Нейромант

           Hepulledhimselfoverthecircleofchairsandreachedit,punchingawhitestudtotheleftoftheslot.Thechatteringstopped.HeturnedandstaredattheHosaka.Itsfacehadbeendrilledthrough,atleastadozentimes.Theholesweresmall,circular,edgesblackened.Tinyspheresofbrightalloywereorbitingthedeadcomputer.`Goodguess,’hesaidtoMaelcum.

           `Bridgelocked,mon,’Maelcumsaid,fromtheoppositesideofthelounge.

           Thelightsdimmed,surged,dimmedagain.

           Caserippedtheprintoutfromitsslot.Morezeros.`Wintermute?’Helookedaroundthebeigeandbrownlounge,thespacescrawledwithdriftingcurvesofpaper.`Thatyouonthelights,Wintermute?’

           ApanelbesideMaelcum’sheadslidup,revealingasmallmonitor.Maelcumjerkedapprehensively,wipedsweatfromhisforeheadwithafoampatchonthebackofaglovedhand,andswungtostudythedisplay.`YoureadJapanese,mon?’Casecouldseefiguresblinkingpastonthescreen.

           `No,’Casesaid.

           `Bridgeisescapepod,lifeboat.Countin’down,lookslikeit.Suitupnow.’Heringedhishelmetandslappedattheseals.

           `What?He’stakin’off?Shit!’Hekickedofffromthebulkheadandshotthroughthetangleofprintout.`Wegottaopenthisdoor,man!’ButMaelcumcouldonlytapthesideofhishelmet.Casecouldseehislipsmoving,throughtheLexan.