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

- sometimes special flights turn up.
- Really? - said Yura with hope.
- Yes. But our centre does not receive information about these.
- And will they take me along on a special flight? - asked Yura.
- I don't know, dear. I don't even know, where you can find out about
them. Possibly, with the director of the cosmodrome? - She looked at Yura
questioningly.
- It's probably impossible to get through to the director, - said Yura
sombrely.
- Why don't you try anyhow.
- Thanks, - said Yura. - All the best. I will try to.
He left the space commuter centre and looked around. On the right, over
the green arches of the trees the hotel building was raised into a hot
whitish sky. On the left a colossal glass dome glittered intolerably under
the sun. Yura saw that dome already at the aerodrome. From the aerodrome,
only that dome and the golden spike of the hotel could be seen. Yura,
naturally, asked what it was and was laconically told: "EMCS". What "EMCS"
meant, Yura did not know.
Right in front of the command centre lay a wide road, covered with
large-size red sand granules. On either side of the road passed irrigation
channels, alongside the channels acacia trees grew closely. About twenty
paces from the entrance to the centre, in the shade of the acacias stood a
small white squarish atomocar. Above the windshield motionlessly extended
two big blue helmets with white writing "International Police.
Mirza-Charlie."
For two minutes or so Yura stood in complete indecisiveness. At first
there wasn't anyone on the road. Then, from some place on the right,
appeared, walking broadly, a tall, red-tanned man wearing a white suit. Upon
approaching Yura he stopped, took off a giant white beret and fanned his
face. Yura looked at him with curiosity.
- Ho-at! - said the man in a white suit. - And how are you? - He spoke
with a strong accent.
- Very hot, - said Yura.
The man in a white suit plonked the beret on his burned out hair and
produced a flat glass flask from his pocket.
- A dre-enk? - he said, stretching his mouth to the ears.
Yura shook his head.
- I don't drink, - he said.
- I alsho don't dreenk, - announced the man in a white suit and plunged
the flask back into his pocket. - But I always keep whiskey, in case someone
does drink.
Yura laughed. He liked the man.
- Ho-at, - once more said the man in a white suit. - That's our
disaster. Inta-nashional cosmodrome in Greenland - and I freeze there.
Inta-nashional cosmodrome in Mirza-Charlie - me soaked, sweaty. Ay?
- Awfully hot, - said Yura.
- And where are we flying to? - inquired the man in a white suit.
- I need to be on Saturn.
- O-o! - said the man in a white suit. - Ve-eary young and already to
Saturn. Zh-hat meansh we will meet and meet!