"James White - Lifeboat" - читать интересную книгу автора (White James)

about six inches wide, except where the curvature of the inner hull allowed
more. He knelt briefly beside each couch, reading the passengers' name tags as
he checked their straps, saying the prescribed words, and keeping an eye on
the time by not looking at his watch in the same way that he did not seem to
be looking at the name tags stitched to their coveralls when he spoke to them.
He had to give the impression of being calm, unhurried, and concerned with
their individual welfare, the book said, and theoretically he could take all
the time he needed to ensure his passengers' comfort before takeoff. This was
a passenger ship, after all, and a problem with one or more of the passengers
was the only acceptable reason short of a serious malfunction for calling a
Hold.
But Mercer would have to have a very strong reason for holding or the
launch-control people would have caustic things to say, the Captain would
probably go critical, and Prescott, who seemed to be a pretty poisonous
character at the best of times, would certainly make his life miserable for
the rest of the voyage.
"Are you comfortable, Mr. Saddler?" Mercer said pleasantly to the next in
line; then he stopped. This was one of the tough guys who had not taken his
medication. Mercer stared at the man's face without really seeing it while his
mind sought in vain for a pleasant and friendly way of telling him to take his
and-nausea pill and not be a fool. By the end of the allotted minute Mercer
still did not have the answer, and he saw that the passenger's face was
becoming apprehensive and that he was refusing to meet Mercer's eyes. Suddenly
he wriggled sideways in his straps so that he could reach his breast pocket.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I nearly forgot to take my pill."
"It can happen," said Mercer pleasantly, "in the excitement."
The next two couches were occupied by the Mathewsons. Judging by the glazed
look in her eyes, one of the hostesses had seen fit to slip Mrs. Mathewson a
small-calibre sleep bomb, which was already taking effect. Perhaps she had
been frightened. Her son's eyes were enormous, but not with fear. Mercer found
himself envying the hot, bright, uncomplicated excitement of the boy. With
Mercer there was very little that happened for the first time. When it did
happen for the first time, as it would in a very few minutes from now, the
sensation would be diluted and deadened by the emotional impurities of fear
and guilt; and by | his maturity and intelligence, which would insist on ||
computing his chances of meeting disaster during the " period of maximum
stress that was takeoff; and by the other excitements of his short adult life,
which had reduced his capacity to respond to this one. He wondered suddenly if
the real reason for his being here was the fear that if he had stayed put he
would have used up Earth and everything it had to offer and joined everyone
else in the desperate search for small variations on old sensations.
Mercer smiled. Compared with the life most of his friends had led, his had
been almost monastic. Below him, Bobby Mathewson smiled back.
The next couch was empty, for the very good reason that it was his own. Beyond
it was the one belonging to Stone, the other passenger suspected of missing
out on his pre-takeoff medication. Mercer tried the blank stare on him that
had worked so well with Saddler, hoping that the man's guilty conscience would
do the rest, but Stone simply stared back at him. Maybe his conscience was
clear. Mercer had to be content with clearing his throat loudly and slipping a
plastic bag between the other's chest straps where Stone could reach it