"Robert A. Heinlein - Destination Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

let Russia get to the Moon first—with hydrogen bombs~ That’s what you call ‘policy.”
Corley chewed his lip. “It’s got to be now.”
“I know it.” Barnes got up and went to the window. The rising sun caught a highlight on
the polished skin of the great ship. “It’s got to be now,” he repeated soffly.
He turned and said, “Doc, when is the next favorable time to leave?”
“When we planned on it—next month.”
“No, I mean this month.”
Corley glanced at the wall calendar, dug into a bookcase for a well-thumbed volume, did a
quick estimate. “Tomorrow morning—around four o’clock.”
“That’s it, then. We blast off tomorrow morning.”


file:///F|/rah/Robert%20A.%20Heinlein/Robert%20A%20Heinlein%20-%20Destination%20Moon.txt (1 of 29) [8/27/03 10:24:08 PM]
 file:///F|/rah/Robert%20A.%20Heinlein/Robert%20A%20Heinlein%20-%20Destination%20Moon.txt


Admiral Bowles sat up with a jerk. “Blast off in an untested ship? Jim, you’re crazy!”
“Probably. But now is the time—now. If we wait even a month, we will be tangled in some
new snafu. That ship is ready, except for testing the power plant. So we’ll skip the test!”
“But we haven’t even selected a crew.”
Barnes grinned. “We’re the crew!”
Neither Corley nor Bowles answered. Barnes went on, “Why not? The takeoff is automatic.
Sure, we agreed that we should have young men, fast reflexes, and all that malarkey—and every
damned one of us has been trying to figure out a reason why he should be included. You, Red, you
sneaked off to Moffeatt Field and took a pilot’s physical. Flunked it, too. Don’t lie to me;~ I
know. And you, Doc, you’ve been hinting that you ought to nurse the power plant yourself—you’ve
been working on your wife, too.”
“Eh?”
“She wanted me to say that the syndicate would object to yOur going. Don’t worry; I didn’t
agree.”
Corley looked at him levelly. “I’ve always intended to go. She knows that.”
“That’s my boy! Red?”
Bowles heaved himself to his feet. “Shucks, Jim, I didn’t bust that physical much—just
overweight.”
“You’re in. I don’t want an eager young beaver as co-pilot anyhow.”
“‘Co—pilot?’”
“Want to rassle me for skipper? Red, I’ve meant to gun this crate myself ever since the
day—Lordy, four years ago!—when you brought Doc to see me with a satôhelful of blueprints.” He
drew a breath and looked around. exultantly.
Bowles said, “Let’s see. You for pilot; I’m co-; Doc is chief. That leaves nobody but the
radarman. You can’t possibly train a man in the electronics of that ship by tomorrow morning.”
Barnes shrugged. “Hobson’s choice—it has to be Ward.” He named the chief electronics
engineer of the project.
Bowles turned to Corley. “Does Ward hanker to go?” Corley looked thoughtful. “I’m sure he
does. We haven’t discussed it.” He reached for the phone. “I’ll call his quarters.”
Barnes stuck a hand .j~ the way. “Not so fast. Once the word got out, the Commission has
twenty-four hours in which to stop us.”
Bowles glanced at his watch. “Twenty-one hours.”
“Long enough, anyhow.”
Corley frowned. “We can’t keep it secret. We’ve got to load that ship. I’ve got to reach