Doring’s wrist, it tore the gun from Doring’s hand. Doring stumbled over a body.
As he fell to his knees, his right hand found the hilt of a cutlass, the weapon fallen to the deckplates. Rene’s cutlass swept down toward Doring’s head and Doring arced the cutiass up. The massive curved blades locked for less than a second. Doring dodged back, to his feet now, his left hand groping for
the pistol grip of his energy rifle. But Rene charged, hacking with the cudass and Doring had no choice but to use the only weapon to hand. Their blades locked, parted, locked again.
Rene’s cutlass moved with the alacrity and unpredictable agility of a snake, feinting toward Doring, withdrawing, flicking forward again. But Doring blocked each thrust; and he did it, however effectively, less than gracefully, while Dimitri’s Wild Tribesman first mate was an obviously accomplished swordsman.
The rate of energy weapon blasts was so rapid that it was impossible for Doring to tell one shot from the next. Everyone around him was in motion, a confusion of hands and arms and legs and falling bodies.
Doring’s left hand found the pistol grip of his energy rifle and he stabbed the weapon forward now, blocking Rene’s downwardly hacking cudass with his own blade as he fired the rifle point blank. Rene’s center of mass seemed to collapse into itself and there was the smell of burning flesh …
The smell was overpowering. This current epoch so much replicated the 1960s that it sometimes felt uncanny. Although the shape of the vessel was a little odd-rather like the barrel of a smallish deck cannon-within it, over a dancing candleflame, chocolate melted. Emma was making fondue.
Fresh strawberries and thick slices of banana were set out on two smallish plates, one to either side of the vessel itself at the center of the coffee table.
Rourke sat on the couch. Emma Shaw knelt on the opposite side of the table. She stabbed a piece of banana with one of the small-tined, long-handled forks. Rourke speared a strawberry. “What will you do when this war with Eden has come and gone, John?”
“Wait for the next war,” Rourke said honestly.
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” she almost whispered, her eyes focused on her now chocolate-dripping banana slice.
Rourke immersed his strawberry. Tm speaking from experience, Emma, not from preference. After we ended things with the Soviet Union, I started up my clinic, my hospital. My wife and I were living together, our baby was due. Aside from Commander Dodd and the political strife which he was attempting to generate within Eden, things looked positive. It’s almost as if mankind can’t live without strife, though. Perhaps it’s some fault in our genetic makeup. There are some people who will risk everything-of theirs and everyone else’s-in order to try for power over mankind. Nazi, Communist, doesn’t matter really. “A rose by any other name …” The result’s the same.”
“You’re a pessimist,” she told him.
Rourke smiled as he ate his strawberry. And through a mouthful of chocolate and strawberry he told her, “You’re almost right; I’m a realist. The intent is different, but the result’s the same, Fm afraid.”
“Fine. Then say by some miracle it becomes an ideal world. What then?”
“I’d like to explore it, see what’s out there. And if we ever got a space program going-which we won’t in my lifetime because we’re too busy trying to survive-see what’s out there as well. But Td probably try to bring my medical education up to the level of the present century, then go back in the doctor business,” Rourke concluded.
Emma said nothing, just impaled a strawberry.
As Rourke drowned a banana slice in the chocolate, he said, “A lot derjends-everything, really-depends on whether or not Sarah can be saved now. And Deitrich Zimmer’s the only man who can do it, it appears, if indeed he can.”
“What would you do if the bullet in her brain can’t be
As he fell to his knees, his right hand found the hilt of a cutlass, the weapon fallen to the deckplates. Rene’s cutlass swept down toward Doring’s head and Doring arced the cutiass up. The massive curved blades locked for less than a second. Doring dodged back, to his feet now, his left hand groping for
the pistol grip of his energy rifle. But Rene charged, hacking with the cudass and Doring had no choice but to use the only weapon to hand. Their blades locked, parted, locked again.
Rene’s cutlass moved with the alacrity and unpredictable agility of a snake, feinting toward Doring, withdrawing, flicking forward again. But Doring blocked each thrust; and he did it, however effectively, less than gracefully, while Dimitri’s Wild Tribesman first mate was an obviously accomplished swordsman.
The rate of energy weapon blasts was so rapid that it was impossible for Doring to tell one shot from the next. Everyone around him was in motion, a confusion of hands and arms and legs and falling bodies.
Doring’s left hand found the pistol grip of his energy rifle and he stabbed the weapon forward now, blocking Rene’s downwardly hacking cudass with his own blade as he fired the rifle point blank. Rene’s center of mass seemed to collapse into itself and there was the smell of burning flesh …
The smell was overpowering. This current epoch so much replicated the 1960s that it sometimes felt uncanny. Although the shape of the vessel was a little odd-rather like the barrel of a smallish deck cannon-within it, over a dancing candleflame, chocolate melted. Emma was making fondue.
Fresh strawberries and thick slices of banana were set out on two smallish plates, one to either side of the vessel itself at the center of the coffee table.
Rourke sat on the couch. Emma Shaw knelt on the opposite side of the table. She stabbed a piece of banana with one of the small-tined, long-handled forks. Rourke speared a strawberry. “What will you do when this war with Eden has come and gone, John?”
“Wait for the next war,” Rourke said honestly.
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” she almost whispered, her eyes focused on her now chocolate-dripping banana slice.
Rourke immersed his strawberry. Tm speaking from experience, Emma, not from preference. After we ended things with the Soviet Union, I started up my clinic, my hospital. My wife and I were living together, our baby was due. Aside from Commander Dodd and the political strife which he was attempting to generate within Eden, things looked positive. It’s almost as if mankind can’t live without strife, though. Perhaps it’s some fault in our genetic makeup. There are some people who will risk everything-of theirs and everyone else’s-in order to try for power over mankind. Nazi, Communist, doesn’t matter really. “A rose by any other name …” The result’s the same.”
“You’re a pessimist,” she told him.
Rourke smiled as he ate his strawberry. And through a mouthful of chocolate and strawberry he told her, “You’re almost right; I’m a realist. The intent is different, but the result’s the same, Fm afraid.”
“Fine. Then say by some miracle it becomes an ideal world. What then?”
“I’d like to explore it, see what’s out there. And if we ever got a space program going-which we won’t in my lifetime because we’re too busy trying to survive-see what’s out there as well. But Td probably try to bring my medical education up to the level of the present century, then go back in the doctor business,” Rourke concluded.
Emma said nothing, just impaled a strawberry.
As Rourke drowned a banana slice in the chocolate, he said, “A lot derjends-everything, really-depends on whether or not Sarah can be saved now. And Deitrich Zimmer’s the only man who can do it, it appears, if indeed he can.”
“What would you do if the bullet in her brain can’t be
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