"Robert A. Heinlein - Between Planets" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

station confirmed the reservation. The clerk signed off and turned back to
Don. "Okay, you can pay for it here."
Don had a sinking feeling. "I thought it was already paid for?" He had on him
his father's letter-of-credit but it was not enough to cover passage to Mars.
"Huh? They didn't say anything about it being prepaid."
At Don's insistence the clerk again phoned the space station. Yes, the passage
was prepaid since it had been placed from the other end; didn't the clerk know
his tariff book? Thwarted on all sides, the clerk grudgingly issued Don a
ticket to couch 64, Rocket Ship Glory Road, lifting from Earth for Circum-
Terra at 9:03:57 the following morning.
"Got your security clearance?"
"Huh? What's that?"
The clerk appeared to gloat at what was a legitimate opportunity to decline to
do business after all. He withdrew the ticket. "Don't you bother to follow the
news? Give me your ID."
Reluctantly Don passed over his identity card; the clerk stuck it in a stat
machine and handed it back. "Now your thumb prints."
Don impressed them and said, "Is that all? Can I have my ticket?"
" `Is that all?' he says Be here about an hour early tomorrow morning. You can
pick up your ticket then-provided the I.B.I. says you can." '
The clerk turned away. Don, feeling forlorn, did likewise. He did not know
quite what to do next. He had told Headmaster Reeves that he would stay
overnight at the Hilton Caravansary, that being the hotel his family had
stopped at 18 years earlier and the only one he knew by name. On the other
hand he had to attempt to locate Dr. Jefferson "Uncle Dudley" -- since his
mother had made such a point of it. It was still early afternoon; he decided
to check his bags and start looking.
Bags disposed of, he found an empty communication booth and looked up the
doctor's code, punched it into the machine. The doctor's phone regretted
politely that Dr. Jefferson was not at home and requested him to leave a
message. He was dictating it when a warm voice interrupted: "I'm at home to
you, Donald. Where are you, lad?" The view screen cut in and he found himself
looking at the somewhat familiar features of Dr. Dudley Jefferson.
"Oh I'm at the station, Doctor-Gary Station. I just got in."
"Then grab a cab and come here at once."
"Uh, I don't want to put you to any trouble, Doctor. I called because mother
said to say goodbye to you." Privately he had hoped that Dr. Jefferson would
be too busy to waste time on him. Much as he disapproved of cities he did not
want to spend his last night on Earth exchanging politeness with a family
friend; he wanted to stir around and find out just what the modern Babylon did
have to offer in the way of diversion. His letter-of-credit was burning a hole
in his pocket; he wanted to bleed it a bit.
"No trouble. See you in a few minutes. Meanwhile I'll pick out a fatted calf
and butcher it. By the way, did you receive a package from me?" The doctor
looked suddenly intent.
"A package? No."
Dr. Jefferson muttered something about the mail service. Don said, "Maybe it
will catch up with me. Was it important?"
"Uh, never mind; we'll speak of it later. You left a forwarding address?"
"Yes, sir-the Caravansary."