"Gordon Dickson & Harry Harrision - Lifeship Lp Ebook Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

"No, Honor. No, sir, of course not... thank you, sir. Thank you very much."

He backed away. Giles turned from the man, back to his examination of the lifeship. As he did so, however, it occurred to him to wonder just what the effect would be on the arbites if a breeding impulse should take command of the pair of aliens on board before they made planetfall. Of course, he had no idea under what conditions such an impulse could be generated; he put worry about it out of his mind. For the moment things were under control and that was all he required. He concentrated on examining the lifeship.

1:02 hours

It was little more than a cylinder in space.

The rear half of the cylinder was occupied by the warp drive and the fusion chamber that powered it. In the cylinder's nose was the control console and the three viewscreens. The remaining space, like a tube with a flat floor inside, was a little over twelve meters in length and four in diameter. The floor was of a purple, spongy material that was clumsy to walk upon but comfortable for sitting or lying. The collapsible cots they had occupied while blasting free of the spaceliner were concealed beneath that same spongy

surface.

Overhead, a glaring band of blue-white lights stretched the length of the lifeship. These, Giles had learned before leaving Earth, in his studies of the Albenareth and their space vessels, were never turned off, even when the lifeship was not in use. The continuous light source was needed to assure the healthy growth of the ib vine that completely covered all the exposed surfaces from midway in the lifeship's length, right back to the stem. The vine was life to all the passengers, alien and human alike; for the stoma in its flat, reddish-green leaves produced oxygen. The golden, globular fruit, hanging like ornaments from long, thin stems, were the only source of nourishment available aboard. The trunk of the ib vine, as thick through as a man's leg, emerged from a coffinlike metal tank in the stem that contained the nutrient solution to nourish the plant. A dusty metal hatch cover on the tank covered the opening into which all food scraps and waste were put for recycling. A simple and workable system for survival, a closed cycle in which the sanitary conveniences aboard consisted of a basin under a cold-water faucet and a covered container beside the tank.

The arbite passengers were not yet aware of how these things would circumscribe their existences aboard this alien craft. As yet, they had scarcely examined the new environment into which they had been thrust. The shock of awareness would be profound when it came. They were not Adelmen or Adelwomen, who under these same conditions would have felt an inner duty to maintain their self-control and not to give way to unseemly fears or yield in any way to the situation, no matter how unendurable.

He should start out gently, Giles told himself. He turned and went back to the others, who had now sorted themselves out, each on the cot he or she had pulled up and would occupy until they made planetfall.

"All set?" he asked them.

There were nods of agreement. He stood, looking down at them, a head taller than any except the obvious work-gang laborer individual in the very rear. The others would tend to ostracize the laborer, he reminded himself automatically, as being even of lower class than themselves. He must not let that cause divisions among them while they were aboard here.

The laborer was as tall as Giles and doubtless outweighed him by twenty kilos. Outside of that, there was no resemblance. Only Giles, of all the humans there, showed the tanned skin, the handsome regular features, and the green eyes, with sun-wrinkles showing at the corners of them, that testified to both breeding and a lifetime of outdoor exercise. These differences alone would have set him apart from the rest, even without the expensive, gleaming fabric of the burnt-orange shipsuit he wore, in contrast to the drab, loose-fitting, gray coveralls that were their garb. Alone, his features were enough to remind the others that it was his to command, theirs to obey.

"All right," he said. "I am Giles Steel Ashad. Now, one at a time, identify yourselves." He turned to Mara, who had taken the front cot space on his left. "You first, Mara."

"Mara 12911. I'm recop, on indent to Belben like the rest"

"All right." He turned to Groce on the right, across from Mara. "Next, we'll take them in this direction. Speak up, Croce. Give your name and specialty number."

"Groce 5313, indent for three years, computer control section, Belben Mines and Manufacture."

"Very good, Groce. Clad to see you kept your compute by you."

"Go no place without it, sir. Feel naked without it."

Giles saw several of the others smile at this time-worn joke. Computecoms were always supposed to be unable to think without making a calculation first. This was good; a feeling of order was being restored. The next man behind Groce was thin, blond, and wiry, his fingers nervously tapping out unheard rhythms on his

thighs.

"Esteven 6786, entertaincom," he said, in a tenor voice. "I'm setting up the broadcast system to Belben, to replace the automated one there now."

"Yes. Is that a recorder in your wallet?"

"Yes, Honor, sir. Would you like to see it? A multiplex memory store for the music."

"Very good—we can use that for a log of this voyage."

Giles put out his hand. Esteven stepped forward, but hesitated for an instant before taking out the flat case.