Гарри Гаррисон - Skyfall

“Thass good, because I wouldn't wanta miss it!” Shakey laughed loudly at his own joke; Cooper managed a polite smile.

“Well you good people are my show tonight, and I really am looking forward to talking to you.” Mike smiled whitely and waved towards a coffee trolley. “Help yourself if you like, the cheese danish are really great. After the show the bar is open but I hope you don't mind just coffee, now, fine. All of us here, and I know all of America, if not the world, is interested in what you have to say about the rocket, Dr. Cooper.”

“It really gonna drop on our heads? I gotta hard head but not that hard!”

“Unless the engines are started up in time, and each minute's delay makes the risk greater, I'm afraid that Prometheus will fall back to Earth.”

“And hit here?” Sharon widened her eyes dramatically and laid her hand delicately on her imposing bosom as she spoke.

“I wouldn't want anything awful to hit there, darling!” Shakey looked deep into her cleavage and sighed.

“I meant this country, New York, you horny borschtbek fart.”

“Tempers, tempers,” Mike said brightly. “Will it hit New York, Dr. Cooper?”

It was too late for Cooper to correct the honorary doctorate he had been given, and he was rattled by the touch of profanity on those hallowed lips. He struggled to get his thoughts together.

“It could, yes, it is possible. And of course if it did impact it would be a far bigger explosion than the one that destroyed the English city. Not to mention the danger of radioactive contamination from the uranium, U-235 fuel it carries. But the explosion, that would be the greatest danger.”

“A new way to dig reservoirs.” Shakey excavated in his teeth with a long fingernail.

“Shakey, old landsman, save the gags for later. What are the odds, Dr. Cooper, of that thing wiping out the Apple?”

“I'm not sure, it would depend where in its orbit Prometheus is at the time of contact. But the danger is not only to New York City but to the entire country when it sweeps across it. And not only to the United States, you must remember that it circles the entire world. On its sixteenth orbit it will be going over Moscow, will be easily visible as a moving light in the sky….”

“Or it could go plowing in instead of going over?”

“That is correct. . “

“It couldn't happen to a better place!”

“.. perfectly correct, Mike. Prometheus is a deadly bomb in the sky now, but where it will fall after hitting the atmosphere is anyone's guess. But remember, it wouldn't have to hit a city. It could destroy the countryside, contaminate growing crops, burn down whole forests. Or land in the ocean close to shore and cause tidal waves. This could be the largest man-made disaster in the history of the human race.”

“Even worse than mothers-in-law!”

Mike Moore flashed his famous TV smile. “Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “I think we're going to have a real nice little show here tonight. Here's an authority on a danger facing this nation. And we have beauty and the beast….”

“Watch da lip, Mike! God will get you for dat!”

“So have some more coffee if you like, then we get you down to make-up, with the exception of the lovely Sharon, and I'll see you all in auditorium three. A live and lively audience that includes the entire Rotary Club of Potlach, Michigan and their wives….”

“Oy!” Shakey groaned. “Double equity rate for that!”

“So don't get lost and I'll see you there in about a half an hour.”

The door opened and a man stuck his head in and waved a piece of paper. “Mike, a newsbreak just in on the wire. You can use it with your guest.”

“My mother-in-law died?” Shakey said brightly.

“Even worse than that,” Mike said reading quickly. He looked up at Cooper. “What can this mean, Dr. Cooper? NASA has just released the news that there was, and I quote, '. . an atomic explosion in the vicinity of Prometheus. The satellite appears to be undamaged although there have been crew injuries. The cause of the explosion is unknown, although the origin of the explosion is known not to be American.' What do they mean origin! Are there spaceships up there taking potshots at the thing?”

“No, of course not. It would be technically feasible I suppose for the atomic fuel to explode — but that could not be done, certainly, without damaging the vehicle. Origin, of course. They must mean an atomic missile. They are saying that we did not fire an atomic missile at Prometheus….”

“But if we didn't — someone else did? Who?”

“I don't know, really. France, England, China, the Soviets, they are all armed with this type of ground-to-satellite defense missile. A lot would depend where Prometheus was at the time of the explosion, since these rockets are for national defense and have a limited range. Of course, they can be fired from submarines.”

“How awful,” Sharon said.

“Awful is the least of it, baby.” Mike was pacing back and forth excitedly. “Someone is so worried about being blown up by the rocket that they tried to blow it up first. The whole world trembles in fear. Death from the skies. Atomic poisoning. We've got a program coming up, folks, that'll send our Nielsen rating higher than that satellite!”

GET 24:39

“I can't tell them this. You can't expect me to tell them this!” Flax shook his head so emphatically that his heavy cheeks flapped. He was almost shouting into the phone and he realized that the men at the other consoles were turning to look at him. That didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more; tragedy was closing in from all sides. He could not cope with it all. Simon Dillwater was still speaking when Flax hung up the phone. This was no way to treat your boss, but nothing did really matter very much any more. He turned slowly, blinking through fatigue-sore eyes.

“Mike,” he called to the man at the nearest console, and waved him over.

“What's up, Flax? Not more trouble?”

“You'll hear about it. Look, take these keys, they unlock the big desk in my office. Bottom drawer. There's a bottle of slivovitz there. Get it and bring it to me.”

“Shliv-o-what?”

“Plum brandy. It's the only bottle there. Get cracking.”

“Flax, you know the rules about drinking, you wouldn't want to…”

“I would. Screw the rules. My people are dying up there.”

He was surprised, shocked, to find tears in his eyes. They ran slowly down his cheeks and he really did not mind. He was mourning the dead. This last thing about the solar flares was almost too much to handle. How could he tell them? Nothing had gone right with this mission from the beginning and it wasn't over yet.

He sighed tremulously, not even realizing he had made the sound, a tired fat man at the end of his tether. He mopped away sweat and tears with his sopping handkerchief. And stared at nothing until the slivovitz arrived. It was transparent and moved like oil in the bottle and appeared harmless. So was nitroglycerine and it looked the same way. He uncorked the bottle and inhaled deeply of the rich odor of decay. It smelled even worse than tequila, which he also adored. There was a half-empty container of coffee at his elbow and, scarcely aware he was doing it, he poured the cold remains onto the floor, then filled it halfway with the slivovitz.

Marvelous! It cut a track down his throat and exploded like a bomb in his stomach, sending waves of warmth out to his extremities. Marvelous, and while the effect still lasted he threw the microphone switch.

“Come in, Prometheus, Mission Control here.” He had to repeat the call twice before there was a response.

“Hello, Flax.”

It was Patrick, his voice thick and slurred. “Yes, Flax here, is that you, Patrick?”