Ivan Efremov “Starships. Starships (collection)
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Ivan Efremov
Starships
CHAPTER FIRST. AT THE THRESHOLD OF OPENING
- When did you arrive, Alexey Petrovich? Many people have asked you here.
- Today. But for all of me, not yet. And please close the window in the first room.
The newcomer took off his old military cloak, wiped his face with a handkerchief, smoothed his light blond hair, which had thinned out on the crown of his head, sat down in an armchair, lit a cigarette, got up again and began to walk around the room, cluttered with cupboards and tables.
- Is it possible? He thought aloud.
He walked over to one of the cupboards and forcefully opened the high oak door. The white trays of the trays peeped out from the dark depths of the cabinet. On one tray was a box of yellow, shiny, bone-hard cardboard. Across the side of the cube facing the door was a gray paper sticker covered in black Chinese characters. Circles of postmarks were scattered across the surface of the box.
The man's long, pale fingers touched the cardboard.
- Tao Li, unknown friend! It's time to act!
Quietly closing the cabinet doors, Professor Shatrov took a shabby briefcase and took out a damp-damaged notebook in a gray granite-lined binding. Carefully separating the stuck together sheets, the professor looked through the rows of numbers through a magnifying glass and from time to time made some calculations in a large notebook.
A pile of cigarette butts and burnt matches grew in the ashtray; the air in the office turned blue from tobacco smoke.
Shatrov's unusually clear eyes glittered under bushy eyebrows. The thinker's high forehead, square jaws and sharply defined nostrils reinforced the general impression of extraordinary mental strength, giving the professor the features of a fanatic.
Finally, the scientist pushed the notebook aside.
- Yes, seventy million years! Seventy million! OK! - Shatrov made a sharp gesture with his hand, as if piercing something in front of him, looked around, narrowed his eyes slyly and again said loudly: - Seventy million! .. Just don't be afraid!
The professor unhurriedly and methodically removed his desk, dressed and went home.
Shatrov looked around the "bronzes" placed in all corners of the room, as he called the collection of artistic bronzes, sat down at a table covered with black oilcloth, on which a bronze crab carried a huge inkwell on its back, and opened the album.
- I'm tired, I must be ... And I'm getting old ... My head turns gray, bald and ... stupid, - muttered Shatrov.
He had been feeling lethargic for a long time. The web of monotonous daily activities has been woven for years, entangling the brain tenaciously. Thought did not fly up any more, spreading its mighty wings far. Like a horse under a heavy load, she stepped confidently, slowly and dejectedly. Shatrov understood that his condition was caused by the accumulated fatigue. Friends and colleagues have long advised him to have fun. But the professor did not know how to rest or be interested in something outsider.
“Leave! I haven’t been to the theater for twenty years, I haven’t lived in a dacha ”, - he gloomily repeated to his friends.
And at the same time, the scientist understood that he was paying for his long-term self-restraint, for deliberately narrowing the circle of interests, he was paying for the lack of strength and courage of thought. Self-restraint, giving the possibility of greater concentration of thought, at the same time, as it were, locked him tightly in a dark room, separating him from the diverse and wide world.
An excellent self-taught artist, he always found solace in drawing. But now even a cunningly conceived composition did not help him cope with nervous excitement. Shatrov slammed the album shut, left the table and took out a bundle of frayed notes. Soon the old harmonium filled the room with the melodious sounds of Brahms's intermezzo. Shatrov played poorly and rarely, but he always bravely took on things that were difficult to perform, since he played only alone with himself. Shortsightedly squinting at the lines of music, the professor recalled all the details of his recent trip, unusual for him, an armchair schema-master.
A former student of Shatrov, who transferred to the astronomy department, developed an original theory of the motion of the solar system in space. A strong friendship was established between the professor and Victor (that was the name of the former student). At the very beginning of the war, Victor volunteered for the front, was sent to a tank school, where he underwent long training. At this time, he was engaged in his theory. In early 1943, Shatrov received a letter from Victor. The student reported that he was able to finish his work. Viktor promised to send a notebook with a detailed presentation of the theory to Shatrov immediately, as soon as he rewrote everything cleanly. This was the last letter Shatrov received. Soon, his student was killed in a grand tank battle.
Shatrov never received the promised notebook. He undertook an energetic search, which did not give results, and finally decided that Victor's tank unit was brought into battle so quickly that his student simply did not have time to send him his calculations. After the end of the war, Shatrov managed to meet with the major, the head of the late Viktor. The major took part in the very battle where Viktor was killed, and was now being treated in Leningrad, where Shatrov himself worked. A new acquaintance assured the professor that Victor's tank, badly damaged by a direct hit, did not burn and therefore there was a hope of finding the papers of the deceased, if only they were in the tank. The tank, as the major thought, should have now stood at the battle site, since it was heavily mined.
The professor and the major made a joint trip to the place of Victor's death.
And now in front of Shatrov, from behind the lines of battered notes, pictures of what he had just experienced stood up.
Shatrov obediently stopped.
Ahead, in the sun-drenched field, the tall, lush grass stood motionless. Dew drops sparkled on the leaves, on the fluffy caps of sweet-smelling white flowers, on the conical purple blossoms of willow-herb. Insects, warmed by the morning sun, buzzed busily over the tall grass. Further, the forest, hewn by shells three years ago, threw a shadow of its green, broken by uneven and frequent gaps, reminiscent of the slowly closing wounds of war. The field was full of lush plant life. But there, in the thick of unmown grass, death was hidden, not yet destroyed, not conquered by time and nature.
The rapidly growing grass hid the wounded earth, blown up by shells, mines and bombs, plowed by tank tracks, strewn with shrapnel and sprinkled with blood ...
Shatrov saw broken tanks. Half-hidden by the weeds, they hunched gloomily among the flowering field, with streams of red rust on their torn armor, with their cannons raised or lowered. To the right, in a small depression, three cars were blackened, burned and motionless. The German cannons were looking directly at Shatrov, as if a dead anger was still forcing them to rush furiously towards the white and fresh birch trees on the edge of the forest.
Further, on a small hill, one tank reared up, advancing on the overturned car on its side. Behind the willow-tea thickets, only a part of its tower with a dirty-white cross was visible. To the left, the broad, spotted gray-red mass of the Ferdinand bent down the long barrel of the gun, which was buried with its end in the thick of grass.
The flowering field was not crossed by a single path, not a single trace of a person or an animal was visible in the dense thicket of weeds, not a sound came from there. Only an alarmed jay rattled abruptly somewhere above, and from afar came the noise of a tractor.
The major climbed onto the fallen tree trunk and stood motionless for a long time. The Major's chauffeur was also silent.
Shatrov involuntarily recalled a Latin inscription full of solemn sadness, which was usually placed in the old days above the entrance to an anatomical theater: "Hic Locus est, ubi mors gaudet sucurrere vitarn", which means: "This is the place where death rejoices, helping life."
A small sergeant, the head of a group of sappers, approached the major. His cheerfulness seemed to Shatrov out of place.
- Can we start, Comrade Guards Major? The sergeant asked loudly. - Where will we lead you from?
- From here. - The major jabbed a stick into the hawthorn bush. - Direction - exactly to that birch ...
The sergeant and the four soldiers who had arrived with him began to clear mines.
- Where is that tank ... Victor? - Shatrov asked quietly. - I only see German ones.
- Look here, - the major moved his hand to the left, - along this group of aspens. See - there is a little birch tree on the hill? Yes? And to the right of her
Shatrov looked closely. A small birch, miraculously survived on the battlefield, barely quivered with its fresh tender leaves. And among the weeds, two meters away from her, stood a pile of warped metal, which from afar seemed only a red spot with black holes.
A sergeant who had finished working approached them:
- Ready! The path was laid.
The professor and the major headed towards the desired goal. The tank seemed to Shatrov like a huge warped skull, gaping with black holes in large gaps. The armor, bent, rounded, and melted, was crimson with bruises of rust.
The major, with the help of his chauffeur, climbed onto the wrecked car, examined something inside for a long time, thrusting his head into the open hatch. Shatrov scrambled up behind and stood on the split frontal armor against the major.
He freed his head, screwed up his eyes in the light and said sullenly:
- You yourself have no need to climb. Wait, the sergeant and I will take a look. If we can't find it, then, to be sure, please come over.
The dexterous sergeant quickly ducked into the car and helped the major to climb. Shatrov bent anxiously over the hatch. Inside the tank, the air was stuffy, saturated with delusion and gave off a faint smell of engine oil. To be sure, the major lit a flashlight, although light penetrated into the car through the holes. He stood bent over, trying in the chaos of warped metal to determine what had been completely destroyed. The major tried to put himself in the place of the tank commander, who was forced to hide in it a valuable thing for himself, and began to consistently examine all the pockets, nests and nooks. The sergeant got into the engine room, tossed and turned for a long time and groaned there.
Suddenly the major noticed a tablet on the surviving seat, tucked behind the pillow, at the crossbar of the back. He pulled it out quickly. The skin, whitened and swollen, was intact; a mold-tainted map peeped through the dull mesh of celluloid. The major frowned, anticipating disappointment, and with an effort unfastened the rusted buttons. Shatrov shifted impatiently from foot to foot. Under the map, folded several times, was a gray notebook with a hard granite binding.
- Found! - And the major filed a clipboard into the hatch. Shatrov hastily pulled out the notebook, carefully opened the sheets that had stuck together, saw rows of numbers written in Victor's handwriting, and cried out with joy.
The major climbed out.
A light breeze rose and brought the honey smell of flowers. A thin birch rustled and bent over the tank, as if in inconsolable sadness. Above, dense white clouds floated slowly, and in the distance, sleepy and measured, the cry of a cuckoo was heard ...
... Shatrov did not notice how quietly the door opened and his wife entered. She looked anxiously with kind blue eyes at her husband, who was frozen in thought over the keys.
- Shall we have lunch, Alyosha?
Shatrov closed the harmonium.
“You're up to something again, aren't you? The wife asked quietly, taking out plates from the sideboard.
- I am going the day after tomorrow to the observatory, to Belsky, for two or three days.
“I don’t recognize you, Alyosha. You are such a couch potato, for months I see only your back bent over the table, and suddenly ... What happened to you? I see an influence in this ...
- Of course, Davydova? - Shatrov laughed. - She-she, no. Olyushka, he doesn't know anything. After all, we have not seen him since the forty-first year.
- But you correspond every week!
- Exaggeration, Olyushka. Davydov is now in America, at the congress of geologists ... Yes, by the way, she reminded me that he is coming back the other day. I'll write to him today.
The observatory where Shatrov arrived was just rebuilt after the barbaric destruction of it by the Nazis.
The reception given to Shatrov was cordial and gracious. The professor was sheltered by the director himself, academician Belsky, in one of the rooms of his small house. For two days Shatrov looked closely at the observatory, got acquainted with the instruments, star catalogs and maps. On the third day, one of the most powerful telescopes was free, and the night was also favorable for observations. Belsky volunteered to be Shatrov's guide to those areas of the sky that were mentioned in Victor's manuscript.
The room for the large telescope was more like a workshop in a large factory than a scientific laboratory. Complex metal structures were incomprehensible to Shatrov, who was far from technology, and he thought that his friend, Professor Davydov, a lover of all kinds of machines, would appreciate what he saw much better. This round tower contained several consoles with electrical appliances. Belsky's assistant confidently and deftly operated various switches and buttons. Large electric motors roared dully, the tower turned, the massive telescope, like a tool with openwork walls, tilted lower towards the horizon. The roar of the engines died away and was replaced by a thin howl. The movement of the telescope became almost imperceptible. Belsky invited Shatrov to climb a light duralumin ladder. On the landing was a comfortable chair bolted to the deck and wide enough to accommodate both scientists. Nearby is a table with some kind of instruments. Belsky pushed back to him a metal bar, equipped at the ends with two binoculars, similar to those that Shatrov constantly used in his laboratory.
“A device for simultaneous double observation,” Belsky explained. “We'll both be looking at the same telescope image.
- I know. The same devices are used by us, biologists, - answered Shatrov.
“Now we make little use of visual observations,” Belsky continued, “the eye soon gets tired and does not retain what it has seen. Modern astronomical work is all about photographs, especially stellar astronomy, which you are interested in ... Well, you wanted to look at some star first. Here is a beautiful double star - blue and yellow - in the constellation Cygnus. Adjust over your eyes as you normally would ... Wait, though. I'd rather turn off the light completely - let your eyes get used to it ...
Shatrov clung to the binocular lenses, skillfully and quickly adjusted the screws. In the center of the black circle, two very close stars shone brightly. Shatrov immediately realized that the telescope was not able to enlarge the stars, like the planets or the moon - so great are the distances separating them from the Earth. The telescope makes them brighter, more clearly visible, collecting and concentrating the rays. Therefore, through a telescope, millions of faint stars are visible, completely inaccessible to the naked eye.
In front of Shatrov, surrounded by deep blackness, burned two small bright lights of a beautiful blue and yellow color, incomparably brighter than the best precious stones. These tiny luminous points gave an incomparable sensation of both the purest light and immense distance; they were immersed in the deepest abyss of darkness, pierced by their rays. For a long time Shatrov could not tear himself away from these lights of distant worlds, but Belsky, lazily reclining in his chair, hastened him:
- Let's continue our review. It won't be such a beautiful night soon, and the telescope will be busy. You wanted to see the center of our Galaxy [Galaxy is a giant star system (otherwise called the Milky Way), in which our Sun is located as an ordinary star. The Sun describes a giant
an orbit with an orbital period of about 220 million years.], that "axis" around which its "star wheel" revolves?
The motors whined again. Shatrov felt the movement of the platform. A swarm of dim lights arose in the glasses of the binoculars, Belsky slowed down the movement of the telescope. The huge machine moved imperceptibly and soundlessly, and before Shatrov's eyes, sections of the Milky Way slowly floated in the region of the constellations Sagittarius and Ophiuchus.
Belsky's short explanations helped Shatrov quickly find his bearings and understand what was visible.
The dimly glowing stellar fog of the Milky Way crumbled into an innumerable swarm of lights. This swarm thickened into a large cloud, elongated and crossed by two dark stripes. In some places, some rare stars, closer to the Earth, burned brightly, as if sticking out from the depths of space.
Belsky stopped the telescope and raised the eyepiece magnification. There was now almost the entire star cloud in sight - a dense luminous mass in which the individual stars were indistinguishable. Millions of stars swarmed around her, thickening and thinning. At the sight of this abundance of worlds that were not inferior to our Sun in size and brightness, Shatrov felt a vague oppression.
- In this direction, the center of the Galaxy, - explained Belsky, - at a distance of thirty thousand light years Note1
A light year is a unit of distance in astronomy, equal to the number of kilometers traveled by a ray of light per year (9.46 X 10 to the 12th power of km, that is, almost 10 to the 13th power of km). Nowadays, the parsec is used as a unit of distance in astronomy, equal to 3.26 light years.
The very center is invisible to us. Only recently has it been possible to photograph the vague, indistinct outline of this nucleus in infrared rays. Right here, to the right, is a monstrous black spot: this is a mass of dark matter covering the center of the Galaxy. But all its stars revolve around it, the Sun flies around it at a speed of two hundred and fifty kilometers per second. If there were no dark curtain, the Milky Way would be incomparably brighter here, and our night sky would seem not black, but ash ... Let's go further ...
In the telescope appeared black glades in stellar swarms, stretching for millions of kilometers.
“These are clouds of dark dust and debris,” Belsky explained. - Individual stars shine through them with infrared rays, as established by photography on special plates ... And there are many more stars that do not shine at all. We recognize the presence of only the nearest such stars by their radiation of radio waves - that's why we call them "radio stars" ...
Shatrov was struck by one large nebula. Like a puff of glowing smoke, dotted with deep black gaps, it hung in space like a cloud dispersed by a vortex. Above and to the right of it were dull gray shreds that went there, into the bottomless interstellar chasms. It was terrifying to imagine the enormous dimensions of this cloud of dusty matter, reflecting the light of distant stars. In any of its black holes, our entire solar system would sink imperceptibly.
- Now let's look beyond the limits of our Galaxy, - said Belsky.
Deep darkness arose in front of Shatrov's field of vision. Subtle points of light, so faint that their light died in the eye, almost without causing a visual sensation, rarely, rarely met in immeasurable depth.
- This is what separates our Galaxy from other stellar islands, And now you see stellar worlds similar to our Galaxy, extremely distant from us. Here, in the direction of the constellation Pegasus, the deepest parts of space known to us open before us. Now we will look at the galaxy closest to us, similar in size and shape to our giant star system. It consists of a myriad of individual stars of various sizes and brightness, has the same clouds of dark matter, the same strip of this matter, spreading in the equatorial plane, and is also surrounded by globular star clusters. This is the so-called M31 nebula in the constellation Andromeda. It is obliquely inclined towards us, so that we see it partly from the edge, partly from the plane ...
Shatrov saw a pale luminous cloud in the form of an elongated oval. Looking closely, he was able to make out the lines of light, arranged in a spiral and separated by black gaps.
In the center of the nebula, the densest luminous mass of stars was visible, merged into one whole at a colossal distance. Subtle spirally curving outgrowths departed from it. Around this dense mass, separated by dark rings, there were stripes that were more rarefied and dim, and at the very edge, especially at the lower boundary of the field of view, the circular stripes were torn into a series of rounded specks.
- Look, look! As a paleontologist, this should be of particular interest to you. After all, the light that now falls into our eyes left this galaxy a million and a half years ago. Still there was no man on Earth!
- And this is the closest galaxy to us? - Shatrov was surprised.
- Well, of course! We already know those that are located at distances of the order of hundreds of billions of light years. For billions of years, light has been traveling at a speed of ten trillion kilometers a year. Have you seen such galaxies in the constellation Pegasus ...
- Incomprehensible! You don't have to say - all the same, such distances cannot be imagined. Endless, immeasurable depths ...
Belsky showed Shatrov the night lights for a long time. Finally, Shatrov warmly thanked his starry Virgil, returned to his room and went to bed, but for a long time he could not sleep.
Thousands of luminaries swarmed in closed eyes, colossal star clouds, black curtains of cold matter, giant flakes of glowing gas floated ...
And all this - stretching for billions and trillions of kilometers, scattered in a monstrous, cold void, divided by unimaginable spaces, in the hopeless darkness of which only streams of powerful radiation rush.
Stars are huge accumulations of matter, compressed by gravity and developing high temperatures under the influence of excessive pressure. High temperatures cause atomic reactions to intensify the release of energy. For stars to exist without exploding, in equilibrium, energy must be thrown into space in colossal quantities in the form of heat, light, and cosmic rays. And around these stars, as if around power stations operating on nuclear energy, the planets warmed by them revolve.
In the monstrous depths of space, these planetary systems rush, together with myriads of single stars and dark, cooled matter, constituting a huge, wheel-like system - a galaxy. Sometimes stars come together and diverge again for billions of years, like the ships of one galaxy. And in an even larger space, individual galaxies are also like even larger ships, shining their lights on each other in the immeasurable ocean of darkness and cold.
A hitherto unknown feeling took possession of Shatrov when he vividly and vividly imagined the Universe with its terrifying coldness of emptiness, with masses of matter scattered in it, heated to unimaginable temperatures; I imagined distances that were not accessible to any forces, the incredible duration of the processes taking place, in which dust grains, like the Earth, are absolutely insignificant.
And at the same time, proud admiration for life and its highest achievement
- with the mind of man - chased away the terrible appearance of the stellar universe. Life, fleeting, so fragile that it can exist only on planets similar to the Earth, burns with tiny lights somewhere in the black and dead depths of space.
All the steadfastness and strength of life is in its most complex organization, which we barely began to understand, the organization acquired by millions of years of historical development, the struggle of internal contradictions, the endless replacement of outdated forms with new, more perfect ones. This is the power of life, its advantage over inanimate matter. The formidable hostility of cosmic forces cannot interfere with life, which, in turn, gives rise to thought that analyzes the laws of nature and, with their help, overcomes its forces.
On Earth and there, in the depths of space, life flourishes - a powerful source of thought and will, which will later turn into a stream that spreads widely throughout the Universe. A stream that will connect individual streams into a mighty ocean of thought.
And Shatrov realized that the impressions he had experienced at night had once again awakened the frozen strength of his creative thinking. The opening, enclosed in Tao Li's box ...
The chief mate of the steamer Vitim leaned casually on the gleaming handrails in the sunlight. The large ship seemed to fall asleep on the rhythmically swaying green water, surrounded by slowly moving glare of light. A long, high-nosed English steamer was smoking thickly nearby, nodding lazily with two white crosses of massive masts.
The southern edge of the bay, almost straight and black with deep shadow, was cut off by a wall of reddish-purple mountains, laced with purple shadows.
The officer heard firm footsteps below and saw on the bridge ladder the massive head and broad shoulders of Professor Davydov.
- What's so early, Ilya Andreevich? - he greeted the scientist.
Davydov narrowed his eyes, silently examined the sunny distance, and then looked at the smiling senior assistant:
- I want to say goodbye to Hawaii. Nice place, nice place ... Leaving soon?
- The owner is not present - he is arranging business on the shore. And so everything is ready. The captain will return - let's go now. Straight home.
The professor nodded his head and reached into his pocket for cigarettes. He enjoyed rest, days of forced idleness, rare in the life of a true scientist. Davydov was returning from San Francisco, where he went as a delegate to a congress of geologists and paleontologists - researchers of the Earth's past.
The scientist wanted to make the return trip on his own, Soviet, steamer, and "Vitim" turned up very handy. The entry to the Hawaiian Islands was even more enjoyable. During the stay, Davydov managed to get acquainted with the nature of this country, surrounded by the vast expanses of the Pacific Ocean. And now, looking around him, he felt even greater pleasure from the consciousness of an imminent return to his homeland. Many interesting thoughts have accumulated over the days of unhurried, quiet reflection. New considerations crowded in the scientist's head, imperiously demanding a way out - verification, comparisons, further development. But this could not be done here, in the steamer's cabin: there was no necessary records, books, collections at hand ...
Davydov stroked his temple with his fingers, which meant the professor was embarrassed or annoyed ...
To the right of the protruding corner of the concrete pier, a wide avenue of palm trees suddenly began; their dense feathery crowns were cast with light bronze, covering beautiful white houses with variegated flower beds. Further, on the ledge of the coast, the greenery of low trees approached the water. There a blue boat with black stripes barely swayed. Several boys and girls in the boat exposed their tanned slender bodies to the morning sun, laughing loudly before swimming. In the clear air, the professor's far-sighted eyes discerned all the details of the nearby shore. Davydov drew attention to a round flower bed, in the center of which a strange plant rose: at the bottom, a thick brush stuck out knife-like silver leaves; a red spindle-shaped inflorescence rose above the leaves almost to the height of a human being.
- Do you know what kind of plant it is? The concerned professor asked the senior assistant.
“I don’t know,” the young sailor replied nonchalantly. - I saw him, heard that they are considered a rarity ... And tell me, Ilya Andreevich, is it true that you were a sailor in your youth?
Unhappy with the change in conversation, the professor frowned.
- Was. What does it matter now? He muttered. - You are better…
Somewhere behind the buildings to the left, a whistle howled, echoing across the calm water.
The senior assistant was immediately alert. Davydov looked around in bewilderment.
The same calmness of the early morning soared over the small town and the bay, wide open into the blue ocean. The professor turned his gaze to the bathers' boat.
The swarthy girl, obviously a Hawaiian, straightened up at the stern, waving her hand high to the Russian sailors, and jumped. The red flowers of her bathing suit broke the emerald glassy water and disappeared. The light motorboat quickly rushed into the harbor. A minute later, a car appeared at the pier, the captain of the "Vitim" jumped out of it and rushed to his ship at a run. A string of flags rose and fluttered on the signal mast. The captain, breathless, flew up to the bridge, wiping the sweat pouring down his face with the sleeve of his snow-white tunic.
- What's happened? - began the senior assistant. - I do not understand this signal ...
- Avral! The captain shouted. - Avral! - and grabbed the handle of the machine telegraph. - Is the car ready?
The captain bent down to the conversation pipe and, after a short conversation with the mechanic, gave a series of abrupt orders:
- All up! Batten down the hatches! Clear deck! Give up the mooring lines!
- Russians, what shall you do? Note2
Russians, what are you going to do?
- Suddenly anxiously roared a megaphone from a nearby ship.
- Go ahead! Note3
Make advances!
- the captain of "Vitim" immediately answered.
- Well! At full speed! Note4
Right! Full speed!
The Englishman responded with more confidence.
The water rumbled dully under the stern, the Vitim's hull trembled, the dock slowly swam to the right. Davydov was embarrassed by the anxious running around on deck. He several times threw inquiring glances at the captain, but he, absorbed in the maneuvering of the ship, did not seem to notice anything around.
And the sea was still lapping calmly and evenly, not a single cloud was visible in the sultry and clear sky.
"Vitim" turned around and, picking up speed, moved towards the vastness of the ocean.
The captain took a deep breath, took a handkerchief from his pocket. Glancing around the deck with a keen eye, he realized that everyone was anxiously awaiting his explanation.
- There is a giant tidal wave from the northeast. I suppose the only salvation of the ship is to meet her at sea, at full speed of the cars ... Away from the coast!
He turned to the receding dock, as if assessing the distance.
Davydov looked ahead and saw several rows of large waves rushing madly towards the ground. And behind them, like the main forces behind the vanguard, erasing the blue radiance of the distant sea, the flat gray hill of the giant rampart rushed heavily.
- Team take cover below! - ordered the captain, sharply moving the telegraph handle.
The forward waves grew and sharpened as they approached the ground. The Vitim jerked its nose sharply, flew up and dived right under the crest of the next wave. A soft, heavy slap hit the bridge handrails, tightly gripped in Davydov's hands. The deck sank into the water, a cloud of glittering spray of mist in front of the bridge. A second later, the Vitim emerged, its nose rushed up again. Powerful machines shuddered deep below, desperately resisting the force of the waves,
detaining the ship, driving it to the shore, trying to smash the Vitim on the hard bosom of the earth.
Not a single spot of foam gleamed white on the edge of the gigantic rampart, which rose with an ominous wheeze and grew steeper. The dull sheen of the water wall, which was rapidly approaching, massive and impenetrable, reminded Davydov of the steeps of basalt rocks in the mountains of Primorye. The wave, heavy as lava, rose higher and higher, obscuring the sky and the sun; its pointed tip floated above the Vitim's forward mast. An ominous gloom deepened at the foot of the watery mountain, in a deep black pit, into which the ship slid, as if obediently bowing under a fatal blow.
Starships Ivan Efremov
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Name: Starships
About the book "Starships" Ivan Efremov
All lovers of high-quality science fiction will be interested to get acquainted with the work written by Ivan Efremov entitled "Starships". In addition to his writing career, Efremov also excelled in science, or more precisely, in paleontology. It is on scientific hypotheses that the plot of the aforementioned book is built, making a bold assumption about aliens who visited Earth in the era of the dinosaurs.
The two main characters of the novel are scientists Aleksey Shatrov and Ilya Davydov. They both met with strange riddles and only with the help of each other will be able to solve them. And it all started from the moment when Shatrov learned about an amazing discovery that raised questions. A dinosaur skull with a strange hole was found. Incredibly, it looked like nothing more than a bullet hole. But how could this have happened at all? After all, even people did not even exist at that time, not to mention firearms. Having made the conclusions, Shatrov came to a logical conclusion - at that time aliens visited the Earth. But then another question arises. How were they able to overcome the unthinkable distance and land on Earth? As it turned out, there was an opportunity. A former student of Shatrov, who died in the war, made some calculations that proved the theory that 70 million years ago the solar system was much closer to other galaxies.
To deal with the riddle, Shatrov hurried to his friend Davydov. But he also plunged headlong into another mystery of antiquity. A truly large dinosaur cemetery was found in Central Asia. They all fell ill at once. A logical question arose: why did this happen? Both scientists suggested that it was an earthquake, thanks to which the energy was released, which destroyed the creatures. The second thought that crossed their minds was about aliens again.
Perhaps it was this energy that was the target of extraterrestrial intelligence? Meanwhile, a strange relic was found, which the scientist initially mistook for the shell of a turtle. But that's not all, because the book is so multifaceted that it can surprise you more than once.
Ivan Efremov wrote an interesting and exciting novel in an artistic style. The topic of aliens has always been and will be relevant, so both adults and children want to read about it, who are so interested in learning more about space and extraterrestrial beings.
The Starships book is one of the few that can broaden one's horizons, despite the fact that it was written in the 20th century. Ivan Efremov contains so much interesting material that everyone who decides to pick up the book will definitely like to read.
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- When did you arrive, Alexey Petrovich? Many people have asked you here.
- Today. But for all of me, not yet. And please close the window in the first room.
The newcomer took off his old military cloak, wiped his face with a handkerchief, smoothed his light blond hair, which had thinned out on the crown of his head, sat down in an armchair, lit a cigarette, got up again and began to walk around the room, cluttered with cupboards and tables.
- Is it possible? He thought aloud.
He walked over to one of the cupboards and forcefully opened the high oak door. The white trays of the trays peeped out from the dark depths of the cabinet. On one tray was a box of yellow, shiny, bone-hard cardboard. Across the side of the cube facing the door was a gray paper sticker covered in black Chinese characters. Mugs of postmarks were scattered here and there over the surface of the box. The man's long, pale fingers touched the cardboard.
- Tao Li, unknown friend! It's time to act.
Quietly closing the cabinet doors, Professor Shatrov took a shabby briefcase and took out a damp-damaged notebook in a gray granite-lined binding. Carefully separating the stuck together sheets, the professor looked through the rows of numbers through a magnifying glass and from time to time made some calculations in a large notebook.
A pile of cigarette butts and burnt matches grew in the ashtray; the air in the office turned blue from tobacco smoke.
Shatrov's unusually clear eyes glittered under bushy eyebrows. The thinker's high forehead, square jaws and sharply defined nostrils reinforced the general impression of extraordinary mental strength, giving the professor the features of a fanatic.
Finally, the scientist pushed the notebook aside.
- Yes, seventy million years! Seventy million! OK! - Shatrov made a sharp gesture with his hand, as if piercing something in front of him, looked around, narrowed his eyes slyly and again said loudly: - Seventy million! .. Just don't be afraid!
The professor unhurriedly and methodically removed his desk, dressed and went home.
Shatrov looked around the "bronzes" placed in all corners of the room, as he called the collection of artistic bronzes, sat down at a table covered with black oilcloth, on which a bronze crab carried a huge inkwell on its back, and opened the album.
- I'm tired, I must be ... And I'm getting old ... My head turns gray, bald and ... stupid, - muttered Shatrov.
He had been feeling lethargic for a long time. The web of monotonous daily activities has been woven for years, entangling the brain tenaciously. Thought did not fly up any more, spreading its mighty wings far. Like a horse under a heavy load, she stepped confidently, slowly and dejectedly. Shatrov understood that his condition was caused by the accumulated fatigue. Friends and colleagues have long advised him to have fun. But the professor did not know how to rest or be interested in something outsider.
“Leave! I haven’t been to the theater for twenty years, I haven’t lived in a dacha ”, - he gloomily repeated to his friends.
And at the same time, the scientist understood that he was paying for his long-term self-restraint, for deliberately narrowing the circle of interests, he was paying for the lack of strength and courage of thought. Self-restraint, giving the possibility of greater concentration of thought, at the same time, as it were, locked him tightly in a dark room, separating him from the diverse and wide world.
An excellent self-taught artist, he always found solace in drawing. But now even a cunningly conceived composition did not help him cope with nervous excitement. Shatrov slammed the album shut, left the table and took out a bundle of frayed notes. Soon the old harmonium filled the room with the melodious sounds of Brahms's intermezzo. Shatrov played poorly and rarely, but he always bravely took on things that were difficult to perform, since he played only alone with himself. Shortsightedly squinting at the lines of music, the professor recalled all the details of his recent trip, unusual for him, an armchair schema-master.
A former student of Shatrov, who transferred to the astronomy department, developed an original theory of the motion of the solar system in space. A strong friendship was established between the professor and Victor (that was the name of the former student). At the very beginning of the war, Victor volunteered for the front, was sent to a tank school, where he underwent long training. At this time, he was engaged in his theory. In early 1943, Shatrov received a letter from Victor. The student reported that he was able to finish his work. Viktor promised to send a notebook with a detailed presentation of the theory to Shatrov immediately, as soon as he rewrote everything cleanly. This was the last letter Shatrov received. Soon, his student was killed in a grand tank battle.
Shatrov never received the promised notebook. He undertook an energetic search, which did not give results, and finally decided that Victor's tank unit was brought into battle so quickly that his student simply did not have time to send him his calculations. After the end of the war, Shatrov managed to meet with the major, the head of the late Viktor. The major took part in the very battle where Viktor was killed, and was now being treated in Leningrad, where Shatrov himself worked. A new acquaintance assured the professor that Victor's tank, badly damaged by a direct hit, did not burn and therefore there was a hope of finding the papers of the deceased, if only they were in the tank. The tank, as the major thought, should have now stood at the battle site, since it was heavily mined. The professor and the major made a joint trip to the place of Victor's death. And now in front of Shatrov, from behind the lines of battered notes, pictures of what he had just experienced stood up.
Shatrov obediently stopped.
Ahead, in the sun-drenched field, the tall, lush grass stood motionless. Dew drops sparkled on the leaves, on the fluffy caps of sweet-smelling white flowers, on the conical purple blossoms of willow-herb. Insects, warmed by the morning sun, buzzed busily over the tall grass. Further, the forest, hewn by shells three years ago, threw a shadow of its green, broken by uneven and frequent gaps, reminiscent of the slowly closing wounds of war. The field was full of lush plant life. But there, in the thick of unmown grass, death was hidden, not yet destroyed, not conquered by time and nature.
The rapidly growing grass hid the wounded earth, blown up by shells, mines and bombs, plowed by tank tracks, strewn with shrapnel and sprinkled with blood ...
Shatrov saw broken tanks. Half-hidden by the weeds, they hunched gloomily among the flowering field, with streams of red rust on their torn armor, with their cannons raised or lowered. To the right, in a small depression, three cars were blackened, burned and motionless. The German cannons were looking directly at Shatrov, as if a dead anger was still forcing them to rush furiously towards the white and fresh birch trees on the edge of the forest.
Further, on a small hill, one tank heaved upward, advancing on the overturned car on its side. Behind the willow-tea thickets, only a part of its tower with a dirty-white cross was visible. To the left, the broad, spotted, gray-red mass of the Ferdinand bent down the long barrel of the gun, which was buried with its end in the thick of grass.
The flowering field was not crossed by a single path, not a single trace of a person or an animal was visible in the dense thicket of weeds, not a sound came from there. Only an alarmed jay rattled abruptly somewhere above, and from afar came the noise of a tractor.
The major climbed onto the fallen tree trunk and stood motionless for a long time. The Major's chauffeur was also silent.
Shatrov involuntarily recalled a Latin inscription full of solemn sadness, usually placed in the old days above the entrance to an anatomical theater: "Hic locus est, ubi mors gaudet sucurrere vitam", which means: "This is the place where death rejoices, helping life."
A small sergeant, the head of a group of sappers, approached the major. His cheerfulness seemed to Shatrov out of place.
In this (the first for Ivan Efremov) story, the story begins with a paradox - a dinosaur skull with a bullet hole was found. They shot the beast-lizard long before the appearance of man as a species, which prompted the main character (scientist Alexei Shatrov) to think about aliens. His friend, paleontologist Davydov, is also struggling with the mysterious one-time death of many dinosaurs, as if from radiation. In addition, a student of Shatrov, an astronomer who died in the war, once calculated the movement of the stars in such a way that he proved the long-time approach of the Earth to a galaxy where life is possible. Everything converged on the visit of aliens ...
The main idea of the story is in many worlds. In vain mankind is so isolated on itself, a lot of things could happen without his knowledge in this world.
Read the summary Efremov Starships
Shatrov is a respected scientist who, in his free time, draws to calm down and concentrate. His Chinese colleague gives him the startling news of a find with a likely bullet hole. Reflecting on the riddle, Alexei recalls that he did not wait for a complete theory of the motion of the stars from his student. The astronomer student died heroically in the war. Shatrov drove to the battlefield, saw a mangled car, even found a surviving bag with blueprints. All this, as well as Davydov's story, convinces him that millions of years ago a galaxy came critically close to Earth, from where aliens could fly. Most likely, they were interested in fuel. However, the dinosaurs did not receive the guests kindly. There was a battle, the aliens left the land. An incomprehensible artifact, similar to the shell of a turtle, found among the bones of dinosaurs, is further proof of all this.
The inspiration of the story was the found skull of an ancient bison - with a bullet hole, which, however, later turned out to be the work of larvae.
Picture or drawing Starships
Other retellings for the reader's diary
- Summary of Goethe Egmont
This work tells about the events that take place in Holland many centuries ago. The country is ruled by Margarita. Ordinary residents are not happy with her, but this does not prevent her from quietly ruling.
- Soloukhin
- Summary of Mongoose Lives
The narrator really wanted him to have an animal - a mongoose and decided to buy it. The man was lucky, some merchant sold him two animals in a cage right on the ship. The narrator did not even ask whether tame mongooses or not, and what they eat.
- Summary of Korolenko Instant
Juan Maria Miguel Jose Diaz, a rebel, is imprisoned in a stone prison on the island for rebellion. Long years of imprisonment deprived him of his thirst for freedom and life, his soul froze. All these years he hoped for salvation, peered out into the sea and waited for help
© I. Efremov, heirs, 2018
© Design. LLC "AST Publishing House", 2018
Starships
Chapter 1
On the threshold of discovery
- When did you arrive, Alexey Petrovich? Many people have asked you here.
- Today. But for all of me, not yet. And please close the window in the first room.
The newcomer took off his old military cloak, wiped his face with a handkerchief, smoothed his light blond hair, which had thinned out on the crown of his head, sat down in an armchair, lit a cigarette, got up again and began to walk around the room, cluttered with cupboards and tables.
- Is it possible? He thought aloud.
He walked over to one of the cupboards and forcefully opened the high oak door. The white trays of the trays peeped out from the dark depths of the cabinet. On one tray was a box of yellow, shiny, bone-hard cardboard. Across the side of the cube facing the door was a gray paper sticker covered in black Chinese characters. Mugs of postmarks were scattered here and there over the surface of the box. The man's long, pale fingers touched the cardboard.
- Tao Li, unknown friend! It's time to act.
Quietly closing the cabinet doors, Professor Shatrov took a shabby briefcase and took out a damp-damaged notebook in a gray granite-lined binding. Carefully separating the stuck together sheets, the professor looked through the rows of numbers through a magnifying glass and from time to time made some calculations in a large notebook.
A pile of cigarette butts and burnt matches grew in the ashtray; the air in the office turned blue from tobacco smoke.
Shatrov's unusually clear eyes glittered under bushy eyebrows. The thinker's high forehead, square jaws and sharply defined nostrils reinforced the general impression of extraordinary mental strength, giving the professor the features of a fanatic.
Finally, the scientist pushed the notebook aside.
- Yes, seventy million years! Seventy million! OK! - Shatrov made a sharp gesture with his hand, as if piercing something in front of him, looked around, narrowed his eyes slyly and again said loudly: - Seventy million! .. Just don't be afraid!
The professor unhurriedly and methodically removed his desk, dressed and went home.
Shatrov looked around the "bronzes" placed in all corners of the room, as he called the collection of artistic bronzes, sat down at a table covered with black oilcloth, on which a bronze crab carried a huge inkwell on its back, and opened the album.
- I'm tired, I must be ... And I'm getting old ... My head turns gray, bald and ... stupid, - muttered Shatrov.
He had been feeling lethargic for a long time. The web of monotonous daily activities has been woven for years, entangling the brain tenaciously. Thought did not fly up any more, spreading its mighty wings far. Like a horse under a heavy load, she stepped confidently, slowly and dejectedly. Shatrov understood that his condition was caused by the accumulated fatigue. Friends and colleagues have long advised him to have fun. But the professor did not know how to rest or be interested in something outsider.
“Leave! I haven’t been to the theater for twenty years, I haven’t lived in a dacha ”, - he gloomily repeated to his friends.
And at the same time, the scientist understood that he was paying for his long-term self-restraint, for deliberately narrowing the circle of interests, he was paying for the lack of strength and courage of thought.
Self-restraint, giving the possibility of greater concentration of thought, at the same time, as it were, locked him tightly in a dark room, separating him from the diverse and wide world.
An excellent self-taught artist, he always found solace in drawing. But now even a cunningly conceived composition did not help him cope with nervous excitement. Shatrov slammed the album shut, left the table and took out a bundle of frayed notes. Soon the old harmonium filled the room with the melodious sounds of Brahms's intermezzo. Shatrov played poorly and rarely, but he always bravely took on things that were difficult to perform, since he played only alone with himself. Shortsightedly squinting at the lines of music, the professor recalled all the details of his recent trip, unusual for him, an armchair schema-master.
A former student of Shatrov, who transferred to the astronomy department, developed an original theory of the motion of the solar system in space. A strong friendship was established between the professor and Victor (that was the name of the former student). At the very beginning of the war, Victor volunteered for the front, was sent to a tank school, where he underwent long training. At this time, he was engaged in his theory. In early 1943, Shatrov received a letter from Victor. The student reported that he was able to finish his work. Viktor promised to send a notebook with a detailed presentation of the theory to Shatrov immediately, as soon as he rewrote everything cleanly. This was the last letter Shatrov received. Soon, his student was killed in a grand tank battle.
Shatrov never received the promised notebook. He undertook an energetic search, which did not give results, and finally decided that Victor's tank unit was brought into battle so quickly that his student simply did not have time to send him his calculations. After the end of the war, Shatrov managed to meet with the major, the head of the late Viktor. The major took part in the very battle where Viktor was killed, and was now being treated in Leningrad, where Shatrov himself worked. A new acquaintance assured the professor that Victor's tank, badly damaged by a direct hit, did not burn and therefore there was a hope of finding the papers of the deceased, if only they were in the tank. The tank, as the major thought, should have now stood at the battle site, since it was heavily mined. The professor and the major made a joint trip to the place of Victor's death. And now in front of Shatrov, from behind the lines of battered notes, pictures of what he had just experienced stood up.
Shatrov obediently stopped.
Ahead, in the sun-drenched field, the tall, lush grass stood motionless. Dew drops sparkled on the leaves, on the fluffy caps of sweet-smelling white flowers, on the conical purple blossoms of willow-herb. Insects, warmed by the morning sun, buzzed busily over the tall grass. Further, the forest, hewn by shells three years ago, threw a shadow of its green, broken by uneven and frequent gaps, reminiscent of the slowly closing wounds of war. The field was full of lush plant life. But there, in the thick of unmown grass, death was hidden, not yet destroyed, not conquered by time and nature.
The rapidly growing grass hid the wounded earth, blown up by shells, mines and bombs, plowed by tank tracks, strewn with shrapnel and sprinkled with blood ...
Shatrov saw broken tanks. Half-hidden by the weeds, they hunched gloomily among the flowering field, with streams of red rust on their torn armor, with their cannons raised or lowered. To the right, in a small depression, three cars were blackened, burned and motionless. The German cannons were looking directly at Shatrov, as if a dead anger was still forcing them to rush furiously towards the white and fresh birch trees on the edge of the forest.
Further, on a small hill, one tank heaved upward, advancing on the overturned car on its side. Behind the willow-tea thickets, only a part of its tower with a dirty-white cross was visible. To the left, the broad, spotted, gray-red mass of the Ferdinand bent down the long barrel of the gun, which was buried with its end in the thick of grass.
The flowering field was not crossed by a single path, not a single trace of a person or an animal was visible in the dense thicket of weeds, not a sound came from there. Only an alarmed jay rattled abruptly somewhere above, and from afar came the noise of a tractor.
The major climbed onto the fallen tree trunk and stood motionless for a long time. The Major's chauffeur was also silent.
Shatrov involuntarily recalled a Latin inscription full of solemn sadness, usually placed in the old days above the entrance to an anatomical theater: "Hic locus est, ubi mors gaudet sucurrere vitam", which means: "This is the place where death rejoices, helping life."
A small sergeant, the head of a group of sappers, approached the major. His cheerfulness seemed to Shatrov out of place.
- Can we start, Comrade Guards Major? The sergeant asked loudly. - Where will we lead you from?
- From here. - The major jabbed a stick into the hawthorn bush. - Direction - exactly to that birch ...
The sergeant and the four soldiers who had arrived with him began to clear mines.
- Where is that tank ... Victor? - Shatrov asked quietly. - I only see German ones.
- Look here, - the major moved his hand to the left, - along this group of aspens. See - there is a little birch tree on the hill? Yes? And to the right is a tank.
Shatrov looked closely. A small birch, miraculously survived on the battlefield, barely quivered with its fresh tender leaves. And among the weeds, two meters away from her, stood a pile of warped metal, which from afar seemed only a red spot with black holes.
A sergeant who had finished working approached them:
- Ready! The path was laid.
The professor and the major headed towards the desired goal. The tank seemed to Shatrov like a huge warped skull, gaping with black holes in large gaps. The armor, bent, rounded, and melted, was crimson with bruises of rust.
The major, with the help of his chauffeur, climbed onto the wrecked car, examined something inside for a long time, thrusting his head into the open hatch. Shatrov scrambled up behind and stood on the split frontal armor against the major. He freed his head, screwed up his eyes in the light and said sullenly:
- You yourself have no need to climb. Wait, the sergeant and I will take a look. If we can't find it, then, to be sure, please come over.
The dexterous sergeant quickly ducked into the car and helped the major to climb. Shatrov bent anxiously over the hatch. Inside the tank, the air was stuffy, saturated with delusion and gave off a faint smell of engine oil. To be sure, the major lit a flashlight, although light penetrated into the car through the holes. He stood bent over, trying in the chaos of warped metal to determine what had been completely destroyed. The major, apparently, tried to put himself in the place of the tank commander, who was forced to hide in it a valuable thing for himself, and began to consistently examine all the pockets, nests and nooks. The sergeant got into the engine room, tossed and turned for a long time and groaned there.
Suddenly the major noticed a tablet on the surviving seat, tucked behind the pillow, at the crossbar of the back. He pulled it out quickly. The skin, whitened and swollen, was intact; a mold-tainted map peeped through the dull mesh of celluloid. The major frowned, anticipating disappointment, and with an effort unfastened the rusted buttons. Shatrov shifted impatiently from foot to foot. Under the map, folded several times, was a gray notebook with a hard granite binding.
- Found! - And the major filed a clipboard into the hatch.
Shatrov hastily pulled out the notebook, carefully opened the sheets that had stuck together, saw rows of numbers written in Victor's handwriting, and cried out with joy.
The major climbed out.
A light breeze rose and brought the honey smell of flowers. A thin birch rustled and bent over the tank, as if in inconsolable sadness. Above, dense white clouds floated slowly, and in the distance, sleepy and measured, the cry of a cuckoo was heard ...
Shatrov did not notice how quietly the door opened and his wife entered. She looked anxiously with kind blue eyes at her husband, who was frozen in thought over the keys.
- Shall we have lunch, Alyosha?
Shatrov closed the harmonium.
“You're up to something again, aren't you? The wife asked quietly, taking out plates from the sideboard.
- I am going the day after tomorrow to the observatory, to Belsky, for two or three days.
“I don’t recognize you, Alyosha. You are such a couch potato, for months I see only your back bent over the table, and suddenly ... What happened to you? I see an influence in this ...
- Of course, Davydova? - Shatrov laughed. - She-she, no, Olyushka, he doesn't know anything. After all, we have not seen him since the forty-first year.
- But you correspond every week!
- Exaggeration, Olyushka. Davydov is now in America, at the congress of geologists ... Yes, by the way, she reminded me that he is coming back the other day. I'll write to him today.
... The observatory where Shatrov arrived was just rebuilt after the barbaric destruction of it by the Germans.
The reception given to Shatrov was cordial and gracious. The professor was sheltered by the director himself, academician Belsky, in one of the rooms of his small house. For two days Shatrov looked closely at the observatory, got acquainted with the instruments, star catalogs and maps. On the third day, one of the most powerful telescopes was free, and the night was also favorable for observations. Belsky volunteered to be Shatrov's guide to those areas of the sky that were mentioned in Victor's manuscript.
The room for the large telescope was more like a workshop in a large factory than a scientific laboratory. Complex metal structures were incomprehensible to Shatrov, who was far from technology, and he thought that his friend, Professor Davydov, a lover of all kinds of machines, would appreciate what he saw much better. This round tower contained several consoles with electrical appliances. Belsky's assistant confidently and deftly operated various switches and buttons. Large electric motors roared dully, the tower turned, a massive telescope, like a tool with openwork walls, tilted lower towards the horizon. The roar of the engines died away and was replaced by a thin howl. The movement of the telescope became almost imperceptible. Belsky invited Shatrov to climb a light duralumin ladder. On the landing was a comfortable chair bolted to the deck and wide enough to accommodate both scientists. Nearby is a table with some kind of instruments. Belsky pushed back to him a metal bar, equipped at the ends with two binoculars, similar to those that Shatrov constantly used in his laboratory.
“A device for simultaneous double observation,” Belsky explained. “We'll both be looking at the same telescope image.
- I know. The same devices are used by us, biologists, - answered Shatrov.
“Now we make little use of visual observations,” Belsky continued, “the eye soon gets tired and does not retain what it has seen. Modern astronomical work is all about photographs, especially stellar astronomy, which you are interested in ... Well, you wanted to look at some star first. Here is a beautiful double star - blue and yellow - in the constellation Cygnus. Adjust over your eyes as you normally would ... Wait, though. I'd rather turn off the light completely - let your eyes get used to it ...
Shatrov clung to the binocular lenses, skillfully and quickly adjusted the screws. In the center of the black circle, two very close stars shone brightly. Shatrov immediately realized that the telescope was not able to enlarge the stars, like the planets or the moon - so great are the distances separating them from the Earth. The telescope makes them brighter, more clearly visible, collecting and concentrating the rays. Therefore, through a telescope, millions of faint stars are visible, completely inaccessible to the naked eye.
In front of Shatrov, surrounded by deep blackness, burned two small bright lights of a beautiful blue and yellow color, incomparably brighter than the best precious stones. These tiny luminous points gave an incomparable sensation of both the purest light and immense distance; they were immersed in the deepest abyss of darkness, pierced by their rays. For a long time Shatrov could not tear himself away from these lights of distant worlds, but Belsky, lazily reclining in his chair, hastened him:
- Let's continue our review. It won't be such a beautiful night soon, and the telescope will be busy. You wanted to see the center of our Galaxy 1
Galaxy- a giant star system (otherwise called the Milky Way), in which our Sun is located as an ordinary star. The Sun describes a giant orbit around the dynamic center of the Galaxy with an orbital period of about 220 million years.
That "axis" around which its "star wheel" revolves?
The motors whined again. Shatrov felt the movement of the platform. A swarm of dim lights appeared in the glasses of the binoculars. Belsky slowed down the movement of the telescope. The huge machine moved imperceptibly and soundlessly, and before Shatrov's eyes, sections of the Milky Way slowly floated in the region of the constellations Sagittarius and Ophiuchus.
Belsky's short explanations helped Shatrov quickly find his bearings and understand what was visible.
The dimly glowing stellar fog of the Milky Way crumbled into an innumerable swarm of lights. This swarm thickened into a large cloud, elongated and crossed by two dark stripes. In some places, some rare stars, closer to the Earth, burned brightly, as if sticking out from the depths of space.
Belsky stopped the telescope and raised the eyepiece magnification. There was now almost the entire star cloud in sight - a dense luminous mass in which the individual stars were indistinguishable. Millions of stars swarmed around her, thickening and thinning. At the sight of this abundance of worlds that were not inferior to our Sun in size and brightness, Shatrov felt a vague oppression.
- In this direction, the center of the Galaxy, - explained Belsky, - at a distance of thirty thousand light years 2
Light year- a unit of distance in astronomy, equal to the number of kilometers covered by a ray of light per year (9.46 × 10 12 km, that is, almost 1013 km). Nowadays, the parsec is used as a unit of distance in astronomy, equal to 3.26 light years.
The very center is invisible to us. Only recently has it been possible to photograph the vague, indistinct outline of this nucleus in infrared rays. Right here, to the right, is a monstrous black spot: this is a mass of dark matter covering the center of the Galaxy. But all its stars revolve around it, the Sun flies around it at a speed of two hundred and fifty kilometers per second. If there were no dark curtain, the Milky Way here would be incomparably brighter and our night sky would seem not black, but ash ... Let's go further ...
In the telescope appeared black glades in stellar swarms, stretching for millions of kilometers.
“These are clouds of dark dust and debris,” Belsky explained. - Individual stars shine through them with infrared rays, as it is established by photography on special plates ... And there are many more stars that do not shine at all. We recognize the presence of only the nearest such stars by their radiation of radio waves - that's why we call them "radio stars" ...
Shatrov was struck by one large nebula. Like a puff of glowing smoke, dotted with deep black gaps, it hung in space like a cloud dispersed by a vortex. Above and to the right of it were very dull gray shreds that went there, into the bottomless interstellar chasms. It was terrifying to imagine the enormous dimensions of this cloud of dusty matter, reflecting the light of distant stars. In any of its black holes, our entire solar system would sink imperceptibly.
- Now let's look beyond the limits of our Galaxy, - said Belsky.
Deep darkness arose in front of Shatrov's field of vision. Subtle points of light, so faint that their light died in the eye, almost without causing a visual sensation, rarely, rarely met in immeasurable depth.
“This is what separates our Galaxy from the other stellar islands. And now you see stellar worlds similar to our Galaxy, extremely distant from us. Here, in the direction of the constellation Pegasus, the deepest parts of space known to us open before us. Now we will look at the galaxy closest to us, similar in size and shape to our giant star system. It consists of a myriad of individual stars of various sizes and brightness, has the same clouds of dark matter, the same strip of this matter, spreading in the equatorial plane, and is also surrounded by globular star clusters. This is the so-called M31 nebula in the constellation Andromeda. It is obliquely inclined towards us, so that we see it partly from the edge, partly from the plane ...
Shatrov saw a pale luminous cloud in the form of an elongated oval. Looking closely, he was able to make out the lines of light, arranged in a spiral and separated by black gaps.
In the center of the nebula, the densest luminous mass of stars was visible, merged into one whole at a colossal distance. Subtle spirally curving outgrowths departed from it. Around this dense mass, separated by dark rings, there were stripes that were more rarefied and dim, and at the very edge, especially at the lower boundary of the field of view, the circular stripes were torn into a series of rounded specks.
- Look, look! As a paleontologist, this should be of particular interest to you. After all, the light that now falls into our eyes left this galaxy a million and a half years ago. Still there was no man on Earth!
- And this is the closest galaxy to us? - Shatrov was surprised.
- Well, of course! We already know those that are located at distances of the order of a billion light years. For a billion years, light has been traveling at a speed of ten trillion kilometers a year. Have you seen such galaxies in the constellation Pegasus ...
- Incomprehensible! You don't have to say - all the same, such distances cannot be imagined. Endless, immeasurable depths ...
Belsky showed Shatrov the night lights for a long time. Finally, Shatrov warmly thanked his star Virgil 3
Virgil- the famous Roman poet, author of the "Aeneid". The Italian poet Dante, in his work "The Divine Comedy", portrayed Virgil as his guide through the afterlife.
I returned to my room and went to bed, but for a long time I could not sleep.
Thousands of luminaries swarmed in closed eyes, colossal star clouds, black curtains of cold matter, giant flakes of glowing gas floated ...
And all this - stretching for billions and trillions of kilometers, scattered in a monstrous, cold void, divided by unimaginable spaces, in the hopeless darkness of which only streams of powerful radiation rush.
Stars are huge accumulations of matter, squeezed by gravity and developing high temperatures under the influence of exorbitant pressure. The high temperature causes the action of atomic reactions that enhance the release of energy. For stars to exist without exploding, in equilibrium, energy must be thrown into space in colossal quantities in the form of heat, light, and cosmic rays. And around these stars, as if around power stations operating on nuclear energy, the planets warmed by them revolve.