"Peter F. Hamilton - Void 01 - The Dreaming Void (v1.2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Peter F)

skeletons of habitats abandoned millennia ago as their sponsoring civilizations fell, or moved on, or
evolved away from mere astrophysical concerns. Right at the centre the ancient structures had decayed
to simple mounds of compacted metal and crystal flakes, beyond the ability of any archaeologist to
decipher. Dating expeditions had established that this ancient heart of the station had been constructed
over 400,000 years ago. Of course, as far as the timescale of the Raiel observation was concerned, that
was still short.

A ring of green light was flashing on the lava field which served as a spaceport for the human section,
calling down the CNE Caragana. Several starships were sitting on the drab rock beside the active
landing zone; two hefty deep space vessels of the same class as the Caragana, and some smaller
starships used for placing and servicing the remote probes that constantly monitored the Void.

There was a slight judder as the starship settled, then the internal gravity field switched off. Inigo felt
himself rise slightly on the couch’s cushioning as the planet’s seventy per cent gravity took over. It was
silent in the lounge as the passengers took stock, then a happy murmur of conversation broke out to
celebrate arrival. The chief steward asked everyone to make their way down to the main airlock, where
they would suit up and walk over to the station. Inigo waited until his more eager colleagues had left
before climbing cautiously to his feet and making his way out of the lounge. Strictly speaking, he didn’t
need a spacesuit, his Higher biononics could cocoon his body in perfect safety, protecting it from the thin
malignant atmosphere, and even from the cosmic radiation that sleeted in from the massive stars of the
Wall five hundred lightyears away. But… he’d travelled all this way partly to escape his unwanted
heritage, now was not the time to show it off. He started suiting up along with the rest.

The handover party was a long tradition at Centurion Station. Every time a Navy ship arrived bringing
new observers there was a short overlap before the previous group departed. It was celebrated in the
garden dome as a sunset gala with the best buffet the culinary unit programs could produce. Tables were
laid out under ancient oaks that glittered with hundreds of magic lanterns, and the dome overhead wore a
halo of gold twilight. A solido projection of a string quartet played classical mood music on a little stage
surrounded by a brook.

Inigo arrived quite early on, still adjusting the sleeves of his ultra-black formal evening suit. He didn’t
really like the jacket’s long square-cut tails, they were a bit voguish for his taste, but had to admit the
tailor back on Anagaska had done a superb job. Even today, if you wanted true quality clothes you
needed a human in the style and fitting loop. He knew he looked good in it; in fact good enough that he
didn’t even feel remotely self-conscious.

The station’s director was greeting all the arrivals personally. Inigo joined the end of the short line and
waited his turn. He could see several aliens milling round the tables. The Golant, looking odd in clothes
that approximated the ones worn by humans. With their grey-blue skin and tall narrow heads, the polite
attempt to blend in only made them appear even more out of place. There were a couple of Ticoth curled
up together on the grass, both the size of ponies, though there any further resemblance ended. These
were very obviously predator carnivores, with dark-green hide stretched tight over powerful muscle
bands. Alarmingly big and sharp teeth appeared every time they growled at each other and the group of
humans they were conversing with. Inigo instinctively checked his integral force field function, then felt
shameful for having done so. Several Suline were also present, floating about in big hemispherical glass
tanks like giant champagne saucers that were held up by small regrav units. Their translators babbled
away while they looked out at the humans, their bulbous bodies distorted and magnified by the curving
glass.

“Inigo, I presume,” the director’s overloud voice proclaimed. “Glad to meet you; and you’re bright and