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

gauges. Thompson was quite content to let Walker talk while he monitored the ship.
Farther back, Michael Avery was in figurative if not literal heaven. The mission's chief science officer,
Avery had recorded enough new information between the time of liftoff and now to keep him busy for
yearsand they were just starting out. He'd been part of the team that had developed the initial Ghost 1
project. He was all scientist, to the point that he wouldn't care if they failed to make it home so long as he
had enough time to transmit the knowledge he had acquired in the course of the journey. If the science
survived, he considered himself expendable.

And of course, there was Maria Gonzalez.

In addition to handling communications and having to fend off the by-now-tiresome references to her as
"Uhura," she was responsible for chronicling everything that happened on the journey and making sure
the information was successfully transmitted back to Mission Control. She was efficient and good
company. As commander, Walker prized the latter attribute as much as the former.

They were a good mix, he told himself. Each exceptionally competent in their chosen field. Maybe not
perfect, perhaps not the very best, but given the constraints and requirements of the most unusual mission
in the history of the covert Sector Seven space program, certainly the best to have made themselves
available.

Once he was sure he had everyone's attention, including Thompson's, Walker leaned forward and
dropped his folded hands between his spread legs, adopting as informal a pose as he could manage in the
absence of gravity.

"Well, we've made it this far." Relieved laughter and the isolated edgy glance greeted his observation.
"Not too bad for a groundbreaking mission."

"Atmosphere breaking," put in Avery, essaying a weak attempt at a joke.

Walker appreciated it, even if nobody laughed. "We've each of us spent years preparing for this. I don't
need to reiterate that if we're going to get through this mission successfully, we've got to rely on one
another. Everyone assists everyone else. There are no polymaths on this ship, but each of you has at least
some experience in more than one area of expertise. Or to put it in nontechnical but entirely relevant
terms, everybody watches everybody else's back. There's no turning around now." Though it was hardly
necessary to do so, he paused a moment to let that sink in.

"This ship will perform. It will perform not only because those who designed and built it intended for it to
do so, but because this is the best possible crew to make it work. It will perform if we have to get out
and push. I just want you to know, each and every one of you, that you have my solemn promise: no
matter what happens, no matter what unexpected challenges and difficulties we may encounter, no matter
what the instruments say, I will find a way to get all of us safely home again."

Except for the soft humming of equipment, it was dead silent in the cabin. Someone might have led a
cheer, except there was no time. Mission Control was on the horn again and would not be denied.

"Ghost One, this is SSAB Command. We're all set down here and ready to track you on the first solar
burn. Running final systems check."

Walker ignored the call. "If anyone is consumed by doubts, now's the time to dump 'em." He did not
look in Clarkson's direction. "We're privileged to be on the most advanced, the most complex, and the