"Heinlein, Robert A- Space Family Stone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

Castor repeated, 'Spaceships.'
He pursed his lips. 'A luxury liner, maybe? I haven't got one on the field at the moment but I can always broker a deal.' Pollux stood up. 'He's making fun of us, Cas. Let's go see the Hungarian.'
'Wait a moment Pol. Mr Ekizian, you've got a heap out there on the south side of the field, a class VII, model '93 Detroiter. What's your scrapmetal price on her and what does she mass?' The dealer looked surpised. 'That sweet llttle job? Why, I couldn't afford to let that go as scrap. And anyhow, even at scrap that would come to a lot of money. If it is metal you boys want' I got it. Just tell me how much and what sort'
'We were talking about that Detroiter.'
'I don't believe I've met you boys before?'
'Sorry, sir. I'm Castor Stone. This is my brother Pollux.'
'Glad to meet you, Mr Stone. Stone,.. Stone? Any relation to - The "Unheavenly Twins" - that's it.'
'Smile when you say that,' said Pollux.
'Shut up, Pol. We're the Stone twins.'
'The frostproof rebreather valve, you invented it, didn't you?'
'That's right.'
'Say' I got one in my own suit. A good gimmick - you boys are quite the mechanics.' He looked them over again. 'Maybe you were really serious about a ship.'
'Of course we were.'
'Hmm. . . you're not looking for scrap; you want something to get around it. I've got just the job for you, a General Motors Jumpbug, practically new. It's been out on one grubstake job to a couple of thorium prospectors and I had to reclaim it. The hold ain't even radiosative.'
'Not interested.'
'Better look at it. Automatic landing and three hops takes you right around the equator. Just the thing for a couple of lively, active boys.'
'About that Detroiter - what's your scrap price?'
Ekizian looked hurt. 'That's a deepspace vessel, son - It's no use to you, as a ship. And I can't let it go for scrap; that's a clean job. It was a family yacht - never been pushed over six g, never had an emergency landing. It's got hundreds of millions of miles still in it. I couldn't let you scrap that ship, even if you were to pay me the factory price. It would be a shame. I love ships. Now take this Jumpbug. . .'
'You can't sell that Detroiter as anything but scrap,' Castor answered. 'It's been sitting there two years that I know of. If you had hoped to sell her as a ship you wouldn't have salvaged the computer. She's pitted, her tubes are no good, and an overhaul would cost more than she's worth. Now what's her scrap price?'
Dealer Dan rocked back and forth in his chair; he seemed to be suffering. 'Scrap that ship? Just fuel her up and she's ready to go - Venus, Mars, even the Jovian satellites.'
'What's your cash price?'
'Cash?'
'Cash.'
Ekizian hesitated, then mentioned a price. Castor stood up and said, 'You were right, Pollux. Let's go see the Hungarian.'
The dealer looked pained. 'If I were to write it off for my own use, I couldn't cut that price - not in fairness to my partners.'
'Come on, Pol.'
'Look, boys, I can't let you go over to the Hungarian's. He'll cheat you.'
Pollux looked savage. 'Maybe he'll do it politely.'
'Shut up, Poll!' Castor went on, 'Sorry, Mr Ekizian, my brother isn't housebroken. But we can't do business.' He stood up.
'Wait a minute. That's a good valve you boys thought up. I use it; I feel I owe you something.' He named another and lower sum.
'Sorry. We can't afford it.' He started to follow Pollux out 'Wait!' Ekizian mentioned a third price. 'Cash,' he added.
'Of course. And you pay the sales tax?' 'Well. . . for a cash deal, yes.'
'Good.'
'Sit down, gentlemen. I'll call in my girl and we'll stat the papers.'
'No hurry,' answered Castor. 'We've still got to see what the Hungarian has on his lot - and the government salvage lot, too.'
'Huh? That price doesn't stand unless you deal right now. Dealer Dan, they call me. I got no time to waste dickering twice.'
'Nor have we. See you tomorrow. If it hasn't sold we can take up where we left off.'
'If you expect me to hold that price, I'll have to have a nominal option payment.'
'Oh, no, I wouldn't expect you to pass up a sale for us. If you can sell it by tomorrow, we wouldn't think of standing in your way. Come on, Pol.'
Ekizian shrugged. 'Been nice meeting you, boys.'
'Thank you, sir.'
As they closed the lock behind them and waited for it to cycle, Pollux said 'you should have paid him an option.'
His brother looked at him. 'You're retarded, Junior.'
On leaving Dealer Dan's office the boys headed for the spaceport, intending to catch the passenger tube back to the city, fifty miles west of the port. They had less than thirty minutes if they were to get home for supper on time - unimportant in itself but Castor disliked starting a family debate on the defensive over a side issue. He kept hurrying Pollux along.
Their route took them through the grounds of General Synthetics Corporation, square miles of giant cracking plants, sun screens, condensers, fractionating columns, all sorts of huge machinery to take advantage of the burning heat, the bitter cold, and the endless vacuum for industrial chemical engineering purposes - a Dantesque jungle of unlikely shapes. The boys paid no attention to it; they were used to it. They hurried down the company road in the flying leaps the Moon's low gravity permitted, making twenty miles an hour. Half way to the port they were overtaken by a company tractor; Pollux flagged it down.
As he ground to a stop, the driver spoke to them via his cab radio: 'What do you want?'
'Are you meeting the Terra shuttle?'
'Subject to the whims of fate - yes.'
'It's Jefferson,' said Pollux. 'Hey, Jeff - it's Cas and Pol. Drop us at the tube station, will you?'
'Climb on the rack. "Mind the volcano - come up the usual way."' As they did so he went on, 'What brings you two carrot-topped accident-prones to this far reach of culture?'