"Harry Harrison - Planet Of No Return" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

radiated from the nose cone as the metal was torn away, incinerated. Then,
just when it appeared that the entire ship would be engulfed in fire and
destroyed, the even brighter flames of braking jets lanced through the burning
gas. If the craft had been falling out of control it would surely have been
destroyed. But the pilot knew what he was doing, had waited until the last
possible moment before destruction before firing his engines. To slow the
ship's fall just enough to keep the temperature from rising any higher.

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PLANET OF NO RETURN
Down through the thick clouds it dropped, down towards the grass covered plain
that hurtled ever closer with alarming speed. When it appeared that a fatal
crash was inevitable the rockets fired again, hammering at the ship with
multiple G decellera-tion. Still falling rapidly, despite the roaring jets,
the ship struck the ground with a resounding crash, depressing the landing
shock absorbers to their limit.

As the clouds of steam and dust blew away, a small metal hatch at the apex of
the bow ground open and an optic head slowly emerged. It began rotating in a
slow circle, scanning the vast sea of grass, the distant trees, the seemingly
empty landscape. A herd of animals moved in the distance, bounding away in
panic and quickly vanishing from sight. The optic head moved on—finally coming
to rest on the nearby ruins of the shattered war machines: a vast area of
destruction in the cratered plain.

It was a scene of disaster. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of the crumpled and
gigantic weapons of war were scattered over the battlefield. All of them
punctured, bent, torn by immense forces. It was a graveyard of destruction
that stretched away almost to the horizon. The optic head scanned back and
forth over the rusted hulks, stopped, then drew back into the ship and its
cover plate snapped shut. Long minutes passed before the silence was broken by
the squeal of metal on metal as the airlock ground slowly open.

More time passed before the man emerged slowly from the opening. His motions
were cautious, the muzzle of the ion rifle he held was questing out before him
like a hungry animal. He wore heavy

One Man Alone

13

space armor with a sealed helmet that used a TV unit for vision. Slowly,
without taking his attention from the landscape or his finger from the
trigger, the man lowered his free hand and touched the radio button on his
wrist.

"I'm continuing my report from outside the ship now. I'm going slow until I