"Bud Sparhawk - Primrose and Thorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sparhawk Bud)

there'd been enough distractions on the transport to silence her complaints, once in the while. The
transport had a bar to keep her amused, and enough willing young crew members to keep her bemused.
But those diversions were short-lived. Too soon she came back to the fact that she wasn't racing, wasn't
in control, wasn't at sea.

It made her bitchy.

"How the devil am I supposed to keep my sanity if they can't even provide civilized, basic amenities?"
Louella continued in a rasping voice that cut across his nerves like fingernails on slate.
"Bad enough that I have to miss three seasons of the circuit for this fool race! Bad enough that we have
to stay in this stupid can until the others get here! But that doesn't mean I have to live like some freaking
Spartan in the meantime!"

She lifted the lid of the utilitarian toilet. "Jesus, we even have to share the damned can!"

"Perhaps you should complain to the hub master," Pascal said quietly as he floated across the tiny cabin
and anchored himself with one hand. "Maybe he can provide whatever it is that you need."

Louella spun gracefully around on her hold and frowned at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Pascal winced again. What had he said now? It didn't matter; she'd be hell to live with if he just let it be.
"Nothing," he said. "I just thought that maybe the captain has resources we don't know about. It wouldn't
hurt to ask."

"Humph," Louella huffed, as if unsure of the meaning of his answer. She kicked her floating bag into some
netting to secure it. "You've got the bunk beside the door, asshole. And don't get any ideas about us
sleeping together." "I wouldn't dream of it," Pascal replied dryly and turned to fiddle with the controls on
the wall. Under his breath he added, "Nightmares, perhaps, but not dreams." He pressed the switch to
open the viewport.

"What did you say?" Louella asked sharply. "Something I wasn't supposed toтАФoh my god! Would you
look at that!" Pascal didn't answer, he was as awed by the sight as she.

Framed in the viewport was the entirety of Jupiter, half orange, rose, and umber, and half in darkness.
The rim of the planet filled the 'port from top to bottom, leaving only a narrow circle of stars at the edges
to show that anything else existed in the heavens.

The bright line of the elevator cable extended from somewhere beneath the window and ran straight
toward the planet's equator, far below, just as it extended thousands of kilometers out into space from
this geosynchronous station. The cable's silvery line narrowed as it diminished into perfect perspective
toward the giant planet.

Jupiter's great red spot wasn't visible. Pascal assumed that it was either on the other side of the planet or
somewhere within the semicircle of darkness that marked the night side of Jupiter. But there were enough
other large features present to occupy the eye.

Wide bands of permanent lateral weather patterns ran across Jupiter's face. Each showed feathery
turbulence whorls at the edges as they dragged on the slower bands toward the equator or were
accelerated by faster ones toward the poles. From here he could easily see the separations between
them.