"The Collapsium" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mccarthy Wil)

and down, framing in its doorway the figure of none other than Her Majesty
herself. The robots followed at a respectful distance as she descended the
steps.
Staring stupidly, Bruno computed: Earth, regardless of season, was always at
least seven light-hours away. For the robots to return there and come back with
Her Majesty in tow should have taken fourteen hours. Even if she'd been on
Jupiter for some reason, it would have taken more than twelve, possibly a lot
more, depending on where the planet was in its orbit. Ergo, she must have sent
her pattern ahead, timing it to arrive when the ship landed. Had she anticipated
his refusal? She might simply have broadcast her image into the void,
instructing the robots to capture and instantiate it if the need arose. There
was something cold-bloodedly logical about that sort of reasoning, and that was
how he knew it was true. Quod erat demonstrandum.
The spaceship's stairs were carpeted in red, and their metal base extruded still
more carpet, its end snaking out ahead of the Queen across scorched grass and
flowers until finally it stopped, seemed to gather itself for a moment, and then
extruded a low platform, a little marble pedestal rising up as if exposed by
receding tidewaters. Her Majesty mounted this platform, and the robots assumed
stations on either side of her, ceremonial halberds at the ready. Ceremonial,
hell; she was here, and they carried no other obvious weaponry. Those blades
could probably cleave the planet in two.
The robots spoke more haughtily than before. "Declarant-Philander Bruno de
Towaji, you may present yourself before Her Majesty Tamra-Tamatra Lutui, the
Virgin Queen of All Things. You are encouraged to kneel."
Clad in the shade of purple forbidden to all others, with the diamond crown atop
her head and the Scepter of Earth in her left hand and the Rings of Mars,
Jupiter, and Saturn on the fingers of her right, she was black haired and walnut
skinned and scowling deeply. She was beautiful and terrible and in a bad mood,
and could destroy him with a word.
"Hi, Tam," he said lamely, then sighed and threw himself to his knees.
2
In which an urgent plea is heard
She was a figurehead, by the way. She couldn't literally destroy him, have him
killed, have his pattern erased and his name stricken from every stone and
pillar, but she could make his personal and professional life difficult enough
that he might wish she had.
"Don't 'Hi' me," she snapped as he knelt there before her. "Rise. Approach."
Ground moisture had soaked through the knees of Bruno's trousers. Rising, he
wiped them absently with his hand, then caught himself and wiped the hand on his
vest, in case she demanded to shake it or something. Approaching gingerly, he
spread his arms.
"My world, Your Majesty. Welcome."
She nodded regally. "Yes. Your world." Then she cocked her head, looked at him
strangely. "Are you all right? Why are you leaning like that?"
He blinked. "Leaning? Ah, it's the curvature. The planet being so small, local
vertical swings a full degree every six meters. Your 'up' is not the same as
mine. The treesЧ" He pointed. "Чseem to tilt away from you as well, more so the
farther away they are. You see how they're angled?"
The Queen of Sol surveyed the horizon, nodding absently. "I wondered about that.
The way the ground slopes away, I feel as if I'm standing on a mountaintop. Is