[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Had he tried to do too much? He had had ten hours sleep in the last week; had
that clouded his mind, impaired his judge-ment? Or had he slept too much;
might that little extra bit of wakefulness have made all the difference?
'I hope you die!' the woman's voice squawked.
He looked at her, frowning, wondering why she had interrupted his thoughts,
wishing she'd shut up. Maybe he should gag her.
'You're retreating,' he pointed out. 'A minute ago you were telling me I
would die.'
He slumped back on the bed.
file:///F|/rah/Iain%20Banks/Banks,%20Iain%20-%20Use%20of%20Weapons.html (143
of 371) [5/21/03 1:54:10 AM]
Iain M. Banks - Use of Weapons
'Bastard!' she screamed.
He looked at her, suddenly thinking that he was as much a prisoner where he
lay as she was where she sat. Snot gathered under her nose again. He looked
away.
He heard her snort back, then spit. He would have smiled if he'd had the
strength.
She showed contempt with a spit; what was her one dribble compared to the
deluge that was drowning a fight-ing machine he had worked two years to bring
together and train?
And why, why had he tied her to a chair of all things? Did he try to make
chance and fate redundant by scheming against himself? A chair; a girl tied to
the chajr...
about the same age, maybe a little older... but the same slim figure, with a
lying greatcoat that tried to pretend she was bigger, but failed. About the
same age, about the same shape...
He shook his head, forcing his thoughts away from that battle, that failure.
She saw him look at her and shake his head.
'Don't you laugh at me!' she screamed, shaking backwards and forwards in the
chair, furious at his scorn.
'Shut up, shut up,' he said wearily. He knew it wasn't convincing, but he
could not sound any more authoritative.
She shut up, remarkably.
The rains, and her; sometimes he wished he did believe in Fate. Maybe it did
sometimes help to believe in Gods. Some-times - like now, when things fell
against him and every turn he took brought him up against another vicious
twist of the knife, another hammering on the bruises he'd already collected -
it would be comforting to think that it was all designed, all pre-ordained,
all already written, and you just turned the pages of some great and
inviolable book... Maybe you never did get a chance to write your own story
Page 93
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
(and so his own name, even that attempt at terms, mocked him).
He didn't know what to think; was there as petty and suffo-cating a destiny as
some people seemed to think?
He didn't want to be here; he wanted to be back where the busy to-and-fro of
file:///F|/rah/Iain%20Banks/Banks,%20Iain%20-%20Use%20of%20Weapons.html (144
of 371) [5/21/03 1:54:10 AM]
Iain M. Banks - Use of Weapons t eport and command stifled all other traffic
in the mind.
'You're losing; you've lost this battle, haven't you?'
He considered saying nothing, but on reflection she would take this as a sign
he was weak, and so continue.
'What a penetrating insight,' he sighed. 'You remind me of some of the people
who planned this war. Cross-eyed, stupid and static.'
'I'm not cross-eyed!' she screamed, and instantly started crying, her head
forced down by the weight of huge sobs that shook her body and waved the folds
of the coat, making the chair creak.
Her dirty long hair hid her face, falling from her head over the wide lapels
of the greatcoat; her arms were almost level with the ground, so far forward
had she slumped in her crying. He wanted the strength to go over and cuddle
her, or bash her brains out; anything to stop her making that unnecessary
noise.
'All right, all right, you haven't got cross-eyes, I'm sorry.'
He lay back with one arm thrown across his eyes, hoping he sounded convincing,
but sure he sounded as insincere as he was.
'I don't want your sympathy!'
'Sorry again; I retract the retraction.'
'Well... I haven't... It's just a... a slight defect, and it didn't stop the
army board from taking me.'
(They were also, he recalled, taking children and pensioners, but he didn't
say that to the woman.) She was trying to wipe her face on the lapels of the
greatcoat.
She sniffed heavily, and when she brought her head back and her hair swung
away, he saw there was a large dew-drop on the tip of her nose. He got up
without thinking - the tired-ness shrieking in indignation - and tore a
portion of the thin curtain over the bed-alcove off as he went over to her.
She saw him coming with the ragged scrap and screamed with all her might; she
emptied her lungs with the effort of announcing to the rainy world outside
that she was about to be murdered. She was rocking the chair, and he had to
jump at it and
file:///F|/rah/Iain%20Banks/Banks,%20Iain%20-%20Use%20of%20Weapons.html (145
of 371) [5/21/03 1:54:10 AM]
Iain M. Banks - Use of Weapons land with one boot on one of the cross-members
between the legs to stop it from tipping over.
He put the rag over her face.
She stopped struggling. She went limp, not fighting or squirming but knowing
it was utterly pointless to go on doing anything.
'Good,' he said, relieved, 'Now, blow.'
She blew.
He withdrew the rag, folded it over, put it back over her face and told her to
blow again. She blew again. He folded it over again and wiped her nose, hard.
She squealed; it was sore. He sighed again and threw the rag away.
He didn't lie down again because it only made him sleepy and thoughtful, and
he didn't want to sleep because he felt he might never wake up, and he didn't
want to think because it wasn't getting him anywhere.
He turned away and stood at the door, which was as close anywhere as it could
be and still half open. Rain spattered in.
Page 94
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He thought of the others; the other commanders. Damn; the only other one he
trusted was Rogtam-Bar, and he was too junior to take charge. He hated being
put into positions like this, coming in on an already established command
structure, usually corrupt, usually nepotistic, and having to take so much on
himself that any absence, any hesitation, even any rest, gave the clueless
froth-heads around him a chance to fuck things up even further. But then, he
told himself, what General was ever totally happy with the command he took
over?
Anyway, he hadn't left them enough: a few crazy plans that would almost
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]