"George O. Smith - Spaceman's Luck" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith George O)

SPACEMAN'S LUCK
BY GEORGE O. SMITH
ILLUSTRATED BY EBEL
Holt wasn't interested in mere glory. He was on his way to the Moon, but only
because that's where he'd find the road to all the money he could spend. Holt had
it all planned. . . .

A flare of light arced upwards and moments later the shattering report dinned in the ears of the
crowd, rolling across the field like thunder. The noise covered the sharply indrawn breath of ten thousand
people. A sonorous voice, amplified a millionfold announced: "X Minus Fifteen Minutes!"
There was a second or two of absolute silence and then the waiting crowd let out its breath all at
once in an audible sigh. They wiped their glasses nervously, or poised their binoculars, or scratched, their
heads for the last nervous time, hoping that they would not sneeze at the improper second and so miss
the takeoff; it would be over just about that quickly.
Out across the field, the focus of ten thousand pair of eyes; stood the Lady Luna. She looked small
from the crowd, but the three men who stood at one tail-fin were dwarfed by her size.
"This is about it, Gordon," said the oldest of the lot.
Gordon Holt nodded. "I've about five minutes yet," he said nervously.
The middle-aged man said, "Time for a last cigarette, Gordon."
Holt shook his head. "Not after training to do without for six months. Save it until I come back."
Doctor Walsch nodded. "That's good sense, Gordon. We'll be waiting for you. How do you feel?"
"Fine. Just a bit jumpy."
"You ought to feel as fit as a Guarnerius. You've been trained and you're trim and fit. I doubt that
you'll ever feel any better in your life than you do right now."



General Towne nodded. "Don't forget the honor, either," he said. "The excitement should give your
high feelings another lift. Imagine being the first man to ever set foot on the soil of another world."
"It's a bit of a sterile world, I'm told. Not much more honor than the first man to put his sandal on the
top of Pike's Peak. They sell postcards there, now."
"Too bad we've named all the visible Lunar Craters," said General Towne. "Seems to me that some
signal honorтАФwell, anyway, Gordon, we'll name a big one on the other side after you."
"ItтАФ"
A siren wailed and Holt jumped. "That's it," he said.
"Good luck, Gordon," said the general, wringing the spaceman's hand. The doctor clapped Gordon
on the back as he turned away.
Doctor and general got into the waiting jeep, and the driver turned and called, "Don't take any
wooden moonbeams up there, Holt!"
Holt shrugged noncommittally and climbed the ramp into the spacelock. He sneered at the crowd
beyond closing spacelock.
"Wooden moonbeams?" he said aloud. "Oh brother!"
He went to the control chamber of the Lady Luna and ran through his checklist almost mechanically.
He waited almost breathlessly until the radio barked the word that told him to hit the ignition switch, and
when it came he hit it with a vigor and enjoyed the crushing sensation that followed. The thunder from
below was music in his ears; now he was on his way and they wouldn't call him back.
Holt was no mere glory machine. Not for him was the simple honor. He had it planned, had it
planned from the moment he was selected.
 For Holt, the honor of setting the first foot on another world was a flat and tasteless award. It would
last only until someone else did something slightly better. What could he get out of driving a space rocket