"Stanislaw Lem - Solaris2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lem Stanislaw)

vertical axis. At last, through the porthole, the gigantic ball of the sun
appeared, looming up on the left and disappearing to the right.
A distant voice reached me through the murmuring and crackling.
"Station Solaris calling! Station Solaris calling! The capsule will
land at zero-hour. I repeat, the capsule will land at zero-hour. Stand by
for count-down. Two hundred and fifty, two hundred and forty-nine, two
hundred and forty-eight . . ."
The words were punctuated by sharp screeching sounds; automatic equipment
was intoning the phrases of the reception-drill. This was surprising, to say
the least. As a rule, men on space stations were eager to greet a newcomer,
especially if he was arriving direct from Earth. I did not have long to
ponder this, for the sun's orbit, which had so far encircled me, shifted
unexpectedly, and the incandescent disc appeared now to the right, now to the
left, seeming to dance on the planet's horizon. I was swinging like a giant
pendulum while the planet, its surface wrinkled with purplish-blue and black
furrows, rose up in front of me like a wall. As my head began to spin, I
caught sight of a tiny pattern of green and white dots; it was the station's
positioning-marker. Something detached itself with a snap from the cone of
the capsule; with a fierce jerk, the long parachute collar released its hoops,
and the noise which followed reminded me irresistibly of Earth: for the first
time after so many months, the moaning of the wind.
Everything went quickly after this. So far, I had known that I must be
falling; now I could see it for myself. The green and white checker-board
grew rapidly larger and I could see that it was painted on an elongated
silvery body, shaped like a whale, its flanks bristling with radar antennae.
This metal colossus, which was pierced with several rows of shadowy apertures,
was not resting on the planet itself but suspended above it, casting upon the
inky surface beneath an ellipsoidal shadow of even deeper blackness. I could
make out the slate-colored ripples of the ocean, stirring with a faint motion.
Suddenly, the clouds rose to a great height, rimmed with a blinding crimson
glare; the lurid sky became grey, distant and flat; everything was blotted
out; I was falling in a spin.
A sharp jolt, and the capsule righted itself. Through the porthole, I
could see the ocean once more, the waves like crests of glittering
quicksilver. The hoops of the parachute, their cords snapped, flapped
furiously over the waves, carried on the wind. The capsule gently descended,
swaying with a peculiar slow-motion rhythm imposed on it by the artificial
magnetic field; there was just time to glimpse the launchingpads and the
parabolic reflectors of two radio-telescopes on top of their pierced-steel
towers.
With the clang of steel rebounding against steel, the capsule came to a
stop. A hatch opened, and with a long, harsh sigh, the metal shell which
imprisoned me reached the end of its voyage.
I heard the mechanical voice from the control center:
"Station Solaris. Zero and zero. The capsule has landed. Out."
Feeling a vague pressure on my chest and a disagreeable heaviness in the
pit of my stomach, I seized the control levers with both hands and cut the
contacts. A green indicator lit up: 'ARRIVAL.' The capsule opened, and the
pneumatic padding shoved me gently from behind, so that, in order to keep my
balance, I had to take a step forward.