"Bc16" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry & Pournelle)

"It's been good to have you here," Cadmann smiled.
"That goes for both of us," Sylvia said. She paused. "Has it put any strain . . . ?"
Justin gave a long, sour exhalation. "Surf's Up is pretty well split right now," he said. "Aaron's kaffeeklatsch has pulled pretty tight. A lot of grumbling."
"They'll get over it," Cadmann said.
"They think I'm consorting with the enemy."
Cadmann laughed. He tamped his pipe down, lit it, and took a long draw. Then he slowly exhaled aromatic smoke.
"Everyone makes his own choices," Cadmann said.
"Except in the sense that Aaron suggested: we didn't decide to come here, and there's no place for us to go. So John Locke's implicit social contract doesn't really apply to us, does it?"
Cadmann chuckled. "You've been studying again. Damn nuisance, an educated son." He tapped his cigar against the ashtray, and his big sun-browned face wrinkled in exasperation. "Where is that girl?"
Almost on cue, Jessica reappeared. She smiled uncertainly.
"Well-it's been lovely. If I'm not mistaken, I hear Aaron's skeeter."
Mary Ann appeared in the kitchen doorway, apron flapping. "It's a good surprise, seeing you. We'd like it more often."
"You're always welcome," Sylvia chimed in.
Mary Ann looked out the dining room window, a vast northern expanse of clear, seamlessly cemented plastic rectangles. The clouds were darker now, and the first drops of rain spattered against the plastic. "Are you sure that you won't stay the night? The storm looks serious."
Cadmann nodded. "Cassandra says that it's a big one. The first of the season. There's always a free room. The bunkhouse is available if you and Aaron would like your privacy."
"No, thank you." She wrapped a woolen shawl around her shoulders. "Justin--are you sure you're staying?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
A decided coolness there. Cadmann thought that she was about to say something, but at the last moment, just smiled.
The door opened, and big Aaron stood framed by the darkening, cloudy sky.
He had aged since the return from the mainland. The last of his boyish qualities were gone, replaced by a rangy, impenetrable quality. "Cadmann," he said.
"Aaron." They shook hands, hard. Aaron's eyes were frozen. Before now, Cadmann had always had a sense of who lived in there, back behind the blue eyes. Now he didn't know. From time to time he wondered if he had ever known.
"Are you ready to go?"
Jessica nodded.
Aaron kissed Mary Ann's hand, and held it for an extra moment, gazing into her eyes as if trying to make a connection of some kind.
Then they were gone.

The skeeter rose up into the orange-black sky. Tau Ceti was near the horizon, and night would be upon them within minutes.
"Did you plant it?" Aaron asked. His big square hands were calm and certain upon the controls.
His hands were always sure, she reflected. Always calm and strong.
"Yes. It will trigger in-" She looked at her watch. "Eighteen minutes."
"I love it when a plan comes together, don't you?"
Jessica was silent.
They swooped down toward the colony.

Chaka saw the way Edgar's face lit up when he saw Trish Chance. It fell as he saw Chaka in her shadow. Little Chaka smiled and held up a satchel. "Coffee too," he said.
"Excellent," Edgar said, and ushered them in with wobbly grace. When his head turned away, Trish mimed Chaka a shrug. Did Edgar delude himself that he and Trish would be making the beast with two backs during this critical period?
Not likely. Aaron had ordered a storm and put it in Edgar's charge. Chaka said, "I'm here in case you run into a glitch. If 'Dragonsnatch' has to be aborted, I'm one of the not-many who can do that. Got an outlet?"
"There."
Chaka pulled out fine-ground dark-roasted coffee, a flask of milk, mugs, and an espresso-and-steamer device, which he plugged in. He measured water and coffee and set the thing running. Edgar Sikes wasn't in the kaffeeklatsch, any more than Ruth Moskowitz was, but both had tasted coffee. Ancient tradition spoke that a nerd must have caffeine. Aaron might sometimes follow an ancient tradition, if it amused him.
And Trish was rubbing Edgar's neck and shoulders, flirting, maybe, but doing a damn good massage too, Chaka had felt her magic touch. She stepped back as Edgar stretched, yoga fashion.
"Looks good," she said.
Chaka asked, "Didn't you used to have a bad back?"
"Broken. It's healed pretty well. Toshiro's taught me some yoga." Edgar sat down and summoned up a hologram, an abstraction, it seemed . . . no, it was a hurricane in infrared, as seen from Geographic. They'd beamed it to the National Geographic Society on Earth, a complete recording of another world's major storm. "This was from last year. I'm going to jazz it up a little. Chaka, I'm ready for that magic fluid any time."
The coffee was beginning to flow. Chaka filled the cups with milk. He was thinking, Toshiro's a good man. He's teaching me karate-But Chaka shouldn't say that even to Edgar, and if he said it in front of Trish, Trish would tell Aaron.
Many things involving Aaron went unsaid. Nobody on the planet is stronger than Aaron, except Little Chaka Mubutu. So when we go to the mainland, I carry the cook pot. If a grendel came among us, the last man to use a weapon would be Little Chaka. Someone would have to protect me . . . someone like Aaron Tragon. Little Chaka doesn't compete.
Little Chaka doesn't know how to fight.
The steam jet howled like a fighter jet. Trish jumped: her back was suddenly plated like an armadillo, and she turned with her eyes bugged. Chaka loved doing that . . . but Edgar never even twitched. When Chaka had the chance to look up, Edgar was moving a whirlpool of cloud over a map of Avalon.
"We want it where people can't see it," he said. "Or can't see it ain't there. So. But the fringe, here, that'll raise hell around Robor. This arm we'll taper off a little . . . there . . . matches what Cassandra's predicting. Now here's how it looks from Surf's Up."
Surf's Up was being torn to pieces. Anything lighter than a blockhouse was already gone, fragments floating in the huge waves, or flying through the air.
"Like it? Here's the view from Cadmann's Folly . . . Nope, they'll see it isn't there. Okay, watch this." He had the whirlpool, the view from orbit. It bent east a bit, and shrank. Back to Cadmann's Folly-"And that matches the Cassandra prediction, which she based on my data. Aaron's too antsy, Chaka. This is the easy part."