"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. Probationers (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

clenched teeth:
- So don't forget, Vladimir. The packet must be handed to Arnautov
directly, immediately after you arrive on Syrt.
- If Arnautov is on Mars, - said Yurkovski
- Yes, naturally. I just don't want you to forget.
- I will remind him, - promised Bykov.
They fell silent. The queue at the coach shrunk.
- You know what, please go now, - said Daugeh.
- Yes, its time, - Bykov sighed. He approached Daugeh and hugged him. -
Don't feel sad, Johannovich, - he said softly. - Good-bye. Don't be sad.
He firmly gripped Daugeh with his long bony hands. Daugeh gave him a
weak push.
- Calm plasma to you, - he said.
He shook Yurkovski's hand. Yurkovski's eyes fluttered repeatedly, he
wanted to say something, but only licked his lips. He reached over, lifted
his magnificent satchel off the grass, shuffled it in his hands and lowered
it back on the grass. Daugeh wasn't looking his way. Yurkovski lifted the
satchel again.
- Ah, don't look so sour, Gregory, - he said with a pained voice.
- I'll try, - Daugeh replied dryly.
On the side, Bykov was quietly admonishing his son.
- Whilst I am on a voyage, stay close to mother. None of those
subaquatic stunts.
- Ok, Dad.
- No record setting.
- Yes Dad. Don't worry.
- Pay less attention to girls, think more about mother.
- Ok, alright Dad.
Daugeh quietly said:
- I am off.
He turned and plodded towards the terminal. Yurkovski followed him with
his eyes. Daugeh looked shrunk, humped, greatly aged.
- Good-bye, Uncle Volodya, - said Grisha.
- Good-bye, old chap, - said Yurkovski. He was still looking in
Daugeh's direction. - Will you visit him or something... Just like that,
come in, for a cup of tea - and that's all. He is fond of you, I know...
Grisha nodded. Yurkovski offered him his cheek, patted him on the
shoulder and walked after Bykov to the bus. With some effort, he ascended
the stairs, sat next to Bykov and said:
- It would be good if the flight was cancelled.
Bykov stared at him with amazement.
- What flight? Ours?
- Yes, ours. Would be easier for Daugeh. Or if we were discharged by
the medics.
Bykov breathed heavily but remained quiet. When the coach started
moving, Yurkovski said:
- He did not even want to hug me. And rightly so. No reason for us to
fly without him. Its wrong. Unfair.
- Cut it out, - said Bykov.
Daugeh went up the granite stairs and looked back. The red dot of the