- It is good still that from above we were covered with "Boy", - has dared to insert the word of Bulls.
- Yes, "Boy"... - Ermakov has thought. - after all "Boy" too can appear infected. It would be unpleasant.
- Let's make a sortie, we will check up? - Has offered Jurkovsky.
- Only after we will turn a mirror to the Sun. Approximately in a day.
- To think only, - has spoken Dauge who, probably, still comprehended endured, - if this muck lasted some more minutes, all
would be over! "Hius" with dead crew! - and in fifty hours we the heated cloud run into the Sun...
- Such funeral did not dream any Viking! - has solemnly told Jurkovsky. - Sometimes it is devilishly a pity to me that I not the
poet...
- Better without funeral, - Michael Antonovich has noticed. - it seems To me that as this prospect is fascinating, we should
carry out at first the problem.
- Dead planetolet with dead crew... - Bogdan has looked at Ermakova. - Such already is, whether not so, Anatoly
Borisovich? - Interplanetary "Flying Dutches"...
- What with them happens? - With clear curiosity has enquired Bulls.
- The different reasons... The Illnesses which have been taken out from other planets, same here flashes on the Sun...
This conversation occurred in a wardroom. Jurkovsky sat astride a chair, having put elbows on its back, and glanced at
interlocutors beautiful shining eyes. Dauge went up and down, stopping from time to time at a table to take from a vase a
slice of the candied lemon and pokrjahtet, stroking a waist. Spitsyn and Bulls were arranged on a sofa.
Ermakov, just replaced from watch, sat at a bookcase, and Michael Antonovich gathering in cabin, stood in the doorway.
- Yes, it is an awful piece, - vhdohnul Dauge. - Planetolet with crew of dead persons...
- H'm... - Ermakov has looked at hours, then at Michael Antonovicha. - Sometimes it, undoubtedly, happened because pilots
too relied on accuracy of automatic control.
Michael Antonovich has flared from confusion, has coughed and hasty left.
The Jurkovsky has burst out laughing, showing white zuby: - we Will go also, Ioganych to work, and you inadvertently all
sweets will devour that.