"Nicola Griffith - Ammonite" - читать интересную книгу автора (Griffith Nicola)

Acknowledgments
This is a first novel. It took a while to get to this point. I want to thank
the following people for their help along the way: Lyall Watson, from
whose Gifts of Unknown Things I borrowed ideas; the students and
teachers of Clarion тАЩ88; David Pringle; my sisters, Julie and Carolyn and
Anne; all those who have helped in their various ways with my struggles to
stay in this country, especially Peter Pautz, Kate Wilhelm, Damon Knight,
Lisa Goldstein, Stan Robinson, Tim Powers, and Jim Blaylock; Fran Collin;
Ellen Key Harris; and all the people who put up with my tirades,, they know
who they are.
Special love and thanks go to:
Carol Taylor
for all those years of faith, love and encouragement
and
my parents, Margot and Eric Griffith,
for everything.


Chapter One
^┬╗
MARGHEтАЩS SUIT WAS still open at neck and wrist, and the helmet rested in the
crook of her left arm. An ID flash was sealed to her shoulder: тАЬMarguerite Angelica
Taishan, SEC.тАЭ The suit was wrinkled and smelled of just-unrolled plastic, and she
felt heavy and awkward, even in the two-thirds gravity of orbital station Estrade.
She stood by the airlock at the inside end of A Section, The door was already
open. Waiting. She rested the fingertips of her right hand on the smooth ceramic of
the raised hatch frame; it was cool, shocking after two days of the close human heat
of A Section.
 The sill of the airlock reached her knees; easy enough to step over. No great
barrier. The lock chamber itself was two strides across. The far door was still
closed, sealed to another sill, like this one. Four steps from here to B Section. Four
steps. She had recontracted with SEC, endured six months of retraining on Earth,
traveled eighteen months aboard the Terragin, and spent the last two days on the
Estrade bumping elbows with the three-member crew, all to take those four steps.
тАЬWell, Nyo and Sigrid say good luck, but theyтАЩll be out there for hours yet, fixing
the satellite.тАЭ Sara Hiam unclipped her headset. The slight, small woman with the
atrophied muscles and club-cut dark blond hair was matter-of-fact, using her doctor
persona. In the two days since she had come aboard Estrade, Marghe had learned
that Hiam had several distinct facets to her personality, facets she rotated to face any
given situation. It was a survival tactic, one way HiamтАФand Sigrid and NyoтАФhad
managed to spend five years up here without going mad. Marghe knew there was a
great deal of the doctor she had not seen; she wondered what the real Sara Hiam was
like.
тАЬLife support is up and running in Section D,тАЭ Hiam said. тАЬAre you ready?тАЭ
Adrenaline, faster than conscious thought, flooded through Marghe and she had
to discipline her breathing, decreasing her pulse and respiration rate, slowing blood
flow and reducing the sudden over-oxygenation of her long muscles. Her face
pinked as the capillaries under her skin reopened; her muscles stopped fluttering. It
was a routine learned long ago.
тАЬIтАЩm ready.тАЭ