"Colin Kapp - The Subways of Tazoo" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kapp Colin)

"The climatic conditions on Tazoo are such hell that the average rugged ground-cat has a useful
working life of about two weeks. That means the archaeologists can't explore enough from base to get at
the really big finds they are certain exist. Fritz, I want you to provide them with transport to where they'll
be most useтАФand if you don't, you'd better find another engineering reserve to come back to, because if
you come back here . . ."
"I know," said Fritz unhappily, "you'll make me wish I'd opted to transfer my retirement pay to Tazoo."
"You know, Fritz," said Colonel Belling, "for a moment we reached a point of real understanding there.
I think I'm going to rather enjoy the thoughts of you and the U.E. squad sweating it out in a
hell-spot like Tazoo."

Touchdown on Tazoo. The transfer ferry had no viewports and afforded no opportunity for its
passengers to receive a preview of their destination. Even the ground-cat which rendezvoused at the
landing site close-coupled its hatches with the ferry's air lock before the transfer of passengers and goods
began. In the cabin of the ground-cat, shutters likewise obscured the view and cheated Fritz of his
moment of revelation.
"Allow me to introduce myself," said the cabin's occupant. "The name is Philip Nevill,
Archaeologist in Charge."

"Van Noon," said Fritz. "Engineer extraordinaryтАФand this is Jacko Hine, one of my staff."
Nevill grinned affably. "Your reputation preceded you, my boy. Frankly, when I heard of you I
persuaded Colonel Nash to get you here at any cost. There are things on Tazoo it'll take a very
liberal mind indeed to understand."
The ground-cat struggled away from the ferry, its engine coughing in asthmatic complaint.
"So I've heard," said Fritz. "Look, do you mind if I open the shutter for a second? I'd like to
know the worst right from the start."
"Help yourself," said Nevill, "but I promise you it's a passion you'll soon lose."
Fritz fought the shutter from the window and peered out for his first glimpse of Tazoo. Heavy
cloudbanks filtered the furious sunlight to a brilliant monochromatic red which hurt his eyes and
rendered all colours as shades of red or the darkest, sooty black. The terrain itself was
nothing but a lumpy, featureless waste as far as the eye could see.
"Satisfied?" asked Nevill.
 Fritz dropped the shutter back with a clang and closed his eyes.
"Painful, isn't it?" asked Nevill. "Normal endurance is about forty minutes before
red-blindness sets in. Very bad for the eyes, to say nothing of the psychological effects.
Incidentally, the ultraviolet radiation for two hours after dawn and two hours before
sunset is strong enough to take the skin off you in about three minutes flat."
"Charming!" said Fritz. "And what's it like at midday?"
Nevill raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Ruddy awful!" he said.
At the blare of the ground-cat's horn Nevill opened the shutter again. "There's the baseтАФway
over yonder."
Fritz scowled at the blood-red panorama. Perhaps half a kilometre away was the base, like a cluster of
cherries half-submerged in a waste of pink icing.
"Underground, eh? A very sensible precaution."
"It isn't underground," said Nevill in a slightly aggrieved tone. "It's a surface installation."
"But I don't see anything but some almighty balls of mud."
"They're standard Knudsen huts with a protective skin on. There's a sandstorm that whips up every
night which would sandblast an unprotected Knudsen to a skeleton before dawn. We spray
each hut weekly with a highly plasticized poly-polymer which is reasonably abrasive resistant. The
plastic traps some of the sand and this materially increases its resistance, but builds up and completely
ruins the shape."