"The Clouds Of Saturn" - читать интересную книгу автора (McCollum Michael)

“Up to one hundred air-to-air missiles with mixed seekers, full circumambient
fire control, and two heavy turret mounted lasers.”
“I take it that you are between engagements,” Bolin said.
“You would have to be very ill informed not to know that,” Crandall replied.
“Your last employer?”
“New Philadelphia.”
“Ah, yes. The ill fated defense of those poor foolish cities,” Bolin said. “I
thought as much. In fact, it was New Philadelphia’s loss that spurred me to come
here in search of privateers. I figured at least some of you would put into Port
Gregson to reprovision.”
“What’s the job?” Lars asked.
“The job is confidential. If you are free, I would like to discuss it at some
length. If not, I don’t want to waste your time ... or mine.”
“We’ll always listen, Citizen Bolin.”
“Excellent.” Bolin fished in an inside pocket, retrieved a card -- of real paper
-- and wrote a note on the back. He handed it to Sands. “Please meet me at this
address at Second Dusk this evening. We’ll talk more fully then.”
Sands glanced at the address. It was in the warehouse district on the underside
of the support truss. It was not the sort of neighborhood he would have expected
someone who dressed as well as Bolin to visit.
“We’ll be there.”
“Not ‘we’, Captain. I want you to come alone. What I have to say requires the
utmost discretion.”
“My crew will have to agree to whatever deal we make.”
“I understand that. However, I must insist that we keep our business quiet. Once
you know the job, you will understand the need. Tonight at dusk?”
“Tonight at dusk,” Sands agreed.
“Excellent. I will be expecting you.” Bolin stood and walked away from the
table. The two of them watched him go. Sands wished he had not drunk so much. He
could not think with his head spinning and thought was what he needed most just
now. Something about Bolin hadn’t rung completely true. Yet, considering the
current state of their finances, they were in no position to be choosy.
As he downed one final gulp of scotch, he hoped Bolin did not know that.
#
Kelt Dalishaar stood on the balcony of his apartment in Government Tower and
surveyed his domain. It was near first midnight, with The Notch almost directly
over the city. The Notch was the region of the ring eclipsed by Saturn’s shadow.
One look at its position in the night sky told one the time to within a few
minutes.
Saturn’s rings never failed to fascinate Dalishaar. Their intricate structure
was apparent even to the unaided eye. From one of the cloud cities, The Arch
looked to have the texture of an ancient phonograph record. With even a small
telescope it was possible to see the twisting strands of the F Ring and the
spokes that had so surprised Earthbound astronomers when first they had noticed
them. Gazing at the proportion of the sky that The Arch covered, it was easy to
forget that the whole imposing display consisted of a band of ice particles only
a few hundred meters thick. Dalishaar remembered a trip to the southern
hemisphere many years earlier. As their suborbital transport had reached the
apex of its trajectory, the sun had slipped into eclipse behind a knife-edged
ring. It had been a moment that had disturbed him greatly, for it had been a