"Alan Dean Foster - Transformers - Ghosts of Yesterday" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

There was a lot more room on the advanced prototype called Ghost than on the Apollo. Smothered in
their launch seats, the three astronauts presently bound for the moon would have been astonished at the
other vessel's comparatively spacious interior. Blasting through the atmosphere, the clandestine craft left
behind the familiar bounds of Earth as it soared spaceward.

Every possible precaution notwithstanding, a pair of amateur astronomers did take notice of the launch.
One was located near Kiruna, Sweden, and the other just outside Moose Jaw, Canada. The first was
convinced he was drunk and disregarded what he saw through his telescope. The second received a visit
from several members of a branch of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police that by all accounts did not
actually exist. There was talk of meteors. There was mention of a visit to a certain mental institution.
Something was said to both sky-watchers about confiscation of equipment in the name of national
security.

Nothing further was heard from either man, ever.

Ghost's unique propulsion system shut down as it glided toward the stars. The craft was now free of
much of Earth's gravity. On board, sighs of relief from the crew mixed with awed exclamations as the
view out the forward port steadied.

So that was what the homeworld looked like from space, each of them mused silently and separately.
Blue and white and beautiful. And small, oh so small.

Sam Walker would enjoy the view later. As mission commander his time for sightseeing, such as it was,
lay well in the future. His free time being inversely proportional to his responsibilities, he would be lucky
to have a moment or two entirely to himselfand that moment was not now. Leaning forward slightly, he
directed his voice toward the nearest pickup.

"SSAB Command, this is Ghost One. Temporary orbit achieved, and we're positioning for the first solar
directional burn. All systems are green."

Though he knew he sounded calm and confident, that was nothing more than his professional self
operating on instinct. The truth was that he had never been so tense in his life. Part of it came from the
strain attendant on managing a successful liftoff. A lot was due to the knowledge that the grand journey
he and his crew had embarked upon could wind up becoming a suicide mission, though not planned
officially as such. Part test, part reconnaissance, Ghost 1's mission was to first determine if the ship was
truly spaceworthy and then explore the solar system for any signs of beings similar to the Ice Man. Sector
Seven wanted to know if an attack might be staging on the far side of Jupiter. Using the advanced
technology of Ghost 1, they should be able to complete the mission and return to earth within six months.
Though the odds were largely against completing a successful round trip, Walker had believed from the
first time he had been exposed to the applicable calculations that the ship could complete its targeted
journey and still make it safely back.

Privately, he had made it his primary mission to get his crew home. That was not what he told his
superiors, of course. Experience had taught him that not only was it unnecessary to commit his personal
intentions to paper, often it was best not to even mention them to anyone else. Yes, he had his official
orders. Their mission was to get out to the edge of the solar system before attempting to return home.
And yes, he had his own priorities. If all went optimally, he would be able to fulfill both. So far, so good,
he told himself.