"Heinlein, Robert A - Space Cadet UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

though the Bolivar was speeding away from the Earth at more than 20,000 miles an hour. Each body-ship, planet, meteor, atom-in space falls continually. It moves also with whatever other motion it has inherited from its past experience.
Matt was acutely aware of his weightlessness, for his stomach told him about it, complainingly. To be on the safe side, he removed a sick kit from his jump bag, but he did not put it on. He was feeling queasy; it was not as bad as it had been on his test flight, not half as bad as the "bumps." He hoped to get by without losing his breakfast.
The loudspeaker sang out, "End of acceleration. Four hours of free fall." The master-at-arms sat up. "You can unstrap now," he said.
In a matter of seconds the compartment took on the look of a particularly crowded aquarium. One hundred boys were floating, swimming, squirming in every attitude and position between the deck and the overhead. These two barriers no longer seemed like floor and ceiling since up-and-down was gone; they were simply walls which rotated slowly and erratically for each observer as his own body turned past them.
"Hey, you guys!" yelled the sergeant. "Grab on to something and listen to me." Matt looked around, found himself near the overhead, spotted a handhold, and grasped it. "It's time you kids learned some traffic rules for free flight. You got to learn to zig when the other guy zags. If you happen to meet the Captain and you zig when you should 'a' zagged and bump him, he ain't going to like it. See?"
He stuck out a scarred thumb. "Rule one: all groundhogs -that's you and don't try to tell me anything different-are required to hold on with at least one hand at all times. That applies until you pass your free-fall acrobatics test. Rule two.- give way to officers and don't make them have to shout 'Gangway!' Besides that, give way to anybody on duty, or busy, or with his hands full.
"If you're moving aft, pass inboard of the man you meet, and contrariwise if you're moving forward. If you're moving clockwise, figuring 'clockwise' from the bow end of the ship,
you pass the man you meet outboard and let him pass inboard-contrariwise for counterclockwise. No matter what direction you're going, if you overtake a man you pass inboard of him. Is that all clear?"
Matt thought it was, though he doubted if he could remember it. But a remaining possibility occurred to him. "Sergeant," he asked innocently, "suppose you're moving directly in or out from the center of the ship-what do you do?"
The sergeant looked disgusted, which gave his face an odd appearance to Matt, as their two faces were upside down with respect to each other. "You get what usually happens to jaywalkers-okay, so you're moving across the traffic: just stay out of everybody's way. It's your lookout. Any more questions?"
No one answered; he went on: "All right, go out and look around the ship-but try to behave yourselves and not bump into anybody so you'll be a credit to deck three."
The third deck had no ports of any sort, but the Bolivar was a long-jump transport; she possessed recreation rooms and viewports. Matt started forward, seeking a place from which to get a glimpse of the Earth.
He remembered to pass outboard as he pulled himself along, but apparently some passengers had not been indoctrinated. Each hatchway was a traffic jam of youngsters, each trying to leave his own deck to sight-see in some other deck, any deck.
The sixth deck, he found, was a recreation room. It contained the ship's library-locked-and games equipment, also locked. But it did have six large viewports.
The recreation deck had carried a full load of passengers. Now, in free fall, cadets from all other decks gradually ' found their way to the recreation deck, just as Matt had, seeking a view of outside; at the same time the original roster of that deck showed no tendency to want to leave their favored billet.
It was crowded.
Crowded as a basket full of kittens-Matt removed someone's space boot from his left eye and tried to worm his
way toward one of the ports. Judicious work with his knees and elbows and a total disregard of the rules of the road got him to the second or third layer near one port. He placed a hand on a shoulder in front of him. The cadet twisted around. "Heyl Who do you think you're shoving? Oh-hello, Matt."
"Hi, Tex. How's it going?"
"All right. Say, you should have been here a few minutes ago. We passed one of the television relay stations, close by. Boy, oh, boy, are we traveling!"
"We did, huh? What did it look like?"
"Couldn't see much of it, must have been ten miles away, maybe. But, with the time we're making it was just there she comes and there she goes."
"Can you see the Earth?" Matt squirmed toward the port.
"Natch." Tex gave way and let Matt slide into his place. The frame of the port cut across the eastern Atlantic. Matt could see an arc extending almost from the North Pole to the Equator.
It was high noon over the Atlantic. Beyond it, bright in the afternoon sunlight, he could make out the British Isles, Spain, and the brassy Sahara. The browns and greens of land were in sharp contrast to the deep purple of the ocean. In still greater contrast stood the white dazzle of cloud. As his eye approached the distant, rounded horizon the details softened, giving a strong effect of stereo, of depth, of three-dimensional globularness-the world indeed was round!
Round and green and beautiful! He discovered presently that he had been holding his breath. His nausea was quite gone.
Someone tugged at his leg. "Don't stay there all day. Do you want to hog it?"
Regretfully Matt gave way to another cadet. He turned and shoved himself away from the port and in so doing became disoriented. He could not find Tex in the helter-skelter mass of floating bodies.
He felt a grip on his right ankle. "Let's get out of here, Matt."
"Right." They worked their way to the hatch and moved
to the next deck. Being without ports it was not heavily populated. They propelled themselves toward the center of the room, away from the traffic, and steadied themselves on handholds. "Well," said Matt, "so this is it-space, I mean. How do you like it?"
"Makes me feel like a goldfish. And I'm getting crosseyed trying to figure out which side is up. How's your gizzard? Been dropsick?"
"No." Matt swallowed cautiously. "Let's not talk about it. Where were you last night, Tex? I looked for you a couple of times, but your rommate said he hadn't seen you since dinner."
"Oh, that-'' Tex looked pained. "I was in Mr. Dynkow-ski's room. Say, Matt, that was a bum steer you gave me."
"Huh? What steer?"
"You know-when you advised me to ask Mr. Dynkow-ski to put an order in writing if I was in doubt about it. Man, oh man, did you get me.in a jam!" .
"Wait a minute-I didn't advise you to do that; I just pointed out that the regs let you do it if you wanted to."
"Just the same, you were egging me on."
"The deuce I was! My interest was purely theoretical. You were a free agent."
"Oh, well-skip it. Skip it."
"What happened?"
"Well, last night at dinner I ordered pie for dessert. I picked it up, just like I always have ever since I got too big for Ma to slap my hands for it, and started shoveling it in my face, happy as a pup in a pansy bed. Ski ordered me to cease and desist-told me to use my fork."
"Yeah? Go on."
"I said to put it in writing, please, sir, polite as a preacher."
"It stopped him?"
"Like fun it did! He said, Very well, Mr. Jarman,' cool as could be, took out his notebook, wrote it out, stamped his thumb print on it, tore out the page and handed it to me."
"So you used your fork. Or didn't you?"
"I sure did. But that's only the beginning. Immediately he
wrote out another order and handed it to me. He told me to read it aloud. Which I did."
"What did it say?"