"Laumer, Keith - Retief 3 - Retief's War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laumer Keith)

"Silence, panderer to alien perversions," the Voion snapped. "Or I'll find dungeon space for you,
too!"

The other Voion were unlimbering clubs now. Over their heads, Retief caught Big Leon's eye, jerked
his head minutely to the right; the big man narrowed his eyes, nodded quickly. As the Voion before Retief
brought his club back for a jab to the sternum, Leon reached, caught the alien by the upper pair of arms,
lifted him clear of the floor, whirled him, and slammed him at his fellows. Two of them went over with a
crash. Retief spun, intercepted an eager junior closing in from the left, caught him by his vestigial wing
cases, sent him reeling back to collide with his partner as Scar-face feinted, twisted the club from the
two-pronged grip of the nearest cop, ducked, and jammed it through the spokes of the alien's yard-high
main wheels. The victim stopped with a screech and a twanging of broken spokes. Big Leon met a
second charging Voion with a roundhouse swipe, yelled as his fist glanced off the armored and thorned
thorax, then landed a blow that spun the creature aside. Retief, ready, spiked its main wheels with the
club he had wrenched from his last victim, just as the sole undamaged Voion struck Big Leon a vicious
blow behind the ear. Leon turned with a roar, picked up the cop bodily, and slammed him against the

barkeeper's podium.

"Here!" the barkeeper shrilled. "I am Gom-Goo and I dance the Dance of DistressЧ"

"Let's get out of here!" Scar-face ducked aside as a Voion's club whistled, charged for the door.
Quoppina of all sizes and colors scattered before him. Leon aimed a blow at a cop renewing the attack;
Jerry took the arm of the fourth Terran, staggering from a bloody cut across the scalp, plunged through
the crowd. Retief, backed against the podium by the last two Voion still in action, keeping their distance
and swinging their clubs in whistling arcs, plucked a tall bottle from a display, got in a hearty crack across
the head of one as Gom-Goo leaned down and laid the other out with a bung starter.

"Retief!" The Herpp called above the chatter of the clientele who had been enjoying the free show. "I
am Gom-Goo and I dance the Dance of ApologyЧ"

"This dance is on me," Retief panted. "I think I'd better be off now, Gom-Goo; sorry about the
damageЧ"

"It was entirely the fault of these jacks-in-office," the bartender clashed his wing cases in agitation.
"Interfering in a friendly dispute among cash customers! Tum-Tuk . . ." He signaled to his two table
waiters. "Haul these Voion troublemakers out into the alley, to survive or not, just as they please." He
leaned over to eye the one Big Leon had thrown against the podium. "As for this fellow, stuff him in the


incinerator. He's shouldered his last free citizen off the parking-ledge."

"We'd better dust, Mister," Leon said. "That Bug was a cop and he's got plenty of pals . . ."

There was a distant clanging of gongs.

"You'd best transfer the scene of your diversions elsewhere for the nonce, Retief," Gom-Goo called.

"One of these spoil-sports has summoned his fellow black-guards . . ."

"We were just leaving; and thanks for tapping that last fellow; he was getting too close for comfort."