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

Something exploded aft of the cabin and Alex felt his suit pop out. His
ears tried to pop, and Alex MacLeod whined deep in his throat.
He'd forgotten, but his nerves remembered. It wasn't falling he feared, it
was air tearing through his throat, daggers in his ears, pressure trying to
rip his chest apart. Five times his suit had leaked air while they worked to
save Freedom Station. He wore the scars in ruptured veins and arteries,
everywhere on his body, as if Lonny Hopkins had given him to a mad
tattoo artist. There were more scars in his lungs and in his sinus cavities. A
sixth exposure to vacuum would have his brains spewing through his nose.
of piano wire. Come on, baby. Steady down.
Incredibly, she did. "Good girl," he muttered, then tongued the uplink
on his suit radio. "Big Momma, Big Momma. We've been hit." There was
nothing for it now but use up all the air they'd scooped, and anything else,
to light off the jets. Get back in orbit; out of the Well. When you're in orbit
you're halfway to anywhere! Get in orbit and pickup would be easy. He
toggled the switches.
The rocket wouldn't light. The rocket wouldn't light. Air speed was
dropping steadily. The rocket wouldn't light. He suppressed the knot of
panic that twisted itself in his gut. Time enough afterward, if there was an
afterward. The scramjet alone was not enough to reach orbit again. It
wouldn't be long before Piranha would be moving too slowly to keep the jet
lit. She would become a glider.
And not a terribly good glider.
Alex swallowed. It looked awfully cold down below. And the rocket
wouldn't light.
"Mayday," he said. "Mayday. Piranha has a problem." A part of his mind
was detached, admiring the cool way he reacted after that one moment of
terror.
"This is Big Momma. What is your status?"
Well, I'm just fine, Mary; and how are you? "We're going in, Mary. Tell my
family. It's all in my file directory. Access code word is dunvegan." He
glanced over at Gordon, but the teenager just shook his head. His face was
white through the plexiglass face shield. "And the Tanner family, too."
Gordon didn't have any children yet. He was the child. Damned near
unwanted child at that: a stilyagi, a JayDee on parole. Some parole! "Watch
where we land and get the message out. Tightbeam."
The phones hissed for long seconds. "Sure, Alex. We have friends on
Earth. Maybe not many, but . . . We'll tell them. They'll take care of you.
Can you-тАФcan you get her down?"
cement mixer.
Not on the ice, baby. Not on the ice. Hang in there . . .
"Do you really fly that well?" Gordon asked tightly.
"I landed on Earth once before, Gordon. Who else do you know who can
say that?" Tom Corbett, Space Cadet. That's me. Disguised as a washed-up
day-care gopher, he is in reality Alex MacLeod, Hot Pilot. Lord, just let me
get us down in one piece.
Fifteen miles up and the air was thick. Mach 3.5. The clouds below were
puffy with turbulence. Piranha was diving into a storm. He wondered
whether North Dakota was flat or mountainous.
Naybe an ice landing would be all right. Ice was smooth, wasn't it? Or