"Stephen Goldin - The Last Ghost & Other Stories" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goldin Stephen)

"Who's a cinch?" Bullfat roared as he entered the room. The general was a big man — but then, forty
years behind a desk can do the same for anyone's figure.
"You are," Hawkins said, turning calmly to face him. "I was just telling Bill that you're a cinch to be
promoted to my job if I ever choose to resign."
Bullfat muttered incoherently. "Who are they?" he asked after a moment, indicating the girls.
It was an apt question. The astronettes, contrary to normal procedure, had on loose-fitting, shaggy
spacesuits. Their face-plates were small, barely revealing their eyes and noses, while the rest of their
heads were completely covered by the helmets. They would put one more in mind of bagg} 7 clowns than
space travelers.
"They're the group scheduled to lift off in about three hours. Would you like to meet them?" Filmore and
Starling nearly fainted at that invitation, but Hawkins flashed them a reassuring grin.
"I'm too busy for introductions, Hawkins. And why in hell do they look so shoddy? Have they had their
physicals yet?"
"And how!" Starling whispered to Filmore.
"You know, General, that I wouldn't send anyone up into space who wasn't in perfect condition," said
Hawkins.
"What did the flight doctor have to say?"
"He said this group is in better shapes — uh, shape — than any he's ever seen."
"Well, just as long as he's checked them out." Bullfat started to leave, then stopped at the door. "By the
way, where are they bound for? Tycho Station?"
"No, USSF 187."
"Is it time for rotation already?"
"No, this group is additional personnel."
"Additional personnel?" Bullfat yelled. "Hawkins, you know damn well that one eighty-seven was built for
exactly eighteen men rotated in groups of six every month. There is absolutely no room for twelve more
people. What in hell do you expect your 'additional personnel' to do — bunk in with the other men?"
With a marvelous display of self-control, Hawkins managed to suppress his laughter. The "additional
personnel" smiled knowingly. Starling, however, had to run out of the room in a fit of hysterical giggling-
"Where in hell is he going?" asked Bullfat, watching Starling exit.
"Oh, he's been under a lot of strain lately. He's about due for a vacation."
"He looks more like he's due for observation — and you too, Hawkins. You may control Space Agencv
policy, but I control the launchings, and that crew is not going up as 'additional personnel' for any small
space station. If you want to get them up there, you can rotate them six a month just like anybody else.
That's final." Bullfat stalked triumphantly out the door.
"Ready to give up, Jess?" Filmore asked.
"Not in the least. Surprisingly, Bullfat had a good point there. If we sent the girls up to one eighty-seven,
it really would be crowded. They'd be constantly getting in the men's way, and it might be more nuisance
than help. But all is not lost. When's one ninety-three scheduled to go up?"
"Next week — but surely you're not thinking of sending the girls up in that."
"And why not?"
"USSF 193 isn't a passenger station — it's for storing food and supplies. It's not designed to be lived in."
"So we improvise, Bill. One ninety-three is going to be placed in orbit parallel to one eighty-seven,
because they'll need it for storage. It'll be sent up in four already loaded sections and assembled in space.
It's a simple enough matter in the course of a week to fit the sections up with acceleration couches and
living quarters — just get rid of some of the nonessentials being sent up and we're all set. The girls can
live in there."
"It's absurd, Jess," Filmore mumbled.
"Not really. I'm growing rather fond of the idea." Hawkins smiled lightly. "Just think: USSF 193, your
friendly neighborhood grocery store and cathouse all rolled into one."
Filmore groaned. The girls, carried away, cheered.