"Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle - Fallen Angels" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

on what you can do.
The sharp turn pushed him against the corner of his seat. Alex relaxed
to the extra weight and prayed that his Earth-born bones would remember
how to take it. Decades of falling had turned him soft. The acceleration felt
like a ton of sand covering him. He felt the blood start in his sinuses. But he
could take it. He could take it because he had to.
Gordon sat gripping the arms of the copilot's seat. His cheeks sagged.
His head bowed. Gordon had been born in free fall and thrust was new to
him. He looked frightened. It must feel like he'd taken sick.
The turn seemed to go on forever. Alex watched the bogey on the scope.
Each sweep of the arm brought the blip closer to the center. Closer. He
pulled harder against the stick. The next blip was left of center. Then it
arced away. Alex knew that was an illusion. The missile had gone straight;
Piranha had banked.
"You lost it!" Gordon shouted. He turned and looked at Alex with a grin
that nearly split his face in two.
Alex smiled back. "Scared?"
"Hell, no."
"Yeah. Me, too. Anyone flying at Mach 26 while a heatseeking cruise
missile tries to fly up his ass is entitled to be scared." He toggled the radio.
It was Management Decision time. "Big Momma, we have lost the bogey.
Do you have instructions?"
There was a pause; short, but significant. "We need that nitrogen," said
Mary's voice.
Alex waited for her to finish, then realized that she had. We need that
nitrogen. That was all she was going to say, leaving the ball in his octant.
Of course we need the nitrogen, he thought. Recycling wasn't perfect.
Gas molecules outgassed right through the walls of the stations. Every now
and then someone had to take the bucket to the well and get some more.
 Well, Mary was a free citizen, wasn t she? If the wife of the station
commander wants a little extracurricular, it's her choice. She had never
pushed him away; not until that last night together. We're hanging on up
here by our fingernails, she had said then. We've got to all pull together;
stand behind the station commander.
Right.
Nobody could stand behind Lonny Hopkins because he never turned
his back on anyone. With good reason. Maybe he's right. He is good at the
goddam job, and maybe our position is so precarious that there's no room
for democratic debate. That doesn't mean I have to like it.
And it's decision time.
"Understood, Big Momma. We'll get your air." Take that, Commander
Lonny Hopkins. He clicked off and turned to Gordon. "Open the scoops, but
bleed half of it to the scramjets."
"Alex . . ." Gordon frowned and bit his lip.
"They say they need the air."
"Yeah-da." Gordon's fingers flipped toggled switches back up.
Alex felt the drag as the big scoop doors opened again. The doors had
just completed their cycle when Gordon bean shouting. "Ekho! Ekho
priblizh├бyetsya!"
"English!"