"Jerry Davis - Dna Prospector" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Jerry)

"I don't think he's interested," Jacko said to Rudd.
"Your alternative is no employment at all," Rudd told Gregson.
"It's hard to go prospecting when you're laid up in a med center."
"Accidents happen so suddenly," Jacko said. "You never know
when to expect them."
"That's true," Gregson said. He slung the stun rifle over his
shoulder. "You want to make an accident happen, do it now."
Jacko and Rudd glanced nervously at each other.
"If you threaten me, you'd better be ready to back it up,"
Gregson told them. "I've killed deadlier creatures than you on five
different worlds, and I wasn't using an old stun gun, either."
Rudd sneered. "Gregson, you're way over your head." He and
Jacko turned and walked off toward their jeep. Gregson let out his


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breath and relaxed. He watched as they started the jeep's engine
and rumbled off over the uneven ground. When it was out of sight he
leaned his rifle against the log and collapsed in his folding chair
with a sigh.

#

The main difference between civilized worlds and new colonies,
Gregson noticed, was that one had paved walkways and the other had
dirt paths. This planet, Aeolus, didn't even have dirt paths. He
made his way through the broken foliage, following the trail that
the Bankrightk jeep had plowed back toward "town." His stun rifle,
which was an antique his father once used, was slung casually over
his shoulder.
Gregson knew the moment he heard Bankrightk had established an
office on this planet he was going to have trouble. He, like his
father before him, had wandered to the farthest reaches of human
space to get away from the corporations. It was no use, though --
wherever he went they would sooner or later show up. It stood to
reason that if there was a huge profit to be made, that is where
the corporations would go. It was like that throughout history. A
few brave souls would strike out into the unknown, searching for
that one big discovery, but the moment anything valuable was found
the corporations would step in and take it over.
Halfway to town Gregson made a detour, picking his way through
the branches and undergrowth, following the smell of hot bacon and
fried eggs, and -- oh heaven! -- freshly brewed coffee. The trees
thinned and were replaced by Earth plants; rows of corn, potatoes,
cabbage, carrots, tomatoes. There were pens with pigs, cows, and a
few horses. Chickens roamed about, each with a silver inhibitor
band around their necks to keep them from wandering too far. This
was Vern Hudson's farm, and the farm house ahead was a large