"Michael P. Kube - McDowell - Black Fleet 2 - Shield of Lies" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kube-McDowell Michael P)

I want Supply and Dispatch in on this call."

"Done. Go ahead, Doctor."

"I have an urgent requisition for additional equipment and staff for my
current assignment." Stopa quickly rattled off the detailed list he
had composed.

"Have all that?"

"Supply here--I have it. We'll get working on it right away."

"We also need a crack cold*site team out here. Is Dr. Eckels's Hoth
crew available?"

"They reported back yesterday. I don't know what their status is,"
said the dispatcher. "But I'll send this up to the committee right
away, and get you an answer pronto."

"Assuming that they are available, what's your best estimate of when we
see them and the gear out here?"

"If we can push the turnaround on Penga Rift and get the team and gear
aboard by midnight--you are looking at sixteen standard days. Add on
hour-for-hour for any delays getting off."

"Is anything faster than Penga Rift available?"

"Not under institute registry--sorry."

"Explore other options," Stopa said shortly. "This has the highest
priority. Stopa out." He signaled the pilot to end the link. "Now
you'd better get me Krenjsh at New Republic Intelligence. They need to
know there'll be a delay getting them what they asked for."

There was little talking among the quartet trapped in the vagabond's
airlock. Everyone had a job to do.

Artoo searched for the inflow vents, while Threepio made entreaties to
the vagabond's masters. Lobot analyzed the acceleration and
astrographic data while he inventoried the equipment on the equipment
sled. And Lando returned to the control handle in the corner of the
compartment to see if it would respond to him.

The handle proved immovable, and Lando's touch alone elicited no
detectable response from the ship. But through his efforts, he
realized that his bare hand was puffy, stiff, and aching--the pressure
from the wrist collar was compounding the damage done by the
decompression.