"Michael Z. Williamson - Freehold 02 - The Weapon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williamson Michael Z)

 Back|Next

Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Author's Afterword
Back|Next
Back|Next
Contents
APPRENTICE
Chapter 1
The first time you suffocate, it's terrifying. It doesn't get any better with
practice.
The airlock chuffed open, atmosphere hissing away in an increasingly sibilant,
ever quieter sound that was familiar. The two goons grabbed us and tossed us
out. I was already in the standard safety position, mouth and nose open to let
the air roar out of my lungs. My ears were stabbing out of my head, and gas
pressure shrieked unheard out of my guts through the obvious orifice. My eyes
began to throb and flood with tears, and I spun myself around, grabbing
quickly for a line, a stanchion, anything. Nearby, my buddy Tom Parker
already had hold of a line and reached out an arm to me.
It's hard not to panic as the blood starts to boil in your lungs. Tom looked like
a gaping fish, and scared. I assume I did, too.
I saw the two goons grinning through their faceplates, feet tucked under
stanchions on the dark gray hull of the ship. I swung around Tom, snagged the line and jerked to a stop then
ricocheted back toward them. They reached to grapple with me, and I snuck my left hand down and behind my
back, slipping a knife from the tape sheath I'd built and stashed inside the belt of my ship coverall. It wasn't much
of a knife. Just a bar of steel with a crudely ground and serrated edge with a chisel point ahead of a tape-wrapped
hilt, but it would suffice for this. And I'd been in a hurry.
Goon One looked shocked as I ripped it through his braided oxygen hose. He gaped like a fish, then gulped as I
had while Tom caught him from behind and tangled with him. As Goon Two approached to see what the problem
was and lend assistance, I swung over him and jammed the armor-piercing point into the edge of his faceplate,
near the gasket. He imitated a carp also, and I twisted over him and back into the airlock, clutching for the safety
bar. Tom was waiting, having levered the first goon out into space while I dealt with the second one.
As air roared into the lock from soprano to basso, the sweetest music anywhere, I heaved several deep breaths,
the blotches in front of my eyes fading along with the twanging in my ears. I then opened the inner hatch, we
swam inside and waited for the inevitable response one gets for outwitting the instructors.
They both tumbled back in a few seconds later, coughing and gasping. They proceeded to verbally ream us meter-
wide rectums. I was worried it might actually turn into a real fight, when Captain Ntanga swam in from his
observation post.
"Brace up!" he snapped. We did. It looks odd in microgravity. "I'm disgusted," he said. "How in the name of God

file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/Michael%20Z.%20Williamson%20-%20Freehold%2002%20-%20The%20Weapon.htm (3 of 238)9-12-2006 0:14:01
 Back|Next