"Allen Steele - Orbital Decay" - читать интересную книгу автора (Steele Allen)

vanished into the puffy white. Gone, forever gone, like gold vanishing
into the deep, deep blue. "Go swim for it," he whispered. "What'd you
say?" Dave asked. Hooker settled back into the chair, letting out a
breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Never mind.

Nothing."

"Nice view there for a little while, huh? How'd you like that boat?"

"Uh-huh. Nice boat." Hooker unfastened the seat belt, let himself
float out of his chair. The third shift would be starting soon; he had
to get to the airlock to catch the ferry over to Vulcan Station.

Besides, John was giving him a dirty look, as if to say that he had
worn out his welcome in the dome. Dave laid a hand on his shoulder.

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"Hey, pal, you okay?" Hooker felt depressed as hell. "Yeah, sure.

I'm fine. Thanks for letting me take a look through the scope
again."

"Sure, Popeye." The NSA meteorologist smiled. "Anything to help out a
homesick swabbie."

2

Ear Test

After Dave had closed and locked the hatch behind the departing Popeye
Hooker, he was chided by Bob and John for allowing the beamjack
inside.

After all, they were expecting a classified transmission from the NSA's
headquarters in Fort Meade, Virginia, material rated "Top Secret-Eyes
Only" of which only a few people in the federal government were even
aware. If Popeye had overheard the transmission, he could have spread
word around Olympus Station that something called Big Ear was being
tested.

"So big deal," Dave said, pulling himself hand over hand back to his
chair. "Everyone knows about the Ear. You can pick up a newspaper
down there and read all about it."

"You know what I mean," Bob replied, glaring at him from his seat
beside the communications console. "It isn't just the Ear."