Chapter 13 Chapter two

He swayed slightly, scratched his head, put the gun butt down on the floor of the small hangar, held the barrel, squinted one eye into the muzzle, and muttered to himself. "Zarqawi," Desset Sma said. "We de-orbited a one-megaton starship for two months with twenty-eight million people just to get you to Woernhardt in time. If you could wait until the mission was over before blowing your head off, I would Thank you very much." He turned to watch Sma and the droid enter the back of the small hangar; a shuttle pod disappeared behind them. "Huh?" he said, then waved. "Oh, hi." He was wearing a white shirt—sleeves rolled up—and narrow black pants, but nothing on his feet.He raised the plasma rifle and shook it, tapping the barrel with his free hand, then aimed across the long end of the small hangar.He stabilized, and then pulled the trigger.

A moment's flash of the beam, the gun jumping back at him, and then a loud, reverberating bang.He looked at the far end of the hangar two hundred meters away, where a shiny black cube about fifteen meters cubic lay under the overhead lighting.He glanced at the distant black object, pointed the gun at it again, and checked the magnified image on one of the gun's screens. "That's weird," he whispered, scratching his head. A small saucer floated beside him; on it stood an ornate metal jug and a crystal goblet.He picked up his cup and took a sip, staring intently at the gun again.

"Zarqawi," Sma said. "What are you—what the hell—what are you doing?" "Target practice," he said, taking another sip from the goblet. "Would you like a sip too, Sima? I can order another..." "No, thanks." Sima looked at the far end of the hangar, looking at the strange and shiny black square. "What is that?" "Ice," Skaven-Amtiskov said. "Yeah," he nodded, setting the cup down to adjust something on the plasma rifle. "Ice cubes." "Ice dyed black," said the robot. "Ice," Sma said, nodding, but knowing no more than his companion. "Why use ice?"

"Because," he said, his voice impatient. "This... this ship has a stupid name as hell, and the twenty-eight million people on it and the uncountable, uncountable million tons of tons of garbage don't even have any decent garbage. Reason." He flipped a few switches on the side of the rifle and aimed again. "A goddamn megaton mass, and not even a goddamn junkyard; I guess it's just the head." He clicked the trigger again.The shoulders and arms were pushed back again, light flashed on the weapon mouth, and the sound rang intermittently.He stared at the scene through the aiming screen. "This is exaggerated!" he said.

"But why are you shooting ice cubes?" Sima asked. "Sma," he yelled. "Are you deaf? Because this mean-spirited piece of junk claims I don't have any junk on board for me to hit." He shook his head, flipping back the inspection panel on the side of the weapon. "Why don't you shoot holograms like everyone else?" Smart asked. "Holography is great, Dessert, but..." He turned and handed her the gun. "Come on; can you hold it for me? Thanks." He was fumbling with the inspection panel, while Sima was holding the gun with both hands.This plasma rifle is 1.25 meters long and very heavy. "Holograms are great for calibration and shit, but... to get the feel of a weapon, you have to... waste something, you know?" He glanced at him. "You've got to feel the recoil and see what the wreckage looks like. Real wreckage. Not hologram shit; I'm talking real stuff."

Sima exchanged glances with the robot. "You get... this cannon," Sma said to the machine.Skaven-Amtisko's force field glowed a playful pink.It took the weight of the gun from her while the man continued tinkering with the inside of the weapon. "I don't think the GMV would consider producing garbage, Zarqawi," Sma said, sniffing suspiciously the contents of the ornately carved metal jug.She wrinkled her nose. "It just cares about what's being used and what can be recycled into something else. There's no such thing as garbage." "Yeah," he whispered. "It told me that crap, too."

"So it's ice for you, is it?" said the robot. "Just accept it." He nodded, snapped the armored inspection panel back into place, and lifted the gun from the droid's hand. "Should be able to hit it, but now I can't handle this damn gun." "Zarqawi," the robot sighed. "It's not really surprising that it doesn't work. That thing is a museum piece. It's eleven hundred years old. We make more powerful pistols today than that." He watched the sight carefully, breathing smoothly... then licked his lips, put down the gun and drank from the goblet.He looked back at the robot. "But this is beautiful," he told the machine, raising his gun and brandishing it.He patted the dark, messy side of the weapon. "I mean, take a closer look; it looks powerful!" he growled appreciatively, before taking a standing stance again to fire.

This shot was not much better than the previous ones.He sighed, shook his head, and stared at the weapon. "It's no use," he said sadly. "It just doesn't work. I feel the recoil, but it just doesn't work." "Can I come?" Skaven-Amtisko said.It floats toward the gun.The man looked at the robot suspiciously.Then he handed it the gun. All the plasma rifle screens flashed, the unit clicked and beeped, and the inspection panel opened and closed.The robot then returns the gun to the man. "It is now functioning perfectly fine," it said. "Hmph." He held the weapon with one hand, raised it upwards and outwards, and then tapped the back of the gun stock with the other hand, turning the large rifle around his face and chest like a motor.He didn't take his eyes off the robot as he did so; he was still looking at the machine as he turned his wrist to stop the gun -- already pointed at the distant black ice -- and fired, all in one motion.The gun seemed to shoot something again, but Bing remained unmoved.

"Fuck he's functioning normally," he said. "What exactly was your conversation with the ship when you asked for 'garbage'?" the robot asked. "I don't remember," he said aloud. "I told it he was such a dwarf that he had no crap to shoot, and he said people usually use ice when they want to cum. So I said okay, you condom rocket... or Something like that; give me some ice!" He held out his hand beckoningly. "That's it." The robot took the gun. "Try asking it to clear the hangar for shooting practice," it advises. "Especially ask it to clear an area within the trapdoor coverage."

He takes the gun back from the robot, looking contemptuous. "Okay," he said slowly.He seemed about to say something else, and spoke into the air, but with an air of uncertainty.He scratched his head, glanced at the robot, obviously about to say something to it, and turned away again.At last he compared Skaven-Amtisko with his fingers. "You...you ask for...those. It sounds better from another machine." "Fine. Done," said the robot. "You just have to ask." "Well," he said.He turned his suspicious gaze from the robot to the ice in the distance.He raised his gun and aimed at the ice mass.

He fired. The gun sank into his shoulder, and a blinding flash cast shadows behind him.The sound sounded like a grenade exploding.A pencil-thin white beam flew across the small hangar, linking the gun to the fifteen-meter cube of ice, which shattered into a million pieces in the explosion's light and steam that shook the floor, and then exploded into a violent surge. black foggy cloud. Sma stood up, hands behind his back, and watched the debris fall within fifty meters of the hangar roof, bouncing off the ceiling.More black fragments flew the same distance and crashed into the side wall of the hangar...while tumbling, flickering black fragments moved toward them through the floor.Most came to a halt on the ridged floor, but a few pieces—bombed far in the air before falling to the ground—did pass where the two humans and the bystander droid were, and thumped against the rear wall of the hangar. superior.Skaven-Amtisko picked up a fist-sized shard near Sma's feet.The sound of the explosion continued to echo several times on the wall, and finally faded away slowly. Sima felt her ears relax. "Are you happy, Zarqawi?" she asked. He blinked, turned off the gun and turned to Sma. "Looks like it works now," he growled. Sima nodded. "Uh-huh." He gestured with his head. "Let's go have a drink." He picked up the goblet and walked towards the shuttle nozzle while drinking. "A drink?" Sima said, following the man forward, nodding to the cup he was drinking from. "Okay; so what's that?" "It's almost finished, that's all," he told her, loudly.He poured at least half a glass from the metal jug into the goblet. "Would you like ice?" the robot asked, offering the dripping black crumb. "No, thanks." Something flashed in the shuttle, and a pod popped up, and the door slid open. "But... what is the scope of the trap door?" "Internal explosion protection of the Universal System Vehicle," the robot explained, letting humans step into the pods first. "Can stop anything stronger than farting into hyperspace; blast radiation or something." "Damn," he said, disgusted. "You mean you can have a nuke go off inside these sons of bitches and they won't even notice?" The robot shakes. "They'll notice; others may not." The man stood dangling in the pod, watching the door roll back into place, shaking his head regretfully. "You people just don't know what fairness is, do you?" The last time he boarded a General Systems vehicle was ten years ago, after he nearly died in Falls. "Charidian? . . . Charidian?" He heard voices, but wasn't sure the woman was actually speaking to him.The voice was so good it made him want to play it on repeat.But he didn't know how to do it.It was very dark outside. "Sharidian?" A very patient voice.Somehow worried, yet hopeful; a cheerful, even lovable voice.He tried to think about his mother. "Charidian?" said the voice again.That was trying to wake him up.But he was already awake.He tried to move his lips. "Charidian... can you hear me?" He moved his lips and exhaled at the same time, thinking that he might have made a sound.He tried to open his eyes.Darkness swung. "Charidian...?" A hand was placed on his face, stroking his cheek gently.Cheyenne!He thought about it for a moment, then scanned the memory to where he kept his other memories. "How..." he tried to say.Only the beginning sound came out. "Charidian..." said the voice, moving closer to him. "I'm Desert. Desert Sma. Remember me?" "Xiao Di..." After failing two or three times, he managed to speak. "Sharidian?" "I'm..." He heard himself panting. "Try opening your eyes, will you?" "Trying..." he said.Then the light streamed in as if it had nothing to do with his attempt to open his eyes.It took a while for things to coalesce, but at last he saw the soft green ceiling, lit by fanned recessed lighting on either side, and the face of Desette Small looking down at him. "You're doing well, Charidian," she smiled at him. "how do you feel?" He thought about it. "It felt weird," he said.He began to think hard, trying to remember how he got here.Is this some kind of hospital?How did he come here? "Where is this?" he said.Maybe I should have been more straightforward.He tried to move his hand, but in vain.Sima glanced somewhere above his head as he did so. "Universal Systems Vehicle Innate Optimist. You'll be fine...you'll be fine." "If I'm okay, why can't I move my hands or feet...shit." He was suddenly tied to the wooden frame again; the girl stood before him.He opened his eyes and saw her; it was Sima.A smoky, uncertain light enveloped the surroundings.He twisted the restraints, but there was no sign of loosening, no hope... He felt the pull of the hair, the slash of the blade, and then saw the girl in the red robe looking at his severed head from somewhere . Everything is spinning.He closes his eyes. That time passed.He swallowed.He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again; at least the stuff was working.Sima looked down, relieved. "Did you just remember?" "Yes. I just remembered." "Are you going to be okay?" She sounded serious, but still reassuring. "I'll be fine," he said.Then: "It's just a small injury." She laughed and turned her head away.She bit her lip when she looked at him again. "Hey," he said. "It was close this time, wasn't it?" He smiled. Sima nodded. "You could say that. Seconds later and you'd have brain damage; minutes later and you'd be dead. If only you had a guide implant. We could have found you days sooner… " "Oh, come on, Smart," he said gently. "You know I can't take all that stuff." "Yeah, I know," she said. "Well, anyway, you have to stay like this for a while." Sima smoothed the hair on her forehead. "It takes about two hundred days or so to grow a new body. They asked me to ask you; do you want to be fully asleep during the process, or normally awake... or something in between? It's up to you. No impact on the process." "Hmm," he thought for a moment. "I think there are a lot of better things I can do, like listening to music and watching movies or something, and reading?" "If you want," Sma shrugged. "You can also watch a whole reel of yellow brain input fantasy tapes." "Where's the drink?" "drinks?" "Yes; may I be drunk?" "I don't know," Sma said, looking up and to one side.A voice whispered something. "Who's that?" he asked. "Stodd Pillins," answered a young man, appearing to look down. "I am the medical officer. Hello, Mr. Zarqawi, I will take care of you, but you have to decide how to use your time." "If you were programmed to fall asleep, would you dream?" he asked the medical officer. "It depends on the depth of your sleep. We can let you sleep for two hundred days without thinking for more than a second, or you can dream clearly every minute and every second. Whatever you want." "What would most people do?" "Shut down the phone immediately, and wake up with the new body without waiting for a long time." "I guess so. Can I get drunk when I'm hung up on whatever the hell I have to be hung up on?" Stoude Pillins grinned. "I'm sure we can. We can give you potion glands if you want; a very good chance, just..." "No thanks," he closed his eyes briefly, then tried to shake his head. "Occasionally getting drunk is enough." Stoude Pillins nodded. "Well, I think we can let you do that." "Great. Sma?" He looked at her.She raised her eyebrows. "I'm going to stay sober," he told her. Sima smiled slowly. "I had a feeling you would choose this way." "Will you be around?" "Okay," the woman said. "Do you want me to do that?" "I will be thankful." "I'd love to, too." She nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. I'll watch you gain weight." "Thanks. And thanks for not bringing the damn robot. I can imagine his joke." "...Yeah," Sma said, hesitating.So he said, "Sma? What's the matter?" "Well..." The woman looked uncomfortable. "tell me." "Skaffin-Amtisko," she said awkwardly. "I have a present for you." She pulled a small package out of her pocket and waved it, embarrassed. "I... I don't know what, but..." "Well, I can't open it. Do me a favor, Smart." Sima opened the package.She looked at what was inside.Stoude Pillins bent over to look, then turned away quickly, coughing with his hand over his mouth. Sima bit her lower lip. "Maybe I should get a new guard droid." He closes his eyes. "what is that?" "a hat." He laughed at that.Sma finally laughs too (though she throws something at the robot later).Stoude Pillings accepts the hat as a gift. But until later, under the dim red lights of the hospital district, Sima was dancing slowly with some newly conquered landowner, and Stoude Pillins was dining with friends and telling them the story of the hat. As the life of the rest of the great ship went on, he remembered how, only a few years ago, and very far away, Seanth Ungern had painted the scars on his body (cold, long fingers caressing the wrinkled body that seemed new, The smell of her skin and the stinging swing of her hair). And he will get a new body in two hundred days.And (and this?...I'm so sorry. Is that still fresh?)...the wound in his heart will be gone forever, and the heart under his chest won't be the same anymore. And only then did he realize that he had lost her. Not Seance Ungern.He loved her, or thought he did, and apparently lost her...but she, the other she, the real her, had spent a century of cryogenic sleep with him inside him. He had thought he would never lose her until he died. Now he knew it was different, and was frustrated with the realization and the loss. He whispered her name into the quiet red night. Overhead, the ever-relaxing medical surveillance device saw some fluid oozing from the lacrimal glands of the bodiless human, silently pondering why. "How old is old Tesodarion?" "Eighty, relative age," said the robot. "Do you think he'd want to come back? Just because I asked him?" He looked suspicious. "You're the only thing we can think of," Smart told him. "Can't you let that old guy die peacefully?" "There are far more things at stake now than happy retired aging politicians, Zarqawi." "What? The entire universe? Life as we understand it?" "Yes, tens of millions, maybe hundreds of millions of times." "So philosophical." "You didn't let Administrator Kil'an die in peace, did you?" "Damn it," he said, wandering a little longer into the depths of the armory. "That old man should die a million times." This small modified hangar engineering area includes a dizzying array of weapons from civilization and other sources.Zarqawi is like a child stepping into a toy store, Sma thought.He picked out the equipment, piled it on the pallet that Skaven-Amtisco held behind the man, and walked through racks and drawers and shelves, aisle after aisle, full of projectile weapons, linear guns, Laser rifles, plasma launchers, comb grenades, electromagnetic controllers, planar explosives, passive and reactive armor, sensors and warning devices, full body combat armor, missile magazines, and at least a dozen other unique differences The type is not recognized by Sma. "You can't carry that many, Zarqawi." "It's just a shortlist," he told her.He picked up a heavy, square gun with no barrel visible from the rack.He brought it to the robot: "What is this?" "CREWS: Assault rifles," Skaven-Amtisko said. "Seven hundred and fourteen metric-ton batteries; single shot, seven types of ammunition, the maximum single burst of 44,800 rounds per second (minimum firing time 8.75 seconds); seven by two meters── Fifty kilograms; spectrum from mid-visible light to high-frequency X-ray." He raised his hand. "The balance is not very good." "That's how it's stowed. Push the whole upper part out of the way." "Yeah." He pretended to shoot the gun that he always had. "So, what's to stop you from putting your gun hand where the beam will go?" "Use common sense?" the robot suggested. "Ugh. I'll stick with my antique plasma rifle." He swung the gun back. "Anyway, Sma; you should be glad the old guy was happy to come back out for you. Damn, I should have devoted myself to gardening or something instead of charging into the Galactic Savages and doing your dirty work." "Oh, yes," said Sma. "I'm having a hard time convincing you to leave your 'gardening' and come back to us. Shit, Zarqawi; you're already packed." "I must have sensed the urgency of the situation telepathically." He took a huge black gun from the pylon and turned it with both hands, muttering with difficulty. "Damn it. Are you actually going to fire the mother, or use it as a battering ram?" "The Idarines carry cannons," Skaffin-Amtiskau sighed. "Don't flail like that; it's very old, and rather rare." "No wonder to him." He raised the gun with difficulty and put it back on the rack, then continued down the hallway. "Come to think of it, Sma, I'm as old as I've lived three lives or something. Maybe I'm asking you too little for this prank." "Well, if you're going to take it that way, we should sue for your...patent infringement? Use our technology to rejuvenate those old guys." "Don't criticize me. You don't know what it's like to grow old so early." "Yeah, but that technology is available to everyone, and you're only giving it to the most evil, craziest power bastards on the planet." "They're a stratified society! What do you expect? Anyway, if I gave everyone... just think about the population explosion!" "Zarqawi, I thought about it when I was fifteen; their civilization taught you such things in school very early on. That was thought about long ago; that's part of our history, and part of our upbringing .So what you're doing looks like crazy to school kids. You're like school kids to us. You don't even want to grow old. You can't be more childish than that." "Wow!" he said, stopping suddenly, taking something from an open shelf. "what is this?" "It's beyond your capacity," Skaven-Amtiskau said. "What a beauty!" He clutched the astonishingly complex weapon, turning it around. "What's this?" he gasped. "Micromilitary system, rifle," the robot said. "It's... oh, look, Zarqawi, there are ten different weapon systems in there, and that's not counting the semi-smart guard system, the reactive shield device, the IFF quick response kit, or the anti-gravity unit. Before you ask, the controls are all on the wrong side, because this is the left-handed version. As for the balance—such as weight and individual inertia—it's all completely adjustable. You also have to spend half a year training to learn how to operate it safely. It, but you are not qualified yet, so you can't take it away." "I don't want it," he said, touching the weapon. "But what a good thing!" He put it back next to the other weapons.He glanced at Sima. "Xiao Di, I know what you guys think; I think I'll respect those thoughts...but your life is not mine. I live in the danger zone through insecure means; always have always been like this, always will be Why. I'm going to die soon anyway, so why am I carrying the added burden of getting older and slower?" "Don't use need as a shield, Zarqawi. You can change your life; you don't have to live like this, you can join civilization and become one of us. At least live like us, but—" "Sma!" he called, turning to her. "You can accept it, but I can't. You think it's wrong for me to hold my age, and even get the chance of immortality... It's wrong for you. Well, I can understand. In your society, you Live on your own terms, of course. You've lived through three hundred and fifty or four hundred years knowing you were right all the way; you'll end up dying in your bed with bare feet. To me... that's useless. I don't have that kind of certainty. I like the fringe point of view, Sma; I like feeling the punch in the face. So sooner or later I'm going to die, maybe horribly. Maybe stupidly, because that's how things often turn out, you gotta Dodging nukes and determined killers...then choking on fish bones...but who cares? So your stasis comes from your society and mine... from my age. But we both have to die one day .” Sima looked at the floor and clasped her hands behind her back. "Okay," she said. "But don't forget who gave you the fringe point of view." He smiled sadly. "Yes; you saved my life. But you also lied to me and sent me—no, listen to me—on that goddamn stupid mission, and I ended up running to the enemy I thought I was looking for Over there, ask me to go into battle for their idiot leader who I'd love to strangle, in a war I don't know which side you're rooting for, give me those two sperms full of aliens, make me have to cum Into the bodies of a few poor damn women...almost got me killed...very nearly got me killed dozens of times..." "You'll never forgive me for giving you the hat, will you?" Skaven-Amtisko said with fake pain. "Oh, Charedian," Sma said. "Don't pretend that's not fun enough." "Sma, trust me, it's not all 'fun.'" He leaned against a cabinet filled with ancient projectile weapons. "And it's worse," he insisted. "You turned the damn map upside down." "What?" Sma said, bewildered. "Turn the map upside down," he repeated. "Do you know how annoying and troublesome it is when you go to a place and find that their map shows it in a world different from yours? Because something stupid happened, like some people Think the compass is supposed to point to heaven, others think it's going to be heavier so it points to the ground? Or because it's based on the galactic plane or something? I mean, it might sound trivial, but it's very infuriating Angry." "Zarqawi, I have absolutely no idea. My apologies to you on behalf of the entire Special Operations Agency; no, the entire Communications Department; no, the entire civilization; no, the entire intelligent race." "Sma, you heartless bitch, I mean it." "No, I don't think so. The map..." "But it's true! They turned them the wrong way!" "Then," said Desette Sma. "There must be a reason." "What is it?" he demanded. "Psychology," Sima said at the same time as the robot. "Two sets of battle suits?" Sima said after a while after he finished choosing the final equipment.They were still in the armory in the little hangar, but Skaven-Amtiskau had left to do something more interesting than watch a child buy a toy. He heard the accusation in Sima's voice, and looked up. "Yes; two battle suits. So what?" "They can be used to restrain someone, Zarqawi; I know. But they have no protective effect." "Sma, if I try to get this guy out of a hostile environment, you can't provide immediate assistance because you have to back off to make it seem simple—maybe fake—that I have the tools to do the job. Really Among these tools is the FYT combat suit from "Only one," said Smart. "Sma, don't you believe me?" "One piece," Sma repeated. "Damn it! There it is!" He dragged the space suit from the pile of equipment and left. "Charidian," Sma said, suddenly reassuring. "Remember; we need Beshar's commitment, not just his people. That's why we can't impersonate him; we can't meddle in his head..." "Sma, you are sending me to interfere with his head." "Okay," Sma said, suddenly looking tense.She immediately held her hand gently, with an embarrassed expression on her face. "By the way, Charidian, ah... what exactly is your plan? I know I should ask about the mission overview or anything formal, but how exactly are you going to approach Beshar?" he sighed. "I'm going to make him want to come and find me." "How to do it?" "Just one word." "One word?" "A name." "What, your name?" "No; my name was supposed to be a secret when I was Beshar's advisor, but it must have been leaked now. It's too dangerous. I'll use another name." "Aha," Sima looked at him expectantly, but he turned back to sift through the various equipment he had just picked out. "Bécha lives in that university, doesn't she?" he said, without turning to Sma. "Yes; almost permanently in the library. But there are many libraries, and he moves a lot, and there are always guards." "Okay," he told her. "If you want to do something that helps, try to figure out what that university might want." Sima shrugged. "It's a bourgeois society. What about money?" "I'd do that myself..." He paused, suspicious. "I'm going to get enough freedom in this part, won't I?" "Unlimited spending," Smart nodded. he smiles. "Great." Pause. "Which source? Metric tons of platinum? Bags of diamonds? My own bank?" "Well, sort of your own bank, yes," said Smart. "We've been building a thing called the Vanguard Foundation since the last war; a business empire, relatively ethical, that expands in secret. Your unlimited spending will come from there." "Well, with all these uncapped payouts, I might try to give universities a bunch of money; but it would be nice if we could entice them with real stuff." "Okay," she said, nodding.Then she frowned.She compares her combat outfits. "What did you call this thing before?" Confused, he continued, "Oh; that's a FYT battlesuit." "Yeah, the real FYT battle suit, you said so. But I think I know all the terms, but I've never heard the acronym. What does that mean?" "That's a real 'fuck-you-too' battle suit." He grinned. Sima clicked her tongue. "Looks like I should have been more conceptual before asking, eh?" Two days later, they stood in the main bay of the Alienhater.The ultra-fast patrol ship had left the general systems vehicle a day earlier and hurled itself toward the Woernhardt star cluster.It accelerated violently at first, and now it decelerated violently.He packed his gear to be loaded into the pod that would bring him down to the surface of the planet where Tesodarion Bechar was; the initial journey to the Inner System would be with a three-person pod assembly that would wander to the nearby In the atmosphere of a gas giant star.Xenophobia will wait in interstellar space, ready to provide needed support. "Are you sure you don't want Skaven-Amtisko to follow you?" "Absolutely; keep that empty bastard to yourself." "What about the other robots?" "don't want." "Blade missile?" "Desert, no! I don't want Skaven-Amtiscor or anything that thinks it can think for itself." "Hey, don't make it sound like I'm not there," Skaven-Amtisko said. "Wishful thinking, robot." "Better than nothing, and above your standards," said the machine. He looks at the robot. "Are you sure they didn't fully recall your batch?" "As far as I'm concerned," the robot said, snorting. "I've never been able to see any merit in something that's eighty percent water." "Anyway," Sma said. "You know all about it, don't you?" "Yes," he said wearily.The man's tanned, smooth, muscular body rippled as he bent over, securing the plasma rifle in the pod.He is wearing shorts.Sima—whose hair was still tousled from getting up because it was still early on board—was wearing a hooded toga. "Do you know who to contact?" she said anxiously. "Who else is in charge..." "And what if my financial resources are suddenly withdrawn? Yes; I know that." "If--after you get him out--you'll go to--" "The mesmerizing, sunlit Emplin galaxy," he said wearily, answering in a singing voice. "There's a lot of friendly locals out there, living in all sorts of different ecologically sound space habitats. A neutral ground." "Zarqawi," Sma said suddenly, wrapping his hands around his face and kissing him. "Hopefully it all works out." "It's funny, me too," he said.He kisses Sima back; she pulls away at last. He shook his head, looked up and down the woman's body, and grinned. "Ah... one day, Desert." She shook her head, smiling insincerely. "Unless I'm unconscious or dead, Charidian." "Oh. Then I can still hope?" Sima patted him hard on the back. "Get on your way, Zarqawi." He stepped into the armored combat suit.That closed on him.He put his helmet on. He suddenly became very serious. "Just make sure you know—" "We know where she is," Smart said quickly. He stared at the hangar floor for a moment, then looked into Sma's eyes and smiled back. “很好。”他双手交握。“好极了；我马上动身。幸运的话，晚点见了。”他踏进荚舱。 “保重，夏瑞狄恩，”斯玛说。 “是啊，看好你那恶心裂开的屁股吧，”斯卡芬─阿姆提斯考说。 “我会好好倚赖它的，”他说，对她们抛出一个飞吻。 从通用系统载具到超快速巡逻舰、小型座舱组件到缓慢的荚舱，再到一个里头包覆着一位男子的战斗装，站在冰冷的沙漠上。 他透过面板看去，从额头抹去些许汗水。现在是高原的黄昏。借着两个月亮与日落的太阳光线，他能看见几公尺外因冰霜发白的悬崖岩石。再过去是沙漠里的巨大裂谷，特索戴瑞恩·贝夏所居住的那个古老、半空的城市便坐落在那里。 白云飘动，尘土堆积。 “好啦，”他叹息，没对任何人说，抬头看着另一个依旧陌生的天空。“我们又开始了。”

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Notes: