"Robert A. Heinlein - The Green Hills of Earth (Collected Stor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

ship to make a minor correction on a few lousy tons of cargo, I'll be so late I'll
have to put down on a secondary field. I may even have to make a dead-stick
landing." In those days all ships had landing wings.
"Look, Captain," Tiny said sharply, "the only purpose of your lift was to
match orbits for those same few lousy tons. I don't care if you land in Little
America on a pogo stick. The first load here was placed with loving care in
the proper orbit, and I'm making every other load match. Get that covered
wagon into the groove."
"Very well, Superintendent!" Captain Shields said stiffly. "Don't be sore,
Don," Tiny said softly. "By the way, you've got a passenger for me?"
"Oh, yes, so I have!" Shields' face broke out in a grin.
"Well, keep him aboard until we unload. Maybe we can beat the
shadow yet."
"Fine, fine! After all, why should I add to your troubles?" The skipper
switched off, leaving my boss looking puzzled.
We didn't have time to wonder at his words. Shields whipped his ship
around on gyros, blasted a second or two, and put her dead in space with us
pronto-and used very little fuel, despite his bellyaching. I grabbed every man
we could spare and managed to get the cargo clear before we swung into
Earth's shadow. Weightlessness is an unbelievable advantage in handling
freight; we gutted the Half Moon-by hand, mind you-in fifty-four minutes.
The stuff was oxygen tanks, loaded, and aluminum mirrors to shield
them, panels of outer skin-sandwich stuff of titanium alloy sheet with foamed
glass filling-and cases of jato units to spin the living quarters. Once it was all
out and snapped to our cargo line I sent the men back by the same line-I
won't let a man work outside without a line no matter how space happy he
figures he is. Then I told Shields to send over the passenger and cast off.
This little guy came out the ship's air lock, and hooked on to the ship's
line. Handling himself like he was used to space, he set his feet and dived,
straight along the stretched line, his snap hook running free. I hurried back
and motioned him to follow me. Tiny, the new man, and I reached the air
locks together.
Besides the usual cargo lock we had three Kwikloks. A Kwiklok is an
Iron Maiden without spikes; it fits a man in a suit, leaving just a few pints of
air to scavenge, and cycles automatically. A big time saver in changing shifts.
I passed through the middle-sized one; Tiny, of course, used the big one.
Without hesitation the new man pulled himself into the small one.
We went into Tiny's office. Tiny strapped down, and pushed his helmet
back. "Well, McNye," he said. "Glad to have you with us."
2
 The new radio tech opened his helmet. I heard a low, pleasant voice
answer, "Thank you."
I stared and didn't say anything. From where I was I could see that the
radio tech was wearing a hair ribbon.
I thought Tiny would explode. He didn't need to see the hair ribbon; with
the helmet up it was clear that the new "man" was as female as Venus
deMilo. Tiny sputtered, then he was unstrapped and diving for the view port.
"Dad!" he yelled. "Get the radio shack. Stop that ship!"
But the Half Moon was already a ball of fire in the distance. Tiny looked
dazed. "Dad," he said, "who else knows about this?"