"Ben Bova - Jupiter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bova Ben)

Director Wo's office was austere rather than imposing. The room was about the same size as his own quarters, Grant guessed, furnished with a large curved desk of gleaming metal, its surface completely clear except for a small computer screen and an incongruous vase of delicate red and white chrysanthemums. There was a chair of tubular stainless steel padded with fawn-colored cushions in front of the desk and a small oval conference table with four stiff plastic chairs in the far corner. The wallscreen behind the desk showed a stark desert: empty sand stretching to the horizon beneath a blazing sun. It made Grant feel even more uncomfortably hot. The other walls were utterly bare; the only decoration in the room was that paradoxical vase of flowers on the director's desk.

They can't be real, Grant thought. Nobody would waste the time and resources to grow flowers on this station. Yet they looked real enough. And the vase was a graceful Oriental work of art, like something from a museum.

Without looking up from his desktop screen, Dr. Wo gestured bruskly to the padded chair in front of his desk. Grant obediently sat in it, thinking that the director was playing an old power-trip game: pretending to be so busy that he can't even say hello. Grant had run into this type before, at school and among the bureaucrats of the New Morality.

All right, he thought. As soon as he does look up I'll tell him that I'm an astrophysicist and I should be at Farside. Enough of this spying and secrecy agreements.

Feeling sweat dampening his scalp, Grant studied Dr. Wo's face as he sat waiting for the director to take notice of him. It was a fleshy, broad-cheeked face, solid and heavy-featured, with small coal-black eyes set deeply beneath brows so slight that they were practically nonexistent. Skin the color of old parchment. The man had a small mustache, little more than wisps on his upper lip. His hair was cropped so close to his scalp that it was difficult to tell its true color: light gray, Grant thought. His hairline was receding noticeably. His head looked big, blocky, too heavy even for the powerful shoulders that strained the fabric of his tunic.

At last Director Wo looked up from the screen and fixed his eyes on Grant. They glowered like the embers of a smoldering fire.

"I heard you knock the first time," he said. His voice was hoarse, strained, as if he were suffering from a throat infection.

Grant blinked with surprise. "When no one answered I thought-"

"You are an impatient man," Wo accused. "That is not good for someone who wants to become a scientist."

"I... I didn't think you'd heard me," Grant stammered.

"You are also too curious for your own good." Wo jabbed a finger at the desktop screen, like a prosecuting attorney making a point. "The extension to this station is off-limits to unauthorized personnel, yet the first thing you do when you arrive here is poke your brightboy nose into it. Why?"

"Uh, well. . it seemed odd to me, sir, having an extension hanging on one side of the wheel and nothing to balance it."

"Oh, so you are a design engineer, are you?" The man's voice made Grant want to wince. It seemed so harsh that it had to be painful to speak that way.

"No sir, but it does make me wonder."

Wo huffed impatiently. "Better men than you have designed that extension, brightboy. And when you get an access-denied message on your screen you should take your curiosity elsewhere. Understand me?"

"Yessir. If I may, though, I want to - "

"You set off all kinds of alarms, trying to pry into sensitive information."

"I didn't realize there was anything that sensitive being done here," Grant said. Even as he said it, Grant realized it was a lie. He'd been sent here because of the scientists' secrecy.

"You didn't realize . . . ? Didn't you sign a secrecy agreement?"

"Yes, but I thought-"

"You thought it was just a bit of paperwork, did you?" Wo hunched forward, both hands balled into fists atop the desk. His hands looked powerful, thick wrists and heavy forearms that bulged in his tunic sleeves. "Another pointless piece of red tape from the bureaucrats running this station."

"No sir. But about my assignment here - "

"You have been assigned to this station. Under my direction. You will follow the terms of the secrecy agreement you signed. That is mandatory. No exceptions."

"I. . ." Grant swallowed hard. "I didn't associate the secrecy agreement with the access-denied message on my screen. As you said, sir, my curiosity got the better of me."

Wo stared coldly at Grant for several long moments. At last he said, "Very well. I will take you at your word. But my security people are buzzed up about you."