"Fred Hoyle - Rockets in Ursa Major" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hoyle Fred)

America in the eighteen-thirties, and settled down before the screen, but the covered wagons and Indians
suddenly vanished and the newscaster's face appeared on the screen:

`We interrupt our program with an important announcement from World Space Headquarters. The
spaceship DSP 15 has been picked up on its way back to Earth. Older viewers will recall that, almost
thirty years ago to the day, this ship was sent out on a mission to the stars of the Ursa Major stream. . . .
We have more important news about the DSP 15: it's going to land here in Britain! Stand by for further
announcements, and now back to our film.

The film continued, but I was no longer interested. For a moment the news stunned me. Then the phone
went. I rushed over to the desk and flicked the switch. A small TV screen on the wall flickered and the
picture and sound came.
It was Ganges, a high-ranking officer at the space drome at Mildenhall, a few miles to the east of
Cambridge.
`Thank God you're back,' he said, before I could speak. `Have you heard the news?'
`Yes, just. What on earth do you make of it?'
`I daren't think. . . . It's going to land here . . . and soon. . . .' Then Ganges' urgency turned to irony. 'That
damned military computer can't find the coding instructions for opening it up.'
`You mean they're mislaid?' I said in disbelief.
`That's about it,' Ganges said candidly. His harassed voice continued, 'Can't get through to Sir John. It's
imperative we contact him. He may have the files and we need him here.'
`All right. I'll go now. How long before you expect it?'
`An hour or so . . .' Ganges was about to add to this, but I just nodded as I switched him off.
I hurried out of my rooms and quickly descended the old stone staircase and out into the court. It wasn't
far to where Sir John Fielding lived in a lovely old mill-house on the river. He'd resisted all persuasion
from the local housing authorities and Senate House committee of the University to move. They wanted
the house as a museum.
A sharp walk along the river bank brought me to Sir John's. I trod firmly on the door -mat. A bell rang
somewhere inside. Nothing happened, so I pressed urgently again. After a few minutes of standing with
mounting impatience in the early morning half-light, I heard the latch click and the door swung in. With
immense relief I saw it was Sir John.
`I'm sorry to get you out of bed, Sir John,' I began rather stupidly.
'Why do it?' he" said sleepily.
`The DSP 15 is coming into Mildenhall. . . .
The sleepy eyes opened wide. He was instantly alert. `Come in.' He led me quickly into his study.
`This is quite fantastic, quite fantastic,' said Sir John,
looking shaken. 'Coming in!'
`Yes, in about an hour. Ganges rang me up. They're in great trouble. They have no landing instructions. I
think Ganges was wondering . .
`What, Dick, what? That I might remember the code? Good God. What sort of memory do they think
I've got -- an elephant's? I don't even know where to start looking,' Sir John exploded, getting up and
going over to his old filing cabinets. 'Let's get on with it.'
`Try that cabinet there,' he said briskly. 'I'll take this one. Red and green files all marked DSP 15/UM.'
It was nerve-racking trying not to panic. The papers were endless and not in order. Time was so short
but I dared not think about it. Sir John was calmly, methodically thumbing through filing drawers, but his
face was a grey mask of anxiety. Then unbelievably I found files marked DSP 15/UM. I gave them to Sir
John.
`Are these the ones?'
He took them quietly. 'Good, good,' he said, quickly shuffling through them. 'Yes, these are they; not that
one; that's injector system, this one's reactor details. Hmm. Interesting. All! here we are, carrier