"Robert A. Heinlein - Space Family Stone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

They cycled through the lock and unclamped each other’s helmets. The outer
office was crossed by a railing; back of it sat a girl receptionist. She was
watching a newscast while buffing her nails. She spoke without taking her
eyes off the TV tank:
‘We’re not buying anything, boys - nor hiring anybody.’
Castor said ‘You sell spaceships?’
She looked up. ‘Not often enough.’
‘Then tell your boss we want to see him.’
Her eyebrows went up. ‘Whom do you think you are kidding, sonny boy? Mr
Ekizian is a busy man.’
Pollux said to Castor, ‘Let’s go over to the Hungarian, Cas. These people
don’t mean business.’
‘Maybe you’re right.’
The girl looked from one to the other, shrugged, and flipped a switch. ‘Mr
Ekizan - there are a couple of Boy Scouts out here who say they want to buy
a spaceship. Do you want to bother with them?’
A deep voice responded, ‘And why not? We got ships to sell’ Shortly a bald-
headed, portly man, dressed in a cigar and a wrinkled moonsuit’ came out of
the inner office and rested his hands on the rail. He looked them over
shrewdly but his voice was jovial. ‘You wanted to see me?’
‘You’re the owner?’ asked Castor.




2
‘Dealer Dan Ekizian, the man himself. What’s on your mind’ boys? Time is
money.’
‘Your, secretary told yon,’ Castor said ungraciously. ‘Spaceships.
Dealer Dan took his cigar out of his mouth and exammed it. ‘Really? What
would you boys want with a spacehip?’
Pollux muttered something; Castor said, ‘Do you usually do business out
here?’ He glanced at the girl.
Ekizan followed his glance. ‘My mistake. Come inside.’ He opened the gate
for them, led them into his office, and seated them. He ceremoniously offered
them cigars; the boys refused politely. ‘Now out with it kids. Let’s not joke.’
Castor repeated, ‘Spaceships.’
He pursed his lips. ‘A luxury liner, maybe? I haven’t got one on the field at the
moment but I can always broker a deal.’ Pollux stood up. ‘He’s making fun of
us, Cas. Let’s go see the Hungarian.’
‘Wait a moment Pol. Mr Ekizian, you’ve got a heap out there on the south
side of the field, a class VII, model ‘93 Detroiter. What’s your scrapmetal
price on her and what does she mass?’ The dealer looked surpised. ‘That
sweet llttle job? Why, I couldn’t afford to let that go as scrap. And anyhow,
even at scrap that would come to a lot of money. If it is metal you boys want’
I got it. Just tell me how much and what sort’
‘We were talking about that Detroiter.’
‘I don’t believe I’ve met you boys before?’
‘Sorry, sir. I’m Castor Stone. This is my brother Pollux.’