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

American Union, Terra, on or before One July 2075, for further examination.
"You are cautioned to remember that the majority of candidates taking
these final tests usually fail and you should provide-"
Matt folded the paper and stuck it back in his belt pouch. He did not care
to think about the chance of failure. The passenger across from him, a boy
about his own age, caught his eye. "That paper looks familiar, you a
candidate too?"
"That's right."
"Well, shake! M' name's Jarman-I'm from Texas."
"Glad to know you, Tex. I'm Matt Dodson, from Des Moines."
"Howdy, Matt. We ought to be about there-" The car sighed softly and
slowed; their chairs rocked to meet the rapid deceleration. The car stopped
and their chairs swung back to normal position. "We are there," Jarman
finished.
The telescreen at the end of the car, busy a moment before with a blonde
beauty demonstrating Sorkin's Super-
Stellar Soap, now read: TERRA BASE STATION. The two boys grabbed
their bags, and hurried out. A moment later, they were on the escalator,
mounting to the surface.
Facing the station a half mile away in the cool, thin air stood Hayworth
Hall, Earth headquarters of the fabulous Patrol. Matt stared at it, trying to
realize that he was at last seeing it.
Jarman nudged him. "Come on."
"Huh? Oh-sure." A pair of slidewalks stretched from the station to the hall;
they stepped onto the one running toward the building. The slidewalk was
crowded; more boys streamed out of the station behind them. Matt noticed
two boys with swarthy, thin features who were wearing high, tight turbans,
although dressed otherwise much like himself. Further down the walk he
glimpsed a tall, handsome youth whose impassive face was shiny black.
- The Texas boy hooked his thumbs in his belt and looked around.
"Granny, kill another chicken!" he said. "There's company for dinner.
Speaking of that," he went on, "I hope they don't wait lunch too long. I'm
hungry."
Matt dug a candy bar out of his pouch, split it and gave half to Jarman,
who accepted it gratefully. "You're a pal, Matt, I've been living on my own fat
ever since breakfast- and that's risky. Say, your telephone is sounding."
"Oh!" Matt fumbled in his pouch and got out his phone. "Hello?"
"That you, son?" came his father's voice.
"Yes, Dad."
"Did you get there all right?"
"Sure, I'm about to report in."
2
 "How's your leg?"
"Leg's all right, Dad." His answer was not frank; his right leg, fresh from a
corrective operation for a short Achilles' tendon, was aching as he spoke.
"That's good. Now see here, Matt-if it should work out that you aren't
selected,. don't let it get you down. You call me at once and-"
^ "Sure, sure, Dad," Matt broke in. "Ill have to sign off-I'm in a crowd.
Good-by. Thanks for calling."
"Good-by, son. Good luck."