Читать книгу Starport - George R.r. Martin - Страница 31

I WAS FOUR YEARS,

TWO MONTHS, AND FIVE

DAYS FROM MY PENSION WHEN

I MET MY FIRST ALIEN. REMEMBER,

BOBBI, WHEN THE MUNCHKINS LANDED

AND THEY ANNOUNCED HOW THEY’D

BEEN WATCHING US FOR NEARLY SIXTY

YEARS, WAITING? AND THE DELAYS

TRYING TO OPEN A STARPORT HERE?

WHAT WAS IT, FIVE YEARS OF

ANTICIPATION BEFORE THEY EVEN

SET FOOT ON AMERICAN SOIL?

ENDLESS CONGRESSIONAL MEETINGS,

TREATIES, AND RED TAPE OUT

THE ASS. THE TUNNEL COLLAPSE,

THE RIOTS IN NEW YORK.

ENDLESS.

POINT IS, THEY

TOOK SIX DECADES

TO COME KNOCKING ON

OUR DOOR, AND ONE MORE

BEFORE KNOCKING ON MINE,

SO DON’T YOU THINK THEY COULD

HAVE WAITED A BIT LONGER? MAYBE

LET ME GET ON WITH MY DAMNED

RETIREMENT BEFORE I BECAME

BEHOLDEN TO SOME PINK

FROG-FACED ASSHAT WHO

INSISTS ON BEING

ADDRESSED AS

"TOPMAN"?

AND WHY HERE,

KELLEHER? WHY ME?

WHY MY CITY?

DON’T WORRY,

CAPTAIN, YOU STILL

GET TO RETIRE. THE

TOPMAN HAS SENT A

SKIMMER. IT SHOULD

BE OUTSIDE RIGHT

NOW.

THAT’S ALL

I NEED. IF GOD HAD

MEANT CARS TO FLY, HE

WOULDN’T HAVE GIVEN

THEM WHEELS.