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Neal Asher: Gridlinked

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Neal Asher Gridlinked

Gridlinked: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Thousands have been killed on Samarkand and a terraforming project has been destroyed. Agent Cormac must reach it by ship to begin an investigation. But he has incurred the wrath of a vicious psychopath called Arian Pelter, who follows him across the galaxy with a terrifying android in tow.

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Runcible AI, I am in an extremely life-threatening situation. How much longer on this course will take me past city limits?

There was a long delay as if the AI was chewing over the question. Cormac saw his pursuers coming up behind and above him again. Behind their car he saw a bladelike name blink out. They had boosters so he had no chance of escaping them. He began to weave again.

On a straight course you will reach city limits in one minute. I cannot initiate strike until four minutes after that.

'What!' Cormac yelled.

The situation is serious?

'Too fucking right it is!'

Another purple flash burnt the paint off the rear of his AGC, and set the rear seats smoking.

It is good that you have retained the ability for at least some emotional response.

'What the hell are you talking about?' Cormac took another couple of snap shots at his pursuers. Missed completely.

This.

The pursuing car glowed red, became an expanding cloud of smoke and debris cut through with a bar of light. The Shockwave hit a moment later. Cormac turned aside to avoid flying debris, then throttled down. 'What the hell are you playing at?'

I was instructed by Earth Central to test you. This will be discussed further after you arrive.

Cormac closed his eyes and took a slow breadi. It annoyed him that he had lapsed into verbalization. I wish to discuss this now . There was no reply from the runcible AI.

The two analgesic patches slapped directly onto his carotid were enough to make the pain bearable, but Arian Pelter did not yet feel able to walk. He had been reluctant to use the patches, as the pain was clean, and it helped shut out his self-disgust. He'd begged... no, no, he'd only begged to give himself time. Yeah, that was it. With his legs against the parapet wall he felt his right eye fill with tears. Nothing in his left eye - he didn't like to think about that. He shook his head, and then regretted it as fluid ran down over his face and neck. He lifted a hand to wipe the fluid away, then desisted. It was bad. He dared not touch it. Perhaps this was what he deserved for such weakness. He closed his working eye and thought about his sister. It was easier to be angry at her, to have rhat anger displace any other emotions. Why the fuck had he let her persuade him? Why had he so seriously underestimated this dealer character? He looked at the comunit he'd placed on the low wall. It was fizzing, as it had done since those last fateful words. ' We got him Arian! We're gonna take him downP The flash… that flash in the sky the moment the comunit had beeped and started fizzing. It had to have been a satellite laser. OK, fine, that made the bastard ECS, but what kind of ECS Monitor had the pull to order a satellite strike? Pelter heard somebody approaching behind him. He locked his jaw against the pain, picked his pulse-rifle off the wall and turned with it held out one-handed. It was only Stanton, cradling his arm.

'I thought you were boosted, John,' said Pelter, his pulse-rifle still pointed at Stanton's gut.

'I'm sorry, Arian. He just went through me. He got away?'

Pelter saw the momentary expression of horror on Stanton's face, though it was quickly shielded. He went on. 'We know he wasn't boosted, John. We scanned him. He had a little cerebral wiring left over from on old aug fitting, that was all.'

Stanton shook his head. He appeared tired and frightened, and he could not take his eyes from Pelter's face. 'He just went through me, Arian. He had to be ECS. Had to be.'

Arian thought about how easily he had been taken. The fucker had just walked right over like he was out for a casual stroll. He lowered his rifle to his side, clamped his mouth against the rising sickness inside him and pushed himself away from the wall. He was still unsteady, but he could stand.

'We need to go, Arian. Police'll be here soon. No way they can ignore this. We have to get you to Dr Carl,' said Stanton, then added, after glancing round, 'Where are the boys?'

'They didn't make it. He pulled a laser strike down on the car.'

Pelter closed his eye. Shit, the pain was coming back already.

Stanton stared at Pelter for a long moment. How the hell was he even standing? Pelter's left eye was gone, just melted out. The area around it was as badly burned, and Stanton could see his cheekbone. They had to get out of here fast. He glanced around, then walked over to the nearest AGC. Christ, his arm hurt. He carefully manoeuvred it so he could put the hand of that same arm into his pocket, to give it some support, then he pulled his pulse-gun. Now for the tricky bit. He put his gun between his teeth, groped around in his pocket for the charge it had just taken him vital minutes to find in the stairwell, and pushed it into place. Are we dangerous or what? he thought, before he blew out the AGC'slock.

'We got a car now, Arian. Best we get out of here,' he said.

Arian took a long slow breath and began to walk over. Stanton considered helping him, but rejected the idea. He knew Arian Pelter well: like this he was dangerous, a cornered rat.

'Hey! What the hell you!… oh.'

The man was an ophidapt with an augmented physique, so perhaps he'd thought he could handle a couple of AGC boosters. He stood two metres tall, his skin was finely scaled, and fangs overhung his narrow bottom lip. He blinked snake eyes and halted when Pelter turned to him, pointing the pulse-rifle. Stanton glanced at the ophidapt, then at Pelter. His remaining violet eye seemed almost to be glowing.

'Come on, we have to go,' said Stanton. But it was a desultory attempt to forestall what was certain now. He got into the driver's seat of the car.

The ophidapt held up his hands and started backing away.

'This the hell I,' said Pelter, and shot him in the stomach. The ophidapt went down, clutching at his smoking torso, but in panic he struggled back onto one knee as Pelter, stiff-legged and appearing ready to collapse himself, walked over to him.

'See what it's like? See?' said Pelter, stabbing the barrel of his weapon in the ophidapt's face. The man nodded, tears in his snake eyes.

'Arian, we haven't got time for this,' said Stanton. He deliberately paid no attention to what was going on. Instead, he took out a chip card very like Cormac's and shoved it into the slot of the onboard computer. Often, the likes of Pelter did not bother to continue once they were without an audience, he had found.

Pelter lowered his weapon, and turned to walk back toward the AGC. The ophidapt already looked relieved. But that look of relief lasted only so long as it took Pelter to turn and shoot him in the throat. The ophidapt went over backward, hissing like the creature he had adapted to.

'The bastard,' Pelter said.

Stanton knew he was not referring to the ophidapt.

2

Cosmetics:We are allowed to alter ourselves cosmetically as much as we want, and can afford, and because of this humanity has now acquired such rich variety. Genetic adaptations are allowable in limited circumstances, hence seadapts who can work easily on ocean farms, heavy-G adaptations for obvious reasons, and the Outlinkers who are adapted for working in vacuum. Some confusion exists about the purpose of catadapts and ophidapts. Please, please, readers, be aware that these two terms are misnomers. These are not adaptations. They are cosmetic alterations. Catadapts do not have nine lives nor require a litter tray rather than a toilet, and ophidapts do not have poisoned fangs nor do they swallow their dinner whole!

From New Vogue

Strobing red and green lights came in from every direction. A police cruiser with its external impact cushions inflated, and its retinue droids zipping along behind it like a scattering of large silver bubbles, shot past them to the right. The two officers inside the cruiser glanced across, but kept going. Stanton guessed they were reacting, but had no idea yet what they were reacting to. Jesus, gunfights on roofports and satellite strikes. A real secret and undercover cell this one. It had to be blown here.

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