"Norton, Andre - Solar Queen 04 - Postmarked The Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

and beyond that movement and sound. Dane headed for that, still trying to remember more. The message
for a pickup--He must have left the Queen at once. Now he halted to look down at his body under the
flapping of the unfastened tunic, too tight and short for him. His safe belt--yes, he was still wearing that.
But--

With one hand he investigated. Its pockets were all empty except the one holding his ident disk, but no one
would have any use for that. It was keyed to his body chemistry. Let another take it, and within minutes the
information on it would be erased. So he had been robbed.
But why the room? If he had been jumped, they would have left him lying--Gingerly he felt his head--no
painful bruise or lump. Of course there were nerve holds that knocked a man out, and if sleep gas had been
blown in his face--But why the room?

Time for puzzles later. The Queen and takeoff--he had to reach the Queen! And where was he? How much
time did he have? But surely when he had not returned, they would not have gone. Rather they would have
come looking for him. The crew of the Solar Queen was too close-knit a companionship to leave one of
their members planet-side without a search.

At least he could move better now, and his head was clear. Dane pulled the tunic close about him, though
he could not seal it, as he reached the arch and looked beyond. The large room was familiar. Half of it had
booths set along the wall with dials for quick meals in their tables. The other half had a registration robo, a
message bank, and a newscast screen. This was the--the--

He could not remember the name, but it was one of the small, cheap inns at the port, catering mainly to
crewmen who were waiting to ship out. He had eaten at that table right over there with Rip Shannon and
Ali Kamil just yesterday--or was it yesterday?

The Queen and lift time--Panic-fed urgency clamped on him again. At least he was not miles from the
port, though on this world where dry land was merely strings of islands set in shallow, steaming seas, one
could not get miles from the port and still be on the same blob of land.

All that was of no consequence now. He must get back to the Queen. To hold to that was going to take all
his concentration. Dane took one careful step after another, heading for the nearest door.

Had he or had he not seen one of those men seated in the nearest booth start up as if he wanted to stop
him? Maybe he looked as if he needed assistance. But just let him get to the Queen--!

If he attracted any more attention, Dane neither knew nor cared. What filled his world was the supreme
luck of seeing an unoccupied scooter just outside. He fumbled his ident disk out, and as he fell rather than
sat on the seat, he fed that into the proper slot and punched out "go."

Already he was straining to see the launch strip. One, two, three ships! And the last one in line was the
Queen! He would make it. The scooter whirled him at its top speed, though he did not remember punching
it. It was almost as if the machine sensed his fear and impatience.

The cargo hatch was closed, but, of course, he had seen to that himself. The ramp was still out. As the
scooter swept up, he tottered from it to the ramp and pulled himself up hand over hand by the guardrail.
His will kept him going, but the weakness and dizziness were returning. And now, the ramp was moving!
They were preparing for takeoff!

Dane made a convulsive effort, gained the end of the ramp and then the hatch. He could not reach his own