"Keith Fenwick - Skid 01 - A Planet Called Skid" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fenwick Keith)

Anybody would think the dog was never fed.
The bike's rear slid about as the tire fought for traction on the steep, slick track while Bruce
dangled his feet off the foot pegs an attempt to keep it on course. The track was almost
impassable but Bruce did not believe in walking where he thought he could ride or drive.
To make matters worse his swandri hood had blown back and was slowly filling with water,
which trickled down the back of his neck.
Eventually the rear wheel did what it had been threatening to do ever since he'd started up the
track, and slipped out from under him before he could steady it with an out thrust leg.
"Bugger ya then." Bruce gave the bike a kick and left it lying where it dropped, the rear wheel
spinning until the motor finally stalled with a clunk.
The track was almost as difficult to walk up as it had been to ride up. For each step Bruce took
he seemed to slide half a one back, heavy clay sticking like lead weights to his boots.
Eventually he made it to the top and started across the paddock towards the last mob of cattle
waiting expectantly behind the electric fence for him to shift them onto a new break of grass.
Occasionally Bruce fantasized that he was the only person left on earth when he was out the
back of the farm, heading for the cliffs that dropped straight into the sea. Then he would catch
sight of a truck on the road that ran inland of the farm or hear somebody doing their nut at their
dogs a few miles away. Even so, if he had an accident, fell off the bike, or over the cliff or
something, the neighbors might not realize that he was missing for days.

Deep space patrol

Protected by stealth systems that had been activated since before entering this solar system,
the patrol ship carrying the members of Committee 21 flew through the planet's atmosphere
completely undisturbed. The crew was confident that they would remain undetected by the
unsophisticated tracking systems arrayed on the planet below although they really had no idea
how anything aboard the ship worked.
An argument raged aboard between the crewmembers as a great empty continent fell away
behind the ship as it headed westward towards a group of smaller islands and the vast empty
spaces of a large ocean beyond.
"Just how do we judge the suitability of likely candidates? Interrogate them? What questions
should we ask?" Mulgoon demanded.
Cyprus was all for simply transporting a likely-looking specimen aboard the ship and disposing
of him, her, it, or them, if they proved unsuitable for their needs. However, because of his lowly
status his counsel was not taken seriously. He was the token commoner of the committee that
formed the crew. He was not supposed to be there to offer an opinion on anything and the
others ignored most of what he said. To make matters worse, Toytoo, the chairman of the
committee was notorious among a planet of procrastinators, for never being able to make a
decision.
Mulgoon was wavering, almost on the point of deciding the whole scheme was really too risky
and felt that they should return home empty-handed.
"How can we decide where most of their food is produced?" Mulgoon, who should have known
better, asked. He had made a special study of the subject after all.
In an unusual departure from protocol Myfair was inclined to agree with Cyprus. The planet
was obviously populated by primitives and any one of them could provide the assistance they
needed. Furthermore, he, more than the others knew it was dangerous to loiter around the
planet. Despite their low level of technology, the inhabitants below could possibly have
developed systems that could sense, damage or destroy, the ship since the last time a Skidian
vessel ventured this way.
Unnoticed by the others Myfair slipped into the control room and studied images of the planet