"Edward M. Lerner - Moonstruck" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lerner Edward M)

game-playing and inanity. Someday, he told himself, he would make it happen.
Someday seemed never to get closer.


file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry/Bureaubla...r%20-%20Moonstruck%20(Baen)%20(v5)/0743498852___0.htm (2 of 4)28-12-2006 10:35:01
 - Prologue

"T minus four minutes, and counting."
Nervously, Kyle ran his fingers through hair once flame-red. Age had banked the fire with ashes, for a
net effect beginning to approach salmon. Too late, he remembered the sunscreen that coated his hands.
"We'll go back, Sergei," he answered softly, speaking really to himself. "Men will walk again on the
moon. Will visit other worlds, too." He shook off the sudden gloom. "First, though, we've got a satellite
to launch."
"T minus three minutes, ten seconds, and counting." Loudspeakers all around them blared the
announcement.
The Earth's atmosphere is effectively opaque to gamma radiation. In 1991, to begin a whole new era in
astronomy, Atlantis had delivered the Gamma Ray Observatory to low Earth orbit. After years of
spectacular success, the GRO had had one too many gyroscopes fail. NASA had deorbited it in 2000, in
a spectacular but controlled Pacific Ocean crash.
Now another Atlantis crew was ready to deploy GRO's replacement. Major Les Griffiths, the mission
commander, had proposed that the mission badges on the crew's flight suits read, "Your full-spectrum
delivery service." The suggestion was rejected as too flippant. A mere three missions into the post-
Columbia resumption of shuttle flights, American nerves remained raw.
"Da." Arbatov turned to the distant shuttle. He sounded skeptical. "Then let us watch."
The remaining minutes passed with glacial slowness. Finally, a brilliant spark flashed beneath Atlantis.
Golden flames lashed at 300,000 gallons of water in the giant heat/sound-suppression trench beside the
launch pad, hiding the shuttle in a sudden cloud of steam. Kyle's heart, as always, skipped a beat,
anxious for the top of the shuttle to emerge from the fog. A wall of sound more felt than heard washed
over them. Faster than he could ever believe possible, no matter how often he saw it, the shuttle shot
skyward on a column of fire and smoke. Chase planes in pursuit, it angled eastward and headed out over
the ocean. The sound receded to a rumble as he shaded his eyes to watch.
"Kyle!"
The American reluctantly returned his attention to his guest. Arbatov still stared at the disappearing
spacecraft, one of the mission-frequency portable radios that Kyle's position had allowed him to
commandeer pressed tightly to his ear. Kyle's own radio, turned off, hung from his wrist.
"Nyet, nyet, nyet!" shouted the Russian.
The presidential advisor snapped on his own radio. "Roger that," said the pilot. "Abort order
acknowledged." The hypercalm, hypercrisp words made Kyle's blood run cold.
A speck atop a distant flame, the shuttle continued its climb. The far-off flame suddenly dimmed; the
three main engines had been extinguished. What the hell was happening? "Shutdown sequence
complete. Pressure in the ET"тАФexternal tankтАФ"still rising. Jettisoning tank and SRBs." Unseen
explosive bolts severed the manned orbiter from the external tank; freed from the massive orbiter, the
tank and its still-attached, nonextinguishable, solid-fuel rocket boosters quickly shot clear. The manned
orbiter coasted after them, for the moment, on momentum.
Clutching their radios, Kyle and his guest leaned together for reassurance. "Pressure still increasing."
Light glinted mockingly off the sun-tracking Astronaut Memorial, the granite monolith engraved with
the names of astronauts killed in the line of duty. It seemed all too likely that the list was about to grow
by five more names.