"Robert A. Heinlein - Rocket Ship Galileo" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

barricade. The flame had cleared of the wasteful smoke and was almost
transparent, save for occasional sparks. He could actually see trees and
ground through the jet of flame. The images shimmered and shook but the
exhaust gases were smoke-free.
„What does the dynamometer read?“ he shouted to Morrie without taking his
eyes away from the periscope. Morrie studied the instrument, rigged to the
test stand itself, by means of a pair of opera glasses and his own periscope.
„I can’t read it!“ he shouted. „Yes, I can—wait a minute. Fifty-two—no, make
it a hundred and fifty-two; it’s second time around. Hunderfiftytwo, fif’three,
four. Ross, you’ve done it! You’ve done it! That’s more than twice as much
thrust as the best we’ve ever had.“
Art looked up from where he was nursing his motion-picture camera. It was a
commercial 8-millimeter job, modified by him to permit the use of more film so
that every second of a test could be recorded. The modification worked, but
was cantankerous and had to be nursed along. „How much more time?,“ he
demanded.
„Seventeen seconds,“ Ross yelled at him. „Stand by, I’m going to give her the
works.“ He twisted his throttle-monitor valve to the right, wide open. The
rocket responded by raising its voice from a deepthroated roar to a higher
pitch with an angry overtone almost out of the audible range. It spoke with
snarling menace.
Ross looked up to see Morrie back away from his periscope and climb on a
box, opera glasses in hand.
„Morrie-get your head down!“ The boy did not hear him against the scream of
the jet, intent as he was on getting a better view of the rocket. Ross jumped
away from the controls and dived at him, tackling him around the waist and
dragging him down behind the safety of the barricade. They hit the ground
together rather heavily and struggled there. It was not a real fight; Ross was
angry, though not fighting mad, while Morrie was merely surprised.
„What’s the idea ?,“ he protested, when he caught his breath.
„You crazy idiot!,“ Ross grunted in his ear. „What were you trying to do? Get
your head blown off?“
„But I wasn’t-„ But Ross was already clambering to his feet and returning to
his place at the controls; Morrie’s explanation, if any, was lost in the roar of
the rocket.
„What goes on ?“ Art yelled. He had not left his place by his beloved camera,
not only from a sense of duty but at least partly from indecision as to which
side of the battle he should join. Ross heard his shout and turned to speak.
„This goon,“ he yelled bitterly, jerking a thumb at Morrie, „tried to-„
Ross’s version of the incident was lost; the snarling voice of the rocket
suddenly changed pitch, then lost itself in a boneshaking explosion. At the
same time there was a dazzling flash which would have blinded the boys had
they not been protected by the barricade, but which nevertheless picked out
every detail of the clearing in the trees with brilliance that numbed the eyes.
They were still blinking at the memory of the ghastly light when billowing
clouds of smoke welled up from beyond the barricade, surrounded them, and
made them cough.
„Well,“ Ross said bitterly and looked directly at Morrie, „that’s the last of the
Starstrack V.“
„Look, Ross,“ Morrie protested, his voice sounding shrill in the strange new