"George Zebrowski - Stranger Suns" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zebrowski George)

hasn't been a month since we got the equipment working properly."

Rassmussen smiled again. “In that case, let's hope.” Juan felt uneasy.

“I do hope it comes out right for you, Dr. Obrion,” Lena said. He looked directly at her, and she met his
gaze.

“Summet can't be all bad,” Rassmussen added, “if he supported your work at all."

Juan sighed. “It's crazy, receiving tachyons from a source on Earth. It'll be embarrassing if it's something
natural."

“But it does suggest that your detector works,” Lena said encouragingly. “A natural source of tachyons
would be quite a discovery by itself."

“If we're picking up tachyons."

“If your calculations say you are,” Rassmussen said, “then stick to your data and don't listen to me."

“Thanks,” Juan replied.

“What would you like it to be?” Rassmussen asked.

Juan did not reply. Lena said, “We'll know soon enough,” still gazing at him with interest. He took a long
sip of his coffee, feeling uneasy and full of doubt.

Malachi stood up. “We should get some sleep."
****

By noon, one heavy digger had gone down thirty meters and shattered its rotary blade against something
harder than itself; by midafternoon the same thing happened in a spot seventy-five meters away. Two big
scoops were brought out from the copters and set to dig between the holes. Gradually, the site became
one large excavation, with ramps leading down from north and south.

Floodlights were set up as the Antarctic night closed in. A second shift of workers replaced the first;
backup equipment was readied. Summet had been both efficient and generous, Juan thought as he
watched a small scoop roll down into the pit and pick at the hard ice, looking like a giant insect in the
blue-white glare of the heavy lamps.

Malachi came up beside him. Suddenly there was an agonized grinding sound and the scoop stopped, its
digger's claw poised over something dark. The operator looked up at them.

They went down the ramp, made their way around the scoop's giant treads, and squatted down for a
close look. Juan felt the black surface with his gloved hand, restraining his growing excitement, then took
out his geologist's hammer.

“A trapped whale?” Malachi said jokingly.

Juan struck lightly. “Seems metallic."
Malachi knelt down next to him. “This doesn't belong to anyone we know,” he said, pulling the hood of