"Peter F. Hamilton - Escape Route" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Peter F)

and warning him of impending dehydration. So far he'd ignored them, telling himself discovery would
occur any minute now. In his heart, Antonio had been hoping they would find what they wanted in the
first five hours.
His neural nanonics informed him the analysis network was focusing on the mass density ratio of a
three-kilometer particle exposed by satellite seven. The processors began a more detailed interrogation
of the raw data.
"What is it?" Antonio demanded. His eyes fluttered open to glance at Victoria, who was resting lightly
on one of the cabin's flatchairs.
"Interesting," she murmured. "It appears to be a cassiterite ore. The planetoids deftely had tin."
"Shit!" He thumped his fist into the chair's padding, only to feel the restraint straps tighten against his
chest, preventing him from sailing free. "I don't care about tin. That's not what we're here for."
"I am aware of that." Her eyes were open, staring at him with a mixture of contempt and anger.
"Sure, sure," he mumbled. "Holy Mother, you'd expect us to find some by now. "Careful," she
datavised. "Remember this damn ship has internal sensors."
"I know how to follow elementary security procedures," he datavised back.
"Yes. But you're tired. That's when errors creep in."
"I'm not that tired. Shit, I expected results by now; some progress."
"We have had some very positive results, Antonio. The arrays have found three separate deposits of
pitchblende."
"Yeah, in hundred-kilogram lumps. We need more than that, a lot more."
"You're missing the point. We've proved it exists here; that's a stupendous discovery. Finding it in
quantity is just a matter of time."
"This isn't some astrological experiment you're running for that university which threw you out. We're
on an assignment for the cause. And we cannot go back empty-handed. Got that? Cannot."
"Astrophysics."
"What?"
"You said astrological, that's fortune-telling."
"Yeah? You want I should take a guess at how much future you're going to have if we don't find what
we need out here?"
"For Christ's sake, Antonio," she said out loud. "Go and get some sleep."
"Maybe." He scratched the side of his head, unhappy with how limp and oily his hair had become. A
vapour shower was something else he hadn't had for a while. "I'll get Jorge in here to help you monitor
the results."
"Great." Her eyes closed again.
Antonio deactivated his flatchair's restraint straps. He hadn't seen much of Jorge on the flight.
Nobody had. The man kept strictly to himself in his small cabin. The Crusade's council wanted him on
board to ensure the crew's continuing cooperation once they realized there was no gold. It was Antonio
who had suggested the arrangement; what bothered him was the orders Jorge had received concerning
himself should things go wrong.
"Hold it." Victoria raised her hand. "This is a really weird one."
Antonio tapped his feet on a stikpad to steady himself. His neural nanonics accessed the analysis
network again. Satellite eleven had located a particle with an impossible mass-density ratio; it also had its
own magnetic field, a very complex one. "Holy Mother, what is that? Is there another ship here?"
"No, it's too big for a ship. Some kind of station, I suppose. But what's it doing in the disc?"
"Refining ore?" he said with a strong twist of irony.
"I doubt it."
"Okay. So forget it."
"You are joking."
"No. If it doesn't affect us, it doesn't concern us."
"Jesus, Antonio; if I didn't know you were born rich I'd be frightened by how stupid you were."