MiloĹĄ JesenskĂ˝ & Robert LeĹniakiewicz Tajemnica ksiÄĹźycowej jaskini
4 Robert A. Haasler Ĺťycie seksualne ksiÄĹźy
Roberts Nora Klucze Klucz ĹwiatĹa
Howard Robert E. Conan i Skarb Tranicosa
Roberts Nora Komu zaufaÄ
H Beam Piper Fuzzy 02 Fuzzy Sapiens v2.0 (lit)
James Blish Surface Tension
edw 2003 02 s13
Samson_Hanna_ _Pulapka_na_motyla
Lawrence Kim W rajskim zakć tku
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acceptance; the enormous gang which had constructed her had gone to Earth and there was no one
aboard but the representatives of the Jordan Foundation and a half dozen engineers employed by the
corporation which had been formed to build the ship for the foundation. These few were bored with
inactivity, bored with each other, anxious to quit marking time and get back to the pleasures of Earth; a
visitor was a welcome diversion.
When the I Spy's airlock had been sealed to that of the big ship, Lazarus was met by the engineer in
charge-technically "captain" since the New Frontiers was a ship under way even though not under power.
He introduced himself and took Lazarus on a tour of the ship. They floated through miles of corridors,
visited laboratories, storerooms, libraries containing hundreds of thousands of spools, acres of
hydroponic tanks for growing food and replenishing oxygen, and comfortable, spacious, even luxurious
quarters for a crew colony of ten thousand people. "We believe that the Vanguard expedition was
somewhat undermanned," the skipper-engineer explained. "The socio-dynamicists calculate that this
colony will be able to maintain the basics of our present level of culture."
"Doesn't sound like enough," Lazarus commented. "Aren't there more than ten thousand types of
specialization?"
"Oh, certainly! But the idea is to provide experts in all basic arts and indispensable branches of
knowledge. Then, as the colony expands, additional specializations can be added through the aid of the
reference libraries-anything from tap-dancing to tapestry weaving. That's the general idea though it's out
of my line. Interesting subject, no doubt, for those who like it."
"Are you anxious to get started?" asked Lazarus.
The man looked almost shocked. "Me? D'you mean to suggest that I would go in this thing? My dear
sir, I'm an engineer, not a damn' fool."
"Sorry."
"Oh, I don't mind a reasonable amount of spacing when there's a reason for it-I've been to Luna City
more times than I can count and I've even been to Venus. But you don't think the man who built the
Mayflower sailed in her, do you? For my money the only thing that will keep these people who signed up
for it from going crazy before they get there is that it's a dead cinch they're all crazy before they start."
Lazarus changed the subject. They did not dally in the main drive space, nor in the armored cell
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housing the giant atomic converter, once Lazarus learned that they were unmanned, fully-automatic types.
The total absence of moving parts in each of these divisions, made possible by recent developments in
parastatics, made their inner workings of intellectual interest only, which could wait. What Lazarus did
want to see was the control room, and there he lingered, asking endless questions until his host was
plainly bored and remaining only out of politeness.
Lazarus finally shut up, not because he minded imposing on his host but because he was confident
that he had learned enough about the controls to be willing to chance conning the ship.
He picked up two other important data before he left the ship: in nine Earth days the skeleton crew
was planning a weekend on Earth, following which the acceptance trials would be held. But for three
days the big ship would be empty, save possibly for a communications operator-Lazarus was too wary
to be inquisitive on this point. But there would be no guard left in her because no need for a guard could
be imagined. One might as well guard the Mississippi River.
The other thing he learned was how to enter the ship from the outside without help from the inside; he
picked that datum up through watching the mail rocket arrive just as he was about to leave the ship.
At Luna City, Joseph McFee, factor for Diana Terminal Corp., subsidiary of Diana Freight Lines,
welcomed Lazarus warmly. "Well! Come in, Cap'n, and pull up a chair. What'll you drink?" He was
already pouring as he talked-tax-free paint remover from his own amateur vacuum still. "Haven't seen
you in . . . well, too long. Where d'you raise from last and what's the gossip there? Heard any new
ones?"
"From Goddard," Lazarus answered and told him what the skipper had said to the V.I.P. McFee
answered with the one about the old maid in free fall, which Lazarus pretended not to have heard. Stories
led to politics, and McFee expounded his notion of the "only possible solution" to the European
questions, a solution predicated on a complicated theory of McFee's as to why the Covenant could not
be extended to any culture below a certain level of industrialization. Lazarus did not give a hoot either
way but he knew better than to hurry McFee; he nodded at the right places, accepted more of the
condemned rocket juice when offered, and waited for the right moment to come to the point.
"Any company ships for sale now, Joe?"
"Are there? I should hope to shout. I've got more steel sitting out on that plain and cluttering my
inventory than I've had in ten years. Looking for some? I can make you a sweet price."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on whether you've got what I want."
"You name it, I've got it. Never saw such a dull market. Some days you can't turn an honest credit."
McFee frowned. "You know what the trouble is? Well, I'll tell you-it's this Howard Families commotion.
Nobody wants to risk any money until he knows where he stands. How can a man make plans when he
doesn't know whether to plan for ten years or a hundred? You mark my words: if the administration
manages to sweat the secret loose from those babies, you'll see the biggest boom in long-term
investments ever. But if not well, long-term holdings won't be worth a peso a dozen and there will be an
eat-drink-and-be-merry craze that will make the Reconstruction look like a tea party."
He frowned again. "What kind of metal you looking for?"
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"I don't want metal, I want a ship."
McFee's frown disappeared, his eyebrows shot up. "So? What sort?"
"Can't say exactly. Got time to look 'em over with me?"
They suited up and left the dome by North Tunnel, then strolled around grounded ships in the long,
easy strides of low gravity. Lazarus soon saw that just two ships had both the lift and the air space
needed. One was a tanker and the better buy, but a mental calculation showed him that it lacked deck
space, even including the floor plates of the tanks, to accommodate eight thousand tons of passengers.
The other was an older ship with cranky piston-type injection meters, but she was fitted for general
merchandise and had enough deck space. Her pay load was higher than necessary for the job, since
passengers weigh little for the cubage they clutter-but that would make her lively, which might be critically
important.
As for the injectors, he could baby them-he had herded worse junk than this.
Lazarus haggled with McFee over terms, not because he wanted to save money but because failure
to do so would have been out of character. They finally reached a complicated three-cornered deal in [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
