Doctor Who_ The Also People - Ben Aaronovitch [32]
Dep had racked up two lines of birds with eighteen shots, including a couple of the smaller, faster ones which put her ahead by two points. Standing on the firing line Dep cracked open the heavy rifle and slotted in another cartridge. Beside her the panting breath of the retriever steamed in the cold air. It was a salt marsh; from the firing line you could smell the salt and hear the distant murmur of the sea. She raised the rifle into firing position the way aM!xitsa had taught her and waited.
The first wave of birds came honking over the horizon flying in their distinctive double V
formation. The retriever whined softly in anticipation. Dep held her fire; you only got one shot per round and you had to decide whether to bag one of the slower birds or wait for the faster ones that were worth more points. You could have the module download the bird's culinary template to your kitchen synthesizer and eat them after the game, complete with simulated ceramic buckshot.
The small ones were supposed to taste better.
This late in the game the birds were getting sneaky. Dep spotted one of the small birds trying to blend into the formation of its larger brethren. Sighting up the barrel of the gun she tracked along the bird's flightpath and squeezed the trigger.
Just as she fired the landscape seemed to jerk sideways. The movement was almost imperceptible but enough to put her off her aim. The birds flew on unconcerned. Beside her the retriever whined softly and covered its wedged-shaped head with two pairs of paws. Dep cracked the gun and ejected the spent cartridge.
'Bad luck,' said Chris as Dep stepped back off the firing line.
Dep kicked the entertainment module. 'Hey, box,' she asked it. 'What happened?'
'Sorry,' said the module. 'There was some electromagnetic interference from the capacitors downstairs. I think it was due to a static charge residue. I had to make a correction.'
'Ruined my shot.'
'It won't happen again,' said the module with machine contriteness.
Chris frowned prettily. 'Do you want to take the shot again?'
'I'll think of it as a handicap,' she said. 'I'm still going to beat you.'
'Don't count on it,' said Chris and picked up his gun.
Out of the module's quietfield the party was roaring along. The younger people, Dep's generation, had gravitated upstairs. About thirty of them were crammed into the control gallery.
She knew most of them, friends from town or the Weird Aviation Interest Group. The second entertainment module was playing something complex by aKatsia while simultaneously generating the twisted geometric light shapes that the composer insisted were an essential part of the music.
It was supposed to be the fashionable sound for parties but Dep didn't care for it. Perhaps you had to take the right drugs to appreciate it.
Dep snagged a drink off a passing tray and turned to watch Chris make his last shot. The gun looked surprisingly fragile in his big hands, like a toy, as he raised it to his shoulder. There was a curl of blue paint over that shoulder, part of one of the spiral patterns that covered his naked torso. Dep let her eyes follow the spiral as it curved downwards over the taut muscles of his back and further down to his narrow waist. She wondered if there were spirals hidden under his furry loin cloth and, if so, who painted them? Not Roz, that was for sure. Chris called Roz 'his partner'
and that had confused Dep at first but she quickly realized that the word meant something different from its normal usage. She'd recognized the look in Roz's eyes outside the lift; it was