[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

. All or nothing, no playing around.
But he d died once already, and it hadn t helped. Death held neither mystery
nor hope. And there lurked the horrible possibility that those who had
sacrificed so much to revive him the last time would be inspired to try it
again. And botch it. Or rather, botch it even worse. He d seen half-successful
cryo-revivals, vegetable or animal minds whining brokenly in once-human
bodies. No. He didn t want to die. At least not where his body could ever be
found. He just couldn t bear being alive right now.
The sanctuary in between the two organic states, sleep, refused to come to
him. But if he sat here long enough, eventually he must sleep, surely.
Get up. Get up and run, as fast as you can
. Back to the Dendarii, before ImpSec or anyone could stop him. Now was his
chance, Naismith s chance. Naismith s last chance.
Go. Go. Go
.
He sat on, muscles knotted, the litany of escape beating in his head.
He discovered that if he drank no water, he didn t need to get up so often. He
still didn t sleep, but in the predawn his thoughts began to slow. A thought
an hour. That was all right.
Light seeped into the room again through the window, making the lamplight grow
pale and wan. A quadrangle of sun crept slowly across the worn patterned rug,
as slowly as his thoughts, left to center to right, then gone.
The sounds of the city outside softened with the oncoming twilight. But his
little bubble of personal darkness remained as insulated from the world as any
cryo-chamber.
Distant voices were calling his name.
It s Ivan. Blech. I don t want to talk to Ivan
. He did not respond. If he said and did nothing, maybe they wouldn t find
him.
Maybe they d go away again. Dry-eyed, he stared at a crack in the aging
plastered wall, which had been in his line of sight for hours.
But his ploy didn t work. Booted footsteps sounded in the corridor outside the
little chamber. Then Ivan s voice, shouting much too loud, hurting his ears:
"In here, Duv! I found him!"
More footsteps, a quick, heavy stride. Ivan s face wove into his field of
vision, blocking the wall. Ivan grimaced. "Miles? You in there, boy?"
Galeni s voice. "My God."
"Don t panic," said Ivan. "He s just gone and got himself sensibly drunk." He
picked up the sealed bottle. "Well... maybe not."
Page 47
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He prodded the unsheathed knife beside it. "Hm."
"Illyan was right," muttered Galeni.
"Not... necessarily," said Ivan. "After about the twenty-fifth time you see
this, you stop getting excited about it. It s just...
something he does. If he were going to kill himself, he d have done it years
ago."
"You ve seen him like this before?"
"Well... maybe not quite like this..." Ivan s strained face occluded the
plaster again. He waved a hand in front of Miles s eyes.
"He didn t blink," Galeni noted nervously. "Perhaps... we ought not to touch
him. Don t you think we should call for medical help?"
"You mean psychiatric? Absolutely not.
Real bad idea. If the psych boys ever got hold of him, they d never let him
go. No.
This is a family matter." Ivan straightened decisively. " know what to do.
Come on."
I
"Is it all right to leave him alone?"
"Sure. If he hasn t moved for a day and a half, he isn t going far." Ivan
paused. "Bring the knife along, though. Just in case."
They clattered out again. Miles s slow thoughts worked through it, one thought
per quarter hour.
They re gone
.
Good
.
Maybe they won t come back
.
But then, alas, they reappeared.
"I ll take his shoulders," Ivan directed, "you take his feet. No, better pull
his boots off first."
Galeni did so. "At least he s not rigid."
No, quite limp
. Rigidity would require effort. The boots thumped to the floor. Ivan took off
his own uniform tunic, rolled up the sleeves of the round-collared shirt under
it, slipped his hands under Miles s armpits, and lifted. Galeni took his feet
as instructed.
"He s lighter than I thought," said Galeni.
"Yeah, but you should see Mark, now," said Ivan.
The two men carried him down the narrow servant s stairs between the fourth
floor and the third. Maybe they were going to put him to bed. That would save
him a bit of trouble. Maybe he would go to sleep there. Maybe, if he were very
lucky, he wouldn t wake up again until the next century, when there would be
nothing left of his name and his world but a distorted legend in men s minds.
But they continued on past Miles s bedroom door, and bumped him through into
an old bathroom down the hall, one that had never been remodeled. It contained
an antique iron tub large enough for small boys to swim in, at least a century
old.
They plan to drown me. Even better. I shall let them
.
"One two three, on three?" said Ivan to Galeni.
"Just three," said Galeni.
"All right."
They swung him over the edge; for the first time, Miles glimpsed what waited
for him below. His body tried to spasm, but his unused locked muscles foiled
him, and his dry throat blocked his cry of outrage.
About a hundred liters of water. With about fifty kilos of ice cubes floating
in it.
He plunged downward into the crashing cold. Ivan s long arms thrust him under
all the way.
Page 48
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He came up yelling "
Ice wat - " Ivan shoved him back in again.
On his next breath, "Ivan, you goddamn fri - "
On the third emergence his voice found expression in a wordless howl.
"Ah, ha!" Ivan chortled happily. "I thought that would get a rise out of you!"
He added aside to Galeni, who had ducked away out of range of the wild
splashing, "Ever since that time he spent at Camp Permafrost as a weather
officer, there s nothing he hates worse than cold. Back you go, boy."
Miles fought his way out of Ivan s grip, spat freezing water, clambered up,
and fell out over the side of the tub. Ice cubes stuck here and there to the
outside of his sodden uniform tunic, and slithered down his neck. His hand
drew back in a fist, and shot upward at his cousin s grinning face.
It connected with Ivan s chin with a satisfying meaty thunk; the pain was
delicious. It was the first time in his life he d ever successfully slugged
Ivan.
"Hey!" Ivan yelped, ducking backwards. Miles s second swing missed, as Ivan
now prudently held him at arm s length, out of
Miles s range. "I thought that sort of thing broke your arm!"
"Not anymore," Miles panted. He stopped swinging, and stood shivering.
Ivan rubbed his jaw, brows rising. "Feeling better now?" he asked after a
moment.
Miles answered with a spate of swearing, plucking off and throwing a few last
clinging ice cubes from his tunic at Ivan s head along with the curses.
"Glad to hear it," said Ivan genially. "Now I m going to tell you what you re
going to do, and you re going to do it. First thing is, you re going to go to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]