"David Feintuch - Seafort 02 - Challenger's Hope" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feintuch David)

Neither of us had really enjoyed the tense, busy luxury of Upper New York. Uncomfortable with my new
celebrity, my mind flitted between memories of my recent voyage and the anticipation of a new ship, while
Amanda struggled with her advancing pregnancy.
Waiting out the weeks of mandatory leave, I stared out of skytel windows while helibusses glided between
sleek towers, high above decaying streets overrun by the ragged transpops, our ever-present urban homeless.
Once, Amanda and I descended to ground level to take a Gray Line tour, locked behind thick protective steel
bars on an armored bus that wended its way through the teeming city. Well before nightfall we were returned
safely to our hotel aerie, to which supplies were brought by air to avoid the hostile and savage transpops below. I
wondered why the Sec-Gen didn't send in the Unies to wrest control from the streeter gangs. An entire city was
crumbling beneath our eyes.
In the evenings Amanda and I took helitaxis to plays, concerts and once, to my dismay, to an art show where I
stared helplessly at holograms that dissolved in incomprehensible patterns. Around me, cognoscenti nodded with
appreciation.
When our leave was over, we'd flown back to Houston; I had to attend more dull briefings while Amanda took
the shuttle to Earthport Station and Challenger.
I recalled the irony of those incessant conferences, Our self-appointed experts in xenobiology offered guesses
about the nature and intentions of the aliens I'd encountered, while glancing nervously to see if I suddenly
recalled some detail that would contradict their theories.
 I shook myself back to the present; Admiral Tremaine's briefing was finally ending. As we rose, Tremaine
shook hands with several senior officers. I edged away, anxious to be gone, but his cold eye fixed me with a
disapproving stare. He beckoned.
I approached, waited until he'd finished with my seniors. Could I get him to reconsider taking my prized ship?
"About Challenger, sir. I personally selected her officers. I was hoping to sail with-"
"The ones who backed your tale about that fish? I imagine you would." His tone was sharp. "You'll have your
way. You'll find their orders with your own."
"To Portia?"
"Of course. I won't sail with children manning my bridge. This is my first squadron, and everything must be
shipshape.
Hasselbrad knows whom he wants, and I trust his judgment." The remainder of his thought was unspoken, but I
blushed nonetheless. "Now, listen, Seafort."
I waited, hoping for a sign of conciliation.
"I told Brentley I wanted no part of you. In fact, I made it clear it was insane to give you a ship. He insisted on
my leaving you in command, but I'll be damned if it will be a vessel of any importance. Each time we Fuse, take
Portia to your station and stand guard. If those loony aliens you reported really exist, dispatch them before we
arrive."
"But you said-Aye aye, sir." How could I dispatch a fish without initiating hostilities?
"That's all." Glowering, he took my salute.
As I left the room I sighed. I was disconsolate, hungry, rocket-lagged, and too far from my wife.

"Wait your turn!" A heavy-jowled woman, her face a mask of disapproval. I hesitated, blushing, but Lieutenant
Alexi Tamarov pushed to the head of the line of impatient passengers at the Earthport Station ticket counter.
Sheepishly I followed.
"G Concourse?" he called.
The attractive young lady looked up from the boarding passes thrust at her from all sides. "End of the corridor
and downstairs, Lieutenant." She turned back to her forms.
"Thanks, ma'am!" Alexi ignored the civilians' hostile stares. "You have to learn to be aggressive, sir," he
admonished. Only our years of service together on Hibernia permitted such a remark, notwithstanding his
congenial tone.
We threaded our way through the station's main concourse. Harried families clutched children and baggage
while mag-netronic carts whizzed past with station staff. Roughened crewmen sprawled in seats, awaiting the