"George R. R. Martin - Loaves and Fishes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

seedship there, still functional, which you just happened to find one day, and you’re the only person on
board and the ship is yours?”
“Correct,” said Haviland Tuf.
She grinned. “And I’m the Empress of the Crab Nebula.”
Tuf’s face remained expressionless. “I fear I have been connected to the wrong person then. I wished to
speak to the Portmaster of S’uthlam.”
She took another squeeze of beer. “I’m the puling Portmaster,” she snapped. “Enough of this
goddamned nonsense, Tuf. You’re sitting out there in a thing that looks suspiciously like a warship and
happens to be about thirty times the size of the largest so-called dreadnaught in our so-called Planetary
Defense Flotilla, and you’re making one hell of a lot of people extremely nervous. Half of the
groundworms in the big hotels think you’re an alien come to steal our air and eat our children, and the
other half are certain that you’re a special effect we’ve thoughtfully provided for their amusement.
Hundreds of them are renting suits and vacuum sleds right now, and in a couple of hours they’ll be
crawling all over your hull. And my people don’t know what the hell to make of you either. So come to
the goddamned point, Tuf. What do you want?”
“I am disappointed,” said Tuf. “I have led myself here at great difficulty to consult the spinnerets and
cybertechs of Port S’uthlam, whose expertise is far famed and whose reputation for honest, ethical
dealing is second to none. I did not think to encounter unexpected truculence and unfounded suspicions. I
require certain alterations and repairs, nothing more.”
Tolly Mune was only half listening. She stared at the feet of the holographic projection, where a small,
hairy, black-and-white thing had suddenly appeared. “Tuf,” she said, her throat a little dry, “excuse me,
but some kind of goddamned vermin is rubbing up against your leg.” She sucked at her beer.
Haviland Tuf bent and scooped up the animal. “Cats may not properly be referred to as vermin,
Portmaster Mune,” he said. “Indeed, the feline is an implacable foe of most pests and parasites, and this
is but one of the many fascinating and beneficial attributes of this admirable species. Are you aware that
humanity once worshipped cats as gods? This is Havoc.”
The cat began to make a deep rumbly noise as Tuf cradled it in the crook of one massive arm and began
to apply long, regular strokes to its black-and-white hair.
“Oh,” she said. “A...pet, is that the term? The only animals on S’uthlam are food stock, but we do get
visitors who keep pets. Don’t let your...cat, was it?”
“Indeed,” said Tuf.
“Well, don’t let it out of your ship. I remember once when I was Deputy P.M., we had the damndest
mess...some brain-damaged fly lost his puling pet at the same time this alien envoy was visiting, and our
security crews mistook one for the other. You wouldn’t believe how upset everyone got.”
“People are often overexcitable,” said Haviland Tuf.
“What kind of alterations and repairs were you talking about?”
Tuf responded with a ponderous shrug. “Some small things, no doubt most easily accomplished by
experts as proficient as your own. As you have pointed out, the Ark is indeed a most ancient vessel, and
the vicissitudes of war and centuries of neglect have left their marks. Entire decks and sectors are dark
and dysfunctional, damaged beyond the ship’s admittedly admirable capacities for self-repair. I wish to
have these portions of the craft repaired and restored to full function.
“Additionally, the Ark, as you might know from your study of history, once carried a crew of two
hundred. It is sufficiently automated so that I have been able to operate it by myself, but not without
certain inconveniences, it must be admitted. The central command center, located on the tower bridge, is
a wearisome daily commute from my living quarters, and I have found the bridge itself to be inefficiently
designed for my purposes, requiring me to walk constantly from one work station to the next in order to
perform the multitude of complex duties required to run the ship. Certain other functions require me to
leave the bridge entirely and journey hither and yon about the immensity of the vessel. Still other tasks I
have found impossible to accomplish, since they would seem to require my simultaneous presence in two
or more locations kilometers apart on different decks. Near to my living quarters is a small, yet