"Alan Dean Foster - Flinx 3 - Orphan Star" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

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Author: Alan Dean Foster
Title: For Love Of Mother-Not
Original copyright year: 1983
Genre: Science Fiction
Version: 1.0
Date of e-text: 11/28/00
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Chapter One

"Watch where you're going, qwot,""
The merchant glared down at the slim, olive-skinned youth and made a show of readjusting his
barely rumpled clothing.
"Your pardon, noble sir," the youngster replied politely. "I did not see you in the press of the
crowd." This was at once truth and lie. Flinx hadn't seen the overbearing entrepreneur, but he had
sensed the man's belligerence seconds before the latter had swerved intentionally to cause the
collision.
Although his still poorly understood talents had been immensely enriched several months ago by his
en- counter with the Krang-that awesome semisentient weapon of the now-vanished masters of the
galaxy, the Tar-Aiym-they were as inconsistent as ever. The experience of acting as an organic
catalyst for the colossal device had almost killed both him and Pip. But they had survived and he,
at least, had been changed in ways as yet uncomprehended.
Lately he had found that at one moment he could detect the thoughts of the King himself off in
Drallar's palace, while in the next even the minds of those standing in close proximity stayed
shut tight as a miser's purse. This made for numerous uncertainties, and oftentimes Flinx found
himself cursing the gift, as its capriciousness kept him in a constant state of mental imbalance.
He was like a child clinging desperately to the mane of a rampaging devilope, struggling to hang
on at the same time he was fighting to master the bucking mount.
He shifted to go around the lavishly clad bulk, but the man moved to block his path. "Children
need to learn how to mind their betters," he smirked, obviously unwilling, like Flinx, to let the
incident pass.
Flinx could sense the frustration in the man's mind, and sought deeper. He detected fuzzy hints of
a large business transaction that had failed just this morning. That would explain the man's
frustration, and his apparent desire to find someone to take it out on. As Flinx considered this
development, the man was making a great show of rolling up his sleeves to reveal massive arms. His
frustration faded beneath the curious stares of the shifting crowd of traders, hawkers, beg- gars,
and craftsmen who were slowing and beginning to form a small eddy of humanity in the round-the-
clock hurricane of the Drallarian marketplace.
"I said I was sorry," Flinx repeated tensely.
A blocky fist started to rise.
"Sorry indeed. I think I'm going to have to teach you ..." The merchant halted in his stride, the