"Kim Stanley Robinson - Mars 2 - Blue Mars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Kim Stanley)

collected herself and said, "We've got to work within the framework of the
discussions, Kasei, or else we'll start a civil war."
"We're a minority, Ann. The framework doesn't care about minorities."
"I'm not so sure. That's what we have to work on. And even if we do decide on
active resistance, it doesn't have to be here and now. It doesn't have to be
Martians killing Martians."
"They're not Martian." There was a glint in his eye, his expression was
Hiroko-like in its distance from the ordinary world. In that sense he was not
like John at all. The worst of both parents; and so they had another prophet,
speaking a new language.
"Where are you now?"
"West Sheffield."
"What are you going to do?"
"Take the Socket, and then bring down the cable. We're the ones with the
weapons and the experience. I don't think we'll have much trouble."
"You didn't bring it down first try."
"Too fancy. We'll just chop it down this time."
"I thought that wasn't the way to do it."
"It'll work."
"Kasei, I think we need to negotiate with the greens."
He shook his head, impatient with her, disgusted that she had lost her nerve
when push came to shove. "After the cable is down we'll negotiate. Look Ann,
I've gotta go. Stay out of the fall line."
"Kasei!"
But he was gone. No one listened to her-not her enemies, not her friends, not
her family-though she would have to call Peter. She would have to try Kasei
again. She needed to be there in person, to get his attention as she had
Nadia's-yes, it had come to that: to get their attention she had to shout
right in their faces.

The possibility of getting blocked around east Pavonis kept her going west
from Lastflow, circling counterclockwise as she had the day before, to come on
the Red force from its rear, no doubt the best approach anyway. It was about a
150-kilometer drive from Lastflow to the western edge of Sheffield, and as she
sped around the summit, just outside the piste, she spent the time trying to
call the various forces on the mountain, with no success. Explosive static
marked the fight for Sheffield, and memories of '61 erupted with these brutal
bursts of white noise, frightening her; she drove the rover as fast as it
would go, keeping it on the piste's narrow outside apron to make the ride
smoother and faster-a hundred kilometers per hour, then faster- racing,
really, to try to stave off the disaster of a civil war- there was a terrible
dreamlike quality to it. And especially in that it was too late, too late. In
moments like these she was always too late. In the sky over the caldera,
starred clouds appeared instantaneously-explosions, without a doubt missiles
fired at the cable and shot down in midflight, in white puffs like incompetent
fireworks, clustered over Sheffield and peaking in the region of the cable,
but puffing into existence all over the vast summit, then drifting off east on
the.jet stream. Some of those rockets were getting nailed a long way from
their target.
Looking up at the battle overhead she almost drove into the first tent of west