"C. Sanford Lowe & G. David Nordley - The Small Pond" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lowe C Sanford)

working with; the quarantine was very good, and the human immune system should
be totally lethal to anything that hadn’t evolved ways to counter it. But there was still
a chance. Deep in thought, Liz barely noticed the lightspeed delay.
We don’t know without doing a scan and taking samples—it could be
strictly psychological, stress induced. But I think it’s important to know if he’s been
affected by anything in the environment because a layer of that environment will
be plastered all over this planetary system in a few years as a result of impact
debris. At any rate, there may be some pathology involved; he’s not acting
rationally. Also, whatever he does, you should not blame him, or yourself. I know
this is hard when it happens to someone you love, but tragedies happen. If the
worst happens, remember him as he was. Finally, and I am very sorry to say this,
but he may strike out irrationally. Remember that if he does, it’s not him. But still,
be very careful. And remember that it is not always possible to fix everything. If it
gets too late, come back.
I will, Cyan. Thank you.
Could she hunt down David as if he were a zoo animal out of his cage? Could
she leave him to die? Did she have any choice?
****
David found that he was off the net. The relays might have been removed or
someone might have thought that denying him access would give them an advantage.
That meant they were going to try to resolve this by force instead of negotiation. His
heart sank; that would cost several hours. No, he thought, they might work the
problem in parallel; even now some way to divert the planetoid might be in the
works, something that could be turned on or off at the last moment.
Night fell. The planetoid was less than a day away, near the ecliptic plane,
coming posigrade. He looked to the west and found it easily—it had a huge coma of
gas, like a comet. The nucleus was already a small disk. It would stay there, fixed
among the stars. That was how one could tell if something was going to hit you—the
angles stay the same.
Very well. If they were going to try to force him off, they would come with
robots, sensors—the whole nine yards. They would succeed, unless he could
somehow anticipate them and strike first. He had dealt with terrorists back in the
Israeli defense force; he was on the other side now, but he knew the territory. Maybe
they would not anticipate that.
To get a surprise, he would have to make them think he was here but actually
be there. He took a reflective blanket and some line, then climbed up a small lava
dome until he could see the landing site. He built a couple of small towers with flat
volcanic rocks and anchored the top of the reflective blanket to them. Then he
anchored the bottom of it at about forty-five degrees so it formed a kind of lean-to.
He went back down and moved his campsite until he could see the distorted
reflection of the still-glowing wreck of his shuttle in this jerrybuilt mirror. The radio in
the emergency stores had both infrared and radio frequency bands, as did the suit.
He set it up in sight of the mirror. If this worked, he’d be able to speak on infrared
from his suit, the infrared would reflect off the mirror to the emergency comm pack,
and his voice would come out on the radio from the campsite.
He took a second box from the duffel bag and headed for the landing site.
Halfway there he keyed the infrared channel in his helmet. “Hello, everyone.
Liz, Cyan. You know I am very sorry to cause you so much trouble. You must also
know that this is more important than your inconvenience, or even my life, if it
comes to that. You must do what you can to prevent the impact. I must do