"Sean McMullen - The Pharaoh's Airship" - читать интересную книгу автора (McMullen Sean)

The Pharaoh's Airship
by Sean McMullen
This story copyright 1986 by Sean McMullen. This copy was created for Jean Hardy's personal use. All
other rights are reserved. Thank you for honoring the copyright.

Published by Seattle Book Company, www.seattlebook.com.

* * *


When we arrived at the Amberley Air Force base, the wreckage of his machine had been collected in
one of the hangars, along with the remains of the F/A-18 Hornet fighter that had killed him. My
companion was Adele Taylor from the CIA, and one of her agents waited in the car outside.
A guard checked our passes at the hangar door then sent for Dr. Richards, technical adviser to the
inquest into Stephen's death. I picked him for an academic as he hurried over to greet us, a short, greying
man, a civilian who coped badly with the guards' deference to his authority. I toyed with a small, black
rock in my pocket. It had jagged edges, but the surface was mirror smooth where one corner had been
sliced away.
"Welcome, welcome," Richards said excitedly as we shook hands. "I'm so glad to see such important
people taking an interest in Stephen's work."
The government of the United States was taking Stephen's work a lot more seriously than he could
ever have guessed. Taylor was posing as a propulsion engineer, while I represented the services. In a
sense both identities were technically correct.
"You preliminary report did cause some interest," said Taylor noncommittally.
In fact, the report on his report had my seniors gasping for breath and reaching for their 'TOP
SECRET' stamps. I fingered the rock in my pocket again.
"I suppose the military potential of Stephen's craft is what interests you most," said Richards as we
entered the hangar and approached the piles of wreckage.
"What military potential?" snapped Taylor, alert and alarmed.
"Why, a submarine with a limited flight capacity could have quite a number of applications, I should
imagine. Surprise attack, sabotage, even nuclear weapons delivery."
That had been a bad moment. Richards still had no idea what Stephen Cole had done. Any suspicions
at all would have been in his report, but there had been nothing.
The Pharaoh had been shattered by its collision with the jet fighter. All that had been recovered from
the sea bed was the cabin, a tangle of wires and tubes, some small gas tanks, a cheap industrial robot
arm, and a heavy metal container. The cabin was a modified propane gas tank, and it had been partly
split open by the impact.
Richards had built a mock-up based on what had been recovered. It resembled nothing more than a
small submersible, the type that is used for prospecting on the sea bed. An access hatch and a window
had been cut in the main tank, and a frame for the robot arm welded on just below the window. The
whole assembly rested on two steel tubes that served as skids.
"Welding marks on the original cabin indicate that quite a lot more was attached," Richards explained.
"That would have been the propulsion units and fuel tanks, of course. Those are indicated by the red
circles. A cylindrical container is bolted on the left skid, and this was found to contain rocks in the original
vehicle."
"Just a simple little machine for prospecting on the sea bed, except that it could also fly," I observed.
"Yes, yes, but there are several design faults, too," he said with that pedantic obsession that one sees
in some engineers. "See here? The access hatch hinges inwards, and the seals compress in the wrong
direction: dangerous under water, you know."
 A collection of items from the cabin was laid out beside the mock-up. There were several plastic food