"Baxter, Stephen - On The Orion Line" - читать интересную книгу автора (Baxter Stephen)

The Brief Life Burns Brightly broke out of the fleet. We were chasing down a Ghost cruiser,
and we were closing.

The lifedome of the Brightly was transparent, so it was as if Captain Teid in her big chair, and
her officers and their equipment clustersЦand a few low-grade tars like meЦwere just floating
in space. The light was subtle, coming from a nearby cluster of hot young stars, and from the
rivers of sparking lights that made up the fleet formation we had just left, and beyond that
from the sparking of novae. This was the Orion LineЦsix thousand light years from Earth and
a thousand lights long, a front that spread right along the inner edge of the Orion Spiral ArmЦ
and the stellar explosions marked battles that must have concluded years ago.

And, not a handful of klicks away, the Ghost cruiser slid across space, running for home. The
cruiser was a rough egg-shape of silvered rope. Hundreds of Ghosts clung to the rope. You
could see them slithering this way and that, not affected at all by the emptiness around them.

The GhostsТ destination was a small, old yellow star. Pael, our tame Academician, had
identified it as a fortress star from some kind of strangeness in its light. But up close you
donТt need to be an Academician to spot a fortress. From the Brightly I could see with my
unaided eyes that the star had a pale blue cage around itЦan open lattice with struts half a
million kilometers longЦthrown there by the Ghosts, for their own purposes.

I had a lot of time to watch all this. I was just a tar. I was fifteen years old.

My duties at that moment were non-specific. I was supposed to stand to, and render assistance
any way that was requiredЦmost likely with basic medical attention should we go into
combat. Right now the only one of us tars actually working was Halle, who was chasing down
a pool of vomit sicked up by Pael, the Academician, the only non-Navy personnel on the
bridge.

The action on the Brightly wasnТt like you see in Virtual shows. The atmosphere was calm,
quiet, competent. All you could hear was the murmur of voices, from the crew and the
equipment, and the hiss of recycling air. No drama: it was like an operating theater.

There was a soft warning chime.

The captain raised an arm and called over Academician Pael, First Officer Till, and Jeru, the
commissary assigned to the ship. They huddled close, conferringЦapparently arguing. I saw
the way flickering nova light reflected from JeruТs shaven head.

I felt my heart beat harder.

Everybody knew what the chime meant: that we were approaching the fortress cordon. Either
we would break off, or we would chase the Ghost cruiser inside its invisible fortress. And
everybody knew that no Navy ship that had ever penetrated a fortress cordon, ten light-
minutes from the central star, had come back out again.

One way or the other, it would all be resolved soon.

Captain Teid cut short the debate. She leaned forward and addressed the crew. Her voice, cast
through the ship, was friendly, like a cadre leader whispering in your ear. "You can all see we