"James E. Gunn - Station In Space" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gunn James E)

could they achieve satisfaction so easily.

"Fifteen seconds."

The horizon was a gently curving arc of purple-blue above the gray-black of the sea. Within minutes
now, the liberated third-stage would fight its way out of the atmosphere that scattered the blue of the
sunlight and gave it to the sky. Within less than an hour it would be in orbit, its velocity canceling Earth's
gravity. Within a few hours he would be in the Doughnut. . .
"Five seconds."

Anticipation flooded Amos's throat, choking, unbearable. This was what it had been about, the relentless
pressures, the endless torment. This was it about to happen. . .

"ThreeтАФtwoтАФone. . ."

The cabin began to rumble. Like a torch rising from the ground to light their way, flame shot into the night
from the exhaust outlet. Amos could see it reflected from the astronomical dome and the radar saucers
and the control tower, etching them into the blackness of the bay.

"Engineering checkтАФall motors blasting."

On the captain's control panel, a red eye opened. "And away we go!" said the captain, exultation in his
voice. "Up, beast!"

The cabin roared. The torch outside the window flamed intolerably. Amos squeezed his eyes shut, and
the fine, strong net of acceleration pulled him into the seat cushions, fishhooking his cheeks down, tugging
at his eyeballs. When he got his eyelids open again, orange-red dials were spinning in front of him,
meaningless, the long hours in the centrifuge mock-up wasted. The net pulled, hard, inexorable.

Amos tried to breathe, but his chest couldn't lift against the intolerable weight that held it down. Panic
surged, cold, in his stomach, up his throat. . .

A few seconds later, the net dissolved. The seat cushions, released, shoved Amos forward against the
harness. His weight dropped from 1,350 pounds down to a little less than 300. He drew a deep,
shuddering breath and another.

The first-stage had been dropped, its contribution made. Now the second booster was building its
pressures, adding its acceleration to a speed that had already reached more than 5,000 miles per hour.

Slowly the net drew down again. Again Amos's breathing grew difficult. He struggled for one more
breath and one more. Then the net was down hard, and there was no more breath.

Seconds passed. The pressure grew, never quite as hard as the first booster's nineg's but lasting longer.
This time Amos went forty seconds without breathing. Then the second stage dropped away, and the
pressure relented.

Amos gasped for breath.

The sky had turned velvet black. The stars were out: unwinking brilliants set in the velvet. The ship was
forty miles high; it was traveling almost 15,000 miles per hour.