"George R. R. Martin - Manna From Heaven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

always been tolerant, but lately there’s a hell of a lot more to be tolerant of, if you catch my float. There’s
this growing obsession with disfigurement, death, violence. We’ve had massive resistance to our attempts
to re-engineer the ecosystem according to your recommendations. Meatbeasts have been poisoned,
blown up, and fields of pods set afire. Organized thrill gangs hunt the goddamned wind-riders with
harpoons and high-altitude gliders. It makes no goddamned sense. The religious consensus—all kinds of
weird cults have been emerging. And the war! Life only knows how many will die, but it’s as popular
as—hell, I don’t know, it’s more popular than sex, I think.”
“Indeed,” said Tuf. “I am unsurprised. I take it the imminence of disaster remains a closely guarded
secret of the S’uthlamese High Council, as in years past.”
“Unfortunately, no,” Tolly Mune said. “One of the minority councillors decided she couldn’t hold her
bladder, so she called in the puling peeps and pissed the news out all over the vidnets. I think she wanted
to win a few million more votes. The hell of it is, it worked. It also kicked off another goddamned scandal
and forced yet another First Councillor out of office. By then there was no place to look for a new human
sacrifice but upstairs. Guess who got grabbed? Our favorite vidshow heroine, controversial bureaucrat,
and Ma Spider, that’s who.”
“You are obviously referring to yourself,” said Tuf.
“By then nobody hated me much any more. I had a certain reputation for efficiency, the remnants of a
popular romantic image, and I was minimally acceptable to most of the big council factions. That was
three months ago. So far it’s been one hell of a term of office.” Her smile was grim. “The Vandeeni listen
to our newsfeeds, too. Simultaneous with my goddamned promotion, they decided S’uthlam was, I
quote, a threat to the peace and stability of the sector, end quote, and got together their goddamned allies
to try and decide what to do about us. The bunch of them finally gave us an ultimatum: enforce immediate
rationing and compulsory birth control, or the alliance would occupy S’uthlam and enforce it for us.”
“A viable solution, but not a tactful one,” Tuf commented. “Thus your present war. Yet all this fails to
explain your attitude toward me. I have been able to offer your world succor twice before. Surely you
did not feel I would be remiss in my professional duties on this third occasion.”
“I figured you’d do what you could.” She pointed a finger. “But on your own terms, Tuf. Hell, you’ve
helped, yes, but always on your own terms, and all of your solutions have proved unfortunately
impermanent.”
“I warned you repeatedly that my efforts were mere stopgaps,” Tuf replied.
“There are no calories in warnings, Tuf. I’m sorry, but we have no choice. This time we can’t allow you
to clap a stick-on bandage over our hemorrhage and shunt off. The next time you came back to check on
how we were faring, you wouldn’t find a puling world to come back to. We need the Ark, Tuf, and we
need it permanently. We’re prepared to use it. Ten years ago you said that biotech and ecology were not
our areas of expertise, and you were right. Then. But times change. We’re one of the most advanced
worlds in human civilization, and for a decade we’ve been devoting most of our educational efforts to
training ecologists and biotechs. My predecessors brought in top theorists from Avalon, Newholme, and
a dozen other worlds. Brilliant people, geniuses. We even managed to lure some leading genetic wizards
off Prometheus.” She stroked her cat and smiled. “They helped with Blackjack here. A lot.”
“Indeed,” said Tuf.
“We’re ready to use the Ark. No matter how capable you are, Tuf, you’re only one puling man. We
want to keep your seedship permanently in S’uthlamese orbit, with a full-time staff of two hundred top
scientists and genetic technicians, so we can deal with the food crisis daily. This ship and its cell library
and all the lost data in its computers represents our last, best hope, you can see that. Believe me, Tuf, I
didn’t give Ober orders to seize your ship without considering every other goddamned option I could
think of. I knew you’d never sell, damn it. What choice did I have? We don’t want to cheat you. You
would have been paid a fair price. I’d have insisted.”
“This assumes I remained alive after the seizure,” pointed out Tuf. “A doubtful proposition at best.”
“You’re alive now, and I’ll still buy the damned ship. You could stay aboard, work with our people. I’m
prepared to offer you lifetime employment—name your own salary, anything you want. You want to