tz.cobra strike-第34部分

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y　what　he　would　say　when　they　reached　whoever　he　was　being　taken　to。　Just　walking　peacefully　。。。　and　then　the　leader　muttered　something　and　turned　around　。。。　and　before　Winward　could　do　more　than　focus　on　the　other　the　night　lit　up　with　a　thunderous　flash　and　a　sledgehammer　slammed　into　the　center　of　his　chest；　blowing　him　backwards　into　nothingness　as　the　crack　of　the　lethal　shot　echoed　in　his　ears。。。。
　The　blackness　in　his　brain　faded　slowly；　and　for　what　seemed　like　hours　he　drifted　slowly　toward　the　reality　he　could　faintly　sense　above　him。　The　pain　came　first…dull；　throbbing　pain　in　his　chest；　sharp；　stinging　pain　in　his　eyes　and　face…and　with　that　breakthrough　the　rest　of　his　senses　began　to　function　again。　Sounds　filtered　in：　footsteps；　doors　opening　and　closing；　occasional　inprehensible　voices。　He　discovered　he　was　on　his　back；　bouncing　rhythmically　as　if　being　carried；　and　every　so　often　he　felt　a　trickle　of　something　run　down　his　ribs　under　his　tunic。
　　　And　slowly；　he　realized　what　had　happened。
　He'd　been　shot。　Deliberately　and　maliciously　shot。　And　was　probably　dying。
　The　only　general　rule　he　could　recall　from　his　first…aid　training　was　that　injury　victims　should　not　be　unnecessarily　moved。　And　so　he　remained　still；　eyes　closed　against　the　pain　there；　as　he　waited　for　loss　of　blood　to　dim　his　consciousness　back　into　darkness。
　But　it　wasn't　happening。　On　the　contrary；　with　each　passing　heartbeat　he　felt　his　mind　sharpening；　with　strength　and　sensation　rapidly　returning　to　his　limbs。　Far　from　dying；　he　was　actually　ing　back　to　life。
　What　the　hell？
　And　it　was　only　then；　as　his　body　and　brain　finally　meshed　enough　to　localize　his　wound；　that　he　realized　what　had　happened。
　The　Qasaman　had　shot　him　in　the　center　of　his　chest。　Directly　over　the　breastbone。　The　breastbone　which；　coated　with　ceramic　laminae；　was　functionally　unbreakable。
　The　aftermath　was　less　clear；　but　its　main　points　weren't　hard　to　figure　out。　The　bullet's　impact　had　knocked　the　air　out　of　him；　possibly　even　temporarily　stopped　his　heart；　and　for　the　past　few　seconds　or　minutes　he'd　been　fighting　to　get　oxygen　back　into　his　system。　His　face　and　eyes　must　have　taken　the　impact　of　burning　propellant　to　sting　as　they　did；　and　for　a　painful　heartbeat　he　recognized　that　he　might　have　been　permanently　blinded。
　But　somehow　even　that　didn't　seem　important　at　the　moment。　He　was　alive；　he　was　reasonably　functional…
　And　the　Qasamans　thought　he　was　dead。
　They　would　pay　for　that　mistake。　Pay　in　blood。
　Starting　right　now。　Winward's　eyes　might　be　unusable；　but　the　optical　enhancers　set　into　the　skin　around　them　were　harder　to　damage　and　fed　into　the　optic　nerves　further　back　inside　the　skull's　protection。　They　weren't　really　designed　to　replace　normal　vision；　but　a　minute's　experimentation　showed　that　a　zero…magnification　setting　bined　with　the　lowest　light…amp　level　provided　an　adequate　picture。
　Between　the　four　head…and…upper…torsos　bobbing　at　the　edges　of　the　view；　he　could　see　a　ceiling　passing　overhead。　Carefully；　keeping　the　motion　slow；　he　eased　his　head　a　few　degrees　to　the　side。　A　couple　of　doors　went　by；　the　party　turned　a　corner；　and　abruptly　they　were　through　open　double　doors　and　into　a　white…walled　room　with　bright　steel　fixtures　extending　to　the　ceiling　in　various　places。　The　four　stretcher…bearers　set　him　down　on　a　hard　table；　and　he　let　his　head　loll　so　to　leave　it　turned　to　his　right；　toward　the　exit。　The　men　left；　closing　the　doors　behind　them；　and　he　was　alone　Though　probably　not　for　long。　The　room　he　was　in　was　very　obviously　a　sick　bay　or　surgery；　and　in　the　Qasamans〃　place　Winward　would　want　a　preliminary　dissection　started　on　a　dead　Cobra　as　quickly　as　possible。　The　doctors　were　probably　prepping　in　another　room；　and　could　arrive　at　any　time。
　Forcing　himself　to　again　move　slowly；　Winward　eased　his　head　up　and　down　until　he　located　the　glassy　eye　of　a　fisheye　monitor　camera。　It　was　in　a　back　upper　corner；　out　of　direct　line　of　any　of　his　lasers　or　his　sonic　disrupter。　He　could　lift　his　hands　and　fire；　of　course；　but　if　someone　was　watching　the　monitor　closely　the　alarm　would　be　raised　before　he　even　got　through　the　double　doors　into　the　hall。　Using　his　omnidirectional　sonic　to　shake　up　the　picture　before　shooting　wouldn't　help　appreciably；　either。　What　he　really　needed　was　a　diversion。
　Behind　him　there　was　the　sound　of　a　door　opening；　and　a　second　later　four　white…gowned　people　came　around　the　maze　of　support　equipment　and　into　view。
　And　a　diversion　abruptly　became　vital。　The　soldiers　and　stretcher…carriers　outside　might　miss　his　slow　breathing　or　the　fact　that　the　skin　of　his　chest　was　still　bleeding；　but　the　approaching　doctors　hadn't　a　chance　in　hell　of　doing　so。　He　had　to　keep　them　away　before　they　found　out　he　was　still　alive。
　The　leader　was　within　a　meter　of　him　now。　Activating　his　omnidirectional；　Winward　ran　it　to　its　lowest　frequency　setting　and　held　his　breath。
　Their　reaction　was　all　he　could　have　hoped　for。　The　leader　jerked　to　a　stop　as　the　inaudible　waves　hit　him；　the　second　in　line　stumbling　into　him　as　she　staggered　slightly。　For　a　minute　they　all　stood　together　in　a　little　knot　just　beyond　the　most　unfortable　zone；　conversing　in　voices　that　sounded　both　concerned　and　irritated。　Winward　waited；　gritting　his　teeth　himself　against　the　gut…rattling　sound　as　he　waited　for　their　next　move。
　It　came　quickly；　and　was　one　more　indication　of　how　much　the　high　mand　wanted　the　Cobra　dissected　immediately。　Waving　the　others　back；　the　leader　picked　up　a　sharp…looking　instrument　from　a　nearby　tray　and　stepped　to　the　table。　He　reached　down　to　pull　back　Winward's　tunic…
　And　jumped　back　with　a　strangled　gasp　as　the　Cobra's　sonic　disrupter　flash…heated　the　skin　of　his　hand。　Followed　by　one　of　the　others；　he　dashed　around　the　table　to　the　back　door；　shouting　as　he　ran。
　The　door　opened　and　closed；　and　for　a　moment　the　last　two　Qasamans　huddled　together；　whispering　in　fear　or　awe　or　both　to　each　other。　Winward　tried　to　guess　what　they'd　try　next；　but　the　grinding　of　his　sonic　bined　with　the　throbbing　pain　in　his　chest　and　face　was　fogging　his　mind　too　much　for　him　to　hold　a　coherent　train　of　thought。
　Again；　he　didn't　have　long　to　wait。　One　of　the　two　disappeared　toward　the　back　of　the　room；　returning　a　minute　later　with　a　coil　of　insulated　electrical　cable。　Snaring　a　knife　from　the　instrument　tray；　he　began　stripping　the　insulation　from　one　end　。。。　and　as　the　other　Qasaman　plugged　the　wire's　other　end　into　what　appeared　to　be　a　ground　socket　beneath　a　wall　outlet；　Winward　realized　with　growing　excitement　that　the　break　he'd　hoped　for　was　here。
　Clearly；　the　Qasamans　had　jumped　to　the　conclusion　that　their　colleague　had　suffered　an　electrical　burn　from　Winward's　body　and　were　preparing　to　try　and　drain　the　excess　charge　away。
　Another　minute　and　they　were　ready。　The　first　Qasaman　replaced　the　knife　in　the　tray　and　swung　the　bare　copper　wire　gently　as　he　prepared　to　loft　it　over　the　Cobra's　chest。　Moving　his　right　hand　fractionally；　Winward　lined　up　his　fingertip　laser　on　the　socket　where　the　cable　had　been　grounded。　It　was　going　to　be　a　bit　of　a　stretch；　but　he　had　no　choice　but　to　try　it。　The　copper　snake　flew　through　the　air；　draped　itself　across　his　chest　。　。　。　and　Winward　fired　his　arcthrower。
　A　bit　of　a　stretch　indeed；　and　for　a　heart…stopping　fraction　of　a　second　he　watched　the　clean　light　of　the　laser　burning　its　solitary　way　through　the　air　without　any　response　from　the　capacitors　deep　within　his　body　cavity。　Then　the　split　second　was　past；　and　the　ionized　path　reached　the　required　conductance　and　a　lightning　bolt　shattered　the　air。　And　even　as　the　thunderclap　seemed　to　split　open　Winward's　head；　the　sudden　current　flow　overloaded　the　circuit　breakers…
　And　the　room　was　plunged　into　darkness。
　Winward　was　off　the　table　before　the　echoes　had　faded　away；　was　out　through　the　double　doors　a　second　later。　If　the　monitor　camera　hadn't　been　taken　out　with　the　room's　lights；　it　was　almost　guaranteed　that　the　afterimage　of　that　flash　would　mask　the　brief　flicker　of　hall　light　as　the　Cobra　escaped。
　For　a　wonder；　the　hall　was　deserted。　Presumably　the　medical　area　had　no　mand　stations　within　it　and；　hence；　little　traffic　under　normal　conditions。　He　headed　down　the　hall　to　look　for　a　stairway；　and　as　he　did　so；　he　carefully　pried　open　his　eyelids。
　Nothing。　The　Qasaman's　gunshot　had　blinded　him。　Perhaps　beyond　even　Aventine's　surgical　abilities。　The　cold　fury　simmering　within　him　began　to　heat　up　again。　Along　with　York's　arm；　it　was　one　more　score　to　be　settled　with　this　world。
　He　changed　hallways　twice　before　spotting　anyone；　and　when　he　finally　did；　he　hit　the　entire　jackpot　at　once。　Rounding　a　corner；　he　was　just　in　time　to　see　the　elevator　he'd　been　seeking　disgorge　a　half　dozen　Qasamans　barely　ten　meters　away　from　him。　One　of　them　was　the　man　who'd　shot　him。
　The　whole　group　froze　in　shock；　and　even　the　limited　quality　of　his　enhancer　image　gave　Winward　the　grim　satisfaction　of　watching　sheer　unbelieving　terror　flood　into　his　former　assailant's　face。　Three　seconds　they　all　stood　there；　four　seconds；　five…and；　abruptly；　they　all　went　madly　for　their　weapons。
　Winward　pirouetted　on　his　right　foot　and　cut　a　blaze　of　death　across　them　with　his　antiarmor　laser。
　The　mojos　escaped　that　first　shot；　but　even　as　they　swept　toward　him　in　impotent　rage　his　fingertip　lasers　shot　them　to　the　floor。　Winward　didn't　waste　a　backward　glance　as　he　jumped　over　the　charred　bodies　and　between　the　closing　elevator　doors。　The　selector　panel　gave　him　momentary　pause…there　were　at　least　three　times　as　many　buttons　as　the　tower　ought　to　need。　But　he　knew　where　he　needed　to　go。　Pushing　the　top　button；　he　listened　to　the　faint　hum　of　the　elevator's　motor　and　prepared　himself　for　bat。
　The　door　opened；　and　he　stepped　out　into　a　dimly…lit　room　to　face　a　dozen　drawn　pistols。
　They　barked　as　one　。。。　but　Winward　was　no　longer　in　the　line　of　fire。　Leg　servos　snapped　him　upwards；　flipped　him　over　in　time　to　hit　the　ceiling　feet　first；　crashing　shin…deep　through　the　tiles　there　to　bounce　off　the　stronger　ceiling　above；　pushed　him　back　toward　the　floor　behind　the　line　of　gunmen；　again　flipping　him　over　in　midflight。　He　hit　the　floor　with　fingertip　lasers　blazing　。。。　and　it　was　doubtful　that　any　of　the　Qasamans　realized　what　had　happened　before　they　died。
　Again　the　mojos　outlived　their　masters；　and　again　Win　ward　made　that　escape　momentary。　But　this　time　one　of　them　got　through　before　dying；　its　talons　opening　up　a　ten…centimeter　gash　in　his　left　arm。
　〃Damn　it　all；〃　Winward　snarled　aloud；　tearing　off　the　bloody　tunic　sleeve　and　wrapping　it　awkwardly　around　the　wound。　The　ambush　meant　the　alarm　had　gone　out；　though　he　hadn't　heard　any　sirens　。。　。　and　as　he　focused　for　the　first　time　on　the　room　around　him；　he　realized　why　they　hadn't　needed　any　such　warning。
　Ringing　the　room　at　eye　level　were　large　windows…　presumably　one…way　since　he　hadn't　noticed　any　windows　this　high　from　the　outside…through　which　he　could　see　the　Dewdrop　lying　so　painfully　vulnerable　out　on　the　darkened　landing　field。　Below　the　windows　was　a　ring　of　monitor　displays。
　So　he'd　found　the　situation　room；　or　at　least　an　auxiliary　one。　On