JК
World Of Ptavvs :: Нивен Ларри
Страница: 82 из 127But Greenberg's ship came steadily on, blue and brightening at the edge of the Sun's golden corona. Garner and Anderson were on a ten-hour path to Nereid, Neptune's outermost moon. They watched as Greenberg's light grew brighter.
At nine thirty the light began to wiggle. Greenberg was maneuvering. "Do we start shooting?" Anderson wanted to know.
"I think not. Let's see where he's going."
They were on the night side of the planet. Greenberg was diving toward Neptune at a point near the twilight line. He was clearly visible.
"He's not coming toward Nereid," said Anderson. They were both whispering, for some reason.
"Right. Either he left it on Triton, or it's in orbit. Could it be in orbit after that long?"
"Missile's tracking," Anderson whispered.
Greenberg was past Triton before he started to declarate.
"In orbit?" wondered Garner. "He must have nuts."
Twenty minutes later Greenberg's ship was a wiggling between the horns of Neptune's cold blue crescent. They watched its slow crawl toward one of the horns. He was in a forced orbit, covering a search pattern of surface. "Now what?" Anderson asked.
"We wait and see. I give up, Anderson. I can't understand it."
"I swear it's not on Neptune."
"Uh, oh." Garner pointed. "Hail, hail, the gang's all here." A tiny spear of light was going by the lighted edge of the planet.
The blue-green ball was larger than he had anticipated. For the first time Kzanol regretted his carelessness in not finding out more about the eighth planet when he had the chance, some two billion years ago. He asked the pilot and copilot, who remembered that Neptune had 1.23 gee at surface. Earth gee, of course. For Kzanol it would be about two and a half.
Kzanol stood at one of the small windows, his jaw just above the lower edge, his leathery lips drawn back in a snarl of worry. Not long now! One way or another. For the pilot was nudging the ship into a search orbit.
Someone was already there.
It was the half-asleep free slave he'd passed at the halfway point. He was almost around the curve of the world, but he would be back in eighteen diltun or so. Kzanol had the pilot put the Golden Circle in orbit and turn off the motor. Let the slave do the searching.
The ship went by underneath, spitting fire at the stars. The slave was indeed marking out a search pattern. Kzanol let him go on.
And he wondered. How was he going to get down, on a motor which simply didn't have the power?
He let the pilot think about it, and the pilot told him. On rockets, wings, and rams, all going at once.
At nine thirty the light began to wiggle. Greenberg was maneuvering. "Do we start shooting?" Anderson wanted to know.
"I think not. Let's see where he's going."
They were on the night side of the planet. Greenberg was diving toward Neptune at a point near the twilight line. He was clearly visible.
"He's not coming toward Nereid," said Anderson. They were both whispering, for some reason.
"Right. Either he left it on Triton, or it's in orbit. Could it be in orbit after that long?"
"Missile's tracking," Anderson whispered.
Greenberg was past Triton before he started to declarate.
"In orbit?" wondered Garner. "He must have nuts."
Twenty minutes later Greenberg's ship was a wiggling between the horns of Neptune's cold blue crescent. They watched its slow crawl toward one of the horns. He was in a forced orbit, covering a search pattern of surface. "Now what?" Anderson asked.
"We wait and see. I give up, Anderson. I can't understand it."
"I swear it's not on Neptune."
"Uh, oh." Garner pointed. "Hail, hail, the gang's all here." A tiny spear of light was going by the lighted edge of the planet.
The blue-green ball was larger than he had anticipated. For the first time Kzanol regretted his carelessness in not finding out more about the eighth planet when he had the chance, some two billion years ago. He asked the pilot and copilot, who remembered that Neptune had 1.23 gee at surface. Earth gee, of course. For Kzanol it would be about two and a half.
Kzanol stood at one of the small windows, his jaw just above the lower edge, his leathery lips drawn back in a snarl of worry. Not long now! One way or another. For the pilot was nudging the ship into a search orbit.
Someone was already there.
It was the half-asleep free slave he'd passed at the halfway point. He was almost around the curve of the world, but he would be back in eighteen diltun or so. Kzanol had the pilot put the Golden Circle in orbit and turn off the motor. Let the slave do the searching.
The ship went by underneath, spitting fire at the stars. The slave was indeed marking out a search pattern. Kzanol let him go on.
And he wondered. How was he going to get down, on a motor which simply didn't have the power?
He let the pilot think about it, and the pilot told him. On rockets, wings, and rams, all going at once.