved concepts he
didn't understand at all. What was this talk about wizards? Had he walked into the middle of a fairy tale?

"Deception is aborted. An immediate escape attempt is advisable."

One of the councillors turned his gaze from Slant and said, "Silner, stand ready; it appears there is more
to this man than is readily seen."

Silner stepped back, spreading his feet to provide a steadier base, and drew his sword.

"Listen, Slant as you call yourself, we mean you no harm. However, we . . ."

Slant did not hear the rest of the old councillor's words; instead, he heard, "Deception is aborted.
Capture is imminent. An immediate escape attempt is required. Failure to attempt escape will allow
termination of cyborg unit." There was an instant of panic; then he was suddenly calm as his combat
personality took over, and with no conscious thought whatsoever he whirled, launching a vicious kick into
Silner's belly and chopping a hand into his wrist, sending the sword clattering across the floor. With no
sign that any of the councillors was armed, his next move was to dive into their midst and retrieve his
weapon. He landed sitting on the table, the gun already in his hand, facing back toward the door.

Silner was doubling over but had not yet fallen; the councillors had not yet had time to react at all. The
guard by the door was starting to reach for his sword.

His right hand clutching the submachine gun, Slant used his left hand to thrust himself upright and off the
table; then he was running across the chamber toward the door. A sidestep and a swipe of the right
forearm disposed of the guard, who sprawled backward onto the stone floor, his helmet rattling off the
wall; then Slant was out of the room and running full speed down the corridor, vaguely aware of a voice
calling for him to wait, the voice of the white-bearded councillor.



Chapter Four

TRAINING CALLED FOR EVASIVE ACTION. EVEN IN HIS UN-thinking state, though, Slant
knew that he might never find his way from the city if he followed any route other than the straight line he
had entered by. There would be plenty of time to confuse his trail once he reached open country; for the
present, his first priority was to get outside the walls before the gates could be barred against him.
Therefore the only consideration now was speed; he ran flat out down the avenue, gun clutched in his
hand, ignoring the townspeople he passed. They gaped but made no move to stop him.
He reached the gate approximately two minutes after leaving the Council chamber. It was closed, but that
was no obstacle for an IRU cyborg; the gates were just wood, and held by a simple iron latch. There
were brackets for heavy bars, but the bars were not in place, instead, they lay neatly stacked at one
side.

A flying kick demolished the latch, and the gates, re- bounding from the impact, swung open a half meter.
Slant landed on one foot from his kick, then spun about and was out the gate, still running, before the
astonished gatekeeper had time to react. The man called after him, but Slant kept running.