"Jim Munroe - Angry Young Spaceman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Munroe Jim)

It was a cheap shot тАФ two actually, тАШcause if he worked here then his
comm set-up was probably really slow тАФ but I was suddenly dying to box
this guyтАЩs ears. My resolution to leave my pugilistic habits behind were
quickly dissolving in a red haze. Checked my aggrometer wristwatch тАФ I
had the time and adrenaline to crack this guyтАЩs head before I caught my
flight.
I looked at his greasy hair and loose mouth and waited for him to give
me an excuse.
A minute passed. Nothing. I checked my aggrometer, and my levels had
dropped below optimum. Reluctantly, I got up. Grabbed my suitcase.
тАЬThanks for the beer, asshole,тАЭ I said as I turned away.
A few steps from the door there was the familiar music of cheap bar
glass smashing against... what was that? I turned around. Ah. Fuckwad
had thrown his glass into the display of expensive liquor bottles. His back
was to me, and his arms were crossed in a sullen way.
The charliebot was immobile. One of the lights in his neck switched
from green to red. I heard the tally as I shoved my way through the door.
тАЬYou owe the bar 450 credits for the damages incurred.тАЭ
It made me smile, but it wasnтАЩt a real smile, just skin pulled tighter.


***


A few steps outside the bar I switched hands again.
 тАЬCarry your bag, sir?тАЭ The luggage-droid hovered like a vulture, its
claws slowly opening and closing in anticipation. I hefted my suitcase and
started moving. If you slowed down or faltered, the droids were all over
you. I prided myself on striding through these places without ever giving
them an excuse to pounce, the cred-gobbling little bastards...
It was a bit of a walk, but it was good to walk off the adrenaline. I
wasnтАЩt used to having it course through me unused, and I felt my jaw
clenching as I imagined that xenophobic jerk back at the bar тАЬhelpingтАЭ
with the various species that used the spaceport. I was still amazed that I
had walked away from a fight тАФ a first for me. Not like a pug at all, I
thought with grim happiness, not at all what youтАЩd expect a pug to do.
It excited me, this new course of inaction. Maybe I could leave it
behind.
I walked the last few steps sort of shuffle-pushing my bag into the line,
staring down a droid who veered off as it realized I was in a line-up and
therefore not in need of service. I watched it go, its red cap wobbling,
wondering why I got so worked up. It wasnтАЩt so much the droids
themselves, but rather what they symbolized тАФ
Join the moneyed class and youтАЩll never have to sweat again. My
momтАЩs world. I grimaced as I surveyed the line, separating the haves from
the have-to-sweats. An old human sat on his trunk festooned with stickers,
shifting it along every minute or so. A grey Urasan, horn-shaped lips
twitching as she flicked through her pad, was attended by a droid. The
only toss up was a young woman in formfitting sports gear and a large
backpack. Looking closer, however, I saw the slight haze that betrayed