"Robertson, R Garcia - Gone To Glory" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robertson R Garcia Y)

The bison jerked at the impact, his head dropping, one horn gouging into the
sandy pan. Defoe bent down, examining the dead beast; the tongue was tom out,
the muzzle white with salt. There was more salt beneath the sand, where the horn
had gone in. Looking east and west along the shore, Defoe saw spiraling columns
of vultures.

Ellenor Battle pronounced the bodies to be Homo sapiens sapiens. Male. Two
members of the AID team were accounted for. Cause of death unknown. "We should
start a slow search, standard pattern, centered on the crash site."

Helio nodded and they set off again. As Glory's tight ten-hour day ended, Defoe
sat in the lounge, trying to fit together everything he had seen -- the mob
scene in the hangar, the recording, the silent Thal, the crash site and the
dying bison. Delta Eridani had sunk down almost to the level of the steppe. The
Joie was making gentle sweeps at less than 30 kph, twenty meters or so above the
grass tops. He doubted they would turn up anything. That would be far too easy.

Gathering his things, Defoe climbed up to the keel. Tall hydrogen-filled gas
bags swayed in semi-darkness. A rigger with "Catwalk Charlie" on his jacket
bossed a gang of SuperChimps.

Defoe made his way to the empty tail, unsealing an inspection hatch. Grass tops
slid by less than twenty meters below. Unreeling a dozen meters of cable from a
nearby winch, he swung his legs through the open hatch, letting the cable drop.

"Hope it wasn't something we said." Rigger Ray was standing on the keel catwalk.

Defoe shrugged. "I need room to work."

Ray sat down on a girder, eyeing the open hatch. This close to dusk, shaded by
the giant tail, the hatch looked like a black hole whipping along in midair.
"There's room aplenty down there. lust don't end up at the bottom of the food
chain."

Defoe nodded. "I'll do my damndest."

"Well, good-bye, an' good luck." Ray made it sound like, "Hope to hell you come
back."

Defoe dropped through, slid down the cable, and let go. He had ample time to
position himself. The most charming thing about Glory was the lazy falls at
two-thirds g.

Steppe floated up to meet him.

Defoe hit, bounced, and scrambled to his feet. He stood staring up at the big
tail of the dwindling airship. The Joie de Vivre, kept to her search pattern,
straining to complete the last leg before nightfall. When she dipped below a
rise, he was alone.