"Douglas Hill - The Last Legionary 02 - Deathwing over Veyna" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hill Douglas)

The robot moved slowly out from the shadow, rolling on heavy, rubbery treads
that made its advance eerily silent.
Keill Randor stood still, watchful but relaxed, fairly sore that the heavy
robot was no danger to him.
But he was less sure of his safety when, looking up, he saw two human figures
who had appeared on a nearby rise, with old-fashioned laserifles held ready in
their hands.
The smaller of the two figures waved an arm in a beckoning gesture. Keill
gathered up his spacesuit and obeyed, moving with sure-footed, athletic speed
up the uneven slope.
Both of the others wore hooded, one-piece coveralls, shiny and metallic, and
probably thermally controlled. Garments like them were commonplace on many
planets in the Inhabited Worlds. And the smaller of the two was a woman, for
the coverall did nothing to hide the shapeliness of her figure — no more than
it bid the bulk and muscle of her taller companion.
As Keill drew near, he saw an open, balloon-wheeled ground-car - of a make
almost as out-of-date as the laserifles -standing a short distance beyond the
two figures. He also saw the bulky man swing the rifle to fix its ugly muzzle
on his chest.
But the woman merely looked him up and down, then nodded. She had large, dark
eyes in a delicately oval face, but they held an expression of cool and
competent authority.
*We picked up your mayday," she said. *My name's Joss -this is Groll."
•Keill Randor. Thanks for coming out" He glanced briefly at the rifle held by
the bigger man. "No need for that - I'm not armed."
•Precautions," the woman said. "You've dropped into the middle of a war."
i know," Keill said. "That's why I'm here." As the woman raised her eyebrows,
he added, i heard some news about trouble here on the Ouster, and thought I
could find work. But my ship's drive overloaded and I had to come the rest of
the way in the capsule."
The woman called Joss studied him curiously. "Work? Are you some sort of
soldier ?*
'Some sort."
'Mercenary!" spat the big man named GroD, a sneer on his coarse-featured face.
Keill looked at him coldly. "Nothing wrong with being a mercenary - depending
on who you fight for, and why."
Groll was about to reply when the woman silenced him with a gesture. "You'd
better come and talk to the Council," she said thoughtfully, motioning to the
ground-car.
The vehicle was not only old-fashioned but old. Its drive stuttered and
bellowed, its body rattled with every bump, and there was a bump every few
centimetres. Conversation would have been impossible even if the biting wind
had not snatched words away from mouths. So Keill sat back, staring out at the
dismal vista of blue-smeared rock, wrapping himself in his thoughts.
He knew a good deal about this place where he had landed - more than he would
admit to its people. He had come as prepared as possible, yet ahead of him
remained a huge range of unknowns, of questions and mysteries. He would have
to deal with them as they came up, while posing as a wrecked spaceman, a
drifter, a soldier of fortune.
If they accepted him, his task would be that much easier. If not... then his