"Niven, Larry - Building Harlequin's Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

The flier banked, the change in angle drawing her back into the present.
Gabriel flew with purpose, driving the little plane near the top of its abilities. He was totally focused. He and Ali spoke too low and fast for Rachel to make out the words. Half an hour passed before Gabriel throttled the plane back and brought the nose up, clearly meaning to land.
Rachel couldn't see anything. No people, no vehicles, certainly no shelter.
No one spoke as Gabriel landed the flier. She looked at her wrist pad. Almost an hour had passed. They wouldn't see radiation. Would the sunlight be brighter? What if the timing was wrong?
Gabriel pulled a pack from under his seat, climbed out, and stood by the door, helping them down one by one. "We had to land a little ways from the shelter. This was the closest stretch of road long enough to take the plane safely. We have time. Follow me, stay close."
"But where—" Ursula started to ask.
"They built shelters along the Sea Road," Harry whispered. "That must be where he's taking us."
The sunlight didn't look any different.
None of them wore wings. Rachel, in a chaotic bouncing run, quickly ran out of breath. Gabriel ran with one hand in Ursula's and one in Harry's, pulling them into bigger strides than they'd have managed on their own. Ali grabbed Rachel's hand and pulled. Rachel's longer legs barely let her keep up with the help of the smaller woman, and Rachel wondered where Ali got her strength.
They ran until Rachel's breath came in small desperate gulps.
Rachel felt the pull of Ali's hand change suddenly, pushing her back. Gabriel had stopped where a tall metal rod poked up out of the ground, bright yellow streamers and green bands decorating the top. He dug in the dirt below it. "Harry, Rachel, help me," he said.
The five of them frantically pushed sand and small stones away until they uncovered a handle on a slab of metal set into the ground. Gabriel leaned down and pulled, his whole body straining against the weight. It didn't give.
Harry walked over to the metal stake, began pulling on it. No give there either. Rachel saw what he was doing, stepped over, and began to pull as well. They worked the stake in a circle, loosening it, tugging upward. Nothing, then a slight movement, and then nothing again. "Ursula!" Rachel called.
Ursula turned, and then Ali said "Good idea!" and came to help. With four sets of hands pulling, the rigid pole finally slid from the ground. They carried it over to Gabriel, and he threaded it through the metal door handle, making a lever. Ali said, "Twenty minutes."
Gabriel grunted. They pulled up together on the rod, and puffs of dust rose from two spots on the long edge. "Now, more," Gabriel said through gritted teeth, pushing the sound out so it was barely intelligible.
They pulled. The door didn't budge.




Chapter 4: The Controller


On board the John Glenn, Ma Liren stalked into the galley. Two gardeners stared at a video wall, watching something on Selene's surface. Liren stopped, frowning, watching the women, Mary and Helga.
Liren stepped forward to look. She recognized Gabriel and Ali and three Moon Born children, outside, exposed to the coming flare. They were pulling together, everyone on one side on some kind of lever, faces strained. It was a micro-camera image; a slightly grainy picture and no sound. The door jerked, flew up a few inches, and fell back to the surface of Selene. Harry jumped as the lever was torn from his hand.
"Come on," Mary whispered, rapt, "you can do it."
"Astronaut," Helga demanded, "time left?"
"One point four minutes until initial effects, seven minutes before serious radiation." The AI's calm voice contrasted with Helga's high-pitched tones.
The image was small. One of the children—Rachel—separated from the group and picked up a rock, setting it down next to the door. The children all reached together, joining Ali and Gabriel, pulling up again. The door rose—inches, more inches, and Rachel toed the rock under the edge just as the group lost leverage and the door started to fall again. The lever angled up, and Ali and Gabriel squatted, using the strength of legs accustomed to more gravity than the Moon Born. The door rose and, finally, balanced at a ninety-degree angle to Selene's surface. Gabriel and Ali held the door.
Helga and Mary clenched fists and screamed triumph as Ali led the three Selene born into the stairway. Gabriel was the last one in, and as the door thumped closed, Helga and Mary smiled broadly at each other.
Liren closed her eyes. This wasn't good—the crew couldn't afford attachment to the Moon Born. "Okay," she said, "they're safe." She looked directly at the two women. "Don't you owe me a report on the savannah?"
Mary turned around. "Hey, lighten up."
"It's not as if we could have helped them from here anyway. Let them solve their own problems, and we'll solve ours."
"You know, Liren, not everything can be work."
It was an old argument. Liren sighed. "Of course not. We provide you plenty of other entertainment."
"Aren't you even glad they're safe?"
"Of course I am." Liren clenched her teeth and headed for the refrigerator, rummaging for some synthed milk to calm her stomach. "We all know our jobs are here, and that's where our focus should be—on keeping this damned ship running until the Selene project is over."
"Maybe we should all help. The work down there would go faster."
"We need to save your skills."
Helga raised her soft voice. "Do you still think we'll get to Ymir?"
"Not if we lose faith, we won't. We need to stay pure, and keep our focus." Liren poured the milk into a tall thin glass. "Now, don't you all have some work to do?"
Mary threw her head back and laughed. "Still always work. Don't worry, we'll do what you want. We always do, don't we?"
Liren bit back an angry reply. The crew was bored, and Selene provided fresh entertainment. "Just remember you have jobs to do here. Others are assigned to Selene. Let them do their work, and focus on yours."
Liren hated Selene. She hated the compromises they made every day. Compromises were dangerous. They needed too much nanotech to change Selene into a world rich enough to support manufacturing and the civilization of thousands needed to build the collider. The Astronaut program had too much freedom and too much say. It was too easy—the AI could handle complex math and design more readily than a human or a standard computer program. Gabriel and Captain Hunter kept loosening the bonds that were supposed to keep Astronaut caged into its small world of interstellar navigation.
Liren walked down the corridor toward her office, still lost in thought.
John Glenn couldn't orbit here forever. The ship's sleek sides were dimpled with space-debris impact pits. They'd lost two Service Armor ships across the years. Terraformers had stolen sensors and materials to use on Selene. In-ship systems needed more regular repair. It was an ever-uphill battle to keep her small group of humans free from the twin temptations of technology and complacence. They couldn't risk more technology. They had the ability; nano could make them gods. But what would wild nano do to Selene? To John Glenn? That was the path of poor, doomed Earth.
No matter how hard she tried, Liren couldn't see a way to dampen the crew's attachment to the Children. Council and Colonists on the surface needed the support of John Glenn's resources. Warm bodies aboard John Glenn were bored enough to need entertainment. Circumstances trapped them.
Liren entered her office. The room was orderly, clear surfaces, black and white colors, and almost no decorations. She sat in her high-backed chair and stared at the wall. She thumbed up what she called her "reminders." Articles and scenes flashed on the wall as a collage she'd spent years building.
On Phobos, AIs with more power than humans. News photos of crew members killed on their way to John Glenn. An asteroid turned to an Escher nightmare, all edges and angles, by wild nano, and no sign of the expedition that was supposed to be surveying it. Pictures of John Glenn's two sister ships, Leif Eriksson and Lewis and Clark. Surely both ships had reached Ymir and were building a real world. Each new picture slammed into her, building her resolve to keep going. They also made her stomach cramp harder, and she tasted sour milk.
"Astronaut," she commanded, "how bad is the flare? Give me damage estimates."