"Jack Vance - Sail 25" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vance Jack)

wicked, he's a tyrant. Cruel as an ax, fickle as a woman. But a voyage with Henry Belt blows the foam off the beer. He's
ruined many a man, he's killed a few, but those that come out of it are proud to say, I trained with Henry Belt!
"Another thing you may hear: Henry Belt has luck. But don't pay any heed. Luck runs out. You'll be my thirteenth
class, and that's unlucky. I've taken out seventy-two young sprats, no different from yourselves; I've come back
twelve times: which is partly Henry Belt and partly luck. The voy-ages average about two years long: how can a man
stand it? There's only one who could: Henry Belt. I've got more space-time than any man alive, and now I'll tell you a
secret: this is my last time out. I'm starting to wake up at night to strange visions. After this class I'll quit. I hope you
lads aren't superstitious. A white-eyed woman told me that I'd die in space. She told me other things and they've all
come true. We'll get to know each other well. And you'll be wondering on what basis I make my recommendations.
Am I objective and fair? Do I put aside personal animosity? Naturally there won't be any friendship. Well, here's my
system. I keep a red book. Here it is. I'll put your names down right now. You, sir?"
"I'm Cadet Lewis Lynch, sir."
 "You?"
"Edward Culpepper, sir."
"Marcus Verona, sir."
"Vidal Weske, sir."
"Marvin McGrath, sir."
"Barry Ostrander, sir."
"Clyde von Gluck, sir."
"Joseph Sutton, sir."
Henry Belt wrote the names in the red book. "This is the system. When you do something to annoy me, I mark you
down demerits. At the end of the voyage I total these de-merits, add a few here and there for luck, and am so guided.
I'm sure nothing could be clearer than this. What annoys me? Ah, that's a question which is hard to answer. If you talk
too much: demerits. If you're surly and taciturn: de-merits. If you slouch and laze and dog the dirty work: demerits. If
you're overzealous and forever scuttling about: demerits. Obsequiousness: demerits. Truculence: demerits. If you sing
and whistle: demerits. If you're a stolid bloody bore: demerits. You can see that the line is hard to draw. Here's a hint
which can save you many marks. I don't like gossip, especially when it concerns myself.

I'm a sensitive man, and I open my red book fast when I think I'm being insulted." Henry Belt once more leaned back in
his chair. "Any questions?"
No one spoke.
Henry Belt nodded. "Wise. Best not to flaunt your ignor-ance so early in the game. In response to the thought
passing through each of your skulls, I do not think of myself as God. But you may do so, if you choose. And
this"тАФhe held up the red bookтАФ"you may regard as the Syncretic Compen-dium. Very well. Any questions?"
"Yes, sir," said Culpepper.
"Speak, sir."
"Any objection to alcoholic beverages aboard ship, sir?"
"For the cadets, yes indeed. I concede that the water must be carried in any event, that the organic compounds
present may be reconstituted, but unluckily the bottles weigh far too much."
"I understand, sir."
Henry Belt rose to his feet. "One last word. Have I men-tioned that I run a tight ship? When I say jump, I expect
every one of you to jump. This is dangerous work, of course. I don't guarantee your safety. Far from it, especially
since we are assigned to old Twenty-Five, which should have been broken up long ago. There are eight of you
present. Only six cadets will make the voyage. Before the week is over I will make the appropriate notifications. Any
more questions? . . . Very well, then. Cheerio." Limping on his thin legs as if his feet hurt, Henry Belt departed into the
back passage.
For a moment or two there was silence. Then von Gluck said in a soft voice, "My gracious."
"He's a tyrannical lunatic," grumbled Weske. "I've never heard anything like it! Megalomania!"
"Easy," said Culpepper. "Remember, no gossiping."
"Bah!" muttered McGrath. "This is a free country. I'll damn well say what I like."