"Allen, Roger MacBride - Chronicles of Solace 3 - Shores of Tomorrow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Roger Macbride)

Neshobe Kalzant nodded and watched Drayax head back to her console. Neshobe had been at any number of official events where she was required to put in an appearance, remain for a politically appropriate amount of time, and was then permitted to escape. That sense of relief when the blessed moment came was always intense, but never before had it been so powerful.

At last there was something todo, even if it was nothing more than going to an assigned seat and strapping herself in. Not that there was much point to the exercise, insofar as safety was concerned. Nothing was going to happen aboard theLodestar VII . It was the SunSpot that was going to be called upon to go through a complicated sequence of targeting and refocusing operations.

Granted, there was a small chance that the SunSpot could malfunction spectacularly while so doingЧbut if so, being strapped down ahead of time would do but little good. If the SunSpot blew up, theLodestar VII would doubtless be torn apart by blast debris, shortly after all those aboard absorbed a lethal dose of nuclear radiation, all while being incinerated.

The real reason was to get Neshobe Kalzant and all the other useless Very Important People out from underfoot so that Berana Drayax and her people could concentrate properly on their jobs at a crucial moment in the process. So be it, so far as Neshobe was concerned. Anything that would occupy her mind and keep her fromthinking, at least for a few moments.

But even so, Neshobe could not help but find it intensely irritating that the damned-fool announcer wasnТt among those being herded out of the command center. She, the leader of the planet Solace, thede facto ruler of the entire Solacian star system, was Уnonessential.Ф The endlessly blathering announcer was not.

There was probably a message in there somewhere. If so, PlanEx Kalzant chose not to go looking for it. She started heading for her cabin, in the forward end of theLodestar VII.

Chapter Seven

A SHIELD OF WORLDS
AND TIME

Berana Drayax watched PlanEx Neshobe Kalzant and the rest of the dignitaries depart her command center with what she hoped was well-disguised relief. For the moment, at least, the political side of her job was over. She let the smile drain away from her face, little by little, as she turned toward the status screens and increased the volume on her earphone. The tiny speaker was concealed inside an earring, and her comm speaker was hidden inside her necklace. It was ridiculous that she had to disguise the tools of her trade as gewgaws, but so doing allowed her to do her job of operational commander while still playing the part of charming hostess.

The cameras were still there, watching her every move. But so be it. Even the most muddled viewer at home would expect her to get serious, to focus, to let her face display concentration, even worry, this close to the moment. And it helped that they were only broadcasting pictures, not voices. She hoped. No, strike that. She didnТt care. If theywere running voices, too bad. She had to do her job, and doing it included talking about bad news. There was still that sensor that had been worrying her. She activated her mike. УSunSpot Power Shunt, this is Project Director. Are you in the loop?Ф she asked.

УSunSpot Power Shunt here. WeТre in, PD.Ф

The voice on the other end didnТt seem shy or worried about talking to so exalted a person as the Project Director. Good. ThatТs why they had been trained to address her by her job title or its abbreviation, and not Madam Project Director Drayax or some similar nonsense. It made her just one more voice in the loop, unintimidating enough so they could actually report bad news. УWhat about that ground station alignment problem?Ф

УWeТre still working it, PD. Groundside Power Reception isnТt quite sure yet, but they now think itТs a blown sensor and not a real problem.Ф

УThey donТt have much time to decide. WeТve got fifty-three minutes and twenty seconds left before itТs too late to call a wave-off for power transfer.Ф

УBelieve me, PD, weТre watching that clock, and so is Groundside Power.Ф

УWell, donТt be shy about cutting into the loop if you get some news.Ф

УCopy that, PD.Ф

Berana stared at the fault display, willing it to go green. No doubt, somewhere down on Greenhouse, someone was frantically pulling out a spare sensor, while his or her sweating team member burrowed down through the cables and conduits and shielding of the huge power receptor station built specifically for this job. Someone else was checking a schematic and shouting instructions through an access hatch, or rigging an improvised piece of test equipment, or checking the ops manual to see how to run a realignment by hand since the autos had packed it in. What showed here as a simple red panel that should be green, what SunSpot Power Shunt saw as a blown sensor, was in reality a collection of sweaty, half-frantic junior engineers getting their hands dirty and their clothes ruined as they crawled around the innards of whatever machine had failed.

They knew, she knew, everyone knew, that, if absolutely necessary, they could abort this first try, and come back again in twenty-seven hours, once the SunSpot and NovaSpot had completed one more orbit and arrived back over the target. But twenty-seven hours from now, the planetary alignments would already have started to deteriorate. Facilities that were shielded now would not be so then.

A one-day delay would thus force more emergency evacuations, and force others who were already evacuees to stay in their shelters longer. Emergency supplies would get used up. Evac shelters would be forced to operate longer, leaving more time for systems to fail, leaks to develop, tempers to shorten. People would stay on watch too long. Machines would stay untended for longer than planned. Those who took ill would be kept away from medical attention that much longer. Almost certainly, someone, somewhereЧmaybe a lot of someonesЧwould die as a direct result of the delay.

But all that was as nothing compared to what would happen if she called a wave-off, and they tried again the next dayЧand then failed at thesecond attempt. Never mind that all the problems produced by the first wave-off would be worse than doubled. By the time the next window rolled around, twenty-seven hours after the second attempt, the planetary alignments would have deteriorated drastically. The problems would multiply as the various planets, satellites, and artificial structures moved around in their orbits. With each day that passed, the available time windows for starting the Ignition Sequence would shrinkЧand even the best of those windows would decay further, starting from a point that was barely acceptable. Both the number of settlements and the total population that would be exposed to massive doses of radiation would ratchet higher every day. Every day would come the choice between killing thousands now, or thousands more the next day, in the gradually fading hope of saving millions later on.

And all those nightmare scenarios started small, with the failure of a part that cost half a starmark, a failure that forced a wave-off on the first attempt.

And now it seemed that the failure mightЧmightЧbe a failed sensor putting out wrong data, with no relation to the actual state of the equipment at all. Berana Drayax had not thought to addthat extra layer to the fears and doubts she had imagined. But then, life always did find ways to make itself more interesting.

Drayax stared straight ahead at the red light markedGROUND STATION ALIGNMENT on her board, willing it to turn green, begging the seconds in the countdown clock to run more slowly.