"Robert Frezza - McClendon's Syndrome" - читать интересную книгу автора (Frezza Robert)

I'm not real good with snappy pickup lines. She must have seen me hesitate,
because she smiled. "Yes, I know I can put the black jack on the red queen, and no, please
don't tell me how dangerous it is to fly your ship into a black hole."
Black holes aren't holes, nobody ever flies "into" one, and the procedure is about as
dangerous as hopping the shuttle. The line is primarily known for its remarkable effect on
vapid young things.
I must have looked hurt, because her smile widened. "Now you're remembering that
Harry's idea of a joke is to touch off three kilos of plastique in a commode somebody's
using."
I had to grin. "Uh, yeah. I was just thinking that if this blew up in my face I was going to
use one of the light salvage demolition charges to repay Harry in kind."
She chuckled. "Let me buy you another drink."
"Uh, thanks. No." I consider myself a friend of Harry's, and his liquor is strictly for
customers—Harry being perennially short of friends and unwilling to place the ones he has
at risk.
"Business, then. You're Kenneth MacKay, off Rustam's Slipper ."
I coughed.
"Occasionally known as the Rusty Scupper," she conceded. "You hit Schuyler's
World four days ago. Your middle name is Andrew. You have ten months' seniority on a
journeyman's rate, a reserve Naval commission, and an identifying mark on your left knee."
I looked down at my knees and then over at the cheatsheet she had spread across
hers. "Are my eyes really brown?"
"You've seen Casablanca?"
"All four versions, including the one set on the moons of Jupiter. I've seen several
versions more than once, not including the one set on the moons of Jupiter."
She chuckled again, sweeping up her cards and tucking them away into a little belt
purse.
"MacKay am I, off in body and spirit, tonight. What brings you to this locale and
sudden interest?" I replied cautiously. "Looking for a ship?"
 "Curiously, I am." She was looking at me from behind those thick sunshades.
"Oh, a ship. That lets out the Scupper."
She actually thought that was funny. Just then a body came hurtling by our table,
closely followed by a flying bowl of stew for emphasis. "Is it like this all the time here?" she
asked.
I looked over to where Harry was escorting one citizen to the door and slightly
beyond. "I understand around midnight the place gets lively," I said, and added, "Please
don't feed me lines like that."
She clinked her glass against mine. "It's a deal."
"What do you plan on shipping?" I asked. The dark glasses and the way the
conversation was becoming unhinged were both bothering me.
"How long do you plan on staying with the ship?" she asked, ignoring my question.
"At least another two months, eleven days, and four hours, but who's counting." I
lowered my voice. "I'm sure you'd look spectacular without the sunglasses."
I saw her hesitate. She started to say something, but I shook my head. She peeled
them back and blinked her eyes. She wasn't blind, she wasn't albino, but I sure bring home
weird ones. Still, she had a great deal more about her than any other patron of Harry's, and I
was about to cast my line when something struck me wrong.
It took a few seconds for me to puzzle it out. I wouldn't buy a suit in the light Harry
keeps in his place, but I could see that the pupils of her eyes weren't even dilated.
I notice things like that. "Grandmother, what big eyes you have," I said. Something