"William C. Dietz - The Prison Planet" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dietz William)

each planet. Soon thereafter the first prisoners arrived and went to work. By now the
first emperor had died, having passed the throne along to his son, but his prison system lived on,
and showed every sign of continuing to do so.
So whenever the ship swung into orbit around a prison planet, Renn listened to the
clanging of cell doors, the muffled shuffle of manacled prisoners, and wondered if they'd come for
him this time. But they never did. Shuttles would come and go, the noises would gradually die
away, and the whole thing would start over. Why certain prisoners were assigned to certain
planets, and not others, remained a complete mystery. He'd even asked a guard once, and the guard
beat him, not for asking the question, but because he didn't know the answer, either.
More weeks passed, each as featureless and nondescript as the one before, until suddenly
and without warning, his cell door clanged open, his name was called, and he was marched down the
gleaming corridor towards an unknown future. Now others watched him go, peeking through the ration
slots in their cell doors, feeling a mixture of envy and pity.
He was half carried and half dragged through the shuttle's inner lock, down a corridor,
and into the main cargo area. As the hatch cycle closed behind him, he looked around, screwing up
his eyes against the harsh glare of the loading lights. They threw bright pools of greenish light
onto the scarred surface of the deck. For a moment he thought he was alone, but then he heard the
scrape of a boot on durasteel, and a guard stepped into a pool of light and dropped a large
cylindrical bag near his feet. It hit with an audible thump. He beckoned Renn forward.
The guard's uniform hat threw a heavy black shadow down across his face, making it
impossible to see his eyes, adding to his already ominous presence. Renn was still
three feet away when a huge hand flashed out, grabbed a fistful of his coverall, and
jerked him in close. Two quick blows rocked his head back and forth.
Renn tried to ignore the pain. He knew from experience that resistance brought only more
pain. Nonetheless he wanted to hit back, and it took all his self-control not to do so. The
guard's eyes were bright sparks in dark sockets. Thin lips were pulled back to reveal rows of
yellowing teeth. As he spoke, the guard's fetid breath made Renn gag. "That's just to get your
attention monster meat. My name's Murphy. Captain Murphy to you. Accordin' to Section Thirty Six,
page forty, of the Imperial Prison Regs concer-nin' scum bags like you, I've gotta waste my


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valuable time briefin' you on your new home . . . the planet Swamp." Murphy grinned happily. "So
pay attention . . . cause I'm only gonna say it once."
The guard reached into a shirt pocket and withdrew a hand-held holo projector. As he
snapped it on a miniature planet popped into existence between them. It was about two feet in
diameter and looked quite real. It had a slight axial tilt, and outside of the heavy cloud layer
obscuring much of its surface, seemed otherwise unremarkable. A host of tiny automatic weapons
platforms orbited around it along with a small globe. Renn wondered what it was.
Murphy nodded towards the holo. "That's where you're headed monster meat . . . and it's a
real beaut. I won't bother you with a lot of boring stats on mass, luminosity, orbital
eccentricity and stuff like that, cause it ain't gonna make a damn bit of difference to the likes
of you. All you need to know is that Swamp has enough gravity to keep your ass there forever, an
atmosphere you can breathe, and an ecosystem full of swamp monsters for you to kill. You kill 'em,
skin 'em and sell 'em and you stay alive. Fail and you die. Even a scum bag like you oughtta be
able to understand that. Questions'?"
Experience had taught Renn that questions often led to abuse, even when invited, but he
decided to take the chance. "Is that satellite a moon?"