"John Morressy - Rimrunners Home" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morressy John)

JOHN MORRESSY

RIMRUNNER'S HOME

Rimrunner six touched down softly as a snowflake on a cat's back. The
lock-jockeys and groundbugs took less than a minute to scramble back to cover,
then the port swung out and Vanderhorst started down the ramp. Lights were
everywhere. Off to his left, a picket ship in a trim new design was poised on
her ring, vehicles darting about in her shadow like ants around a fencepost.
Vanderhorst liked the look of her, but he could spare the ship no more than a
glance. All his attention was on getting down the ramp and into POP Headquarters
without stumbling. Downside gravity had him feeling like a drunken elephant on
greased glass. It made no difference to him that there was no one to see him
fall.

That was the standing rule: no one sees a rimrunner until he's been to POP for
debriefing. Other rules changed, but that one appeared to have remained.

Vanderhorst hated debriefings. They were foolish and unnecessary and long. POP
ground control had monitored and recorded every instant from liftoff to lock-in,
but they wanted a verbal account, even though Vanderhorst had nothing to report
from this trip but his dreams.

He wondered if anyone in POP actually expected a human to spot something the
instruments had missed. Each time back, heading for debriefing, Vanderhorst
fantasized about reporting something twice the size of the big rock of '06
heading straight for Washington. But he could not hope to get away with a trick
like that. The instruments knew better. Even joking about it could cost his job,
and he was not ready to give up rimrunning.

Doors loomed before him bearing the interlaced silver rings of the Perimeter
Orbiting Patrol. He walked on without pausing and they purred apart to admit
him. He passed through three more sets of doors and arrived at last in the
debriefing room. Steadier on his feet now, but tired by the walk, he settled
heavily in the oversized soft chair that awaited.

The room was dull white, illuminated in such a way as to minimize the sensation
of enclosure. Vanderhorst breathed deeply and allowed himself to relax a little.

When the debriefer entered, Vanderhorst raised a hand in greeting and remained
seated. He studied the newcomer. The man looked like the father of someone he
knew.

"Remember me, Van?"

He had to think for a moment. "Bob Watts?"

"That's right. Last time you saw me, I wasn't even showing a gray hair."
"It's only twenty-one months ago for me. How long have I been out Earthtime?"