[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
The Stone's appearance did not signal the arrival of aliens, not in the strict
sense of the word.
He picked up two slates and a processor. "Anything else?" he asked, standing
by Blakely's desk.
"In and out," she said and handed him a cube of messages.
There was always a mild, cool breeze flowing down the almost vertical slope of
the cap. Sometimes snow fell, piling up in drifts against the nickel-iron
wall. The elevator entrance, a perfect semicircular arch, had been blasted
Page 19
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
out of asteroid material, as had all the tunnels, serviceways and bore holes
of file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt (33 of 504) [1/17/03
7:20:20 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt the Stone, by a fusion
torch of extremely high power and efficiency. The sides of the short hall had
been polished smooth and etched with acid by the Stoners to reveal the
beautiful triangular Widmanstiitten patterns, veined with rocky troilite
intrusions.
The elevator was cylindrical, ten meters in diameter and five meters high, and
was used for both personnnel and freight.
There were handgrips along the perimeter and tie-downs dimpled the floor. It
followed a sloping tunnel to the staging areas surrounding the external bore
hole. As the elevator climbed, its angular velocity declined, weakening the
centrifugal force of the Stone's rotation. By the time it reached the
vicinity of the bore hole, the spin produced only one-tenth of one percent g.
The trip took ten minutes. The elevator decelerated smoothly and stopped, its
opposite hatch flush with a pressurized runnel leading to the staging areas.
Taking an electric miner's cart, one of the two dozen or so brought up from
Earth, Lanier rose most of the remaining distance along a magnetic rail.
The cart whined to a stop and Lanier drifted the rest of the way, pulling
himself along guide ropes.
The first landings in the bore hole had been Iticky. There had been no power
to the rotating docks at that time, and very little illumination.
The OTV pilots had proved their skill again and again.
The first spacesuited explorers had shown great courage in leaving their craft
and approaching the bore-hole walls, which rotated at about three-quacts of a
meter per second.
Now that the dock and staging area equipment had been refurbished and brought
back into operation, the transfer process was much easier.
The three docks were simple, massive lind efficient.
Cylinders within the hole rotated to compensate for the Stone's spin, each
accelerated like the rotor in a giant electric motor.
One engineer in a booth below the prime dock controlled all of the docks,
opening and closing hatches, coordinating cargo and passenger unloading.
The staging areas themselves had been thoroughly customized by the engineering
team, outfitted with near-freefall workshops and machine shops. Here was
where bulky cargoes were checked out, repackaged and either shipped down the
elevators to the valley floor or flown along the axis to the next hole and
chamber down the line.
The director of the engineering team, Lawrence Heineman, was talking to a
slight, dark-haired young woman in the prime dock staging area as
Lanier pulled himself in. They stood in a broad oval of light, hands on guide
ropes, watching as large vacuum doors slid across to reveal the OTV's cocoon
cargo resting on joists. The cargo dwarfed them.
Heineman, a short, crew-cut, muscular aerospace technician from
Florida, smiled broadly and waved his hands, explaining something to
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt (34 of 504) [1/17/03
7:20:20 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt the young woman. As
Lanier ap-preached, Heineman turned, held out the palm of one hand and bowed
slightly in his direction. "Patricia, this is Garry Lanier, the closest thing
to a civilian boss we have. Garry, Miss Patricia Luisa Vasqnez." He shook
his head and blew his breath out with an enthusiastic "Whoo!" Lanier shook
Vasquez's hand. She was small and pretty in a fragile way. Round face, silky
dark brown hair, thin wrists, narrow legs, broad hips for her size: an
altogether unpractical-looking woman, he thought. Beneath wide square eyes as
Page 20
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
black as his own, and a small,' sharp nose, she had drawn her mouth into a
tight line. She looked scared.
"My pleasure," Lanier said. "Larry, what have you told her so far?"
Heineman parried the question with a sidelong glance.
"Patricia, i'm only a blue-badge for now--and I hear you're going to get a
green. Garry is worried I might pass along some of the ignorant suppositions
of an axis-hugger. I've only been telling her about this level of operations,
I swear." He held up his right hand and clapped his left to his chest.
"Garry, I've read some of this lady's papers in a half-dozen math and physics
journals. She's fantastic."
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt (35 of 504) [1/17/03
7:20:20 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt
There was a question on his face, however, which Lanier had no trouble
interpreting. What in hell is she doing here?
"So I've heard." He pointed at the cocoon. "What's that?"
"My ticket to a green badge, finally," Heineman said.
"Packing slips say it's the tuberider. And the V/STOL is coming in on the
next OTV, a few hours from now."
"Then let's get it unwrapped and see what sort of modifications we'll have to
make."
"Right. Pleased to meet you, Patricia." Heincman started to leave, then
stopped and turned back slowly with a puzzled expression.
"What you write about, it's really more a hobby for me, way beyond my
expertise." He raised his eyebrows hopefully. "Maybe we can talk more later,
though, when I get my green badge?"
Patricia smiled and nodded. Teams of men and women in gray jumpsuits were
already gathering around the cocoon like ants tending a queen.
Heineman joined them, calling out orders.
"Miss Vasquez--" Lanier began.
"Patricia's fine, really. I'm not very formal."
"Neither am I, if I can help it. I'm the science team coordinator."
"So Mr. Heineman told me. I have so many questions . . . Mr. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl freetocraft.keep.pl
The Stone's appearance did not signal the arrival of aliens, not in the strict
sense of the word.
He picked up two slates and a processor. "Anything else?" he asked, standing
by Blakely's desk.
"In and out," she said and handed him a cube of messages.
There was always a mild, cool breeze flowing down the almost vertical slope of
the cap. Sometimes snow fell, piling up in drifts against the nickel-iron
wall. The elevator entrance, a perfect semicircular arch, had been blasted
Page 19
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
out of asteroid material, as had all the tunnels, serviceways and bore holes
of file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt (33 of 504) [1/17/03
7:20:20 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt the Stone, by a fusion
torch of extremely high power and efficiency. The sides of the short hall had
been polished smooth and etched with acid by the Stoners to reveal the
beautiful triangular Widmanstiitten patterns, veined with rocky troilite
intrusions.
The elevator was cylindrical, ten meters in diameter and five meters high, and
was used for both personnnel and freight.
There were handgrips along the perimeter and tie-downs dimpled the floor. It
followed a sloping tunnel to the staging areas surrounding the external bore
hole. As the elevator climbed, its angular velocity declined, weakening the
centrifugal force of the Stone's rotation. By the time it reached the
vicinity of the bore hole, the spin produced only one-tenth of one percent g.
The trip took ten minutes. The elevator decelerated smoothly and stopped, its
opposite hatch flush with a pressurized runnel leading to the staging areas.
Taking an electric miner's cart, one of the two dozen or so brought up from
Earth, Lanier rose most of the remaining distance along a magnetic rail.
The cart whined to a stop and Lanier drifted the rest of the way, pulling
himself along guide ropes.
The first landings in the bore hole had been Iticky. There had been no power
to the rotating docks at that time, and very little illumination.
The OTV pilots had proved their skill again and again.
The first spacesuited explorers had shown great courage in leaving their craft
and approaching the bore-hole walls, which rotated at about three-quacts of a
meter per second.
Now that the dock and staging area equipment had been refurbished and brought
back into operation, the transfer process was much easier.
The three docks were simple, massive lind efficient.
Cylinders within the hole rotated to compensate for the Stone's spin, each
accelerated like the rotor in a giant electric motor.
One engineer in a booth below the prime dock controlled all of the docks,
opening and closing hatches, coordinating cargo and passenger unloading.
The staging areas themselves had been thoroughly customized by the engineering
team, outfitted with near-freefall workshops and machine shops. Here was
where bulky cargoes were checked out, repackaged and either shipped down the
elevators to the valley floor or flown along the axis to the next hole and
chamber down the line.
The director of the engineering team, Lawrence Heineman, was talking to a
slight, dark-haired young woman in the prime dock staging area as
Lanier pulled himself in. They stood in a broad oval of light, hands on guide
ropes, watching as large vacuum doors slid across to reveal the OTV's cocoon
cargo resting on joists. The cargo dwarfed them.
Heineman, a short, crew-cut, muscular aerospace technician from
Florida, smiled broadly and waved his hands, explaining something to
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt (34 of 504) [1/17/03
7:20:20 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt the young woman. As
Lanier ap-preached, Heineman turned, held out the palm of one hand and bowed
slightly in his direction. "Patricia, this is Garry Lanier, the closest thing
to a civilian boss we have. Garry, Miss Patricia Luisa Vasqnez." He shook
his head and blew his breath out with an enthusiastic "Whoo!" Lanier shook
Vasquez's hand. She was small and pretty in a fragile way. Round face, silky
dark brown hair, thin wrists, narrow legs, broad hips for her size: an
altogether unpractical-looking woman, he thought. Beneath wide square eyes as
Page 20
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
black as his own, and a small,' sharp nose, she had drawn her mouth into a
tight line. She looked scared.
"My pleasure," Lanier said. "Larry, what have you told her so far?"
Heineman parried the question with a sidelong glance.
"Patricia, i'm only a blue-badge for now--and I hear you're going to get a
green. Garry is worried I might pass along some of the ignorant suppositions
of an axis-hugger. I've only been telling her about this level of operations,
I swear." He held up his right hand and clapped his left to his chest.
"Garry, I've read some of this lady's papers in a half-dozen math and physics
journals. She's fantastic."
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt (35 of 504) [1/17/03
7:20:20 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Eon.txt
There was a question on his face, however, which Lanier had no trouble
interpreting. What in hell is she doing here?
"So I've heard." He pointed at the cocoon. "What's that?"
"My ticket to a green badge, finally," Heineman said.
"Packing slips say it's the tuberider. And the V/STOL is coming in on the
next OTV, a few hours from now."
"Then let's get it unwrapped and see what sort of modifications we'll have to
make."
"Right. Pleased to meet you, Patricia." Heincman started to leave, then
stopped and turned back slowly with a puzzled expression.
"What you write about, it's really more a hobby for me, way beyond my
expertise." He raised his eyebrows hopefully. "Maybe we can talk more later,
though, when I get my green badge?"
Patricia smiled and nodded. Teams of men and women in gray jumpsuits were
already gathering around the cocoon like ants tending a queen.
Heineman joined them, calling out orders.
"Miss Vasquez--" Lanier began.
"Patricia's fine, really. I'm not very formal."
"Neither am I, if I can help it. I'm the science team coordinator."
"So Mr. Heineman told me. I have so many questions . . . Mr. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]