"Piper, H Beam - Fuzzy 1 - little Fuzzy1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Piper H Beam)

too. This is a Class-III uninhabited planet; the Company owns the
whole thing outright. We can do anything we want as long as we
don't violate colonial law or the Federation Constitution. As long as
we don't do that, Nick Ernmert hasn't anything to worry about. Now
forget this whole damned business, LeonardP' He was beginning
to speak sharply, and Kellogg was looking hurt. "I know you were
concerned about injurious reports getting back to Terra, and that
was quite commendable, but..."

By the time he got through, Kellogg was happy again. Victor
blanked the screen, leaned back in his chair and began laughing. In
a moment, the screen buzzed again. When he snapped it on, his
screen-girl said:

"Mr. Henry Stenson's on, Mr. Grego."

'Hell, put him on." He caught himself just before adding that it
would be a welcome change to talk to somebody with sense.

The face that appeared was elderly and thin; the mouth was tight,
and there were squint-wrinkles at the corners of the eyes.

"Well, Mr. Stenson. Good of you to call. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you. And you?" When he also admitted to good
health, the caller continued: "How is the globe running? Still in
synchronization?"

Victor looked across the office at his most prized possession, the
big globe of Zarathustra that Henry Stenson had built for him,
supported six feet from the floor of its own contragravity unit, spot-
lighted in orange to represent the KO sun, its two satellites circling
about it as it revolved slowly.

"The globe itself is keeping perfect time, and Darius is all right.
Xerxes is a few seconds of longitude ahead of true position."

"That's dreadful, Mr. Grego!" Stenson was deeply shocked. "I
must adjust that the first thing tomorrow. I should have called to
check on it long ago, but you know how it is. So many things to do,
and so little time."

"I find the same trouble myself, Mr. Stenson."

They chatted for a while, and then Stenson apologized for taking
up so much of Mr. Grego's valuable time. What he meant was that
his own time, just as valuable to him, was wasting. After the screen
blanked, Grego sat looking at it for a moment, wishing he had a hun
dred men like Henry Stenson in his own organization. Just men with
Stenson's brains and character; wishing for a hundred instrument