"Carver, Jeffrey A - Star Rigger 02 - Star Rigger's Way" - читать интересную книгу автора (Carver Jeffrey A)

thoughts, even in the net where personal barriers tended to relax. But
Legroeder, despite his alone-ness, had always worked in harmony whether
as leader or follower. Carlyle suspected that Legroeder was fearless, but
Janofer and Skan said that he simply gave what was needed, and no more.
But this was Cephean here with him, not Legroeder, and Cephean wasnТt
giving what was needed at all. Carlyle guided the ship into a gentle turn;

the cynthian responded late, and incorrectly, and the ship swung toward
the riverbank. Carlyle was forced to reach deep into the waters, using his
hands as rudders to bring the ship back into line with the current. He tried
again, coaching: Gently, Cephean! Steer very gently! But again the ship
went off course, and again Carlyle had to correct for CepheanТs mistakes.
The Reld Current was running smoothly, but, despite that fact, the ship
drew closer and closer to the shallows.
Finally he cried: Cephean, pull out of the net! The cynthian obeyed,
humming and grumbling; and when Cephean was gone, Carlyle
straightened the entire net himself, then turned the ship and held it against
the drift, until it was safely back in the mainstream. The effort was
exhausting, and as soon as he could manage, he set the stabilizers and
withdrew from the net.
He blinked and gazed about the gloomy, reddishly lighted bridge.
Cephean and the riffmar were gone. The rigger-stations were empty. Most
of the instruments, burned out from the accident, were lifeless. The bridge
looked as though it were dying with its former crew.
Carlyle went straight from the bridge to the commons. He drank an ale so
quickly he scarcely noticed its taste, and then he went at once to his cabin.
He needed to sleep, to regain the feel of his own body. Soon enough he
would find the cynthian and face the melancholy bridge, and try once
more.
2
The Riggers
Since its inception in the Twelfth Century of Space, starship-rigging had
been regarded as one of the most peculiarly demanding of professions.
Piloting a starship involved a mastery of technology, of course; but more
than that, it required curious aptitudes of personality, of emotional set.
Star-rigging involved not only spaceflight but also the mastering of the

FluxЧthat subjective realm underlying the normal-space of Prime
Reality, a realm akin to but distinct from freewheeling fantasy, and as
intricate as a mistily mapped waking dream.
Successful navigation of the Flux demanded the exceptional dreamerЧthe
rigger, trained to construct a vision and then to reach into it and to gain a
literal fingerhold in a reality where the spaces flowed as oceans and the
currents were unconstrained by the laws and distances of normal-space.
The riggerТs net was a harness, trussing the ship to him like a backpack as
he rode the ebb and flow of the space itself. Rigging was an exquisite
mating of imagination with the reality of the FluxЧa strange way to live,
in many eyes, but a fine way to travel among the stars.
The net itself was a glittery spangle of ghost neurons flung into the Flux
like the exploded tentacles of a man-of-war. Interfaced through organic