"Gordon R. Dickson - The Far Call 2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

cabins, somewhat more spacious and deserving of their name than the individual "sleeping compartments"
in Skylab.
"Look," said Anoshi. "Nameplates already up on each door. No danger forgetting where you sleep."
 Tad looked. What he saw had not been specified anywhere in the original plans, or part of any of the
mockups of B Deck he had encountered back on Earth. A solemn black nameplate had been attached to
the door of each cabin—a small, almost impish, touch on the part of those who had finished off the
interior of the spaceship. The nameplates were unnecessary. Long ago, the three had decided which
cabin would be whose among the three of them. But they were a little bit of human decoration, a going
away semi-present from some of the ground workers. He felt the emotion behind the nameplates in spite
of himself; and reading the tone behind Anoshi's words, understood that Anoshi—and undoubtedly Bap
as well—felt it, too.
"Well, let's check them out," said Tad, to break the spell.
Each stepped into his own cabin, the magnetism of the soleplates on their boots switching on and off
with each flexing of instep above it—so that it was a little like walking across a kitchen floor where
something sticky had just been spilled. The rooms checked out; and they met again outside them to step
together into the wardroom.
The wardroom—dining and recreation quarters alike for the three of them—took up nearly a third of
the space on B Deck.
"I'll check storage and waste compartments," said Tad. "Meet you down at C Deck."
He went next door to the small consumables storage compartment where immediate supplies of the
food and drink they would consume in the wardroom were packed. The storage compartment checked
out, and he moved on to the waste management compartment. The strict utilitarianism of the waste
management compartment that had been tested out in Skylab had undergone some improvement
here—in looks, if nothing else. But the basics remained. Equipment had to be available for the biomedical
monitoring of the three men's body wastes—although on Phoenix One automatic equipment took over
most of the job. In addition there had to be disposal capabilities for a mass of things, from food
containers to damaged tools or parts and discarded uniforms, which it was easier to throw away than
launder under space conditions. Again, happily, automatic machinery took care of the freezing and
dumping of these wastes through a channel leading to an air lock in the unpressurized section aft.
With the waste management compartment checked out, Tad went on down to C Deck and the four
different lab and workshop sections that made use of the space there. Anoshi and Bap were still checking
the C-Deck equipment, so Tad went on alone to D Deck.
The fourth and final deck was packed solid with stores and equipment. Much of the equipment was
that which was connected with the experimental programs to be engaged in by the mission during its first
four weeks of coast to Mars, while public interest was still high. Tad looked at the ranked cartons
grimly.
These Mars mission vessels had been designed originally to carry double the crew they had
now—six men per ship. Now they barely had convenient room for three. Part of the crowding was due
to the proliferation of basic research itself—the larger countries, at least, had finally begun to wake up to
the need for it, under the demand by their peoples for new technological answers to large natural
problems of air, water- and land. But the larger reason for Phoenix One and Phoenix Two being so
overloaded with research equipment and problems was political.
Jen Wylie had failed him in getting the list reduced. That left no one to turn to but himself. And Tad
had done some tall thinking in the last twenty-four hours. In fact, he had come up with a possible way of
saving the men and the mission. Only he would need at least some help—and the only one he could turn
to for it was Fedya.
He would talk to Fedya at the first chance. Meanwhile—he shoved the matter from his mind and
came back to the immediate job. A quick check took D Deck past inspection—and beyond D was only
the Mars biolab, sterilized and sealed at present. From the Mars biolab forward to Control Deck A
constituted the so-called "shirtsleeve" area of the ship. Familiar as he was with it from training with the