Benford, Gregory (ed.) - The New Hugo Winners, Volume IV / Бенфорд, Грегори (ред.) - Лауреаты премии Хьюго, том 4 [1997, fb2, ENG]

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Gregory Benford (ed.) - The New Hugo Winners, Volume IV

Название: The New Hugo Winners, Volume IV / Лауреаты премии Хьюго, том 4
Год выпуска: 1997
Под редакцией: Benford, Gregory / Бенфорд, Грегори
Издательство: Baen
ISBN: 0-671-87852-2
Формат: fb2
Качество: OCR
Язык: английский

Антология содержит повести, короткие повести и рассказы, получившие премию Хьюго в 1992, 1993 и 1994 годах.
1992, 50th Convention, Orlando
A Walk in the Sun / Вдогонку за Солнцем by Geoffrey A. Landis
Gold / Золото by Isaac Asimov
Beggars in Spain / Испанские нищие by Nancy Kress
1993, 51st Convention, San Francisco
Even the Queen / Даже у королевы by Connie Willis
The Nutcracker Coup / Революция Щелкунчиков by Janet Kagan
Barnacle Bill the Spacer / Билл — космонавт by Lucius Shepard
1994, 52nd Convention, Winnipeg
Death on the Nile / Смерть на Ниле by Connie Willis
Georgia on My Mind / Мыслями в Джорджии by Charles Sheffield
Down in the Bottomlands / В Низине by Harry Turtledove
The Nutcracker Coup
by Janet Kagan

Beginning with Uhura's Song, a Star Trek novel judged superior by many, Janet Kagan has risen by dint of her thorough grounding in such subjects as linguistics. This neatly told tale combines her deft sense of humor with a firm grasp of character.

Marianne Tedesco had "The Nutcracker Suite" turned up full blast for inspiration, and as she whittled she now and then raised her knife to conduct Tchaikovsky. That was what she was doing when one of the locals poked his delicate snout around the corner of the door to her office. She nudged the sound down to a whisper in the background and beckoned him in.
It was Tatep, of course. After almost a year on Rejoicing (that was the literal translation of the world's name), she still had a bit of trouble recognizing the Rejoicers by snout alone, but the three white quills in Tatep's ruff had made him the first real "individual" to her. Helluva thing for a junior diplomat not to be able to tell one local from another but there it was. Marianne was desperately trying to learn the snout shapes that distinguished the Rejoicers to each other.
"Good morning, Tatep. What can I do for you?"
"Share?" said Tatep.
"Of course. Shall I turn the music off?" Marianne knew that The Nutcracker Suite was as alien to him as the rattling and scraping of his music was to her. She was beginning to like pieces here and there of the Rejoicer style, but she didn't know if Tatep felt the same way about Tchaikovsky.
"Please, leave it on," he said. "You've played it every day this week—am I right? And now I find you waving your knife to the beat. Will you share the reason?"
She had played it every day this week, she realized. "I'll try to explain. It's a little silly, really, and it shouldn't be taken as characteristic of human. Just as characteristic of Marianne."
"Understood." He climbed the stepstool she'd cobbled together her first month on Rejoicing and settled himself on his haunches comfortably to listen. At rest, the wicked quills adorning his ruff and tail seemed just that: adornments. By local standards, Tatep was a handsome male.
He was also a quadruped, and human chairs weren't the least bit of use to him. The stepstool let him lounge on its broad upper platform or sit upright on the step below that—in either case, it put a Rejoicer eye to eye with Marianne. This had been so successful an innovation in the embassy that they had hired a local artisan to make several for each office. Chornian's stepstools were a more elaborate affair, but Chornian himself had refused to make one to replace "the very first." A fine sense of tradition, these Rejoicers.
That was, of course, the best way to explain the Tchaikovsky. "Have you noticed, Tatep, that the further away from home you go, the more important it becomes to keep traditions?"
"Yes," he said. He drew a small piece of sweetwood from his pouch and seemed to consider it thoughtfully. "Ah! I hadn't thought how very strongly you must need tradition! You're very far from home indeed. Some thirty light years, is it not?" He bit into the wood, shaving a delicate curl from it with one corner of his razor sharp front tooth. The curl he swallowed, then he said, "Please, go on."
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