Гарри Гаррисон - Skyfall

“SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

They shut. Shocked, by this cry of rage from a man who never raised his voice above a polite conversational level. The whole room was silent for a moment and Bandin was the first to recover. But even as he opened his mouth to speak, Dill-water spoke first.

“Mission Control reports that the atomic explosion was directed at Prometheus. Someone tried to blow it up.”

“Who… why..?” The President spoke for them all.

“That is not known yet. Mission Control reports that apparently the missile, bomb, whatever it was, did not hit. But there have been injuries. As soon as there are more details they will call back. . ” The phone at his elbow buzzed and he answered it, nodded. “Mr. Dragoni, will you please patch this call through to the speaker. It is a report from Prometheus.”

“Mission Control calling Prometheus. Go ahead.”

“This is Prometheus, Gregor Salnikov here, it is unbelievable, that this could have happened…” His voice died away to a mumble.

“Please come in, Prometheus, the President and his cabinet are listening. What was it that happened?”

“An explosion. An atomic explosion in space. I have no way of estimating how close it was. Dr. Samuel and I were in the crew compartment, we were only aware of the blast. But the pilots, they were facing out, they saw it. There is pain, they are blinded. . I must go, the doctor is calling me.” The voice switched off.

“Mission Control,” Dillwater said. “How close was the explosion to Prometheus?”

“Unknown as yet. We have attempted to activate TV cameras at stations two and three and they do not respond. If they are burned out the blast was below and behind the spacecraft. Cabin radiation count confirms this.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was only slight elevation of background radiation count in the cabin at the moment of explosion. This could only have occurred if the base of the ship was pointed at the explosion. The bulk of the engine, the biological shield and the hydrogen tank would have stopped the radiation. “

“Thank God for that. But what about the pilots' eyes. Is there blindness…?”

“We cannot tell yet. Reports will follow. Out. “

There was a buzz of comment after the call. And confusion. The facts were there — but what did they mean?

“Who would lob a bomb at Prometheus?” Bandin asked, as confused as all the rest. Except for Dillwater. He was staring at the speckled photograph of the sun. When he spoke it was so softly that they had to strain to hear.

“I know who did it. And I know why.” He glanced up from the photograph. “Mr. President, is this room security shielded?”

“Of course.”

“Then I must tell you what it was undoubtedly a Soviet missile that was fired at Prometheus.”

“Can you verify that?” Bannerman asked, icy cold.

“No, General, you will have to do that. I can only tell you my reasons. Prometheus is now entering its sixteenth orbit. In approximately eighty minutes it will be over Stalingrad. A few minutes ago, at the time of the explosion, it was passing over the wasteland of Siberia. There are Soviet atomic missile sites there. This was the last opportunity to take out Prometheus before it completed its final orbit and fell on Moscow.”

“What are you saying, Dillwater?” The President was livid. “There are twenty hours yet before that thing is due to fall. And on the US, not on Russia.”

“No, Mr. President. I have just received new information that alters this. Information that I am sure the Soviet authorities have as well.” He held up the photo of the sun. “There is a very good chance that this is the last orbit and that they will crash and burn in about an hour.”

“But — what changed?”

“The sun, Mr. President. If there should be a solar flare now, a Sunspot, the sudden burst of radiation will strike the upper atmosphere and cause it to expand. Prometheus is just brushing the fringes of atmosphere as it is. If this were to rise it would cause the satellite to impact the atmosphere and crash.”

“That picture of the sun has something to do with it?” Bannerman asked.

“It does, General. It was taken a little over two weeks ago. You see this series of black spots? These are solar flares about to be carried around to the back of the sun by its rotation. They will be reappearing on the other limb of the sun at any time now. They are the beginning of a solar storm. If they progress as normal they will have developed into giant flares while out of sight on the far side of the sun. When rotation brings them to this side of the sun again their immense radiation will be flowing out. Eight and a half minutes later it will impact the top of the atmosphere….”

“And Prometheus will run into a solid wall of air,” Banner-man said.

“That is correct. The Soviets must have learned this and made an attempt to destroy the ship before it could impact in Russia.”

“The dirty bastards!”

“You were discussing doing the same thing yourself, General, if I remember correctly.” Dillwater did not need to speak sharply for the impact of his words to strike home. Banner-man's neck reddened but he did not speak.

“You're sure the Russians knew about this?” the President asked.

“Almost certain, sir. Why else would they have fired the missile?”

“Charley, get the Hot Line working. I want to talk to Polyarni. His story had better be good.”

GET 24:09

The cab turned into Rockefeller Plaza and stopped before the canopied entrance. Cooper emerged, nodding his thanks to the doorman, unsure if he should tip the man or not.

“May I help you, sir?”

“The Mike Moore show. I was told…”

“The receptionist will take care of you.” The doorman was turning away as he spoke, giving all his attention to the white Rolls-Royce that had slid into the space just vacated by the cab, obviously considering journalists not worth his notice. Cooper tried not to slink as he entered the lobby — and forced his knuckles away from his mouth. The receptionist was good-looking, in a very lacquered way, and she actually smiled at him.

“Good evening, sir, welcome to the home of the world's finest television.”

“What? Oh, yes, thank you. My name is Cooper, I was told to come here for the Mike Moore show.”

“Why yes, Mr. Cooper.” She kept smiling while she ran her finger down a list of names. “They're expecting you. Would you please use the third elevator in the bank and press the button for the forty-third floor. Goodbye.”

It was all very efficient, very smooth. As the elevator bent his knees and shot him into the air he looked in the mirror beside him, made an attempt to brush the hair from his eyes and to straighten his tie. Though he had scrubbed his fingers there were still the black marks of ink on them. Perhaps no one would notice.

“Come in, come in, you're the last one and we were waiting for you.”

Mike Moore ushered Cooper in himself, with a propelling hand in the small of his back. He was shorter and looked a lot smaller than he did on the TV screen. Cooper thought, but had a really nice coppery tan. Cooper was too myopic to see that it was television make-up.

“Dr. Cooper, this is Sharon Neil whom I'm sure you know by reputation. She's just won her second Emmy, isn't that really great, and we are going to talk to her about that. And Bert Shakey of course.”

Very much in awe he took Sharon Neil's hand, she was just as beautiful up close, then shook hands with the fat comedian.

“What's up, Doc?” Shakey said loudly, the only tone of voice he knew. “The end of the world in sight yet?”

“Not really, but — “