"James Doohan - Flight Engineer Volume 1-The Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doohan James)

Well, yes, in all probability.
Piloting a Speed was grace and glory, and massive power literally at
your fingertips. To a fighter pilot life consisted of Speeds and the rest of
the world. No matter how hard you fought the feeling, you couldn’t help
but know that everything else lacked . . . something.
Color, texture, meaning, Peter thought gloomily.
Engineers, for example, were valued and respected for their service to
you and your machine, but they just weren’t on the same plane as fighter
jocks at all.
Raeder suddenly wondered if it should be fighter jock or fighter jerk.
Ah, you’re just feeling left out, he told himself. Missing the excitement,
the camaraderie. When he reached his assignment and felt part of
something again, he wouldn’t be so inclined to take offense where none
was meant. You’ll be acting like the old man, next, he warned himself, if
you don’t watch out. His father had been good at finding reasons to get
angry—when he’d been drinking—though he was the kindest of men
when sober.
There was a sudden burst of laughter from behind him, almost
certainly having nothing to do with him at all. Even so, Raeder felt heat
rise up his neck as though he’d heard them mocking him and his sudden
ship-bound status. He carelessly picked up his glass with his right hand
and it popped like a soap bubble. Fortunately it had been almost empty.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the bartender.
“Not a problem,” she said, smiling. “You want another?”
“Sure,” Raeder said. “You got a plastic glass?”
“Nope, something much better.” And she yanked a heavy frosted mug
from the freezer, filled it with good draft brew, and placed it before him
with a flourish.
“Now that,” he said, gratified, “is almost as pretty a sight as you are,
ma’am.”
She laughed. “That’s the first time I’ve ever been compared to a beer.”
“But this is more than a beer,” Raeder asserted, “it’s an experience to
treasure.” As I’m sure you are, the devilish glint in his green eyes said.
She read that message as easily as if it had flowed by in digital letters
and gave a little toss of her head, a dimple peeping on her cheek. She
opened her mouth, but before she could speak a massive crowd of pilots
and mechanics burst through the doors howling for attention. She gave
Raeder a regretful smile and rushed to serve the happy mob.
Peter gave an inward sigh. Oh, well, he thought. So much for their
enjoyable, light flirtation.
Raeder looked around at the patrons of the bar and wondered how long
it would be before he was once again part of such a group. The other
members of his engineering class had departed two weeks ago, but he’d
needed to finish up his physical therapy program. Until now he’d kept
himself too busy to notice that he missed them.
Raeder speculated briefly about just where he was bound and what
form his new duties would take. There was an important job waiting for
him wherever it was, and Peter knew he could do it better than almost
anyone in the fleet. He’d attacked his retraining as he had the Mollie
rebels, and had enjoyed it, too. Learning more about the machines he