"George Zebrowski - Stranger Suns" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zebrowski George)

sandy blond hair. She made him feel anxious. “By the way, Lena, where did Summet steal you from?” He
sipped slowly, wondering if she was attracted to him, or if he was only flattering himself; he had never
been able to trust his feelings about women.

Her face flushed, and he realized that his question might be taken as an insult. She might be touchy about
her work. He avoided her questioning blue eyes.

“Didn't he tell you?” she said with a slight accent. Summet had mentioned that she was Norwegian.

“No,” Juan said, “and I don't go looking up someone's records without their approval. What were you
doing?” He tried to sound sympathetic, then realized that her name was not Norwegian. Maybe she was
using a husband's name.

“Drug biology,” she said, “up in the orbital isolation cluster, making immune formulas so our leaders can
stay in office longer. I'd rather be researching, but it's not possible yet.” She gave a slight shrug. “I could
be spared."

“I didn't mean to be rude,” Juan said, glancing at Malachi and Rassmussen.

“I know.” She smiled, but for all he could tell she might be hiding her dislike of him.

Rassmussen cleared his throat and sat back in his chair, which was too small for his lean, wiry frame. “I
pity Summet. A failed scientist, he went into politics just in time."

“What do you do?” Malachi asked the older man.

“I'm just about retired, but I consult. Titus insisted I owed him this one. I used to inspect electronics for
the UN, mostly weapons-monitoring gear.” He scratched the white stubble on his head and smiled
apologetically. “I wanted physics, and had quite a bit of it, with the chance for more, but administration
and straightforward applications of theory paid better."

“What do you think we're dealing with here?” Juan asked.

Rassmussen shrugged. “Not tachyons."

“Why not?” Juan asked.

Rassmussen smiled. “I'd check your detector for spurious input."

Damn technicians, Juan thought, and a burned-out one at that. They always think they know more
physics than anyone.

“What do you think we'll dig up?” Juan asked.

“It'll be something natural,” Rassmussen said.

“Ah, but it will count for so much if it's tachyons,” Malachi said.

“Obviously,” Rassmussen replied, picking up his cup.
“Summet has been threatening to close down the tachyon listening project,” Malachi continued, “and it