"James P. Hogan - Giants 1 - Inherit The Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hogan James P)

Just as he'd expected, now that the initial disbelief and excitement had
worn off, everyone was jostling for a slice of the action. In fact, more than
a few of the big wheels in some divisions -- Biosciences, Chicago, and Space
Medicine, Farnborough, for instance -- were mincing no words in asking just
how Navcomms came to be involved at all, let alone running the show, since the
project obviously had no more connection with the business of navigation than
it had with communication. The down-turned corners of Caldwell's mouth shifted
back slightly in something that almost approached a smile of anticipation. So,
the knives were being sharpened, were they? That was okay by him; he could do
with a fight. After more than twenty years of hustling his way to the top of
one of the biggest divisions of the Space Arm, he was a seasoned veteran at
infighting -- and he hadn't lost a drop of blood yet. Maybe this was an area
in which Navcomms hadn't had much involvement before; maybe the whole thing
was bigger than Navcomms could handle; maybe it was bigger than UNSA could
handle; but -- that was the way it was. It had chosen to fall into Navcomms'
lap and that was where it was going to stay. If anyone wanted to help out,
that was fine -- but the project was stamped as Navcomms-controlled. If they
didn't like it, let them try to change it. Man -- let 'em try!
His thoughts were interrupted by the chime of the console built into the
desk behind him. He turned around, flipped a switch, and answered in a voice
of baritone granite:
"Caldwell."
Lyn Garland, his personal assistant, greeted him from the screen. She
was twenty-eight, pretty, and had long red hair and big, brown, intelligent
eyes.
"Message from Reception. Your two visitors from IDCC are here -- Dr.
Hunt and Mr. Gray."
"Bring them straight up. Pour some coffee. You'd better sit in with us."
"Will do."

Ten minutes later formalities had been exchanged and everyone was
seated. Caldwell regarded the Englishmen in silence for a few seconds, his
lips pursed and his bushy brows gnarled in a knot across his forehead. He
leaned forward and interlaced his fingers on the desk in front of him.
"About three weeks ago I attended a meeting at one of our Lunar survey
bases -- Copernicus Three," he said. "A lot of excavation and site-survey work
is going on in that area, much of it in connection with new construction
programs. The meeting was attended by scientists from Earth and from some of
the bases up there, a few people on the engineering side and certain members
of the uniformed branches of the Space Arm. It was called following some
strange discoveries there -- discoveries that make even less sense now than
they did then."
He paused to gaze from one to the other. Hunt and Gray returned the look
without speaking. Caldwell continued: "A team from one of the survey units was
engaged in mapping out possible sites for clearance radars. They were
operating in a remote sector, well away from the main area being leveled...
 As he spoke, Caldwell began operating the keyboard recessed into one
side of his desk. With a nod of his head he indicated the far wall, which was
made up of a battery of display screens. One of the screens came to life to
show the title sheet of a file, marked obliquely with the word RESTRICTED in