"John G. Hemry - Lady Be Good" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hemry John G)

It did for Dingo, anyway. I looked at him, sagging into his battered chair, his eyes glazing over as the
alcohol from several earlier beers finally hit his system. Dingo didn't believe in Haven, maybe because he
thought he could find it in every bar. As long as his money held out and I got his drunken carcass back to
the ship afterwards. "Don't forget we're sailing tomorrow."

"Why do you think I'm getting this drunk?" Dingo stared blearily at his beer mug, as if uncertain whether it
still held liquid.

"I'm going to need you functioning tomorrow. We've got three new hands coming onboard."

"Hah! How'd you swing that? Lie about our next port?"

"Yeah."

Dingo began laughing silently, his sides shaking and an enormous grin splitting his face. He bent over,
gasping for air. "They'll kill ya when they find out, Kilcannon," he finally managed to stammer. "I swear
they'll kill ya."

"I'll worry about that when the time comes."

"You do that." Dingo raised his mug, tipping it vertical to get every drop. It fell back onto the table again,
but before the waiter could slosh any more into the mug I slapped his hand aside. "Hey. I ain't done."

"Yes, you are."

"You ain't my mother and you ain't the Captain and dammed if I'll let you nursemaid me, Kilcannon! I
quit!" Dingo struggled to his feet, his hands clenched into fists. I stayed seated, just looking back at him.
"Get up! Damn ya, get up! When I'm done there won't be enough of ya left to run through a recycler."

"Right." I stood slowly, keeping my hands lowered. "Let's go."

"I told you I quit! I ain't goin' on this voyage! I never aimed to and I won't! Not there!"

"Okay."

My answer took a moment to penetrate through layers of alcohol-soaked brain cells, then Dingo lowered
his fists a little and stared at me. "Okay?"

"Sure. Let's get your stuff off the ship. You'll need it."

Dingo grinned broadly, wavering on his feet. "Now that's a saintly way to be, Kilcannon. I was wrong
about you. Sure I was."

I plopped a credit chip on the table and steered Dingo out of the bar. We wended our way back to the
ship, dodging other drunken sailors as we went. Every once in a while, the orbital port's gravity would
stutter a little in our area, making me waver on my feet as badly as Dingo for a moment. That's one of the
hazards of being in the low-rent areas of any port off-planet. Outside every bar in the area near the port
were other hazards, men and women who looked young and cheap and pretty in the dim lighting,
beckoning and calling invitations to visit the particular establishments where they got kick-backs for luring
in customers. I fended off all of them.