"Judith Merril - Survival Ship" - читать интересную книгу автора (Merril Judith)

SURVIVAL SHIP
by Judith Merril

Half a million people actually made the round trip to Space Station One that day to watch the
take-off in per-son. And back on Earth a hundred million video screens flashed the picture of
Captain Melnick's gloved hand waving a dramatic farewell at the port, while the other hand slowl
pressed down the lever that would fire the ship out beyond the orbit of the artificial satellite, past
the Moon and the planets, into unknown space.
From Station One, Earth, and Moon, a hundred million winged wishes added their power to the
surge of the jets, as a rising spiral of fire inside the greatest rocket tower ever built marked the
departure of the thrice-blessed ship, Survival. In the great churches, from pole to pole, services
were held all day, speeding the giant vessel on its way, calling on the aid of the Lord for the
Twenty and Four who manned the ship.
At mountain-top telescopes a dozen cameras faith-fully transmitted the messages of great
unblinking glass eyes. Small home sets and massive pulpit screens alike looked to the sky to
follow the flare dimming in the distance, to watch the man-made star falling away.
Inside the great ship Melnick's hand left the firing lever, then began adjusting the chin rest and the
ear-phones of the acceleration couch. The indicator dash-board, designed for prone eye level,
leaped into focus.
Securing the couch straps with the swift competence of habit, the captain intently watched the
sweep of the big second hand around the take-off timer, aware at the same time that green lights
were beginning to glow at the other end of the board. The indicator reached the first red mark.
"The show's over, everybody. We're in business!" The mike built into the chin rest carried the
captain's taut voice all over the ship. "Report, all stations!"
"Number one, all secure!" Melnick mentally ticked off the first green light, glowing to prove the
astro-gator's couch was in use.
"Number two, all secure!"
"Number three . . ." "Four . . ." "Five." The rhyth-mic sing-song of pinpoint timing in take-off
was second nature by now to the whole crew. One after another, the green lights glowed for
safety, punctuating the litany, and the gong from the timer put a period neatly in place after the
final "All secure!"
"Eight seconds to black out," the captain's voice warned. "Seven . . . six ... stand by." The first
wave of acceleration shock reeled into twenty-four helmet-sheathed heads on twenty-four
individually designed head rests. "Five—" It's got to work, Melnick was thinking, fighting off
unconsciousness with fierce in-tensity. "Four—" It's got to . . . got to . . . "Three—" got to . . .
got to . . . "two—" got to . . .
At the space station, a half-million watchers were slowly cleared from the giant take-off platform
They filed in long orderly lines down the ramps to the in-terior, and waited there for the smaller
Earth rockets that would take them home. Waiting, they were at once elated and disappointed.
They had seen no more than could be seen at the same place on any other day. The entire rocket
area had been fenced off, with a double cordon of guards to make sure that too-curious visitors
stayed out of range. Official explanations mentioned the new engine, the new fuel, the danger of
escaping gases—but nobody believed it. Every one of the half-million visitors knew what the
mystery was: the crew, and nothing else. Giant video screens all over the plat-form gave the
crowd details and closeups, the same they would have seen had they stayed comfortably at
home. They saw the captain's gloved hand, at the last, but not the captain's face.
There was muttering and complaining, but there was something else too. Each man, woman, and
child who went to the station that day would be able to say, years later, "I was there when the
Survival took off. You never saw anything so big in your life."
Because it wasn't just another planet hop. It wasn't just like the hundreds of other take-offs. It