"Roberts, John Maddox - Cingulum 03 - The Sword, The Jewel and the Mirror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts John Maddox)

Haakon stopped short when he saw what lay on Rand's desk. The engineer had taken one of his gloves off. Holding his wrist with the other hand, he was slowly flexing the fingers and thumb of the bare hand. The fingers were thin and spidery, the bones nearly visible through the thin, pale flesh. Blue veins laced the back of the hand and the nails had grown long, curling inward. The sight made Haakon a little queasy. He had never seen any of Rand's flesh before.
"Come in, Captain," said Rand through his voice grill. "I just took this off for the first time in years. The regenerative process seems to be working." He wiggled the fingers proudly.
"Congratulations. When will you be able to dispense with the suit?"
"Oh, a good many years yet. This hand's still so weak I couldn't pick up a stylus with it. The skin's so delicate you could rub it off with your fingertips. I took off the glove because from now on I'll have to cut my naiis regularly. They started to grow back in a few months ago."
"Good to know it's working, anyway. What I came down to tell you is, we're going to be staying in high orbit on this job, and I want the engines to be ready for an instant jump if there should be trouble and we need to make a fast getaway."
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"You know there's no such thing as an instant jump, Captain. I'll keep them on standby ready to fire up for the first exit window, but that's the best I can do. Anything more, and we'd be in more danger from the engines than we'd be from whomever's chasing you."
"It's your department," Haakon said. "But we rarely have time to spare when we have to cut and run."
He hurried from the engine area. The place gave him the creeps. He found most of the others in the main lounge. "Guess what I just saw? Rand had one of his gloves off, and there's a real hand in there. Flesh and blood, although not much of either."
Soong turned to Jemal in triumph. "Pay me." Jemal had been of the opinion that Rand was really a machine.
"Wait," Haakon told Soong, "you pay me first. Our bet was which part of him we'd see first. I bet his hands and youЧ"
They were interrupted by a summons from the planet-to-ship communicator. "Looks like the people downstairs want to talk to us," said Mirabelle.
Haakon summoned one of the floating 'bots and used its remote commo-receiver. "Identify yourself," droned a bored voice. "This is Chamuka transport control. Identify yourself."
"Ship Eurynome, free trader, Captain Haakon speaking. Request permission for a shuttle landing."
"What is the nature of your business, Captain?"
"Repair and maintenance of our ship. We need parts and provisions." This was the usual excuse for visiting someplace when they had no cargo to load or discharge.
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"How many in the landing party?"
"Three. Myself and crewmen Jeman and Soong. It is possible that others may wish to come down at some later time." He saw Alexander sulking at not being allowed to go down.
"Permission granted for the first party to land. Use Dock Eight. Report immediately to customs and quarantine officers for examination. Do you have personal armor?"
"Yes," Haakon answered the unexpected question.
"Wear it." '
"Why armor?" Jemal wondered.
"We'll find out soon." Haakon adjusted the sleeves of his armorcloth singlet over the steel bracelets he always wore. "Trouble is, I can't think of any pleasant reason for wearing armor."
The ground was coming up quickly now. They could see spectacularly rugged mountains, largely covered with luxuriant vegetation. The spaceport was little more than a clearing in the woods at the bottom of a narrow valley. The untidy sprawl of buildings had a prefabricated look, and the vegetation had been cleared back from the port for half a kilometer.
"I see gun emplacements and search towers down there. All of it aimed outward. No anti-ship defenses visible, but that kind of thing is usually buried anyway."
The shuttle docked at Dock Eight and a blast of warm, humid air struck them as the hatch cycled open. The ladder unfolded to the port surface and they descended. The landing pad area was paved with fused glass, made
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THE SWORD, THE JEWEL, AND THE MIRROR
many years ago with atomics. Now the thick glass was cracked extensively, and plant life was pushing its way through. Burned and blackened vegetation showed where the growth had been poisoned, but fresh growth was pushing up everywhere.
There were several shuttles present, and cargo pallets were being guided among them. All the port laborers were oddly dressed in plates of loosely fitted, ceramic armor. They wore wide helmets with spreading neck guards that covered much of their shoulders. A towering wall of black cloud was coming over one of the nearby mountain ridges.
"Odd folk costume they wear around here," Haakon said. There was a functionary coming toward them, fiddling with a recording device at his belt. He wore a suit of the peculiar armor but his was plain brown.
"You are from Eurynomel"
"Yes," Haakon said. "WhyЧ"
"Weren't you warned to wear armor?" the man interrupted. He glanced nervously at the approaching cloud.
"We are," protested Jemal.
"I'm afraid you were inadequately warned," the functionary said. "Armorcloth is not sufficient. Come on, we might make it to the customs building on time, but you'd better run."
"Anything you say," Haakon answered. They broke into a trot and headed for the nearby cluster of buildings. "Were we supposed to wear battle armor?"
"That would have been better." It was getting very
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dark. "Too late," the official said. "Better take cover under there." He pointed to a parked pallet. There was a half-meter of space under it. Mystified, they dived beneath the little vehicle. They had no idea what was going on, but they had not lived this long by ignoring warnings. The official crowded in with them. Out on the field, the pallet drivers were seeking shelter or erecting collapsible roofs over their vehicles.
With absolutely no prelude, the air was full of fist-sized hailstones. They crashed to the glass, showering the huddling crewmen with stinging chips of ice, smashing overhead on the pallet with a roar so deafening that it could have been mistaken for shelling. The racket continued for five minutes, then stopped abruptly.
"Welcome to Chamuka," said the official. He began to push the piled hailstones away so that they could clamber out from under the pallet. Outside, the landing field was completely invisible beneath a slush of smashed hailstones, already steaming and melting in the renewed heat of afternoon.
"Does that happen often?" asked Jemal, aghast.
"A dozen or so times per day. Now you see why you need armor."
"How do they practice agriculture around here?" Haakon asked.
"It's not easy," the official said. He led them into the customs shed, which was at least cool, although austere. Armored suits hung on racks near the doors. The functionary stepped around behind the customs table and assumed his official mein. "Now, you say you're here for parts and provisions. What kind of parts do you need?"