"Kim Stanley Robinson - Icehenge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Kim Stanley)

pointing at me -- "completely ignorant of all this, call me a fanatic. Leading fools in a
fantasy world." He looked away, out the wide bridge window. "I could have told Swann
you would react like this."
My face burned. There we were, exactly as we had left off sixty years before.
Furiously I said, "You kidnap me, put my future in great danger, and then call me a fool
because I don't fall in with your fantastic schemes. Well you aren't going to get my help,
Oleg Davydov, you and your secret club." I moved to the jump tube. "Just tell me when
we can take Rust Eagle back to Mars. Until then I'll be in my room."
Crossing back over to our ship, Eric didn't dare say a word to me. Once on Rust Eagle
I left him and went to my room, hit the desk and nearly cracked my skull on the ceiling. I
hate no-gee. I went to the centrifuge and ran, ignoring my complaining knee. Then I went
back to my little room to brood and imagine crushing rejoinders to Davydov. Why do all
the best lines come to you when the argument is over? What I should have said was... I
know, I know. Only serious brooding will hatch those real crushers.
But why had I fought with him at all, when he was asking for my help?

Later that day Andrew Duggins told me that the people who were not members of the
MSA were getting together in the lounge down the hall. I went to see who they were.
There were fourteen of us. Among them were Ethel Jurgenson, Amy Van Danke, Al
Nordhoff, Sandra Starr, Yuri Kopanev, and Olga Dzindzhik. The others had faces I knew
but couldn't put names to. We sat about exchanging our experiences during the
rendezvous; everyone had been arrested, and most only released a few hours before.
After these stories were exchanged we began to discuss possible courses of action, and
the bickering began.
I told them what I knew, keeping to myself only the fact that I had been asked for
help.
More discussion and arguing.
"We have to find out if there were any prisoners on Lermontov."
"Or Hidalgo." I thought about that -- prisoners for three years.
"We have to act," Duggins said. "We could organize another attack on the radio room.
Take it over and put out a call to Mars or Ceres."
"We could slip out of the ship," Al put in. "Patch a radio onto the high gain
antenna...."
"They're probably listening to us right now," Yuri said, and Olga nodded. In the Soviet
sector they're used to such practices -- or perhaps I should say they are more aware of
them.
Anyway, the conversation was killed for a while. We stared at each other. It was a
strange situation: prisoners of our shipmates, on what had been our ship. The talk
resumed, quieter than before, until disagreements about what to do brought the volume
back up. "I don't care if they steal the Committee blind," Yuri said, "and I certainly
wouldn't risk myself to stop them."
"What do you think we should do, Weil?" asked Andrew, refusing to look at Yuri. He
seemed annoyed at my lack of involvement.
"I think we should sit tight, take Rust Eagle back to Mars when they let us, and then
tell the authorities what we know. To try to stop them here just puts us in danger."
Andrew didn't like that either. "We should fight! Sitting here passively would be
helping them, and the Committee will know it." He squinted at me suspiciously. "You're
close friends with Swann, aren't you? Didn't he ever tell you what was going on?"
"No," I said, feeling myself blush. They all watched me.
"You're telling us he just let you walk into this situation without any kind of warning