"Connie Willis - Uncharted Territory" - читать интересную книгу автора (Willis Connie)

"Rain down in the Ponypiles start of next week. Otherwise, nothing. Not even a dust tantrum. Looks like
we can go anywhere we want."

"What about in charted territory? Up along 76?"

"Same thing. Clear and dry. Why?" he said, coming over to look at the screen. "What've you got?"

"I don't know yet," I said. "Probably nothing. Go get cleaned up."

He went off toward the latrine. Sector 248-76. That was over on the other side of the Tongue and, if I
remembered right, close to Silvershim Creek. I frowned at the screen a minute and then asked for
Expedition 181's log and started fast-forwarding it.

"Is that the expedition you were just on?" Ev said, and I jerked around to find him hanging over me again.
"I thought you were helping C.J. in the kitchen," I said, cutting the log off.

He grinned. "It's too hot in there. Were you sending the log of the expedition to NASA?"

I shook my head. "The log goes out live. It transmits straight to C.J. and she sends it on through the gate.
I was just finishing up the expedition summary."

"Do you send all the reports?"

"Nope. Carson sends the topographicals and the f-and-f; I send the geologicals and the accountings." I
asked for the tally of Bult's fines.

Ev looked uneasy. "I wanted to apologize to you for driving the rover. I didn't know it was against regs
to use nonindigenous transportation. The last thing I wanted to do on my first day was to get you and Dr.
Carson in trouble."

"Don't worry about it. We still had wages left over this expedition, which is better than we've made out
the last two. The only things that really get you in trouble are killing fauna and naming something after
somebody," I said, staring at him, but he didn't look especially guilty. C.J. must not have gotten around to
her sales pitch yet.

"Anyway," I said, "we're used to trouble."

"I know," he said earnestly. "Like the time you got caught in the stampede and nearly got trampled, and
Dr. Carson rescued you."

"How'd you know about that?" I asked.

"Are you kidding? You're—"

"Famous. Right," I said. "But how—"

"Evelyn," C.J. called, dripping honey with every syllable, "can you help me set the table?" and he was off
again.