"Gordon R. Dickson - The Outposter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

I've tutored Trophy winners before, which is why I've got my own exemption from the lottery. But in
twenty-four years, Mark, I've never turned out one like youтАФ"

The thin, little man made a nervous gesture with one hand and dropped the subject in mid-sentence.

"Never mind that," he said. "You'll be wondering when I'll get to the point, and what the point is. Briefly,
it's that I've gone ahead and recommended you for the anthropology post atAlamogordo , just as if you
were stay-ing here on Earth. And when they start to process it and find you gone, I'll continue re-newing
my recommendation as long as I live."

He straightened up and looked more direct-ly into the recorder that had taken down the message.

"Which won't be long," he said. "I've had a new assessment of my bone cancer. A year and a half, they
say now, at the most. After that, you'll always be able to come home to the Earth-City like any other
outposter, but your chances of starting a career that can lead to lottery exemption are going to be close
to zero. In a year and a half there will be two new classes of Trophy winners, and their tutors will still be
alive and pushing them for all the posts that count.

"Think about it, Mark, during the next year and a half," Wilkes said. "The Earth-City needs you, and you
need it."

The message ended abruptly, and the state-room was again visible around Mark. He reached out and
took the message unit from the player, opened a wall compartment, and put both message and player out
of sight.

He had been close to Wilkes, as close as he had been to anyone on Earth. With an effort of will, he
shrugged off the emotional appeal of the older man's message and put both of them out of his mind at
once.

Curiously, disconcertingly, he found him-self thinking instead about the girl at the foot of the boarding
stairs, and loneliness was like a chill, heavy hand pressing down upon him.

Chapter Two

At 0643 hours, local time, loading was completed, all outer and inner doors locked, and theWombat
lifted. Four hours later the ship broke traffic pattern from Earth orbit and headed for open space on
plasma engines. Nineteen hours after that, all doors still locked and personnel in position, it went into
preparation for the first transportation shift.

Twenty minutes later, with the shift suc-cessfully completed and recalculation begun, the sound of three
notes chimed throughout the ship, including the speaker panel in one wall of Mark's stateroom.

"The ship is nowinterstellar ," said a voice from the panel as the last note died away. "All normal doors
on unlock. The passenger lounge and dining areas are now open for service."

Mark, who had waked from a light doze with the sound of the chimes, rose, and shaved and dressed as
carefully as if he were still a trainee and going on parade. He

checkedhis side arm, slipped it into its leg holster, and went out of his room toward the main dining
lounge.