"Jerry Pournelle - He Fell into a Dark Hole" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pournelle Jerry)

place, he thought. But of course low gravity was a main reason for putting
a Navy yard there. That and the asteroid minesтАж

He walked carefully through gray steel bulkheads to the central
corridor. Just outside the bridge entrance he met Dave Trevor, the first
lieutenant.

"Not going ashore?" Ramsey asked.

"No, sir." Trevor's boyish grin was infectious. Ramsey had once
described it as the best crew morale booster in the Navy. And at age
twenty-four Dave Trevor had been in space eleven years, as ship's boy,
midshipman, and officer. He would know every pub in the Solar System
and a lot outsideтАж "Never cared much for the girls on Ceres," he said.
"Too businesslike."

Captain Ramsey nodded sagely. With Trevor's looks he wouldn't have to
shell out money for an evening's fun anywhere near civilization. Ceres was
another matter. "I'd appreciate it if you'd make a call on the provost's
office, Mr. Trevor. We might need a friend there by morning."

The lieutenant grinned again. "Aye, aye, Captain."

Bart nodded and climbed down the ladder to his cabin. Trevor's merry
whistling followed him until he closed the door. Once Ramsey was inside
he punched a four-digit code on the intercom console.

"Surgeon's office, Surgeon's Mate Hartley, sir."
 "Captain here. Make sure we have access to a good dental repair unit in
the morning, Hartley. Even if we have to use Base facilities."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Ramsey switched the unit off and permitted himself a thin smile. The
regeneration stimulators aboard Daniel Webster worked but there was
something wrong with the coding information in the dental unit. It
produced buck teeth, not enormous but quite noticeable, and when his
men were out drinking and some dirtpounder made a few funny remarks...

The smile faded as Ramsey sat carefully in the regulation chair. He
glanced around the sterile cabin. There were none of the comforts other
captains provided themselves. Screens, charts, built-in cabinets and
tables, his desk, everything needed to run his ship, but no photographs
and solidos, no paintings and rugs. Just Ramsey and his ship, his wife
with the masculine name. He took a glass of whiskey from the arm of the
chair. It was Scotch and the taste of burnt malt was very strong. Bart
tossed it off and replaced it to be refilled. The intercom buzzed. "Captain
here."

"Bridge, sir. Call from Base Commandant Torrin."