 |
|
| |
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
polymerized flesh, and Pony Express begins to die.
Crystal systems boil and explode in the heat of coherent light and the delta
becomes unstable as both the main fly-by-wire comp and its backup bubble and
die. Cowboy shrieks as control systems invade his head. The delta's
aerodynamics are superb, but at this speed anything that tries to maneuver is
inherently unstable, and anything that doesn't is a target. Cowboy's fighting
his craft, making minute adjustments, and even though he's coping with them
one by one, there are more oscillations coming in than he can deal with. The
air turns hard, and the delta shudders, losing more systems, and begins to
corkscrew toward the ground. Agony is trying to crawl up out of Cowboy's
anesthetized body. He's blind but for the news from his displays, hydraulics,
and airflow, punctured systems and reluctant control surfaces. He's lost his
view of the target and he howls in protest. Dimly there's a feeling of the
earth coming up...
And then he's bottoming out over the Sierras, the mountains' green fingers
reaching up to tag him but falling short, and Cowboy is hauling back and
feeding alcohol to the burners again.
His crystal has built the necessary routines to keep Pony Express on the wire.
There's not much room in his head for anything else, and he looks up into the
blue sky, his vision returning to see the shuttle a vast shadow in the sky,
beset by black shapes that swoop and dart like swallows. The speed of the
fight has slowed down and its cubic volume decreased; Cowboy can see it all
from his point of low vantage. There are only three frigates now, and one of
them seems to be damaged and keeping its distance. One of the deltas is
staggering away, trailing fire, the other doggedly staying in the fight,
dodging Orbital missiles. There are only seconds left before the shuttle
crosses the Sierras and drops to a landing at Edwards.
Pony Express arcs upward. A tone sounds in Cowboy's crystal; he fires a
heat-seeker automatically, but his artificial eyes are fixed on the Argosy.
More tones sound, and the delta jars with each missile it launches. A frigate
trails flame and tumbles to an encounter with a mountain, but Cowboy's mind is
full of control surfaces, blazing crystal, knowledge of engine and surface
heat, eager weapons systems, the compelling flood from the electron world
pouring into his mind at the speed of light... He's a creature of the
interface now, his brain a processor. His black wings shudder in torment. The
spars that are his ribs moan. Heat flashes through his black epoxy skin. His
heart threatens to explode as it feeds alcohol to the engines. The target
fills his narrowed vision. He rolls and sprays the shuttle's belly with
minigun rounds, but he's out of ammunition in a few seconds and all his
missiles are gone. The shuttle is battered, but it's a tough ship, still on
target for landing. The mountains drop away and Cowboy sees nothing but desert
rolling on to the brown horizon.
Page 172
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Neurotransmitters fall on crystal, electrons pour from Cowboy's sockets at the
speed of light. Control surfaces bite the air, howl in anger. The interface
demands a certain solution, and the decision is taken without conscious
volition. But somewhere in Cowboy's mind there is a realization that this is
the necessary and correct conclusion to his legend, to use himself and his
matte-black body as the last missile against the Orbital shuttle and win for
himself a slice of immortality, a place in the mind of every panzerboy, every
jock...
Cowboy accepts the decision of his crystal. A bark of triumphant laughter
bursts from his lips as the shuttle grows larger and larger in his vision.
A black fragment intervenes, spiraling between Cowboy and his target. Cowboy
recognizes
Maurice's distinctive delta, sees the damage on wing and fuselage, Maurice's
sky-blue helmet in the cockpit, its opaque face mask fixed on the juncture of
his delta's course and the shuttle...
Argosy explodes as Maurice drives his delta into the juncture of wing and
fuselage.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pldoc.pisz.plpdf.pisz.plcs-sysunia.htw.pl
|
| |
|
|
|
| Podobne |
| |
|
| |
|