"James P. Hogan - Giants 3 - Giant's Star" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hogan James P)

Earth's scientists in a search for more clues and mingling harmoniously into Earth's society.
Mankind had found a friend, and the remnants of the Ganymean race had, it was assumed, found a
home.
But it was not to be. Investigations uncovered a hint that the Ganymean civilization had
migrated to a star located near the constellation of Taurus-a star that came to be called the
"Giants' Star"; there was no guarantee, but there was hope. Shortly afterward the Shapieron
departed, leaving behind a sad, but in many ways wiser, world.
Radio observatories on lunar Farside beamed a signal toward the Giants' Star to forewarn
of the Shapieron's coming. Though the signal would take years to cover the distance, it would
still arrive well ahead of the ship. To the astonishment of the scientists who composed the
transmission, a reply purporting to have come
from the Giants' Star and confirming that it was indeed the new home of the Ganymeans was
received only hours after they first began sending. But by that time the Shapieron had already



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left, and news of the message could not be relayed to it because of the spacetime distortion
induced around the craft by its drive, which prevented electromagnetic signals from being received
coherently. There was nothing more that the scientists on Earth could do; the Shapieron had
vanished back into the void from whence it had come, and many more years of uncertainty would pass
before the Ganymeans aboard it would know whether or not their quest was in vain.
The transmitters on lunar Farside continued sending intermittently during the three months
that followed, but no further reply was evoked.


Chapter One

Dr. Victor Hunt finished combing his hair, buttoned on a clean shirt, and paused to
contemplate the somewhat sleepy-eyed but otherwise presentable image staring back at him from the
bathroom mirror. He detected a couple of gray strands here and there among his full head of dark
brown waves, but somebody would have had to be looking for them to notice them. His skin had an
acceptably healthy tone to it; the lines of his cheeks and jaw were solid and firm, and his belt
still rested loosely on his hips to serve its intended purpose of keeping his pants up and not to
keep his waistline in. All in all, he decided, he wasn't doing too badly for thirty-nine. The face
in the mirror frowned suddenly as the ritual reminded him of a typical specimen of middle-age male
wreckage in a TV commercial; all it wanted now was for the mentally defective, bottle-brandishing
wife to appear in the doorway behind to deliver the message on baldness cures, body deodorants,
remedies for bad breath, or whatever. Shuddering at the thought, he tossed the comb into the
medicine cabinet above the sink, closed the door, and ambled through into the apartment's kitchen.
"Are you through in the bathroom, Vie?" Lyn's voice called from the open door of the
bedroom. It sounded bright and cheerful, and should have been illegal at that time in the morning.
"Go ahead." Hunt tapped a code into the kitchen terminal to summon a breakfast menu onto
its screen, studied the display for a few seconds, then entered an order to the robochef for
scrambled eggs, bacon (crisp), toast with marmalade, and coffee, twice. Lyn appeared in the
hallway outside, Hunt's bathrobe hanging loosely on her shoulders and doing little to hide her
long, slim legs and golden-tanned body. She flashed him a smile, then vanished into the bathroom
in a swirl of the red hair that hung halfway down her back.