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

Grant pictured some of the stern-faced beefy security guards he'd seen at school.

"Now then," O'Hara said lightly, "the director's all fussed about your prying into the station schematics, looking to find out what he's got in the annex."

"I was curious. . ."

"Of course you were. Everybody is. But the director is just a wee bit paranoid about the annex. It's his special project, you know."

"I didn't know," Grant said.

"How could you, seeing that you just arrived an hour or so ago?" She shrugged her slim shoulders. "Well, I'm required to put you through the standard security briefing and there's nothing to it. I'll try to run through it quickly enough so we can get finished with it before the cafeteria closes for the night."

Grant asked, "What time is it here?"

O'Hara shook her head sorrowfully. "They didn't even give you a chance to adjust your clock, did they?"

Grant realized he liked this security chief. In fact, he thought he was going to enjoy the briefing.



OUR INTELLECTUAL COUSINS



He didn't. Once she got started on the station's security regulations, O'Hara became strictly business. She called up on her wallscreen a bewildering set of rules and restrictions, then quizzed Grant about them mercilessly for what seemed like hours.

At last, with a reluctant, "I suppose that will have to do." She dismissed Grant-but only after telling him that the cafeteria would stop serving dinner in fifteen minutes.

"I don't know where the cafeteria is," Grant bleated. "Turn right outside my door and follow your nose," O'Hara said. Grant got up from the chair, aching slightly from having sat in it for so long.

"Better dash," O'Hara said. "What about you? Aren't you going to eat?"

She sighed heavily. "I hope so. But I've got a bit of work to finish first. Scamper, now!"

Grant headed straight for the cafeteria, stopping only to use one of the wall phones to find its exact location.

He could have followed his ears, he realized as he approached the busy, crowded, clanging, clattering noisy cafeteria. For the first time since he'd left Earth, Grant found himself in a familiar environment. The odors of food, real cooked food instead of the microwaved packaged meals he'd had aboard Roberts, almost brought tears of joy to his eyes.

The cafeteria was a wide, busy open area on both sides of the station's main corridor. Against the curving bulkheads on either side stood steam tables and automated dispensing machines, apparently the same on both sides. A few other latecomers were lined up there with trays in their hands, making their dinner selections. Tables were scattered across the carpeted floor, except for the cleared area of the corridor. People walked back and forth, picking tables, finding friends.

Grant realized that he didn't know anyone in this crowd. Even though half the tables were empty, there must have been more than a hundred men and women there, chatting, eating, laughing noisily-and all of them were strangers to him.

Then he spotted Egon Karlstad sitting at a table with two women and a muscular-looking black man. But there were no empty chairs at that table. So Grant went through the line glumly, expecting to eat alone, or with strangers. His mood quickly changed, though, once he saw the quality and variety of the food available. The meats were undoubtedly soy derivatives or other synthetics, but the vegetables looked crisp and fresh, and the fruits seemed straight out of the Garden of Eden: luscious and tempting.

Those flowers on Wo's desk are real, Grant told himself. They must have tremendous hydroponics farms here.

He loaded his tray, even taking the largest-sized cup of soymilk the machines offered, then wandered through the maze of tables, looking for n place to sit.

"Archer!" someone shouted. "Grant! Over here."