"Timothy Zahn - Night Train to Rigel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zahn Timothy)

on beginning my journey at any of Earth's pitiful handful of frontierland
colony worlds.
I certainly hadn't intended to leave with a dead body behind me.
But someone had gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to buy me a ticket
to Yandro. Someone else had given his life to get that ticket into my hands.
And someone else had apparently been equally determined to prevent that ticket
from reaching me.
"Destination, please?"
I dropped the folder into my pocket and pulled out my cash stick, wishing I'd
taken the dead kid's stick when I'd had the chance. My credit tag contained an
embarrassment of riches, but tag transactions were traceable. Cash stick ones
weren't. "Grand and Mercer," I told the cab, plugging the stick into the
payment jack. Fifteen minutes at my apartment to get packed, another autocab
ride to Sutherlin Sky-port, and I should be able to catch the next flight for
Luna and the Quadrail station. If the torchliners were running on time this
week, I should make it with a few hours to spare.
"Thank you," the cab said, and pulled smoothly away into the traffic flow.
The moonroof was open, and as we headed south along Seventh Avenue I found
myself gazing at the few stars I could see through the glow of the city
lights. I found the distinctive trio of Orion's belt and lowered my gaze to
the star Rigel at the Hunter's knee, wondering if our own sun was even visible
from Yandro.
I didn't know. But it looked like I was going to have the chance to find out.
TWO :
"Attention, please," the soothing voice called over the restaurant
loudspeakers. "Quadrail Number 339216 will be arriving from Helvanti and the
Bellidosh Estates-General in one hour. All passengers for New Tigris, Yandro,
the Jurian Collective, and the Cimmal Republic please assemble in the Green
debarkation lounge. Attention please ..."
The voice ran through the message once more in English, then switched over to
Juric and then Mahee. Finishing the last two bites of my burger, I wiped my
hands and poked my cash stick into the jack on the bar in front of me. Most of
the restaurant's other customers were staying put, I noted, apparently booked
on later trains. Sliding off my stool, I activated the leash button fastened
inside my coat and my two ancient carrybags rolled out from beneath the
counter.
They'd made it about two meters when one of the motors in the larger one
seized up and started it rolling in circles. Swearing under my breath, I shut
off the leash and scooped the bags up by their handles, hoping no one had
noticed. There were few things more ridiculous looking than misfiring luggage,
and few things more pathetic than an owner too lazy or too poor to get it
fixed. Slinging the larger bag's strap
over my shoulder, trying to look like I was just carrying them for the
exercise, I headed for the door.
I was halfway there when I saw The Girl get up from one of the booths and join
the trickle of exiting patrons, her own single carrybag trailing obediently
behind her.
I'd first spotted her at Sutherlin Skyport as we'd gotten on the Luna flight
together, her third-class seat five rows up from mine. She'd been hovering at
the edges of my attention ever since, through three separate flights and two