A Matter Of Proportion E-Book

Anne Walker

• Herausgeber: ALI MURTAZA
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Russisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

In order to make a man stop, you must convince him that it's impossible to go on. Some people, though, just can't be convinced

Leseprobe

A Matter Of

Proportion

Anne Walker

A

MATTER

OF

PROPORTION

In order to make a man stop, you must convince him that it's

impossible to go on. Some people, though, just can't be convinced.

In the dark, our glider chutes zeroed neatly on

target—only Art Benjamin missed the edge of the

gorge. When we were sure Invader hadn't heard

the crashing of bushes, I climbed down after him.

The climb, and what I found, left me shaken. A

Special Corps squad leader is not expendable—by

order. Clyde Esterbrook, my second and ICEG

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Anne Walker

mate, would have to mine the viaduct while my

nerve and glycogen stabilized.

We timed the patrols. Clyde said, "Have to wait

till a train's coming. No time otherwise." Well, it

was his show. When the next pair of burly-coated

men came over at a trot, he breathed, "Now!" and

ghosted out almost before they were clear.

I switched on the ICEG—inter-cortical

encephalograph—planted in my temporal bone.

My own senses could hear young Ferd breathing,

feel and smell the mat of pine needles under me.

Through Clyde's, I could hear the blind whuffle of

wind in the girders, feel the crude wood of ties

and the iron-cold molding of rails in the star-dark.

I could feel, too, an odd, lilting elation in his

mind, as if this savage universe were a good thing

to take on—spray guns, cold, and all.

We wanted to set the mine so the wreckage would

clobber a trail below, one like they'd built in

Burma and Japan, where you wouldn't think a

monkey could go; but it probably carried more

supplies than the viaduct itself. So Clyde made

adjustments precisely, just as we'd figured it with

the model back at base. It was a tricky, slow job in

the bitter dark.

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A Matter Of Proportion

I began to figure: If he armed it for this train, and

ran, she'd go off while we were on location and

we'd be drenched in searchlights and spray guns.

Already, through his fingers, I felt the hum in the

rails that every tank-town-reared kid knows. I

turned up my ICEG. "All right, Clyde, get back.

Arm it when she's gone past, for the next one."

I felt him grin, felt his lips form words: "I'll do

better than that, Willie. Look, Daddy-o, no

hands!" He slid over the edge and rested elbows

and ribs on the raw tie ends.

We're all acrobats in the Corps. But I didn't like

this act one little bit. Even if he could hang by his

hands, the heavy train would jolt him off. But I

swallowed my thoughts.

He groped with his foot, contacted a sloping

beam, and brought his other foot in. I felt a dull,