"Tom Purdom-Research Project" - читать интересную книгу автора (Purdom Tom)

to make it clear we aren't referring to anything that would increase their panic over that."
Postri-Dem stuffed two more spheres into his mouth and choked back the impulse to tell Stridi-If he
wasn't sure the humans would understand the difference between an artificial comet that wiped out their
entire species and a Device that eliminated most of the gains they had made in the last two centuries.
Postri-Dem's life had been unusually asocial, by the standards of his species, but he had learned one
important fact about his relationship with the rest of society -- he had a tendency to blurt out his thoughts
without taking into account the responses they might provoke.
To Stridi-If -- and most of the other members of his culture-segment -- he was an odd, comic figure.
Stridi-If was only five Homeyears older than Postri-Dem was, but she thought of him, he knew, as
someone who was basically a child. She liked him -- in the same way you would like a child -- but she
felt he had to be watched for his own good.
The most frustrating -- and agonizing -- period in Postri-Dem's life had been the three months that
followed the moment when our links had come rolling across the Martian sands and paused outside the
ifli base. There had been days, he claimed, when he had thought he would go mad if the Chosen Presider
and her advisers didn't decide to open talks with us. Officially, Stridi-If had been his liaison with the
power structure. Officially, she had been working with him because she had been the diplomat who
would represent them if they decided to initiate a dialogue. In reality, she had been a caretaker who was
supposed to save a valuable resource from self-destruction. There had been times when Postri-Dem had
seriously believed he should bypass the standard political process and make impassioned speeches in the
corridors. There had been other times when he composed long, angry messages to influential individuals
who were opposing contact. Stridi-If had provided the patient, gentle voice that calmed him down before
he made a fool of himself in public.
Stridi-If had been the sympathetic partner who convinced him his arguments would be more effective if
he let a trained go-between do the talking.
I finished working out my wording with Maria and blinked on our screens.
"Ambassador Lott has raised a question I think I have to bring up," I said. "It's really a political and
diplomatic issue, but I think it's something you and I can discuss. As you know, many people on our
planet are concerned about your Water Project -- to put it mildly. When they look at this discussion on
Earth, many people are going to wonder if the effects of an artificial comet might be considered a form of
environmental modification...."
Postri-Dem reached for the bowl of spheres. He picked up three of them, then lowered his hand just
before it reached his mouth.
"I think that can best be answered with a quote, Doctor Mazzeri. As your philosopher Machiavelli put
it --"
He switched to Italian -- a language Stridi-If didn't understand.
"Transmit this to Earth at once. In eight days, we are going to launch a high speed rocket
equipped with a jammer that can interfere with most of the electronic activity on your planet
indefinitely. The propulsion unit and the jammer will receive their energy from a very powerful
fusion energy reactor. The missiles you have placed in orbit as a defense against the Water
Project are your only hope. You must destroy the rocket while it is using the reactor to decelerate.
The propulsion unit and the jammer cannot operate simultaneously. If your missiles approach it
while it is in free fall, the jammer will probably stop them."
Journalists have often asked me how it feels to hear someone tell you the world is going to end.
Fortunately, I didn't have to respond in any rational way. Maria hit the right buttons and Postri-Dem's
message started winging directly to Earth.
I do know my link lurched forward a few inches and stopped with a jerk. I had apparently reacted to
the message with a sudden, involuntary movement.
Postri-Dem's jaws crunched down on three spheres simultaneously. He found it hard to believe he had
actually completed the entire message. He had spent hours arranging the wording. He had repeated it
tens of times after he had memorized it but he had still been convinced he would forget something