Read Online The City Who Fought by Anne McCaffrey, S. M. Stirling - Free Book Online
Authors: Anne McCaffrey, S. M. Stirling
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Social Science, Sociology, Space warfare, Urban, Science fiction; American, Space ships
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front of Simeon's column and crossed her arms, her eyes blazing. All Simeon's warm feelings fell into cold ash as he looked out at her. Maybe if he didn't say anything, she'd go away and not say whatever it was that was burning inside her eyes. Nah, when have I ever been that lucky where she's concerned?
Her body was rigid, though her shoulders twitched and her lips opened several time. He'd better say something to stem the acid eruption.
Using as casual and complimentary tone as he could manage, he said, "You have very romantic tastes, Channa," which seemed to reduce her blazing eyes a degree or two. He'd never know why he continued: perhaps sheer mischief to get a little of his own back. "Though your bed looks amazingly like an ice cube."
She blinked in astonishment and he thought, A hit! A very palpable hit! But then she took a deep breath.
"I did not think," she said, every word precise and polished, "that it would be necessary to actually say this, but since I must, I shall. Because we got off on the wrong foot and I did not trust you, I swept my quarters for active scanners." She crossed her arms. "You will please," she went on with careful emphasis, "not ever enter my quarters without knocking and requesting admittance, and waiting for my express permission to enter. Is that clear, Simeon?"
"I apologize, Channa. Of course you're right. I got careless, all those years with Tell."
"As to the quality of my taste . . ." she said in a voice even more brittle than before.
Oh please, he thought, for once, just once, shut up and let it go.
" . . . it's none of your business." She glared at him. "Given your own preference for interior decoration,"
she said indicating his sword and dagger collection, "I'd say you have titanium gall to make snarky remarks about mine."
"But I like it. I said I liked it!"
"And what," she continued unheeding, "would someone with such a morbid fascination with humanity's lapses into ritualized slaughter know about romance anyway?"
Simeon was dumbstruck. "I've never . . . thought of my interest in military history as a 'morbid fascination.' I am genuinely fascinated by strategy and military tactics. But to call it morbid, well, romance and morbidity have a long and interesting relationship."
She sighed with exasperation. "Let's just say that while both can be morbid, romance and militarism make uncomfortable . . ." and she winced " . . . bedfellows."
"Channa, some of the most romantic people in history have been military personnel. Doesn't the very word 'warrior' conjure up romantic images?"
She shook her head discouragingly. "Not to me!"
"Not even 'knights in shining armor?' "
She groaned. "Look, Simeon, it's late and I'm tired. Let's just say that I don't like my privacy invaded at any time, by anyone." Her lips curled in a slight rueful grin. "But I think I overreacted a tad. Especially when you made fun of my decor."
"Well, you might wait till you're actually being made fun of before you start clawing pieces out of people."
"Sorry."
"Romance has its place," he murmured.
She smiled sardonically and raised one eyebrow. "With all due respect, Simeon, I doubt that romance has crossed your mind. Real, genuine romance, with its aspects of tenderness and sentiment are, if you'll excuse me, beyond your ken."
There was more challenge than honest regret in her voice, and he took offense. "Because I'm a shellperson?" he asked, fairly purring with suppressed anger.
Channa's jaw dropped. "N-no, of course not!" she said, stammering slightly. Then she caught herself and shook her hairbrush at him. "What a nasty, evil, slimy debater's trick! You know perfectly well that I never even thought of that! What I meant was that so far in our acquaintance, you have yet to demonstrate that you are sensitive, or idealistic or . . . well, tender. Passion, now—I think you've very effectively conceptualized raw, basic, animal passion. Which does not exist in the same universe as romance."
"Let me tell
Her body was rigid, though her shoulders twitched and her lips opened several time. He'd better say something to stem the acid eruption.
Using as casual and complimentary tone as he could manage, he said, "You have very romantic tastes, Channa," which seemed to reduce her blazing eyes a degree or two. He'd never know why he continued: perhaps sheer mischief to get a little of his own back. "Though your bed looks amazingly like an ice cube."
She blinked in astonishment and he thought, A hit! A very palpable hit! But then she took a deep breath.
"I did not think," she said, every word precise and polished, "that it would be necessary to actually say this, but since I must, I shall. Because we got off on the wrong foot and I did not trust you, I swept my quarters for active scanners." She crossed her arms. "You will please," she went on with careful emphasis, "not ever enter my quarters without knocking and requesting admittance, and waiting for my express permission to enter. Is that clear, Simeon?"
"I apologize, Channa. Of course you're right. I got careless, all those years with Tell."
"As to the quality of my taste . . ." she said in a voice even more brittle than before.
Oh please, he thought, for once, just once, shut up and let it go.
" . . . it's none of your business." She glared at him. "Given your own preference for interior decoration,"
she said indicating his sword and dagger collection, "I'd say you have titanium gall to make snarky remarks about mine."
"But I like it. I said I liked it!"
"And what," she continued unheeding, "would someone with such a morbid fascination with humanity's lapses into ritualized slaughter know about romance anyway?"
Simeon was dumbstruck. "I've never . . . thought of my interest in military history as a 'morbid fascination.' I am genuinely fascinated by strategy and military tactics. But to call it morbid, well, romance and morbidity have a long and interesting relationship."
She sighed with exasperation. "Let's just say that while both can be morbid, romance and militarism make uncomfortable . . ." and she winced " . . . bedfellows."
"Channa, some of the most romantic people in history have been military personnel. Doesn't the very word 'warrior' conjure up romantic images?"
She shook her head discouragingly. "Not to me!"
"Not even 'knights in shining armor?' "
She groaned. "Look, Simeon, it's late and I'm tired. Let's just say that I don't like my privacy invaded at any time, by anyone." Her lips curled in a slight rueful grin. "But I think I overreacted a tad. Especially when you made fun of my decor."
"Well, you might wait till you're actually being made fun of before you start clawing pieces out of people."
"Sorry."
"Romance has its place," he murmured.
She smiled sardonically and raised one eyebrow. "With all due respect, Simeon, I doubt that romance has crossed your mind. Real, genuine romance, with its aspects of tenderness and sentiment are, if you'll excuse me, beyond your ken."
There was more challenge than honest regret in her voice, and he took offense. "Because I'm a shellperson?" he asked, fairly purring with suppressed anger.
Channa's jaw dropped. "N-no, of course not!" she said, stammering slightly. Then she caught herself and shook her hairbrush at him. "What a nasty, evil, slimy debater's trick! You know perfectly well that I never even thought of that! What I meant was that so far in our acquaintance, you have yet to demonstrate that you are sensitive, or idealistic or . . . well, tender. Passion, now—I think you've very effectively conceptualized raw, basic, animal passion. Which does not exist in the same universe as romance."
"Let me tell
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