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

Sure--maybe the Free Traders did not rate so high in the Service, maybe few of them swanked around the
big ports as did the Company men. But there had been plenty of fortunes made in the outer reaches and no
one could deny that a Free Trader got around. Artur's attitude set Dane's inborn stubbornness to finding
the good in the future. His spirit had hit bottom during the second when he had read his assignment, now it
was rising again.

There were no strict caste lines in Trade, the divisions were not by rank but by employer. The large dining
room at the port was open to every man wearing the tunic of active service. Most of the Companies
maintained their own sections there, their employees paying with vouchers. But transients and newly
assigned men who had not yet joined their ships drifted together among the tables by the door.

Dane got to an empty one first and triggered the check button. He might be a Free Trader but this party was
his, he was not going to eat any meal provided by Artur--even if this gesture swept away most of his
credits.

They had some minutes to look around them after dialing for meals. A short distance away a man wearing
the lightning flash badge of a Com-tech was arising from the table. He left two companions still
methodically chewing as he went off, his wide chest--that of a second or third generation Martian
colonist--unmistakable, though his features were those of a Terran Oriental.
The two he left behind were both apprentices. One bore on his tunic the chart insignia of an astrogator-to-
be and the other an engineer's cogwheel. It was the latter who caught and held Dane's gaze.

The cargo-apprentice thought that never before had he seen such a handsome, daredevil face. The crisp
black hair which framed the finely cut, space tanned features, was cropped short, but not short enough to
hide a wave. The heavy lidded eyes were dark, and a little amused smile held more than a hint of cynicism
as it quirked the corners of his too-perfectly cut lips. He was a Video idea of the heroic space man and
Dane disliked him on sight.

But the perfect one's companion was as rough hewn as he was faceted. His naturally brown skin could
have taken no deeper tan for he was a Negro. And he was talking animatedly about something which
sparked languid answers from the budding engineer.

Dane's attention was brought back to his own table by a waspish sting from Artur.

"Solar Queen." he spoke the name much too loudly to suit Dane. "A Free Trader. Well, you'll get to see
life, Viking that you will. At any rate we can continue to speak to you--since you aren't on any rival
listing--"

Dane achieved something close to a smile. "That's big-minded of you Sands. How dare I complain if an
Inter-Solar man is willing to acknowledge my existence?"

Ricki broke in. "That's dangerous--the Free Trade, I mean--"

But Artur frowned. To a dangerous trade some glamour might still cling, and he refused to allow that. "Oh,
not all the Free Traders are explorers or fringe system men, Ricki. Some have regular runs among the
poorer planets where it doesn't pay the Companies to operate. Dane'll probably find himself on a back and
forth job between a couple of dome-citied worlds where he can't even take a breath outside his helmet--"

Which is just what you would like, isn't it? Dane concluded inside. The picture isn't black enough to suit
you yet, is it, Sands. And for a second or two he wondered why Sands got pleasure out of riding him.