"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. Probationers (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

the policemen, looking around stealthily, hit the whiskered fellow hard on
the head with a fluorescent baton. Pity I didn't give it to him, thought
Yura. For a moment he even lost the desire to fly to Rhea. He wished he
could put on a red band and join these firm, confident young guys.
- Some customs you have here! - upon returning to the hotel, Yura told
the adminstratrix with agitation. - Some nest of bloodsuckers!..
- What are you on about? - asked the adminstratrix with fear. Yura came
to his senses.
- Well, you see, on the street, - he said, - such a dump!..
- An international port, we must put up with this for now, - said the
adminstratrix with a smile. - And how are things with you?
- Don't know yet, - said Yura. - Tell me please, how do I get to room
three hundred and six?
- Go up in a lift, third floor, turn right.
- Thanks, - said Yura and walked to the lift.
He came up to the third floor and found the door to three hundred and
six straight away. In front of the door he stopped and for the first time
thought how, what, and most importantly, to whom he will be talking. He
recalled what Ivan said about a fierce-looking man. He thoroughly combed his
hair and looked himself over. Then he knocked.
- Come in, - said a low husky voice behind the door. Yura walked in.
In the room, behind a round table covered with a white tablecloth, sat
two mature men. Yura was dumbfounded: he recognised them both, and this was
so unexpected that for a moment he imagined he must be in the wrong suite.
Ahead of him, staring directly in his face with small hostile eyes, sat the
well-known Bykov, the captain of the legendary "Takhmaseeb", sombre and
ruddy - the way he looked on a stereophoto above the desk of Yura's older
brother. The face of the other man, sprawled out in a light straw chair,
genteel, long, with a squeamish fold beside his full lips was also amazingly
familiar. Yura just couldn't remember his name, but was absolutely certain,
that he had seen him once or perhaps even a few times. On the table stood a
long dark bottle and one glass.
- What do you want? - Bykov asked in a muffled voice.
- Is this room three hundred and six? - Yura asked with hesitation.
- Ye-es, - the man with a genteel face answered in a velvety rolling
voice. - Who are you after, young man?
This must be Yurkovski, remembered Yura. The interplanetary explorer
from Venus. There was a film about them...
I... I don't know... - he spoke. - You see, I really must get to
Rhea... Today this one comrade...
- Surname? - said Bykov.
- Whose? - Yura couldn't understand.
- Your surname!
- Borodin... Yuri Mikhailovich Borodin.
- Occupation?
- Vacuum-welder.
- Documents.
For the second time that day (and in his entire life) Yura reached for
his documents. Bykov was staring at him, waiting. Yurkovski lazily held the
bottle and poured himself some wine.