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

Remembering the swords and spears he had seen, he decided that he had best be armed; he dug out a
Bowie knife, and after due consideration chose an old-fashioned submachine gun from the rack of
firearms. The gun was perhaps the most terrifying weapon he had, or at least the most startling, with its
chattering roar, blue smoke, and bright flash, and was useful at a considerable range and against large
numbers—though in some situations it was undoubtedly less effective than a hand laser or a snark.

He found a belt, donned it, and stuck the knife in it; the gun he slung over his shoulder. He tied a leather
pouch to the belt, stuffed a few foodbars and other miscellaneous supplies in it, and decided that he was
adequately equipped.

There was a mirror in the shower; he stopped in and checked to see whether his long brown hair hid the
socket in the back of his neck. It seemed to; he brushed it back with his fingers, trying to arrange it so it
would not fall aside. He doubted very much that the locals would take kindly to a stranger with a
gleaming chunk of metal and plastic embedded in his flesh.

When he had convinced himself that the socket would not show, he marched out the airlock onto the
ship's wing.
The early-morning air was cool and pleasant; a slight breeze blew against his bare chest The natural
currents and rich scent of the surrounding pine forest were positively delightful after years of stagnant,
recycled air smelling of metal and plastic and algae, and he breathed deeply as he looked about.

He had landed well on the inland side of the mountains, and the low, rounded peaks reared up in the
east, great black shadows against the rosy pink of the dawn sky. On all sides of the ship there stood tall
green grass, utterly Earthlike, and beyond the grass was a ring of pine trees, likewise completely
terrestrial. Slant surmised that the planet had been lifeless before it was colonized; if not, the Terran
flora—and probably fauna—must have driven out whatever was there previously. That was not an
unusual pattern on colony worlds.

The morning sun lit the grass, and dew glittered on every side—but only at a distance. The heat that
radiated from the ship had boiled off all moisture for a dozen feet in all directions, and Slant guessed that
the ship's approach path was burned brown, if not black, from the heat of its passage. He could feel the
warmth of the wing's metal through his boots, and it occurred to him that it might be a good idea to get
off. He jumped carefully to the ground, landing with a great rustling in the tall grass. He regained his feet,
and saw that the grass reached well above his knees.

A soft whining drew his attention back to the ship; the service robots had finished camouflaging and were
reentering their storage compartments, leaving the vessel smeared with mud and draped in plastic vines
twined with real, freshly plucked grass. It still stood out dramatically in the center of the broad, level
clearing, but was no longer immediately recognizable as a starship; the metal did not gleam, and the sharp
edges and corners were softened.

Looking back under the wing, he saw that his guess had been correct; there was a trail of burned grass
and scorched earth behind the vessel. He considered pointing it out to the computer and suggesting that it
be camouflaged as well, but decided against it. The ship could take care of itself.

Scanning quickly around the edge of the clearing,' he saw no sign of a road or trail.- There was no
evidence other than himself and his ship that any human being had ever been anywhere near this spot He
wondered why there was a clearing in the first place; was it completely natural?

It didn't matter, of course. It didn't seem to matter what direction he took, either, so he began marching