"David Feintuch - Seafort 04 - Fisherman's Hope" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feintuch David)

Even TolHver and Sleak looked at me strangely. It was a moment before Commandant Kearsey answered. "Then we'd lose Final Cull.
We'd be stuck with the candidates the Selection Board sent."

"Yes."

Lieutenant Sleak cleared his throat, waited for the Commandant's nod. "Final Cull is Academy's hard-won prerogative, and our only input
into the Selection process. Would you have us give it up?" His tone was cold, despite the fact that I'd soon be his commander.

Final Cull was a traditional privilege, and the Navy shouldn't surrender its traditions easily.

Yet, still...

"Father, can Jason stay for dinner?" At thirteen I knew better than to ask in front of the prospective guest, i hoped I

could get away with it, as I'd just thrown Father's cherished obligations of hostship into the balance against his stern disapproval of my
friend.

Father's eyebrow raised. "He could abide our prayers?"

Jason flushed, his eye on the orchestron we were updating on the creaky kitchen table. He paused, chip in hand. "I may be a freethinker,
sir, but I respect the customs of your house." Quickly, as if he'd gone too far, he bent over the orchestron motherboard.
Father grunted. "Respect for Lord God isn't a custom. It is life itself." Still, I knew Jason's forthrightness had gained him favor in Father's
eyes, "Perhaps you too will find Him, before you consign yourself to damnation," Oh, please, not a sermon. Not In front of Jason.

Father gave the gleaming teapot one last swipe with the soft cloth. "I can't Imagine why Nicholas thinks asking permission In your
presence will sway me. He knows better manners than he practices," I swallowed. More verses at bedside, or worse; Father always
remembered the day's sins. Still, the corners of his mouth turned up grudgingly. "Pea soup, the fresh bread, and tomatoes from the
garden. Can you tolerate It?"

That's fine, sir," Jason said quickly, I flashed him a grin across the table; he surreptitiously kicked my shin.

Later, washing for dinner, Jason asked softly, "Heard anything yet?"

I shook my head, One way or another, word had to come soon. Time was running out,

"He's said you can go for sure?"

"Aye." Perhaps my Imploring and tears had nothing to do with Father's consent, I suspected they'd helped, despite the switching he'd
given me when I persisted,

"Well, you reached the second Interview, and didn't get a washout letter. You made It to Final Cull." Uke any teener, he was familiar with
Academy admission procedures. If I Final Cull I'd be admitted to Terrestrial Academy at Devon, where they'd subject me to training
before shipping me to Farside for my real education,

"Aye,111 wished Jason wouldn't talk ft; I'd myself that not discussing my chances somehow Improved them, At dinner Father drew
himself from hi customary meditative silence, for Jason's sake. For the moment, Jase was Father's guest as well as mine. "Your, ah,
plaything is fixed?"

The orchestron? Aye, sir. But it's an instrument, not a toy."