"Anderson, Poul - Fire Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Poul)

"What happened?" she asked after a while.

"I'm not supposed to-"

"Yeh, yeh, yeh. You're not under oath of secrecy, are you? I'll give you my promise if you like, not to let anything go any further." She was silent for a space, during which he heard their boots thud and felt her touch. When she spoke anew, it was most softly. "Yes, lan, I am presuming, I am begging for a privilege. But I've got a brother in the Navy. And Larreka's always been like a second father to me. The night he stayed at my house ... hardest to take was the way he kept working to crack jokes, tell anecdotes, whatever he hoped might amuse me. I wanted to cry. Except naturally he'd've known what that meant, and soldiers' daughters don't show grief."

"The legionary tradition," he said for lack of better words. "It'd be dangerous to morale if allowed. We're different, we humans."

"Not that different. And if I knew what- The sooner I know, the sooner I can start thinking about something real to do, not sit inside myself and gnaw my guts."

He must look at her then, less far downward than a man of his height need do with the run of women. Her blue gaze was steady, yet she smiled no more and the level sunbeams caught sparks in her lashes.

"You win," he rasped. "Though you won't like the news."

"I didn't expect to. Oh, lan, you're such a lareni" The word meant, approximately, "good trooper," overtones of kindliness as well as strength and fidelity. She let go his arm and took his hand. He checked a wish to squeeze back. No use, worse than useless, to let her guess how she had altogether gripped him. But he could keep a very gentle hold, couldn't he?

They reached the landing and turned north onto Riverside, a road cut from the left bank of the Jayin- On their right, trees screened them from view of town, a long row of deep-rooted swordleaf, preserved amidst this terrestriatized ecology to be a windbreak when tornados whirled out of the west. Opposite, the stream flowed broad, murmurous, evening ablaze upon it. Snags and shoals made ripples; an ichthy would leap in a gleam of silver and a clear splash; rocket flies darted brilliant- On the farther shore, native pastureland rolled' into blue remoteness-tawny turfoflia, scarlet firebloom, scattered trees crowned with copper or brass. In the middle distance a flock of owas grazed, and the larger els individually, six-legged kine in a peacefulness that Sparling wished Constable could have painted,

Here the air was cooler still, damp, breezy, manyscented. Westward under sinking Bel, a few clouds glowed orange. Elsewhere the sky stood unutterably clear. A ghostly, waning Caelestia drew eastward. Beneath, so high as to be only a pair of wings, hovered a saru. It did not stoop on any of the iburu which flapped along lower down; maybe it waited for easier prey than those big bronzy-green ptenoids. A cantor sat on a bough, small, gray-feathered, fearless, and sang its autumn song-

Sparling remembered how Jill had continued the work of her mentor, old Jim Hashimoto, on the many functions of song in the cantor and related species, for her first serious research project, and how she'd run whooping across his sight in the joy of a breakthrough idea. Had that been when he first- No, probably not. She was a long-legged youngster then, six or seven years older than his, merely one of three kids born to the Conways. Since, Alice had married Bill Phillips, and Donald had followed Becky to college on Earth till the Navy pulled him in....

"We'll soon be at your place, lan," Jill warned. "Unless you want to stop and talk."

"No, let's get it over with," he said, called back. "Not much to tell, anyhow."

"I don't suppose the ships brought mail?"

"No. At least, nobody mentioned any. Captain Dejerine, their top man, did promise regular communications will be maintained. If nothing else, his courier boats will carry civilian messages, too."

"What're they here for?"

"That was announced yesterday, right after they first established contact. To protect us from possible Naqsan attack."

"Ridiculous, I'd say. Wouldn't you? Ridiculous as the whole war."

"Maybe not."

"Well, if their presence would guarantee the supplies we need-for your kind of work in particular-I'd be duly grateful. But no, the word is that the war effort will take nearly all shipping, and doubtless assorted key items as well. Captain Whosie confirmed it today. Didn't he? You wouldn't look so fierce otherwise."

Sparting jerked a nod.

Jill studied his countenance again before she said,

"The news was worse yet. Right?"

"Right," came from him. "They're supposed to build a base here. For reconnaissance operations. Which means depots, backup facilities, and a local war industry to save on interstellar transportation. Dejerine has orders to mobilize everything we've got that isn't required for our survival. Effective immediately, we must justify whatever of our production we consume rather than stockpile for the Navy."

Jill halted. And he did. "Oh, no," she whispered.