"Roger Zelazny - The Doors of His Face The Lamps of His Mouth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)
"Status Blue," she snapped, breaking a violet fingernail on the toggle.
I forced a yawn and buttoned my shirt slowly. She threw a side glance
my way, checked the registers, and fired a cast.
I monitored the lead on the screen. She turned to me for a second.
"Status Red," she said levelly.
I nodded my agreement.
She worked the winch sideways to show she knew how. I didn't doubt she
knew how and she didn't doubt that I didn't doubt, but then--
"In case you're wondering," she said, "you're not going to be anywhere
near this thing. You were hired as a baitman, remember? Not a Slider
operator! A baitman! Your duties consist of swimming out and setting the
table for our friend the monster. It's dangerous, but you're getting well
paid for it. Any questions?"
She squashed the Inject button and I rubbed my throat.
if you need me I'll be available, at union rates."
"Mister Davits," she said, "I don't want a loser operating this panel."
"Miss Luharich, there has never been a winner at this game."
She started reeling in the cable and broke the bond at the same time,
so that the whole Slider shook as the big yo-yo returned. We skidded a
couple of feet backward. She raised the laterals and we shot back along the
groove. Slowing, she transferred rails and we jolted to a clanging halt,
then shot off at a right angle. The crew scrambled away from the hatch as we
skidded onto the elevator.
"In the future, Mister Davits, do not enter the Slider without being
ordered," she told me.
"Don't worry. I won't even step inside if I am ordered," I answered. "I
signed on as a baitman. Remember? If you want me in here, you'll have to
_ask_ me."
"That'll be the day," she smiled.
I agreed, as the doors closed above us. We dropped the subject and
headed in our different directions after the Slider came to a halt in its
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