"Alan Dean Foster - Flinx 2 - Tar Aiym Krang" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

The 'wings' of Moth doubtless at one time had been a perfect broad ring of the Saturn
type. But at some time in the far past it had been broken in two places - possibly the result of a
gravitational stress, or a change in the magnetic poles. No one could be certain. The result was
an incomplete ring consisting of two great crescents of pulverized stone and gas which encircled
the planet with two great gaps separating them. The crescents were narrower near the planet, but
out in space they spread out to a natural fan shape due to the decreasing gravity, this forming
the famed 'wing' effect. They were also a good deal thicker than the ancient Saturnian rings, and
contained a higher proportion of fluorescent gases, The result was two gigantic triangular shapes
of a lambent butter-yellow springing out from either side of the planet.
Inevitably, perhaps, the single moon of Moth was designated Flame. Some thought it a trite
appelation, but none could deny its aptness. It was about a third again smaller than Terra's Luna,
and nearly twice as far away, It had one peculiar characteristic. It didn't 'burn' as the name
would seem to suggest, although it was bright enough. In fact, some felt the label 'moon' to be
altogether inappropriate, as Flame didn't revolve around its parent planet at all but instead
preceded it around the sun in approximately the same orbit. So the two names stuck. The carrot
leading a bejewelled ass, with eternity forever preventing satisfaction to the latter. Fortunately
the system's discoverers had resisted the impulse to name the two spheres after the latter saying.
As were so many of nature's freaks, the two were too uncommonly gorgeous to be so ridiculed.
The wing on Drallar's side was visible to Flinx only as a thin glowing line, but he had
seen pictures of it taken from space. He had never been in space himself, at least, only
vicariously, but had visited many of the ships that landed at the Port. There at the feet of the
older crewmen he listened intently while they spun tales of the great KK ships that plied the dark
and empty places of the firmament, Since those monster interstellar craft never touched soil, of
course. He had never seen one in person. Such a landing would never be made except in a dire
emergency, and then never on an inhabited planet. A Doublekay carried the gravity well of a small
sun on its nose, like a bee carrying pollen. Even shrunk to the tiny size necessary to make a
simple landing, that field would protect the great bulk of the ship. It would also gouge out a
considerable chunk of the planetary crust and set of all sorts of undesirable natural phenomena,
like tsunamis and hurricanes and such. So the smaller shuttle ships darted yoyo like between,
traveller and ground, carrying down people and their goods, while the giant transports themselves
remained in Polyphemian exile in the vastnesses of black and cold.
He had wanted to space, but had not yet found a valid reason to, and could not leave
Mother Mastiff without anyone. Despite unceasing bellows asserting to her good health she was a
hundred and something. To leave her alone simply for a pleasure trip was not a thought that
appeared to him.
He tugged his cloak tighter around his shoulders, half-burying Pip in the folds of thick
fur. As human-inhabited worlds go. Moth was not an exceptionally cold planet, but it was far from
tropical. He could not rein ember the time when lie had not been greeted upon awakening by a wet
and clammy fog. It was a dependable but dampish companion. Here furs were used more to shed water
than to protect from bitter chill. It was cold, yes, but not freezing. At least, it snowed only in
winter.
Pip hissed softly and Flinx absently began feeding him the raisins he'd plucked from the
thisk-cake. The reptile gulped them down whole, eagerly. It would have smacked its lips, if it had
any. As it was, the long tongue shot out and caressed Flinx's cheek with the delicate touch of a
diamond cutter. The mini drag's iridescent scales seemed to shine even brighter than usual. For
some reason it was especially fond of raisins. Maybe it relished their iron content.
He glanced down at the plus window of his personal card meter. They weren't broke, but
neither were they swimming in luxury. Oh, yes, it was definitely time to go to work!
From a counter of her variegated display booth, Mother Mastif was pleading amiably with a
pair of small, jeweled thranx touristas. Her technique was admirable and competent. It ought to