"James P. Hogan - Craddle of Saturn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hogan James P)

the dumbbell intersected—and wove his way through openings and between guide rails to the "Blue"
well. Several more figures were anchored or floating in various attitudes.

"You guys made the day, Lan," one called out.

"Great stuff, man!"

"Still ain't stopped laughin'. Even if it gets the firm shut down, it was worth it."

Keene reversed to glide into the transverse shaft feet-first. He pushed himself off, using one of
the hand hoops along the vertical rail, and felt the wall to one side nudge against him gently. As
he progressed farther, the motion imparted by the rail grew stronger, causing him to move faster
with a distinct, growing sensation of heading "down." By the time he reached the three-level wheel
forming the Blue end of the dumbbell, he was using the hoops to retard himself. He began using his
feet to climb down ladder-fashion as he passed through the upper deck, and stepped off at the mid-
deck to find Joyce and Stevie waiting for him outside Ccoms.

"Damned good show," Stevie offered. He was thirtyish, British, and sometimes talked like an old
movie. Keene nodded and returned a strained smile. He knew they all meant well, but this was
getting a bit tiring.

Joyce was the senior comtech. She was one of those who did their best to look clean and
professional, but her white shirt and sky blue pants, although no doubt clean that day, were
showing grime, and there were flecks of grit in her black, close-trimmed hair. That was one of the
facts of life that came with the territory. Dirt in zero-g didn't fall obligingly to the floor and
accumulate in out-of-the-way places to be removed when convenient. Despite all the ducts and
filters and fans, space habitats tended to be smelly, too.

She smiled, managing to convey the suggestion of freshness in spite of it all. "Even better than
you promised," she complimented.

"Always make your surprises pleasant ones," Keene said, yawning in the close air. "People forget
bad predictions that were wrong. But tell them one time that things will be okay and be wrong, and
they'll never forgive you."

"Getting philosophical? Is this a new postflight syndrome or something?"

"I don't know. But I could sure use a postflight coffee."

"I'll get one," Stevie said, and moved away along one of the passages.

Joyce nodded to indicate the doorway through to the Ccoms room. "We've got PCN on now, asking to
talk to one of the crew. You want to take it?"

"Sure. Who is it?"

"Somebody called John Feld from their Los Angeles office. He's linked through via Corpus Christi."

"Uh-huh." Keene followed Joyce between the communications equipment racks and control panels.
"Have we a friendly native?"