"Jack Yeovil - Comeback Tour" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yeovil Jack)

Wardle took off his headphones, and dropped them on his desk. The usual cluttermdashpictures of his
kids, coffee cups, markerpens, scribblepads, the Mickey Mouse mugmdashhad been cleared away. He
was the last of them. And he would be transferring tomorrow. A few ot the lesser lights were dim enough
to put up with the travesty at Edwards. The rest were quitting the service. The private sector was
dangling fat contracts in front of more than a few NASA personnel, particularly ex-astronauts with
high-profile names. But Fonvielle knew those jobs were just glamour assignments, with no guts. The
corporate space programmes didn't need men, they needed human adding machines with currency
symbols carved on their hearts.

"The Eisenhower just hauled Santini and the rest out of the drink. That's over with."

Fonvielle couldn't trust himself to reply.

"Chrissie Farren says 'hi'."

Fonvielle nodded. Chrissie had been the third woman in space. He remembered her as an eager-beaver
lieutenant. The jocks had taken bets about who would get first into her electrically-heated long Johns. He
couldn't remember who, if anyone, had swept the pool.

Wardle was disengaged from his console now. He pulled on his civilian jacket, and walked away.

Fonvielle had been among the first to transfer to NASA, shifting from the X-11 programme in the '50s.
And now he was one of the last to get out of the kitchen.

The heat had really started with President Agnew. Spiro T. had insisted on seeing some return for the
billions of federal dollars that had been flushed into the bowl of the Needlepoint Project. Fonvielle had
argued the System wasn't ready for testing. He knew only too well that the bugs needed a through
ironing-out.

After the moonbase fiasco, when Needlepoint had come within fifteen feet of breaching the dome during
the test run, Agnew had ridden hard on NASA. Senate Committees were set up, and the Suits
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descended on Houston and Canaveral. Men with ledgers eased men with vision out of their seats.

The space programme had had a twenty-year run, and the gravy days were over.America had
conquered the moon, and left the Soviets and their sputniks standing.Russia had had too many internal
problems to divert the funds toStarCity , and their programme had fizzled when the first man into space
rained back on the steppes as microscopic ash. His name had been Yuri Gagarin, Fonvielle remembered.
The Soviets could have recovered, but the pointless war inVietnam had drained all their military and
scientific muscle.StarCity had been a ghost town for ten years.

A ghost town. Just like Canaveral would be tomorrow.

"Sir?"

Fonvielle was distracted. The matronly woman in charge of the shut-down shoved a clipboard at him.