"Arkady and Boris Strugatski - Probationers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Strugatski Arkady)

yet.
Daugeh looked at him and shifted his eyes. Didn't feel like looking at
Yurkovski - seeing his self-assured flabby face with a surly drooping lower
lip, his heavy monogrammed satchel, his stylish suit made from rare
stereosynthetics. Rather felt like looking up above into the transparent
sky, clear, blue, with not one cloud, not even birds - above the airfield
they were dispersed with ultrasound sirens.
Bykov-junior watched closely by Bykov-senior was buttoning up his
collar. Yurkovski languidly declared:
- In the stratoplane I will order a bottle of mineral water and
indulge...
Bykov-senior suspiciously inquired:
- The liver?
- Why necessarily 'the liver'? - said Yurkovski. - I am simply hot. And
it's about time you knew that mineral fizz doesn't help liver bouts.
- Have you at least packed your pills? - asked Bykov.
- Why are you bothering him? - said Daugeh.
Everyone looked at him. Daugeh lowered his eyes and said through
clenched teeth:
- So don't forget, Vladimir. The packet must be handed to Arnautov
directly, immediately after you arrive on Syrt.
- If Arnautov is on Mars, - said Yurkovski
- Yes, naturally. I just don't want you to forget.
- I will remind him, - promised Bykov.
They fell silent. The queue at the coach shrunk.
- You know what, please go now, - said Daugeh.
- Yes, its time, - Bykov sighed. He approached Daugeh and hugged him. -
Don't feel sad, Johannovich, - he said softly. - Good-bye. Don't be sad.
He firmly gripped Daugeh with his long bony hands. Daugeh gave him a
weak push.
- Calm plasma to you, - he said.
He shook Yurkovski's hand. Yurkovski's eyes fluttered repeatedly, he
wanted to say something, but only licked his lips. He reached over, lifted
his magnificent satchel off the grass, shuffled it in his hands and lowered
it back on the grass. Daugeh wasn't looking his way. Yurkovski lifted the
satchel again.
- Ah, don't look so sour, Gregory, - he said with a pained voice.
- I'll try, - Daugeh replied dryly.
On the side, Bykov was quietly admonishing his son.
- Whilst I am on a voyage, stay close to mother. None of those
subaquatic stunts.
- Ok, Dad.
- No record setting.
- Yes Dad. Don't worry.
- Pay less attention to girls, think more about mother.
- Ok, alright Dad.
Daugeh quietly said:
- I am off.
He turned and plodded towards the terminal. Yurkovski followed him with
his eyes. Daugeh looked shrunk, humped, greatly aged.