"FWLS1" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

away while some new Weapon of Destruction(+13) is nestled in
their cargo-drop doors. If they're really unlucky, some free
trader will sneak in from the A-Zones, blast 'em, and take it.
If they're lucky it'll just be pirate scum.

Not that we're undefended. They finally had the brains to
put blasters on our ships a few years back, as well as shields,
which are great for blowing away pirates in cheap knockoffs of
Terran spacecraft. But for the big ships, the cargo runners, or
the assault cruisers, we're as effective as gnats against a man
with flyswatters for arms, legs, tongue, and genitals. One quick
lighting-shock blast of some unknown purple-green ray and you're
off to sleep with the fishes, or whatever the vacuum equivalent
is.

So here I am, Pilot Qwetzil Buttafuco, eating Twinkies in
his underwear in some unwashed cabin of a carrier that resembles
a bath toy. There aren't real ranks here... you're either a
pilot or the captain, nothing else. I had heard some weenie far
off on my family tree made himself famous for fifteen minutes
near Long Island, but since I'm no history buff (and have never
seen Terra) it means crap to me. 'Course, some newbie fighter
jock sometimes makes fun of my last name, which is unfortunate
for them, but fun for me since I make it a hobby of wrapping
people's limbs into bizarre pretzel configurations when they rag
on me.

Clock's almost hit ten, which means it'll be time to call
off the guys to the Briefing Room and dish out the assignments.
Fortunately I'm placed in a bunk not very far away from the
ship's Briefing Room, because I can't stand walking on ships of
this size. You don't need buns of steel to fly planes, although
it helps sometimes when you have to cover your ass.

*

Briefing. Two hundred pilots sitting in uncomfortable metal
chairs, trying to digest whatever swill was being called 'food'
in the Cafeteria while the Captain hands out assignments.

Used to be that they'd call you individually to the
Captain's office, where he'd give you a man to man chat (unless
you weren't male) and send you packing. This particular carrier
switched to the mass-production technique since it has the
largest crew of any HAAFF carrier. Just my luck.

Naturally, they won't mention what you're carrying unless
it's really really unimportant. I can spot the patterns and
strategies not in what the captain says, but what he doesn't say,
as he hands out the missions... delivery of medical supplies to