Asimov, Isaac Robots and Aliens 1 Changeling

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concentrated more toward the Hill of Stars where SilverSide
suspected Central hid, but they occasionally moved through this area.
She waited, patient.
When she heard the sound of a WalkingStone s tread, she allowed her
body to deform slightly, extending an eyestalk around the comer of
the building. The approaching WalkingStone was a spindly, gangly
thing with arms tipped by mechanical claws rather than fingered
hands. It was alone. SilverSide retracted the eyestalk, gathered
herself; when the WalkingStone passed the side of the building, she
leaped with a BeastTalk growl.
The WalkingStone s arms came up too late SilverSide hit it, her jaws
clamping around the thin, long neck and her powerful muscles
shaking the thing from side to side. She was careful to hold her own
great strength back and use no more power than any of the kin
possessed.
That strength was enough, as she had suspected. These
WalkingStones were far less durable than the Hunters. A support
cracked; internal wiring harnesses tore. Just before the main trunk to
the brain was severed and the WalkingStone went still under
SilverSide s great bulk, she heard it call out to the distant Central.
Under attack. Damaged...
SilverSide let the thing slump to the ground. Yes, as I thought. The
Hunters were designed to be the city s protection; the workers were
strong but not overwhelming for a creature as powerful as the wolf-
creatures. The worker WalkingStones, at least, were vulnerable.
And this also revealed another weakness. Not much of one, but it was
all SilverSide had.
The voices in her head had gone silent. Replacing the chatter was an
amplified voice, loud and commanding, resonating on all the
frequencies. Central. My enemy.
And it did what she would have done herself. Central was sending the
Hunters to investigate.
SilverSide didn t intend to be there when the Hunters arrived.
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Giving a BeastTalk growl of triumph, she ran back toward the forest,
staying where the kin could see her but not heading directly toward
them. KeenEye would watch and make certain, then run to
PackHome as ordered. SilverSide would make her way there herself,
but first she had to make sure there was no latent danger to the kin.
It didn t matter if such a delay endangered her own self.
She waited until she caught a glimpse of the first Hunter moving
swiftly along a walkway toward the area where the attack had
occurred. I am here. she called to it in her own head voice, using the
VoidTalk. The Hunter stopped, its armored head swiveling around.
SilverSide gave voice to a BeastTalk challenge and ran.
She was just about to duck under the cover of the trees when the laser
hit her.
CHAPTER 12
A JOURNEY BEGINS
If this was the afterlife, it was damned uncomfortable.
For one thing, it was wet. He could feel water dripping on his face and
body.
For another, being dead hurt.
Derec s ribs ached as if they d been kicked repeatedly by an
extraordinarily strong and stubborn mule. Most of his skin felt as if it
had been scoured by a rough, rusty file, and what hadn t been
scraped raw was parboiled. His head pounded with the great-
granddaddy of all headaches, and he was afraid to open his eyes or try
to sit up.
If this was eternity, it wasn t making a nice start.
But he couldn t lie there forever. Besides, there was a certain
curiosity....
There was definitely light beyond his eyelids. And beyond the
dripping of water, he could hear a rushing, crackling noise like
cellophane being crumpled.
Derec opened his eyes.
And, groaning, closed them again.
He was looking through a jagged hole in the ship s hull into a dull
gray, rain-streaming sky. Through the curtain of rain, he could see a
muddy hillside scored by some giant, maniac plow and sown with
bright pieces of metal. Despite the storm, there was a fire smoldering
in the grass a hundred meters away where one of the ship s drive
engines lay half buried. A thick, greasy plume of black smoke was
smeared across the sky under the racing clouds.
It didn t look good. Being alive was threatening to be more
uncomfortable than being dead. Mandelbrot? Derec s voice was a
hoarse croak. There was no answer.
Mandelbrot?
Still nothing. It looked as if he was going to have to get out by himself.
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He didn t like the idea, not one bit. Derec moved to unbuckle his crash
webbing. It was a mistake.
He screamed and promptly blacked out again.
It had stopped raining and the grass fire was out when he came back
to consciousness again.
Reality, part two, he muttered to himself. There was still a
throbbing ache in his left arm; his right seemed to be functioning, if
badly bruised. He forced himself to look yes, the left forearm was
definitely fractured, the skin puffy and discolored, the arm canted at a
slight and very wrong angle. The sight made him nauseous. Great. All
you need is to be sick all over yourself. What if you ve got broken ribs
or internal injuries....
Derec leaned his head back and took several deep breaths until his
stomach settled again. Reaching over with his good hand, he [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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