"Christopher Stasheff - Rogue Wizard 10 - A Wizard In a Feud" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stasheff Christopher)

"Scanning," the computer responded. A few seconds later, it said, "There is a
G-4 star less than a light-year distant."
"That's the same stellar type as Terra's sun," Alea said. "Does it have any
planets, Herkimer?"
"Three," the computer answered, "with an asteroid belt between the second and
the third, which is a gas giant."
"Tidal forces tore a fourth planet apart." Magnus nodded. "Or prevented it from
ever forming," Alea countered. "How about the other two, Herkimer? Is either of
them hospitable to Terran-based life?"
"One is very compatible," the computer answered. "In fact, it is so close a
match to Terra that I deduce it has been terra formed."
"Lost Colony!" Alea cried.
"There is no, record of a Terran colony at this location," Herkimer
acknowledged.
"Land on that planet," Magnus told him. "It will keep us alive if anything goes
wrong."
"Shore leave!" Alea's eyes lit. "Four months aboard ship is too long."
Magnus caught his breath; she seemed to glow in her eagerness, more vibrant,
more alive than any woman he had known. He wondered why he found her so much
more beautiful now than when he had first met her hiding in the forests of
Midgard. He decided that it must be the effects of good nutrition and decent
living conditions. He wrenched his mind back to the problem at hand and said,
"There may be people there, too. Time for me to become Gar Pike again."
"Surely you don't think there will be anybody looking for Magnus d'Armand on a
retrograde colony that's not even on the charts!"
"You can never tell where SCENT may have an agent," Mag nus answered. "There are
disadvantages to having a price on your head, especially when the organization
who's offering that price counts you as a turncoat and rogue."
"Disadvantages?" Alea asked sourly. "What advantage could there be, to being a
wanted man?"
"That depends on who is doing the wanting." Magnus met her gaze for an instant
before he turned away. "Let's go check our packs."
Herkimer's landing orbit took him over the daylit side of the planet three
times-more than enough for him to spy on the locals with his electron telescope,
and to fabricate copies of what he saw there. So, by the time he hovered over
the middle of the dark side and landed the great golden disk that was their
spaceship, Gar and Alea were decked out in broad-brimmed hats, loose shirts and
trousers, and Black Watch plaid jackets.
"I just hope none of the locals wear this pattern," Alea said as they went down
the gangway.
"If they do, we'll see if we can buy some other ones." Gar felt the gold nuggets
in his pocket, currency on virtually any world. He hiked his pack a little
higher on his shoulders and looked down at the unwieldy form of the flintlock
rifle cradled in his arm. "Herkimer, are you sure this is how these people carry
their weapons? I should think they'd be in danger of blowing away their own
feet!"
"It is customary not to cock the hammer until you intend to fire, Magnus," the
computer's voice said from behind them. "We'll have to put in some target
practice as soon as there's light," Alea said nervously. "This has to be the
most clumsy weapon I've ever handled!"