"Norton, Andre - Solar Queen 01 - Sargasso of Space" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

dared to question Artur.

"I'm starved," he announced. "Let's mess--and then look up our ships--"

Artur shook his head. "Give it a minute or two. I want to see if the Viking gets his long boat--if it's in
dock now--"

Dane could only do what he had done many times before, pretend that this did not matter, that Artur and
his followers meant nothing. But was the machine functioning, or had his ID been lost somewhere within
its mysterious interior? Had Artur not been there, watching him with that irritating amusement, Dane
would have gone to find help.

Hanlaf started to walk away and Ricki was already at the door, as if his assignment had removed him
forever from the ranks of those who mattered--when the gong sounded for the fourth time. With a speed
the average observer would not have credited to him, Dane moved. His hands flashed under Artur's fingers
and caught the ID before the smaller youth could grab it.

There was no bright line of a Company insignia on it-- Dane's first glance told him that. Was--was he
going to be confined to the system--follow in Ricki's uninspired wake?

But, no, there was a star on it right enough--the star which granted him the Galaxy--and by that emblem
the name of a ship--not a Company but a ship--the Solar Queen. It took a long instant for that to make
sense, though he had never considered himself a slow thinker.

A ship's name only--a Free Trader! One of the roving, exploring spacers which plied lanes too dangerous,
too new, too lacking in quick profits to attract the Companies. Part of the Trade Service right enough, and
the uninitiated thought of them as romantic. But Dane knew a pinched sinking in his middle. Free Trade
was almost a dead end for the ambitious. Even the instructors at the Pool had skimmed over that angle in
the lectures, as carefully as the students were briefed. Free Trade was too often a gamble with death, with
plague, with hostile alien races. You could lose not only your profit and your ship, but your life. And the
Free Traders rated close to the bottom of the scale in the Service. Why, even Ricki's appointment would be
hailed by any apprentice as better than this.

He should have been prepared for Artur's hand over his shoulder to snatch the ID, for the other's quick
appraisement of his shame.

"Free Trader!"

It seemed to Dane that Sands' voice rang out as loudly as the telacast.

Ricki paused in his retreat and stared. Hanlaf allowed himself a snicker and Artur laughed.

"So that's how your pattern reads, big boy? You're to be a viking of space--a Columbus of the star
lanes--a far rover! How's your blaster aim, man? And hadn't you better go back for a refresher in X-Tee
contacts? Free Traders don't see much of civilization, you know. Come on, boys," he turned to the other
two, "we've got to treat the Viking to a super-spread meal, he'll be on con-rations for the rest of his life no
doubt." His grip tightened on Dane's arm. And, though his captive might easily have twisted free, the
prisoner knew that he could better save face and dignity by going along with the plan and bottling down all
signs of anger.