"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky_Destination Amaltheia" - читать интересную книгу автора (Strugatski Arkady)

"Yes," the navigator said. "It can't be helped. We're doing on oversun,
aren't we."
An "oversun", or a "leap over the Sun", is resorted to rarely, in
cases
of emergency like this, when the J-Stations were struck by hunger. In an
oversun the Sun is between the start-planet and the finish-planet-which is
highly unadvantageous from the point of view of "direct cosmogation". In an
oversun the photon propulsion unit operates at extreme conditions, the
ship's speed is of the order of four thousand miles per second and the
instrumentation starts showing the effects of non-classic mechanics, which
we still do not know enough about. The crew has to make do with very little
sleep, plasma and reflector consumption is enormous and on top of it all the
ship as a rule approaches the finish-planet from one of the poles, which
makes landing tricky.
"Yes," said Bykov. "An oversun, that's just it."
He went back to where the navigator sat and looked at the plasma
consumption dial.
"Give me a copy of the finish-programme, Misha," he said.
"Just a second," said the navigator.
He was having a busy time of it. Sheets of light-blue paper were
scattered on the desk in front of him, a semi-automatic computer attachment
was whirring in an undertone. Bykov sank down in a chair and half-shut his
eyes. Vaguely he saw Mikhail Antonovich reach a hand out to the panel
without taking his eyes off his notes and quickly run his fingers along the
keys. His hand looked like a large white spider. The computer gave a louder
whirr, then switched off with a flicker of the stop lamp.
"What was it you wanted?" the navigator asked, still deep in his notes.
"The finish-programme," Bykov said, opening his eyes with an effort.
A tabulator tracing snaked out of the output device and Mikhail
Antonovich snatched at it with both hands.
"Half a sec," he said hurriedly. Bykov's ears rang and yellow lights
danced in front of his eyes. His head sank on to his chest.
"Alexei," said the navigator. He reached across his desk and tapped
Bykov on the shoulder. "Here's the programme."
Bykov started, jerked up his head and looked around. Then he took the
sheets of figures.
"Hm, hm," he said, the skin moving in waves on his forehead. "Well. A
theta-algorithm again..." and he stared sleepily at the notes.
"Why don't you take some sporamin?" said the navigator.
"Wait," said Bykov. "Wait. What's this? Are you crazy, navigator?"
Mikhail Antonovich jumped up, ran round the desk and leaned over
Bykov's shoulder.
"Where, where?" he asked.
"Where do you think you're going anyway?" Bykov enquired bitingly.
"D'you think you're going to the Seventh Testing Grounds?"
"But what's the matter?" the navigator asked.
"Or do you think they've built a tritium generator for your private use
on Amaltheia?"
"If you mean the propellent," said Mikhail Antonovich, "there's enough
of it for three such programmes. ..."