"Bc12" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry & Pournelle)

Zack looked around. "Where's Colonel Weyland?"
"On the way."
"Hold off on landing for a minute, please."
There was no answer. "Please continue reports," Zack said. More colonists streamed into the hall, their voices a roiling cacophony.
"Wha--"
"The hell--"
"Will somebody tell me--"
"Who's up there--"
Still no answer. Zack lowered his voice. "I know that you can hear me. Hold off on landing until we have an assessment--" Carlos tried to imagine what Justin was feeling now. In one sense, he couldn't possibly know. In another, he understood precisely. The entire colony was family, their lives linked as closely as the fingers of a hand. But Linda was Justin's kid sister.
All of their lives, the Second had heard horrific stories. But a thousand stories pale in comparison to a single scream of agony.
The crowd behind them parted as Cadmann Weyland stormed in. He was red-faced, unshaven, and flinty-eyed. His beige coveralls were wrinkled and stained, as if he had thrown on yesterday's clothes.
He glared at the screen, his face as solid and square as stone. "What happened?"
"Something attacked the minehead," Zack said. "No one knows what."
The second image was a skeeter-eye view of the same scene. Skeeter ID number and pilot registration were etched at the bottom of the screen.
"Justin," Cadmann barked. "Who's up there with you?"
A long pause.
"Justin! Answer me, dammit." They didn't hear a sound at first, and then Justin's voice rang down to them.
"Jessica. And Aaron." Thank God, Cadmann thought. Jessica and Justin could handle their own, but Aaron Tragon was one of the best shots he had ever seen.
"We're going down. Dad."
"Hold off on that. We're still sweeping the area."
"We don't see anything. The motion sensors don't pick anything up--"
"They didn't pick anything up twenty minutes ago, either!"
Mary Ann had made her way to Cadmann's side. Her face looked as if emotion had been pressed from it like oil from an olive. "Linda? Is Linda all right--"
Cadmann squeezed her hand. "I don't think so. Justin, you're there. Do you see the baby?"
"Baby!" Mary Ann shouted. "Justin, go find him!"
"Cadmann." It was Aaron's voice this time. "You're wrong. The sensors did pick up motion before. Wind. Dust storm. Probably some kind of mineral powder, something that confused the sensors. We have to go down."
"Roger. Be careful. Secure Robor first."
"We will."
"Is that safe?" Zack demanded.
"They're on the spot," Cadmann said. "And without Robor they can't get the Scouts off the mainland."
"Oh--"
"Cadmann, what's happened to Linda?" Mary Ann wailed. "Justin, where's the baby!"
"Father," Jessica said. He almost didn't recognize the voice. He had never heard his daughter sound like that before. "I don't see Cadzie." Her voice was beyond ice, somewhere out in deepest space. The clearing juddered on the wall. "Father, that's Linda down there. And Joe. They're dead. But one dog is missing, and I don't see Cadzie. "
He was searching for something to say. What hope was there for his grandson's survival? Almost none. And yet, if there was any chance at all . . .
"All right," he whispered. "We'll keep watch from here." Then he turned, and held Mary Ann. When it came right down to it, there was really nothing else to do.

Justin watched Jessica touch down without a bump, taking that last couple of inches as carefully as a man stepping onto thin ice.
Aaron dismounted, carrying a grendel gun. Jessica bore a regular hunting rifle, its safety off.
Justin hovered overhead, watching. He wiped his moist hands nervously on his pants. He strove to starve his imagination, to keep focused on each individual moment. Now and Now and Now, and after that, the Now to come.

One careful step at time, Jessica and Aaron Tragon crossed the twenty feet between the autogyro and the skeletons. After each single footstep, she stopped to sense her surroundings. There was no sound except the steady shoop shoop of Justin's skeeter blades above them.
Aaron's gaze locked with hers for a cold moment, and then slid past. Neither of them was willing or able to speak. Her heart thundered loudly in her ears.
Three skeletons--two human and one canine--lay in a rough circle of flattened grass, as if they had thrashed around crazily, fighting, maybe. Fighting what? Where were their clothes? Could they have come running out naked? Naked but with sandals on . . . and Joe's hat, but not Linda's woven straw bonnet.
Aaron kicked over a small rock that lay beneath the smaller skeleton: Linda's, the one with no hat. There was a tiny bloodstain under the rock.
"No blood," Aaron said. "Little spots like this, but no blood! How long since--the attack started?"
"Twenty-eight minutes since we heard the skeeter alarm," Justin said.
Aaron looked around warily, rifle at the ready, but there was nothing to shoot at. "And it was all over before we got here."
Jessica couldn't move her eyes away from the three skeletons. The bones were stripped bare of clothing and of meat, but all were in place, as when an archeologist opens a grave. Nothing had broken or scattered the bones. She picked up Joe's hat and rubbed it in her fingers. Inside the brim it looked etched, or chewed.
Bones stripped of cloth, of meat, of sinew, ready to be mounted for biology class. Eyeless sockets glared up at her. Something gleamed. "Linda's chain," Jessica said. She pointed. A chain of tiny gold links encircled the neck of one of the skeletons. The next thing she knew she was bent over, stomach contracting violently. She felt it squeeze and pump, heard her own gagging sounds as from a distance, as if that other part of her were above the glade, watching as the tall blond woman tried to turn herself inside out. Aaron laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. She very nearly hit him. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. No time for emotions, you sniveling bitch.
"Cadzie," she whispered.