"Edmond Hamilton - Fugitives of the Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Edmond)

landing-fields for a few hours. I envy you."
"Don't,” said Denman. He was a small, graying man, with a worried expression that
had got more pronounced all the way. Not being ship's crew, he had no right to be in
the pilot-room of the Vega Queen. But he was Federation personnel, and Captain
Wasek had given him full freedom of the ship—
"Don't what?” said Horne.
"Don't envy me. The Fringe may look like adventure and romance to you. What it
really is, is headache. To me, and to the Federation."
Vinson said knowledgeably, “I should think it would be. I mean, these primitive
worlds don't belong to the Federation. Yet they depend on it for protection against
invasion, that kind of thing. They're so far away and there's so much red tape about
sovereignty and observers and so on...
"Well,” said Denman, feigning astonishment, “the little rascal has been reading!
Exactly right, my boy. Only you don't know the half of it, not till you've been
through it as an observer.” After a moment he added gloomily, “Three months on
Allamar Two, observing. I hope I'm still there when the next ship stops to pick me
up."
Horne was a little shocked. “I thought the humanoids on nearly all these worlds were
friendly."
Denman nodded. “They were. Whether they still are is doubtful. Something's going
on out here. That's why I was sent here. Trouble in the Fringe? Need an observer?
Send Denman. He's expendable."
As though regretting his little outburst, Denman shut his mouth up tight. He
continued to look sourly at the window picturing the red spark of Binnoth, the twin
golden suns of Vira, and, much nearer and brighter, the blue-white flare of Allamar.
"But,” said Vinson, staring curiously now at Denman, “they must have asked for you
on Allamar Two, or the Federation Council wouldn't have sent you."
"Oh, they asked,” said Denman absently. “Or some of them did. But they could
change their minds. And it wasn't entirely the natives of Allamar I was thinking
about..."
His voice trailed off. Vinson continued to stare at him.
Horne said, “Time to check the board."
Vinson jerked a glance at the chrono and jumped up. “Sorry.” He went to the
navigation-board. Out in deep space, a ship flew itself by its own cybernetic
controls. But even electronic brains had been known to slip a cog, and it required the
human pilot to watch for the alarm-lights that would show such a lapse. Vinson bent
over it, a tall wide-shouldered boy in immaculate uniform, full of pride at being
Second Pilot on a Federation packet, full of youth and wonder and excitement. He
was also full of ability, and Horne forgot about the navigation-board. He turned to
Denman.
"I'm not pumping for information he began.
"Meaning, you are,” said Denman.
Horne grinned. “All right, then, I am, but feel free to slap me down if I'm out of line.
This trouble in the Fringe ... has it any relation to all the stuff you were asking me,
about possible unauthorized ships poking about out here?"
Denman nodded. “It has.” Horne thought that was all he was going to say but after a
moment he addled, “You're bound to hear it at Allamar or some other stop, so I
might as well tell you. Unauthorized ships have indeed been prowling about the
Fringe. Slavers."
For a moment, Horne didn't get it, the idea was so outlandish. Over by the