"Jerry Oltion - Artifacts" - читать интересную книгу автора (Oltion Jerry)

Then the hydrogen bomb went off.
The walls of his tank flexed under the stress. The lights that ringed the inside of it flickered. One
burned out. Brian hoped that was the worst of the damage to the ship, but he could only see a small,
unfocused oval of the control room through his tiny peep hole. A big window would compromise the
tank's strength too much.
There must not have been much else, however, because a few seconds later another bomb went off.
Then another. And another. And another. Brian spent the time watching his life flash before his eyes,
trying to force the subjective movie to dwell on the good bits. It never did. He got flashes of his
schoolmates teasing him for believing in Santa Claus, and of ex-lovers telling him he wasn't adventurous
enough for them.
If only they could see him now. Riding a bombship built partly out of alien technology--technology left
for humanity like presents under a tree--and risking his life with every blast.
He felt the urge to pray. Years of indoctrination died hard, but he fought it down.
Fortunately the acceleration didn't last long. Within a few minutes the ship was moving at four percent
the speed of light. Still a hundred years to Alpha Centauri at this velocity, but fast enough to cross the
solar system in five and a half days.
They were going the other direction. Straight up out of the plane of the ecliptic toward Polaris. Only
fifty AU, a mere fraction of the distance to the North Star, but even so by the time they got there the sun
would be just a bright speck in the night behind them.
This was Brian's sixth visit in as many months. He was the person who had first set foot on the
Artifact, and he'd been on every trip to it since, ferrying up scientists to study it. They had a fair sized
team there now--fifteen people--and they were bringing seven more.
When the bombs stopped exploding, the comp said, "Acceleration complete. Are you ready to drain
your tank now?"
He pushed "yes," and the oxylene slipped away as quickly as it had flooded in. Air jets forced the last
of it out; there was no gravity now to help it drain away. He exhaled as much of it as he could in one
breath, then coughed out the rest in involuntary spasms as his lungs filled with air again. When he
recovered his composure a bit he said, "Open the door," and the computer popped the seal.
He had to push it away himself. Hydraulic machinery that could survive the acceleration would weigh
too much, and would trap him if it failed. Bombships were built simple and rugged. The tank was small
enough to brace himself in, so it was no problem to open the door anyway.
Fortunately there was plenty of power for hot water. He washed away the last of the oxylene in his
zero-gee shower, donned his bright blue Captain's uniform, and bounced along the central corridor to
check on the crew.
Marlene had already showered and dressed. She was wearing the green coverall of the general crew.
Pierre was just emerging from his shower; he snagged a towel from his personal bin and floated in the air
before them, toweling off without any trace of modesty.
"So did we lose anybody?" he asked, and in the same breath, "How much work have we got?"
Brian didn't see Sharrol or Dave, but the computer would have told him if anyone had died. Of course
if any of the cryo passengers had shifted and broken, the crew wouldn't know until they open the
cubbies, but that didn't seem to be Pierre's concern. He apparently just wanted to know if he'd have to
do any extra work to fill in for anyone.
"We all made it," Brian told him. He wanted to say something about his attitude, but he didn't. They all
reacted to danger in their own way. Pierre had been this way on the flight back home from the Artifact
last month, too.
He nodded and took a green coverall from the bin. Sharrol and Dave came in while he dressed; they
glistened from more than just the oxylene. They showered together, toweled each other off, and dressed,
then the five crewmembers made their way out into the ship, looking for damage.
 They found the usual broken equipment, but nothing more. Just enough to keep them busy with repairs
while the ship coasted out to their destination. To Brian it seemed a hell of a way to fly, but when they