"James P. Hogan - Martian Knightlife" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hogan James P)

тАЬHeтАЩs okay!тАЭ Perrel threw over his shoulder to others behind. тАЬIt worked fine! LeoтАЩs okay!тАЭ
Whoops of relief and delight greeted the words. Perrel unfastened the restraints and then draped a
surgical gown over SardaтАЩs head, helping him work it down to cover his body in the cramped space of
the chamber. The mixed company of project crew and technicians waiting outside crowded forward
to press him with backslaps and handshakes as Sarda emerged into the clutter of the R-Lab. After the
sweltering confines of the machine, he felt as if he were coming out of a sauna into clean, snowy air.
The expressions of the two men watching from farther back with the small group of specially invited
visitors were more restrained, but their eyes had a jubilant look. Their loose, dark jackets, worn tieless
with polo-neck shirts, were the closest to business dress likely to be found on Mars, even in Lowell
City, generally considered to be the main metropolis. The broad, balding form of Herbert Morch,
QuantonixтАЩs managing director and technical head of the TX Project, moved forward to grip Sarda by
both shoulders as he approached, his fleshy face breaking into a smile. тАЬLeo, today weтАЩve made
history!тАЭ he exulted. тАЬNo, youтАЩve made history! You took the risk. It succeeded. . . .тАЭ He shook his
head, momentarily unable to find further words.
Beside him, his brother Max, lean and gaunt-faced, cofounder and financial vice president,
reached out to add his own bony handshake to those Sarda had already collected. тАЬYouтАЩd better get
used to the idea of being a celebrity before much longer, Leo,тАЭ he said. тАЬQuantonix is going to change
the world.тАЭ
тАЬThe world?тАЭ Herbert turned his head quizzically, looking at him with mild reproach. тАЬThink big,
Max, think big. ThatтАЩs what this has been all about, hasnтАЩt it? WeтАЩre going to reshape the Solar
System!тАЭ
 2

The last time Kieran Thane was on Mars, he had come posing as a green arrival from Earth,
interested in land parcels in the Elysium region that an aggressive marketing company was pushing to
young immigrants flush with hard-earned savings. Some suspicious relatives had engaged him to look
into the claims of mineral rights potential that would pay back the investment many times over in
years to come. The values had turned out to be artificially inflated, based on fraudulent reports by a
geological consultant who was in on the deal. Kieran had contrived to salt some of the companyтАЩs
more recent drilling samples with platinum, hence bringing things to the satisfying conclusion of
watching the marketeers pursue their customers in order to buy back the tracts at several times what
had been paid.
That had been a little over half a year ago (mean standard year, equal to one Terran year). The
surface had sprouted visible changes, even since then. Kieran studied them in the view being
presented on the cabin display screen of the shuttle descending from Phobos, the inner of MarsтАЩs two
moonsтАФitself transformed from the cratered knob of rock that astronomers had once described as a
тАЬdiseased potatoтАЭ into a gleaming composition of domes, berthing structures, and metallic geometry
as the main transfer port for long-range vessels from Earth, the various Belt habitats, the Jovian system, and
beyond. The area creeping onto the screen as the planetary outline expanded off the edges was the
Tharsis end of the vast system of gorges and canyons flanking the three-thousand-mile equatorial rift
of Valles MarinerisтАФthree hundred miles wide in places and up to four miles deep. Domes had
appeared over more of the craters, enclosing circular cities or orchard farms, with their tiers of
housing climbing inner walls reminiscent of steep Mediterranean shorelines; more vehicles dotted the
highway west to the mine workings below 50,000-foot-high Arsia Mons; and what looked like a new
rail link, already flanked by new excavations and greenhouse constructions, extended southeastward
in the direction of Syria Planum and Solis Planum. In the canyon complex itself, a frost of silver and
white beads was spreading between the roofed-over parts of the shadowy depths and across the
ramparts of crumbling orange rock separating them.
In a seat opposite, Ibrahim, one of the Iranian couple that Kieran had met in the transfer port on
Phobos, squeezed his young wifeтАЩs hand as they gazed down at the scene. They had just arrived from