"Charles Stross - Missile Gap" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

until the crewтАЩs vision blurs. The big reactor-powered turbines in the tail pods roar and the neutron detectors
on the turquoise radiation bulkhead behind them tick like demented death-watch beetles: the rest of the crew
are huddled down below in the nose, with as much shielding between them and the engine rooms as
possible. ItтАЩs a white-knuckle ride, and Yuri has difficulty resisting the urge to curl his hands into fists
because whenever he loses concentration his gut instincts are telling him to grab the stick and pull up. The
ocean is no aviatorтАЩs friend, and skimming across this infinite gray expanse between planet-sized
land-masses forces Gagarin to confront the fact that he is not, by instinct, a sailor.
TheyтАЩre two days outbound from the new-old North America, forty thousand kilometers closer to home and
still weeks away even though theyтАЩre cutting the corner on their parabolic exploration track. The fatigue is
getting to him as he takes his seat next to MishaтАУwho is visibly wilting from his twelve hour shift at the
conтАУand straps himself in. тАЬAnything to report?тАЭ He asks.
тАЬI donтАЩt like the look of the ocean ahead,тАЭ says Misha. He nods at the navigation station to GagarinтАЩs left:
Shaw, the Irish ensign, sees him and salutes.
тАЬPermission to report, sir?тАЭ Gagarin nods. тАЬWeтАЩre coming up on a thermocline boundary suggestive of another
radiator wall, this time surrounding uncharted seas. Dead reckoning says weтАЩre on course for home but we
havenтАЩt charted this route and the surface waters are getting much cooler. Any time now we should be
spotting the radiators, and then weтАЩre going to have to start keeping a weather eye out.тАЭ
Gagarin sighs: exploring new uncharted oceans seemed almost romantic at first, but now itтАЩs a dangerous
but routine task. тАЬYou have kept the towed array at altitude?тАЭ he asks.
тАЬYes sir,тАЭ Misha responds. The towed array is basically a kite-born radar, tugged along behind the Korolev on
the end of a kilometer of steel cable to give them some warning of obstacles ahead. тАЬNothing showingтАУтАЭ
Right on cue, one of the radar operators raises a hand and waves three fingers.
тАЬтАУCorrection, radiators ahoy, range three hundred, bearing тАжokay, letтАЩs see it.тАЭ
тАЬMaintain course,тАЭ Gagarin announces. тАЬLetтАЩs throttle back to two hundred once we clear the radiators, until
we know what weтАЩre running into.тАЭ He leans over to his left, watching over ShawтАЩs shoulder.
The next hour is unpleasantly interesting. As they near the radiator fins, the water and the air above it cool
down. The denser air helps the Korolev generate lift, which is good, but they need it, which is bad. The sky
turns gray and murky and rain falls in continuous sheets that hammer across the armored bridge windows
like machine gun fire. The ride becomes gusty as well as bumpy, until Gagarin orders two of the nose
turbines started just in case they hit a down-draft. The big jet engines guzzle fuel and are usually shut down
in cruise flight, used only for take-off runs and extraordinary situations. But punching through a cold front and
a winter storm isnтАЩt flying as usual as far as GagarinтАЩs concerned, and the one nightmare all Ekranoplan
drivers face is running into a monster ocean wave nose-first at cruise speed.
Presently the navigators identify a path between two radiator fins, and Gagarin authorizes it. HeтАЩs beginning
to relax as the huge monoliths loom out of the gray clouds ahead when one of the sharp-eyed pilots shouts:
тАЬIcebergs!тАЭ
тАЬFucking hell.тАЭ Gagarin sits bolt upright. тАЬStart all boost engines! Bring up full power on both reactors! Lower
flaps to nine degrees and get us the hell out of this!тАЭ He turns to Shaw, his face gray. тАЬBring the towed array
aboard, now.тАЭ
тАЬShit.тАЭ Misha starts flipping switches on his console, which doubles as damage control central. тАЬIcebergs?тАЭ
The huge ground-effect ship lurches and roars as the third pilot starts bleeding hot exhaust gasses from the
running turbines to start the other twelve engines. TheyтАЩve probably got less than six hoursтАЩ fuel left, and it
takes fifteen minutes on all engines to get off the water, but GagarinтАЩs not going to risk meeting an iceberg
head-on in ground-effect. The Ekranoplan can function as a huge, lumbering, ungainly sea-plane if it has to;
but it doesnтАЩt have the engine power to do so on reactors alone, or to leap-frog floating mountains of ice. And
hitting an iceberg isnтАЩt on GagarinтАЩs to-do list.
The rain sluices across the roof of the bridge and now the sky is louring and dark, the huge walls of the
radiator slabs bulking in twilight to either side. The rain is freezing, supercooled droplets that smear the
KorolevтАЩs wings with a lethal sheen of ice. тАЬWhere are the leading edge heaters?тАЭ Gagarin asks. тАЬCome on!тАЭ
тАЬWorking, sir,тАЭ calls the number four pilot. Moments later the treacherous rain turns to hail stones, rattling