"Philip Jose Farmer - Tongues of the Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Farmer Phillip Jose)

The voyage from the Moon and the capture of the Zemlya had taken twelve hours. Now, with the Zemlya's
mighty drive appliedтАФand the four destroyers riding in the landing-port тАФthe voyage back took three hours. During
this time, the Russian base sent messages. Scone refused to answer. He intended to tell all the Moon his plans but not
until the Zemlya was close to the end of its path. When the globe was a thousand kilometers from the surface, and
decelerating with the force of 3g's, he and his men returned to the destroyers. All except three, who remained with
Shaposhnikov.
The destroyers streaked ahead of the Zemlya towards an entrance to a narrow canyon. This led downwards
to a chasm where Scone intended to place the Zemlya beneath a giant overhang.
But, as the four sped towards the opening two crags, their radar picked up four objects coming over close to
the mountains to the north. A battlebird and three destroyers. Scone knew that the Russians had another big craft and
three more destroyers available. But they probably did not want to send them out, too, and leave the base
comparatively defenseless.
He at once radioed the commander of the Lermontdv and told him what was going on.
"We declare independence, a return to Nationalism," he concluded. "And we call on the other bases to do the
same."
The commander roared, "Unless you surrender at once, we turn on the bonephones! And you will writhe in
pain until you die, you American swine!"
"Do that little thing," said Scone, and he laughed.
He switched on the communication beams linking the four ships and said, "Hang on for a minute or two, men.
Then, it'll be all over. For us and for them."
Two minutes later, the pain began. A stroke of heat like lighting that seemed to sear the brains in their skulls.
They screamed, all except Scone, who grew pale and clutched the edge of the control panel. But the dishes were, for
the next two minutes, on automatic, unaffected by their pilots' condition.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the pain died. They were left shaking and sick, but they knew
they would not feel that unbearable agony again.
"Flutter your craft as if it's going out of control," said Scone. "Make it seem we're crashing into the entrance
to the canyon."
Scone himself put the lead destroyer through the simulation of a craft with a pain-crazed pilot at the controls.
The others followed his maneuvers, and they slipped into the canyon.
From over the top of the cliff to their left rose a glare that would have been intolerable if the plastic over the
portholes had not automatically polarized to dim the brightness.
Broward, looking through a screen which showed the view to the rear, cried out. Not because of the light from
the atomic bomb which had exploded on the other side of the cliff. He yelled because the top of the Zemlya had also lit
up. And he knew in that second what had happened. The light did not come from the warhead, for an extremely high
mountain was between the huge globe and the blast If the upper region of the Zemlya glowed, it was because a tongue
from a Russian ship had brushed against it.
It must have been an accident, for the Russians surely had no wish to wreck the Zemlya. If they defeated the
USAF, they could recapture the globe with no trouble.
"My God, she's falling!" yelled Broward. "Out of control!"
Scone looked once and quickly. He turned away and said, "All craft land immediately. All personnel transfer
to my ship."
The maneuver took three minutes, for the men in the other dishes had to connect air tanks to their suits and
then run from their ships to Scone's. Moreover, one man in each destroyer was later than his fellows since he had to
set up the controls on his craft.
Scone did not explain what he meant to do until all personnel had made the transfer. In the meantime, they
were at the mercy of the Russians if the enemy had chosen to attack over the top of the cliff. But Scone was gambling
that the Russians would be too horrified at what was happening to the Zemlya. His own men would have been frozen if
he had not compelled them to act The Earth dying twice within twenty-four hours was almost more than they could
endure.
Only the American commander, the man of stone, seemed not to feel.