"Peter F. Hamilton - Mindstar Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Peter F)

guilt and depression inevitable.
Rutland Water was in front of him, a Y-shaped reservoir six and a half kilometres long nestling in
the snug dark valleys of the county's turbulent rolling landscape. A pale oyster flame of pejune
moonlight shone across the surface. Greg came in over the broad grass-slope dam at the western
end. He kept
MINDSTAR RISING
5
low, skimming the water. Straight ahead was the floating village; thirty-odd log rafts, each
supporting a plain wooden cabin, like something out of a Western frontier settlement. They were
lashed together by a spiderweb of cables, forming a loose circle around the old limnological
tower, a thick concrete shaft built before the reservoir was filled.
He angled towards the biggest cabin, compensating for the light gusts with automatic skill. At
five metres out he flared the wing sharply. Surging air plucked at his combat leathers; his feet



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touched the coarse overlapping planks which made up the roof, legs running, carrying him up
towards the apex as the propeller blurred. He stopped with a metre to spare. The tart, scrumpy-
like odour of drying water-fruit permeated the air, reassuring in its familiarity.
The Westland's membrane folded.
'Greg?'
He watched Nicole's bald head rise above the gable end. 'Here.' He shrugged out of the harness.
She came up the ladder on to the roof, a black ex-Navy marine-adept dressed in a functional mauve
diving bikini. He couldn't remember her ever wearing anything else. Even in the moonlight her
water-resilient skin glistened from head to toe; she looked tubby, but not overweight, her shape
dictated by an all-over insulating layer of subcutaneous fat, protecting her from the cold of deep
water.
'How did it go?'
'All sorted, no messing,' he replied curtly.
Nicole nodded.
Two more marine-adepts swarmed briskly up the ladder and took charge of the Westland. Greg
appreciated that, no fuss, no chatter. Most of the floating village's marine-adepts were ex-Navy,
they understood.

They'd colonized the reservoir around the time Greg moved into his chalet on the shore, seeding
and harvesting their gene-

tailored water-fruit. Their only concession to the convulsions of the PSP years was to store
Greg's military gear for him, and, very occasionally, provide sanctuary for an activist on the run
from the People's Constables.
PITIR F. HAMILTON
6
'I'll be back tomorrow,' Greg told Nicole as he climbed into his ancient rowing boat. When the
neurohormone hangover had gone, when the memory of Edwards had faded, when he felt human again.
She untied the pannier and tossed it into the boat after him. 'Sure, Greg. Take care.'