"Zach Hughes - Gold Star" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hughes Zach)

stocked with food and supplies for four. Pete and Jan Jaynes had food and
some luxuries to last for twice the period of their contracted tour, because
it was often difficult to find even two crewmen to man a deep-space tug. It
was lonely work.

Pete checked instruments in the control room. The 47 was in a good
mood. She hummed at him and blinked reassuring little lights at him, and
her computer gave him a quick readout which said "great" for all systems.
He was becoming more and more convinced that he'd dreamed the sound.
Not only were all primary systems great, all backup systems and secondary
backup systems were great. A Mule Class tug stayed in space for a long
time.

At times of emergency, great demands were made on a tug. A Mule was
known to be the most dependable vessel ever sent into space.

Pete had saved the communications board for last. There were only two
possible communications signals which would have activated any
sound-producing mechanism on the 47. He pushed the self-examination
button on the communications board and watched as the ship's computer
showed blinking green after blinking green.

There was a gong mounted in each separate ship's area, a gong which
went bonkers upon activation by the communications board. When the
gongs echoed throughout the ship it meant one of two things: Either a
Blinkstat directed to the 47 was coming in or the detection equipment had
sensed the pre-arrival signal of a blinking ship. If either of those things
had happened the gongs would still have been bonging.

The signal-indicator light was off. No Blinkstat, no call, no pre-arrival
signal had come into the big bank of electronics.

Pete sat down in the padded command chair and stared at nothing. He
felt, rather than heard, Jan come into control. They were that close. He
sensed her presence, turned, winked at her.

"It's the middle of the night," she said sleepily.

Lord, Lord, he thought. Just seeing her was a pleasure of which he
would never tire. She was so beautiful, so rounded in the right places. She
looked to him more the Tri-D star than a crewman on a tug. The silken
singlet molded itself to her. She came to lean her hip against his shoulder.
He felt the warmth of her, allowed himself the luxury of a touch, smoothed
his hand over the silkiness.

"Coming back to bed?" she asked.

"I don't know. I guess."

"What woke you?"