"Linda Evans - Time Scout 1 - Time Scout" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

closure
of Primary sounded, warning everyone that TT-86 was about to be sealed in
again
for another couple of days, at least. Up ahead, the pert little up-timer
looking
for Kit sailed straight past the Down Time without spotting it. He grinned and
decided to see how long it took her to holler for help.
Just what did she want with Kit Carson?
Whatever it was, Malcolm had a feeling the next few days were going to
prove
most entertaining.
Margo thumped down the long, cluttered concourse, berating herself as she
went. "Honestly," she fumed, "the first person you ask is a guy in a Roman
tunic
and slave collar? He's probably some poor down-timer who wandered through an
unstable gate, like the articles warned about. Stupid, greenhorn idiot..."
Margo did not enjoy looking like a fool.
"No wonder he took so long answering. Probably had to translate everything
I
said first. At least he spoke some English. And I've got the right station,
that's something to celebrate," she added under her breath, glancing in
restrained awe at the sprawling complex which stretched away in a maze of
catwalks, shops, waiting areas, and cross-corridors that led only God knew
where. The care she'd taken to research a time terminal's layout didn't begin
to
convey the reality of the place. It was enormous, bewildering. And none of the
information she'd found described the private sections of a terminal, visible
in
tantalizing glimpses off the Commons. She found herself wanting to explore ...
"First," she told herself sternly, "I find Kit Carson. Everything else is
secondary. That Roman guy said he might be at some bar, so all I have to do
now
is find him. I can talk anybody into anything. All I have to do is find him
...."
Unfortunately, she didn't find the "Down Time" on the main concourse or any
of the balconies connected to it. Margo set down her heavy suitcase, panting
slightly, and scowled at an empty set of chairs clustered around a closed
gate.
"What Down Time Bar and Grill?"
Grimly, Margo picked up her case again, regretting the decision to stuff
everything into one piece of luggage. She looked for a terminal directory,
something like she'd always found at ordinary shopping malls, but saw nothing
remotely resembling one. She didn't want to betray complete ignorance by
asking
someone. Margo was desperate to give the impression that she was worldly,
well-traveled, able to take care of herself.
But the Down Time Bar & Grill was apparently close kin to the Flying
Dutchman, because it didn't appear to exist Maybe it was down time? Don't be
ridiculous. Nobody'd put a bar on the other side of a time gate. Finally she
started hunting down the maze of cross linked, interconnecting corridors that