"Stanislaw Lem - Eden" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lem Stanislaw)

he continued:
"The science-fiction books I read as a kid must outweigh this poor wreck of ours, yet not once
did I come across a story anything like what has happened to us."
"Because it's so prosaic," the Cyberneticist said, grimacing.
"Yes, this is something original -- a kind of interplanetary Robinson Crusoe," said the Doctor.
He sealed the thermos. "When I get back, I must try to write it, to the best of my ability."
They began gathering the cans. The Physicist suggested throwing them into the lockers with the
suits. The men had to press against the wall so the doors -- on the floor -- could be shut.
"You know, we heard a strange noise while we were rummaging in the storeroom," said the
Chemist.
"What kind of noise?"
"As though something were crushing the ship."
"A rock?" asked the Cyberneticist.
"It's something quite different," the Engineer said. "When we hit the atmosphere, the external
shield reached a very high temperature. The prow may have begun to melt. And now parts of the frame
are cooling and shifting, and internal pressures will develop. Hence the noise. You can hear it even now.
Listen. . ."
They heard a groan in the interior of the craft -- then a series of short, diminishing cracks -- then
silence.
"One of the robots, do you think?" said the Cyberneticist, hope in his voice.
"You saw how it was with the robots."
"But we didn't look into the reserve hold." The Cyberneticist leaned out over the edge of the
platform and shouted into the dark corridor, "Reserve robots!"
His voice echoed. Silence was the only reply.
"Come, let's take a good look at this hatch," said the Engineer. He knelt at the slightly concave
plate, shone the light along its rim, inch by inch. In the same way he checked the seals, which were
covered with a network of tiny cracks.
"Nothing melted from the inside, which isn't surprising, since ceramite conducts heat poorly."
"Maybe we should try once more?" suggested the Doctor, touching the wheel of the outer hatch.
"There's no point," said the Chemist.
The Engineer placed his hand on the hatch, then jumped to his feet.
"We need water! Lots of cold water!"
"Why?"
"Touch the hatch!"
Several outstretched hands felt it simultaneously.
"Very hot," said someone.
"Fortunately for us!"
"How's that?"
"The hull, heated, has expanded, and the hatch, too. If we cool the hatch, it will contract, and we
might be able to open it."
"Water won't do it. There might still be some ice -- in the refrigeration units," said the Captain.
One after another, they dropped into the corridor, which began to echo with their steps. The
Captain remained in the chamber with the Engineer.
"It will open," he said softly, as if to himself.
"If it hasn't fused," the Engineer murmured. He ran a finger along the rim to check its temperature.
"Ceramite starts melting over three thousand seven hundred degrees. You didn't notice what the shield
registered at the end?"
"At the end the dials were useless. When we threw on the brakes, it was over two and a half, if
I'm not mistaken."
"Two and a half thousand degrees is still not much."