"Roger Zelazny - The Doors of His Face The Lamps of His Mouth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

"Hmm," I hmmed. "How bad?"

"Sixty day contract. Tensquare. Indefinite extension clause. Million
and a half deposit," he recited.

"You seem to know a lot about it."

"I'm Personnel Recruitment. Luharich Enterprises approached me last
month. It helps to drink in the right places.

"Or own them." He smirked, after a moment.

I looked away, sipping my bitter brew. After awhile I swallowed several
things and asked Mike what he expected to be asked, leaving myself open for
his monthly temperance lecture.

"They told me to try getting you," he mentioned. "When's the last time
you sailed?"

"Month and a half ago. The _Corning_."

"Small stuff," he snorted. "When have you been under, yourself?"

"It's been awhile."

"It's been over a year, hasn't it? That time you got cut by the screw,
under the _Dolphin_?"

I turned to him.

"I was in the river last week, up at Angleford where the currents are
strong. I can still get around."

"Sober," he added.



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"I'd stay that way," I said, "on a job like this."

A doubting nod.

"Straight union rates. Triple time for extraordinary circumstances," he
narrated. "Be at Hangar Sixteen with your gear, Friday morning, five hundred
hours. We push off Saturday, daybreak."

"You're sailing?"