"E. E. Doc Smith - Subspace 1 - Subspace Explorers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

possibly explain any such break as that would be, so he stuck it out.

At time zero plus one hundred seventy nine minutes his relief appeared. "All black,
Babe?" the newcomer asked.

"As the pit, Eddie. Take over. You've picked out your girl-friend for the trip, I suppose?"

While taking the bucket seat, Eddie said, "Not yet. I got sidetracked watching Bobby
Warner. . ."

A wave of psychic force hit Deston's mind hard enough almost to turn it inside out; but he
clenched his teeth and held his pose.

. . . and after seeing her just walk across the lounge once, all the other women looked
like a clime's worth of catmeat. Talk about poetry in motion!" Eddie rolled his eyes, made



file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/E.%...pace%20Vol%201%20-%20Subspace%20Explorers.txt (1 of 123) [10/15/2004 2:30:24 PM]
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/E.%20E.%20%20Doc%20Smith%20-%20SubSpace%20Vol%201%20-%20Subspace%20Explorers.txt

motions with his hands, and whistled expressively. "Oh, brother!"

"Okay, okay, don't blow a fuse," Deston said, in what he hoped was his usual tone and
manner. "I know. You'll love her undyingly-all this trip, maybe."

"Huh? How dumb can you get? D'you think I'd even try to play footsie with Barbara
Warner?"

"You play footsie with the pick of the passenger list, so who's Barbara Warner, to daunt
Don Juan Eddie Thompson, the Tomcat of Space?"

"I thought you knew some of the facts of life, Babe. She's Warner's only child, is all.
Warner of WarnOil; the biggest in all space. Operates in every solar system known to
man and never puts down a dry hole. All gushers that blow their rigs clear up into the
stratosphere. Everybody wonders how come. The poop is, his wife's an oil-witch, is why
he lugs her around with him all the time. Why else would he?"

"Maybe be loves her. It happens, you know."

"Huh? After twenty-some years of her? Comet-gas! Anyway, would you have the sublime
gall to make a pass at WarnOil's heiress, with more millions in her own sock than you've
got dimes? If you ever made passes, I mean." "Uh-uh. Negative. For sure."

"You nor me neither. But what a dish! Brother, what a lovely, luscious, toothsome dish!"

"Cheer up; you'll be raving about another one tomorrow," Deston said callously, turning
away.

"I don't know . . . maybe; but even if I do, she won't be anything like her," Eddie