"Vernor Vinge - Across Realtime" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vinge Vernor)

the orbiter through 180 degrees to bring it into entry attitude. For an instant
the craft was pointing straight down. Glacial scouring could never be an
abstraction to someone who had looked down from this height: the land was
clearly scraped and grooved like ground before a dozer blade. Tiny puddles had
been left behind: hundreds of Canadian lakes, so many that Allison could follow
the sun in secular glints that shifted from one to another.
They pitched still further. The southern horizon, blue and misty, fell into and
then out of view. The ground wouldn't be visible again until they were much
lower, at altitudes some normal aircraft could attain. Allison sat back and
pulled the restraint more tightly over her shoulders. She patted the optical
disk pack tied down beside her. It contained her reason for being here. There
were going to be a lot of relieved generals-and some even more relieved
politicians-when she got back. The "detonations" the Livermore crew had detected
must have been glitches. The Soviets were as innocent as those bastards ever
were. She had scanned them with all her "normal" equipment, as well as with deep
penetration gear known only to certain military intelligence agencies, and had
detected no new offensive preparations. Only...
...Only the deep probes she had made on her own over Livermore were unsettling.
She had been looking forward to her date with Paul Hoehler, if only to enjoy the
expression on his face when she told him that the results of her test were
secret. He had been so sure his bosses were up to something sinister at
Livermore. She now saw that Paul might be right; there was something going on at
Livermore. It might have gone undetected without her deep-probe equipment; there
had been an obvious effort at concealment. But one thing Allison Parker knew was
her high-intensity reactor profiles, and there was a new one down there that
didn't show up on the AFIA listings. And she had detected other things Ч
probe-opaque spheres below ground in the vicinity of the reactor.
That was also as Paul Hoehler had predicted.
NMV specialists like Allison Parker had a lot of freedom to make ad lib
additions to their snoop schedules; that had saved more than one mission. She
would be in no trouble for the unscheduled probe of a US lab, as long as a
thorough report was made. But if Paul was right, then this would cause a major
scandal. And if Paul was wrong, then he would be in major trouble, perhaps on
the road to jail.
Allison felt her body settle gently into the acceleration couch as creaking
sounds came through the orbiter's frame. Beyond the forward ports, the black of
space was beginning to flicker in pale shades of orange and red. The colors grew
stronger and the sensation of weight increased. She knew it was still less than
half a gee, though after a day in orbit it felt like more. Quiller said
something about transferring to laser comm. Allison tried to imagine the land
eighty kilometers below, Taiga forest giving way to farm land and then the
Canadian Rockies Ч but it was not as much fun as actually being able to see it.
Still about four hundred seconds till final pitch-over. Her mind drifted idly,
wondering what ultimately would happen between Paul and herself. She had gone
out with better-looking men, but no one smarter. In fact, that was probably part
of the problem. Hoehler was clearly in love with her, but she wasn't allowed to
talk technical with him, and what nonclassified work he did made no sense to
her. Furthermore, he was obviously something of a troublemaker on the job Ч a
paradox considering his almost clumsy diffidence. A physical attraction can only
last for a limited time, and Allison wondered how long it would take him to tire