"Andre Norton - Dark Companion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

raising planet dust.

"It's been a long time," he said in a low, tired voice. "A long, long time."

His shoulders hunched, and he stooped for the bag he had dropped, but I had it before him.

"Where away, sir?"

There were the old barracks. But no one had lived there for at least five years, and they were used for
storage. Lugard's family were all dead or gone. I decided that, whether Annet had room or not, he could
guest with us.

But he was looking beyond me to the southwest hills and to the mountains beyond those.

"Do you have a flitter, Sim—Vere?" He corrected himself.

I shook my head. "They're first priority now, sir. We don't have parts to repair them all. Best I can do is
a hard-duty hopper."

And I knew I was breaking the rules to use that. But Griss Lugard was one of my own, and it had been
a long time since I had had contact with someone frommy past.

"Sir—if you wish to guest—" I continued.

He shook his head. "When you've held to a memory for some time"—it was as if he talked to himself,
almost reassuring himself—"you want to prove it, right or wrong. If you can get the hopper, point her
west and south—to Butte Hold."

"But that may be a ruin. No one has been there since Six Squad pulled out eight years ago."

Lugard shrugged. "I've seen plenty of ruins lately, and I have a fancy for that one." With one hand he
fumbled inside his tunic and brought out a palm-sized metal plate that flashed in the afternoon sun.
"Gratitude of a government, Vere. I have Butte Hold for as long as I want—as mine."

"But supplies—" I offered a second discouragement.

"Stored there, too. Everything is mine. I paid half a face, strong legs, and quite an additional price for the
Butte, boy. Now I'd like to go—home." He was still looking to the hills.
I got the hopper and signed it out as an official trip. Griss Lugard was entitled to that, and I would face
down any objection on that point if I had to.

The hoppers had been made originally to explore rough country. They combined surface travel, where
that was possible, with short hops into the air to cross insurmountably rough terrain. They were not
intended for comfort, just to get you there. We strapped into the foreseats, and I set the course dial for
Butte Hold. Nowadays it was necessary to keep both hands on the controls. There was too apt to be
some sudden breakdown, and the automatics were not to be trusted.

Since the war the settlements on Beltane had contracted instead of expanded. With a short supply of
manpower, there had been little or no time wasted in visiting the outlying sites, abandoned one after
another. I remembered Butte Hold as it had been before the war—dimly, as seen by a small boy—but I