[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
their cradles. Not that she belonged here, she reminded herself realistically.
Traders were cold as a dead ship to strangers who wanted to join them. But she
had once been one of them. She understood their independence well.
She hummed tunelessly as she walked. To work on a living ship again, feel the
thrum of the engines in her bones . . . Piloting between asteroid fields on an
incoming orbit, the exhilaration of blasting off, the controlled excitement of
slamming on a deep-grav brake for a stop-second landing at a spaceport. . . She
missed the long hours of studying with her father and memorizing star routes
with her mother, watching the galaxy rainbow into a black cylinder with colored
ends in the ports as they flashed up to lightspeed, then transferred to hyperlight
space. She rubbed her hands to-
gether in wonder, relishing the cool feel of radiation-soak on her skin.
On impulse, she called up the scanner's image of Corson. It looked the same, a
little more clear as the distance lessened between ship and outpost but still as
haphazardly built as it had first seemed. Running her hands down the wall of her
cabin and feeling the vibration of the ship's engines reach into her bones,
Kiondili stared at the scan and wondered again why she had accepted the
posting. There would still have been a chance at a berth on a spaceship, she
admitted, or even reader training once she admitted to being a higher-level esper.
She looked again, trying to see some sign of life in the scan, but the outpost
seemed isolated and cold in the blackness of space. Turning off the scan and
staring at the blank walls of her cabin, Kiondili found herself more uncertain of
her future now than when she had been looking to the hazards of the pool.
CHAPTER 3
Kiondili went down the ship's ramp with forced confidence. Around the fuel
ABC Amber Text Converter Unregistered, http://www.thebeatlesforever.com/processtext/
holds, the traders were servicing their ship quickly, efficiently, and with the
uninterested assurance of those who have done the job too many times before.
The bins of isotopes had already been set out by the robos. The tanks waited
now. Robos would not load the topes; traders never allowed a dock robo to set
the fuel ratios for their ships. Kiondili watched them for a moment, but none of
them spared her a glance. Maybe she should have waited longer for instructions?
But no one at the outpost had sent word over the viscom. After waiting an hour,.
Kiondili had shrugged, gotten her pack from cargo, and left the traders behind.
Down on the docks she spotted the ship's captain and two of the crew. She
hurried to catch them as the they threaded their way between ship cradles.
"Excuse me, Captain," she said respectfully, catching his attention. "Do you
know where I should go-or if someone is to meet me?"
"Afraid not, Citizen H'Mu." He barely glanced at her.
Kiondili opened her mouth to ask a second question, but
as he strode away, the force of his disinterest hit her, and she stopped, acutely
reminded of her fourth-class status. She flushed slowly, staring after him. The
captain, like the other traders, did not look back.
At a loss, she shifted her pack from one hand to the other. She supposed she
would have to go to Central Control. They ought to have a record of her posting
there, no matter how impersonal it would be. At least it would get her into the
outpost interior. But she did not move yet. The docks fascinated her, and she
looked around, memorizing each detail. The docks were open-more so than at any
other outpost she had landed in. Space seemed to pour in through gaping holes
through which ships were maneuvered with tractor beams, the vacuum of the
void held back by an invisible shield across the openings and the visual
reflection of the ships shimmering as they passed through that shield. Overhead,
air jets boosted tiny figures around the structure of the dock. Flashes of light
caught their movements and made them dance. Squinting, Kiondili tried to make
out the shapes that worked on one of the gates. Some were far from human.
From where she stood, the racks of ships and empty cradles looked more like
missiles in an armory than ships in a spacedock. There were at least six D-class
ABC Amber Text Converter Unregistered, http://www.thebeatlesforever.com/processtext/
traders in dock, one C-class, and two M-class. Under one of the large space holes
on that side, twin Tore vessels hung suspended as if stacked on top of each
other. A flash of light caught her eye, and she looked past the spacecraft to see a
tractor beam flare white as it tightened on a tiny sliver of a ship. The lines of
brilliance shifted in a dance of light as the dock's reflection stations routed the
slim ship around other activity. Silently a group of Mu trotted by. As her gaze
traveled around the dock, she almost missed the flat black of the Federation
scout ship tucked behind one of the other structures.
"A scout," she breathed. Then she forced her excitement to quell. A scout
posting was as far from her future now as the next century. She was there to take
a research job, not to dream about someone else's ship. She shook herself from
her reverie, but as she started toward the outpost center, she halted again,
glancing toward the access doors and questioning the nervousness in her gut. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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their cradles. Not that she belonged here, she reminded herself realistically.
Traders were cold as a dead ship to strangers who wanted to join them. But she
had once been one of them. She understood their independence well.
She hummed tunelessly as she walked. To work on a living ship again, feel the
thrum of the engines in her bones . . . Piloting between asteroid fields on an
incoming orbit, the exhilaration of blasting off, the controlled excitement of
slamming on a deep-grav brake for a stop-second landing at a spaceport. . . She
missed the long hours of studying with her father and memorizing star routes
with her mother, watching the galaxy rainbow into a black cylinder with colored
ends in the ports as they flashed up to lightspeed, then transferred to hyperlight
space. She rubbed her hands to-
gether in wonder, relishing the cool feel of radiation-soak on her skin.
On impulse, she called up the scanner's image of Corson. It looked the same, a
little more clear as the distance lessened between ship and outpost but still as
haphazardly built as it had first seemed. Running her hands down the wall of her
cabin and feeling the vibration of the ship's engines reach into her bones,
Kiondili stared at the scan and wondered again why she had accepted the
posting. There would still have been a chance at a berth on a spaceship, she
admitted, or even reader training once she admitted to being a higher-level esper.
She looked again, trying to see some sign of life in the scan, but the outpost
seemed isolated and cold in the blackness of space. Turning off the scan and
staring at the blank walls of her cabin, Kiondili found herself more uncertain of
her future now than when she had been looking to the hazards of the pool.
CHAPTER 3
Kiondili went down the ship's ramp with forced confidence. Around the fuel
ABC Amber Text Converter Unregistered, http://www.thebeatlesforever.com/processtext/
holds, the traders were servicing their ship quickly, efficiently, and with the
uninterested assurance of those who have done the job too many times before.
The bins of isotopes had already been set out by the robos. The tanks waited
now. Robos would not load the topes; traders never allowed a dock robo to set
the fuel ratios for their ships. Kiondili watched them for a moment, but none of
them spared her a glance. Maybe she should have waited longer for instructions?
But no one at the outpost had sent word over the viscom. After waiting an hour,.
Kiondili had shrugged, gotten her pack from cargo, and left the traders behind.
Down on the docks she spotted the ship's captain and two of the crew. She
hurried to catch them as the they threaded their way between ship cradles.
"Excuse me, Captain," she said respectfully, catching his attention. "Do you
know where I should go-or if someone is to meet me?"
"Afraid not, Citizen H'Mu." He barely glanced at her.
Kiondili opened her mouth to ask a second question, but
as he strode away, the force of his disinterest hit her, and she stopped, acutely
reminded of her fourth-class status. She flushed slowly, staring after him. The
captain, like the other traders, did not look back.
At a loss, she shifted her pack from one hand to the other. She supposed she
would have to go to Central Control. They ought to have a record of her posting
there, no matter how impersonal it would be. At least it would get her into the
outpost interior. But she did not move yet. The docks fascinated her, and she
looked around, memorizing each detail. The docks were open-more so than at any
other outpost she had landed in. Space seemed to pour in through gaping holes
through which ships were maneuvered with tractor beams, the vacuum of the
void held back by an invisible shield across the openings and the visual
reflection of the ships shimmering as they passed through that shield. Overhead,
air jets boosted tiny figures around the structure of the dock. Flashes of light
caught their movements and made them dance. Squinting, Kiondili tried to make
out the shapes that worked on one of the gates. Some were far from human.
From where she stood, the racks of ships and empty cradles looked more like
missiles in an armory than ships in a spacedock. There were at least six D-class
ABC Amber Text Converter Unregistered, http://www.thebeatlesforever.com/processtext/
traders in dock, one C-class, and two M-class. Under one of the large space holes
on that side, twin Tore vessels hung suspended as if stacked on top of each
other. A flash of light caught her eye, and she looked past the spacecraft to see a
tractor beam flare white as it tightened on a tiny sliver of a ship. The lines of
brilliance shifted in a dance of light as the dock's reflection stations routed the
slim ship around other activity. Silently a group of Mu trotted by. As her gaze
traveled around the dock, she almost missed the flat black of the Federation
scout ship tucked behind one of the other structures.
"A scout," she breathed. Then she forced her excitement to quell. A scout
posting was as far from her future now as the next century. She was there to take
a research job, not to dream about someone else's ship. She shook herself from
her reverie, but as she started toward the outpost center, she halted again,
glancing toward the access doors and questioning the nervousness in her gut. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]