"Brown, Eric - Fall of Tartarus 01 - Destiny on Tartarus" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Eric)

airborne deodorants to combat the more noisome odours, in this
case the miasma of unwashed bodies and animal excreta. My horror
must have been evident as I stood transfixed before the gates of the
spaceport.
A stranger at my side, a tall man in Terran dress н seemingly he too
had just arrived on Tartarus н caught my eye and smiled.
"My fifth time on this hell-hole," he said, "and still my first reaction
to the place is shock." He mopped the sweat from his brow and turned
to a street-vendor selling cooled juices from a cart. He signalled for
one, then glanced at me. "Care to join me? I can recommend them н
an antidote to this heat."
I decided that a cool refreshment would go down very well before
I sought my hotel. The vendor set about blending the drinks in a
shaker.
"First time on Tartarus?" the stranger asked.
"My very first," I said.
"You'll get used to it н you might even come to love the place. I'd
advise you to get out of the city. The beauty of Tartarus is in the
deserted wilds. The planet at sunset is something magical." He stared
across the street, at the great swollen orb of the orange sun setting
behind a skyline of three-storey wooden buildings.
The vendor passed us two tall mugs. "Three lek, three lek," he said,
pointing to each of us.
"Allow me," the stranger said. With his free hand he patted the
pockets of his coat, frowning. "My credit chip must be in my bag," he
said, indicating the case at his feet. "I wonder if you could take...?"
"Of course," I said, accepting his mug while he bent and opened
his case. From within he withdrew his credit chip and proffered it to
the vendor.
The vendor was arguing. "No credit chip! Only coin!" He pointed
to the money pouch on his belt. "Give coins!"
"But I have no coins, or for that matter notes, until I find a bank."
The stranger looked embarrassed.
The vendor waved away the stranger's credit chip and transferred
his attention to me. "You н coins. Six lek."
"Allow me to pay for these," I said. I looked around for somewhere
to deposit the mugs while I found my money pouch.
"That's very kind of you," he said.
He saw the difficulty I was having and, before I could pass him the
mugs, reached towards my pocket. "Do you mind? Please, allow me,"
he said. "This one?"
I nodded, turning so that he could take the pouch from my coat
pocket. He opened the drawstrings and withdrew six lek, paid the
vendor and then returned the pouch to my pocket.
The transaction accomplished, the vendor pushed his cart away.
I took a long draft of the delicious juice, like no concoction I had
ever tasted. "Do you know the planet well?" I asked.
"I've spent a couple of years on Tartarus," he said. "Let's say that
have a traveller's knowledge of the place. Buzatti, by the way."
"Sinclair," I said. "Sinclair Singer."