"The Lost Masters Volume 2A" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morrison William)

the rear. But now the acceleration was decreasing, not all at once, but slowly
and gradually. Down wasn't quite so strongly down. And to make up for the loss
in feeling of weight, a new force was being applied. The pilot had begun to
rotate the ship, to spin it about its long axis. As the ship spun, everything in
it was pushed out, away from the center. A new down came into existence,
directed toward the hull, away from the long axis.
As acceleration decreased, the spin would be increased. The artificial gravity
wouldn't reach one gee, even at the hull, but after a while it would be
possible, where Mel was, to move back and forth along the corridors that ran the
length of the ship without holding on to the hand grips. Even now, walking was
no more difficult than climbing a gentle slope. He would have to remember,
though, that near the central axis of the ship, the artificial gravity would be
close to zero. He came out from behind the crate again. It was going to be
monotonous, as well as foolish, waiting here for somebody to find him. He'd
simply have to take a chance, he told himself. Somehow he'd have to get that
message to Mars. Suppose Чsuppose he walked up to the ship's radio operator not
as a passenger, but as a member of the ship's crew. Suppose he got hold of a
uniform somehow, and put it on. He could go up to the radio operator, hand in a
written slip of paper, and say, "Passenger asks that this be sent to Mars at
once, sir."
After the message was sent, they'd find out that something was wrong, they'd
look for him and throw him in the brig, but by then he wouldn't care. The
message would have been delivered. He grinned at the thought. That was it. All
he'd have to do was to find a spare uniform. The lockers that opened off the
corridors contained all sorts of material. If he was lucky, he'd find what he
wanted in one of them.
And maybe, if he was extra lucky, he'd find something to eat. While he had
waited for the takeoff, and then had crouched behind the crate, in fear of
discovery, he hadn't realized it the way he did now. The fact was that he was
hungry. His stomach was complaining, and he felt weak. How long since he had
last eaten? Almost a day.
Well, he was used to not eating. He tightened his belt another notch. Even if
they did capture him, he thought, there'd be that one advantageЧthey wouldn't
let him starve. The ship's acceleration was much less now, and his body felt
light. Yes, it was becoming much easier to move. He climbed over to the door,
and hesitated. No sound from the corridor. He threw the door open and looked
out.
The next moment he had closed the door behind him and was making his way down
the corridor, using the hand grips just to balance himself.
He stopped at the first door he came to. This looked like a closet right here.
Or did it? Sometimes it was hard to tell a closet door from the door to a
stateroom. Were there staterooms in this part of the ship? It would be terrible
if he guessed wrong and got into some passenger's quarters by mistake.
He put his hand on the knob and began to turn it slowly. But the knob didn't
give. After all his worry about it, the door was locked.
He kept on down the corridor to the next door. This one wasn't locked. He took a
deep breath and pushed it open.
The room or closet, whatever it was, was dark. He snapped his fingers, and with
the sound, the light went on. He saw that the place was in fact a deep closet.
Electrical floor-sweeping and cleaning machines were piled up haphazardly in one