"Charles Stross - Missile Gap" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

four shipping trunks up the thousand-foot climb to the plateau and the port city of Fort EisenhowerтАУand then
to the arrival and orientation camp.
Maddy is quiet and withdrawn, but Bob, oblivious, natters constantly about opportunities and jobs and
grabbing a plot of land to build a house on. тАЬItтАЩs the new world,тАЭ he says at one point: тАЬwhy arenтАЩt you
excited?тАЭ
тАЬThe new world,тАЭ Maddy echoes, biting back the urge to say something cutting. She looks out the window as
the train climbs the cliff-face and brings them into sight of the city. City is the wrong word: it implies solidity,
permanence. Fort Eisenhower is less than five years old, a leukaemic gash inflicted on the landscape by the
Corps of Engineers. The tallest building is the governorтАЩs mansion, at three stories. Architecturally the town is
all Wild West meets the Radar Age, raw pine houses contrasting with big grey concrete boxes full of
seaward-pointing Patriot missiles to deter the inevitable encroachment of the communist hordes. тАЬItтАЩs so flat.тАЭ
тАЬThe nearest hills are two hundred miles away, past the coastal plainтАУdidnтАЩt you read the map?тАЭ
She ignores his little dig as the train squeals and clanks up the side of the cliff. It wheezes asthmatically to a
stop besides a wooden platform, and expires in a belch of saturated steam. An hour later theyтАЩre weary and
sweated-up in the lobby of an unprepossessing barrack-hall made of plywood. ThereтАЩs a large hall and a row
of tables and a bunch of bored-looking colonial service types, and people are walking from one position to
another with bundles of papers, answering questions in low voices and receiving official stamps. The would-be
colonists mill around like disturbed livestock among the piles of luggage at the back of the room. Maddy and
Robert queue uneasy in the damp afternoon heat, overhearing snippets of conversation. тАЬCountry of origin?
Educational qualifications? Yes, but what was your last job?тАЭ Religion and raceтАУalmost a quarter of the
people in the hall are refugees from India or Pakistan or somewhere lost to the mysterious east foreverтАУseem
to obsess the officials. тАЬRobert?тАЭ she whispers.
тАЬItтАЩll be alright,тАЭ he says with false certainty. Taking after his dad already, trying to pretend heтАЩs the solid
family man. Her sidelong glance at him steals any residual confidence. Then itтАЩs their turn.
тАЬNames, passports, country of origin?тАЭ The guy with the moustache is brusque and bored, irritated by the
heat.
Robert smiles at him. тАЬRobert and Madeleine Holbright, from Canada?тАЭ He offers their passports.
тАЬUh-huh.тАЭ The official gives the documents a very American going-over. тАЬWhat schooling have you done? What
was your last job?тАЭ
тАЬIтАЩve, uh, I was working part-time in a garage. On my way through collegeтАУI was final year at Toronto, studying
structural engineering, but I havenтАЩt sat the finals. MaddyтАУMaddyтАЩs a qualified paramedic.тАЭ
The officer fixes her with a stare. тАЬWorked at it?тАЭ
тАЬWhat? Uh, noтАУIтАЩm freshly qualified.тАЭ His abrupt questioning flusters her.
тАЬHuh.тАЭ He makes a cryptic notation against their names on a long list, a list that spills over the edge of his
desk and trails towards the rough floor. тАЬNext.тАЭ He hands the passports back, and a couple of cards, and
points them along to the row of desks.
Someone is already stepping up behind them when Maddy manages to read the tickets. Hers says TRAINEE
NURSE. Robert is staring at his and saying тАЬno, this is wrong.тАЭ
тАЬWhat is it, Bob?тАЭ She looks over his shoulder as someone jostles him sideways. His card reads LABORER
(unskilled); but she doesnтАЩt have time to read the rest.




Chapter Six: CaptainтАЩs Log
Yuri Gagarin kicks his shoes off, loosens his tie, and leans back in his chair. тАЬItтАЩs hotter than fucking Cuba!тАЭ
he complains.
тАЬYou visited Cuba, didnтАЩt you, boss?тАЭ His companion, still standing, pours a glass of iced tea and passes it to
the young colonel-general before drawing one for himself.
тАЬYeah, thanks Misha.тАЭ The former first cosmonaut smiles tiredly. тАЬBack before the invasion. Have a seat.тАЭ