"E. E. Doc Smith - Lensman 7 - Masters Of The Vortex" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

and shot downward to earth through Neal Cloud's new house.
That house did not burn; it exploded. Nothing of it, in it, or near it stood a chance, for in a few seconds the place where it
had been was a crater of seething, boiling lavaтАФa crater which filled the atmosphere with poisonous vapors; which flooded
all nearby space with lethal radiations.
Oosmically, the whole thing was infinitesimal. Ever since man learned how to use atomic power the vortices of
disintegration had been breaking out of control. Such accidents had been happening and would continue to happen. More
than one world, perhaps, had been or would be consumed to the last gram by such loose atomic vortices. What of that? Of
what real importance are a few grains of sand to a pile five thousand miles long, a hundred miles wide, and ten miles deep?
Even to that individual grain of sand called 'Earth'тАФor, in modern parlance, 'Sol Three', or 'Tellus of Sol', or simply 'Tel-
lus'тАФthe affair was negligible. One man had died; but in dying he had added one more page to the thick bulk of negative
results already on file. That Mrs Cloud and her children had perished was merely unfortunate. The vortex itself was not yet
a real threat to Tellus. It was a 'new' one, and thus it would be a long time before it would become other than a local
menace.
Nor, to any except a tiny fraction of Earth's inhabitants, was the question of loose atomic vortices a matter of concern. It
was unthinkable that Tellus, the point of origin and the very center of Galactic Civilization, could cease to exist. Long
before such vortices could eat away much of her mass, or poison much of her atmosphere, Earth's scientists would have
solved the problem.
But to Neal Cloud the accident was ultimate catastrophe. His personal universe had crashed in ruins; what was left was not
worth picking up. He and Jo had been married for more than fifteen years and the bonds between them had grown stronger,
deeper, truer with every passing day. And the kids ... it couldn't have happend ... fate COULDN'T do this to him ... but it
had ... it could. Gone ... gone ... GONE!
And to Neal Cloud, sitting there at his desk in black abstraction, with maggots of thought gnawing holes in his mind, the
catastrophe was doubly galling because of its cruel irony. For he was second from the top in the Vortex Control
Laboratory; his life's work had been a search for a means or method of extinguishing loose atomic vortices.
10
His eyes focused vaguely upon the portrait. Wavy brown hair ... clear, honest gray eyes ... lines of character, of strength
and of humor ... sweetly curved lips ready to smile or kiss ...
He wrenched his attention away and scribbled briefly upon a sheet of paper. Then, getting up stiffly, he took the portrait
and moved woodenly across the room to a furnace. After the flaming arc had done its work he turned and handed the paper
to a tall man, with a Lens glowing upon his wrist, who had been watching him with quiet, understanding eyes. Significant
enough, to the initiate, of the importance of the laboratory is the fact that it was headed by a Lensman.
'As of now, Phil, if it's QX with you.'
The Lensman took the document, glanced at it, and slowly, meticulously, tore it into sixteen equal pieces.
'Uh-uh, Storm,' he denied, gently. 'Not a resignation. Leave of absence, perhaps, but not severance.'
'Why not?' It was scarely a question; Cloud's voice was level, uninfiected. 'I wouldn't be worth the paper I'd waste."
'Now, no; but the future's another matter. I haven't said anything so far, because I knew you and Jo. Nothing could be said.'
Two hands gripped and held. 'For the future, though, four words that were spoken long ago have never been improved
upon. "This, too, shall pass".'
'You think so?'
'I know so, Storm. I've been round a long time. You're too good a man to go down out of control. You've got a place in the
world and a job to do. You'll be backтАФтАФ' a thought struck the Lensman and he went on, in a strangely altered tone: 'But
you wouldn'tтАФof course you wouldn'tтАФyou couldn't.'
'I don't think so. No.' Suicide, tempting although it might be, was not the answer. 'Good-bye, Phil.'
'Not good-bye, Storm. Au revoir.'
'Maybe.' Cloud left the laboratory and took an elevator down to the garage. Into his big blue DeKhotinsky Special and
away.
Through traffic so heavy that front-, rear-, and side-bumpers almost touched he drove with his wonted cool skill; even
though he did not know, consciously, that the other cars were there. He slowed, turned, stopped, 'shoveled on the coal', all
correctly тАФand all purely automatically.
He did not know where he was going, nor care. His numbed brain was simply trying to run away from its own bitter