Read Online Posleen War: Sidestories The Tuloriad by John Ringo, Tom Kratman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Ringo, Tom Kratman
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as assistant to the Mesergen. “Oh, don't be such a nestling,” the tinkerer chided at seeing the cosslain's rolling eyes and trembling limbs. “Just stand above the bloody thing.”
Reluctantly, terrified, the cosslain put first one foot forward, and then the other. In a total of five steps it was standing over the crude block of silvery metal.
“Good creature,” Golo praised. “Now just hold still.”
As Goloswin began to manipulate a flat rectangular control box he'd thrown together out of spare parts scavenged from the Himmit ship's stores, the cosslain looked down between its front legs. It saw the block of silvery stuff begin to flatten out, spreading across the deck. It thinned out to the thickness of a single molecule and flowed under the cosslain's clawed feet, then thickened. As the cosslain felt itself lifted by that thickening, it rolled its eyes, lifted its muzzle to the ceiling of the cargo compartment, and began to howl, piteously, “Geugh, geugh, geugh, geugh . . .”
“You're not fooling anyone, you know,” Golo chided.
The material, once it was past the cosslain's feet, began then to ooze up along its legs, and over its torso. It spread its silvery sheen to the tips of the cosslain's claws, and up to the juncture of head and neck. There it stopped, until it had formed a thick lip, as if awaiting something. That something—an irregularly shaped clear helmet to which were attached some small bottles, tubes, and something that looked quite a bit like a rebreather—Golo picked up from the deck and slid over the cosslain's muzzle and cranium. The silvery material immediately flowed to join the clear plastic-like helmet, forming a seal. The cosslain's howling immediately cut off.
“Now what?” asked Tulo'stenaloor
“Now we see if it dies,” the tinkerer answered, giggling.
“Interesting that you had the precise parts required by the Posleen,” Aelool observed. “A suspicious being, which, of course, I am not, might suspect that you or your people had anticipated they'd ask. But that could never be, could it?”
Argzal, lying on his quilted couch, subtly shifted both heads to stare at the Indowy. “I'm sure I've no idea what you're talking about,” the being said.
“No . . . no, of course you wouldn't.”
After an hour, the cosslain not only wasn't dead, it had begun to gambol about the cargo compartment, to the delight of Goloswin and the annoyance of everyone else.
“What is that crap?” Tulo asked.
“Basically . . . long chain molecules, with peculiar additional protons and electrons, in various isotopes. Basically . . . too . . . material that 'wants' to be or become something, that can only be or become what it is designed, at a subatomic level, to be or become. Though one can play with that . . . intent. It was fascinating stuff to work with. I'm not at all sure I really understand it. Rather, I'm sure that I don't understand it . . . not yet, anyway.”
“Well . . . it seems to work . . .”
At that time, the cosslain, somewhat unused to the helmet and surrounding material, bumped into Brasingala, who lashed out immediately and mindlessly with his boma blade.
Which bounced off. Which caused the kessentai guard to strike again. Which strike also bounced off.
Which caused Goloswin to gape and Tulo'stenaloor to exclaim, “Fuscirto!”—demon shit!—“That stuff's armor!”
Golo insisted that he be the one to test the new suit. Tulo had, of course, said, “No. You're too valuable.” Golo had then pointed out that he was not as valuable as Tulo and that none of the others had a mental state that could quite be trusted. “Truth, Tulo, I don't really trust myself. But I trust myself more than I do them.” Golo pointed with his chin to where the Remember was strangling an empty space. He moved his chin's aim to Binastarion who had lost interest even in his food balls and was instead hugging his AS like a teddybear and rocking while keening.
Reluctantly, terrified, the cosslain put first one foot forward, and then the other. In a total of five steps it was standing over the crude block of silvery metal.
“Good creature,” Golo praised. “Now just hold still.”
As Goloswin began to manipulate a flat rectangular control box he'd thrown together out of spare parts scavenged from the Himmit ship's stores, the cosslain looked down between its front legs. It saw the block of silvery stuff begin to flatten out, spreading across the deck. It thinned out to the thickness of a single molecule and flowed under the cosslain's clawed feet, then thickened. As the cosslain felt itself lifted by that thickening, it rolled its eyes, lifted its muzzle to the ceiling of the cargo compartment, and began to howl, piteously, “Geugh, geugh, geugh, geugh . . .”
“You're not fooling anyone, you know,” Golo chided.
The material, once it was past the cosslain's feet, began then to ooze up along its legs, and over its torso. It spread its silvery sheen to the tips of the cosslain's claws, and up to the juncture of head and neck. There it stopped, until it had formed a thick lip, as if awaiting something. That something—an irregularly shaped clear helmet to which were attached some small bottles, tubes, and something that looked quite a bit like a rebreather—Golo picked up from the deck and slid over the cosslain's muzzle and cranium. The silvery material immediately flowed to join the clear plastic-like helmet, forming a seal. The cosslain's howling immediately cut off.
“Now what?” asked Tulo'stenaloor
“Now we see if it dies,” the tinkerer answered, giggling.
“Interesting that you had the precise parts required by the Posleen,” Aelool observed. “A suspicious being, which, of course, I am not, might suspect that you or your people had anticipated they'd ask. But that could never be, could it?”
Argzal, lying on his quilted couch, subtly shifted both heads to stare at the Indowy. “I'm sure I've no idea what you're talking about,” the being said.
“No . . . no, of course you wouldn't.”
After an hour, the cosslain not only wasn't dead, it had begun to gambol about the cargo compartment, to the delight of Goloswin and the annoyance of everyone else.
“What is that crap?” Tulo asked.
“Basically . . . long chain molecules, with peculiar additional protons and electrons, in various isotopes. Basically . . . too . . . material that 'wants' to be or become something, that can only be or become what it is designed, at a subatomic level, to be or become. Though one can play with that . . . intent. It was fascinating stuff to work with. I'm not at all sure I really understand it. Rather, I'm sure that I don't understand it . . . not yet, anyway.”
“Well . . . it seems to work . . .”
At that time, the cosslain, somewhat unused to the helmet and surrounding material, bumped into Brasingala, who lashed out immediately and mindlessly with his boma blade.
Which bounced off. Which caused the kessentai guard to strike again. Which strike also bounced off.
Which caused Goloswin to gape and Tulo'stenaloor to exclaim, “Fuscirto!”—demon shit!—“That stuff's armor!”
Golo insisted that he be the one to test the new suit. Tulo had, of course, said, “No. You're too valuable.” Golo had then pointed out that he was not as valuable as Tulo and that none of the others had a mental state that could quite be trusted. “Truth, Tulo, I don't really trust myself. But I trust myself more than I do them.” Golo pointed with his chin to where the Remember was strangling an empty space. He moved his chin's aim to Binastarion who had lost interest even in his food balls and was instead hugging his AS like a teddybear and rocking while keening.
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