"Douglas Hill - The Last Legionary 01 - Galactic Warlord" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hill Douglas)

Keill took out a handful of the plastic wafers that were galactic credits, selected one, and laid it on the
bar. ‘Is there anyone,’ he said evenly, ’who might have had time to listen to rumours?’

The bartender’s hand covered the credit, and pondered for a long moment. ‘Maybe,’ he said at last.
‘Freighter pilot named Crask, gets around a lot, has big ears and a big mouth. Might know somethin’.’

‘Where do I find him?’

The orange dwarf sneered. ‘Blind drunk in an alley somewhere. Unless he’s got back to the port. That’s
where he sleeps – in his ship.’

Keill nodded and left the bar. He did not seem to see the bartender gesture quickly towards a group of
heavy-set men slouching over drinks at a nearby table.

A yawning security guard pointed out the freighter owned by the man called Crask. It was a battered
hulk of a ship, bulbous and ungainly like all freighters – and it was deserted. Keill settled down to wait.
He did not allow himself to hope; he did not allow himself to think about the possibility that Crask might
know something, or the stronger possibility that he might be just another dead end. He merely leaned
against the ship – relaxed, controlled, infinitely patient – and waited.

The men came soon, as he had half-expected. Four bulky Shadows in the dim lighting, which focused
mainly on the low buildings across the spaceport’s flat plasticrete surface.

They ranged themselves in front of Keill, looking him up and down slowly. Keill had taken in the details
of the four in a glance. All of a type – heavy muscle running to fat, soiled one-piece coveralls, hard,
empty eyes. Small-time space drifters, who would be more willing to operate on the criminal fringe of
interworld trade than off it.

The biggest of the four, almost bald, stood slightly to the front of the others, as if to underline the fact that
he was their leader. Keill straightened up slowly, away from the ship, still relaxed and calm.

‘I’m Crask,’ said the balding man. ‘You the one lookin’ to hear about legionaries?’

Keill nodded.

‘An’ you’re a legionary yourself?’

‘I am.’

‘Yeah. Too bad about your planet.’
The words were spoken as if Crask were sympathizing over some minor affliction, like a head-cold.

Keill’s expression did not change. ‘I was told that you might be able to give me some information.’

‘I might,’ Crask said. ‘What’d it be worth?’

‘It depends on what you tell me.’

The big man snorted. ‘You want me to tell you what I know – andthen you name your price?’