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Turtledove Harry - The Best Alternate History Stories of the 20th Century / Тертлдав Гарри - Лучшие рассказы 20-го века в жанре "альтернативная история" [2001, EPUB, ENG]

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OldOldNick

The Best Alternate History Stories of the 20th Century / Лучшие рассказы 20-го века в жанре "альтернативная история"

Название: The Best Alternate History Stories of the 20th Century / Лучшие рассказы 20-го века в жанре "альтернативная история"
Год выпуска: 2001
Под редакцией: Turtledove Harry / Тертлдав Гарри; Greenberg Martin H / Гринберг Мартин
Издательство: Ballantine Books
eISBN: 978-0-345-44951-1
Формат: EPUB
Качество: eBook
Язык: английский

Описание:
Антология составлена одним из ведущих писателей жанра. Включает 14 коротких произведений мастеров альтернативной истории, представляющих развитие этого направления фантастики в 20-м веке.
    INTRODUCTION / Предисловие Harry Turtledove
    THE LUCKY STRIKE / "Лаки Страйк" Kim Stanley Robinson
    THE WINTERBERRY Nicholas A. DiChario
    ISLANDS IN THE SEA / Острова в океане (= Острова в море) Harry Turtledove
    SUPPOSE THEY GAVE A PEACE Susan Shwartz
    ALL THE MYRIAD WAYS / Весь миллиард путей (= Все мириады путей) Larry Niven
    THROUGH ROAD NO WHITHER Greg Bear
    MANASSAS, AGAIN / И снова Манассас Gregory Benford
    DANCE BAND ON THE TITANIC / Оркестр с "Титаника" Jack L. Chalker
    BRING THE JUBILEE / Дарю вам праздник Ward Moore
    EUTOPIA / Еутопия (= Эутопия, Утопия) Poul Anderson
    THE UNDISCOVERED / Неведомый Гамлет William Sanders
    MOZART IN MIRRORSHADES / Моцарт в зеркальных очках Bruce Sterling and Lewis Shiner
    THE DEATH OF CAPTAIN FUTURE / Смерть капитана Фьючера Allen Steele
    MOON OF ICE Brad Linaweaver
THE LUCKY STRIKE

Kim Stanley Robinson

WAR BREEDS STRANGE PASTIMES. In July of 1945 on Tinian Island in the North Pacific, Captain Frank January had taken to piling pebble cairns on the crown of Mount Lasso—one pebble for each B-29 takeoff, one cairn for each mission. The largest cairn had four hundred stones in it. It was a mindless pastime, but so was poker. The men of the 509th had played a million hands of poker, sitting in the shade of a palm around an upturned crate sweating in their skivvies, swearing and betting all their pay and cigarettes, playing hand after hand after hand, until the cards got so soft and dog-eared you could have used them for toilet paper. Captain January had gotten sick of it, and after he lit out for the hilltop a few times some of his crewmates started trailing him. When their pilot Jim Fitch joined them it became an official pastime, like throwing flares into the compound or going hunting for stray Japs. What Captain January thought of the development he didn’t say. The others grouped near Captain Fitch, who passed around his battered flask. “Hey, January,” Fitch called. “Come have a shot.”
January wandered over and took the flask. Fitch laughed at his pebble. “Practicing your bombing up here, eh, Professor?”
“Yah,” January said sullenly. Anyone who read more than the funnies was Professor to Fitch. Thirstily January knocked back some rum. He could drink it any way he pleased up here, out from under the eye of the group psychiatrist. He passed the flask on to Lieutenant Matthews, their navigator.
“That’s why he’s the best,” Matthews joked. “Always practicing.”
Fitch laughed. “He’s best because I make him be best, right, Professor?”
January frowned. Fitch was a bulky youth, thick-featured, pig-eyed—a thug, in January’s opinion. The rest of the crew were all in their mid-twenties like Fitch, and they liked the captain’s bossy roughhouse style. January, who was thirty-seven, didn’t go for it. He wandered away, back to the cairn he had been building. From Mount Lasso they had an overview of the whole island, from the harbor at Wall Street to the north field in Harlem. January had observed hundreds of B-29s roar off the four parallel runways of the north field and head for Japan. The last quartet of this particular mission buzzed across the width of the island, and January dropped four more pebbles, aiming for crevices in the pile. One of them stuck nicely.
“There they are!” said Matthews. “They’re on the taxiing strip.”
January located the 509th’s first plane. Today, the first of August, there was something more interesting to watch than the usual Superfortress parade. Word was out that General Le May wanted to take the 509th’s mission away from it. Their commander Colonel Tibbets had gone and bitched to Le May in person, and the general had agreed the mission was theirs, but on one condition: one of the general’s men was to make a test flight with the 509th, to make sure they were fit for combat over Japan. The general’s man had arrived, and now he was down there in the strike plane, with Tibbets and the whole first team. January sidled back to his mates to view the takeoff with them.
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