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

"An old term for aggressors. I believe it was an animal running in packs to pull down prey. The ferocity
of such hunts lingered on in our race memories. Yes, there will be wolf packs out now."

"From the Four Stars?"

"No," he answered. "They are as badly mauled as we. But there are the remnants of broken fleets, ships
whose home worlds were blasted, with no ports in which they will be welcomed. These can easily turn
rogue, carrying on a way of life they have known for years, merely changing their name from commando
to pirate. The known rich worlds will be struck first—and places where they can set up bases—"

I thought I knew then why he had returned. "You're bringing in a garrison so Beltane won't be open—"

"I wish I were, Vere, I wish I were!" And the sincerity in his husky voice impressed me. "No, I've taken
government property for my back pay, to the relief of the paymaster. I have title to Butte Hold and
whatever it may contain, that is all. As to why I came back—well, I was born here, and I have a desire
that my bones rest in Beltane earth. Now, south here—"

The traces of the old road were nearly hidden. There had been a washout or two, over which the
quickly growing guerl vines had already laid a mat. Now we were coming to the lava country, where
there were signs of the old flows. The vegetation rooting here was that fitted to the wastelands. This was
midsummer, and the flowering period was nearly over. But here and there a late blossom still hung, a
small flag of color. There were ripening yellow globes on the vines, and twice spoohens fluttered away, at
the approach of the hopper, from where they had been feeding.

We circled about an escarpment and saw before us Butte Hold. It was a major feat of adaptation, the
rock of the mountain carved away and hollowed to make a sentry post. It had been fashioned right after
First Ship landing, when there was still doubt about the native fauna, meant to be a protection against
what lay in the saw-toothed wilds of the lava country. Though the need for such a fort was soon known
to be unnecessary, it had served as a headquarters for all the outland patrols as long as they kept watch
here.

I set down on the landing strip by the main entrance. But the doors were banked with drifting sand and
looked as if they had been welded so. Lugard got out, moving stiffly. He reached for his bag, but I
already had it, sliding out in his wake. By the looks of it, he was traveling light, and if there were no
supplies within—well, he might change his mind and want to return, if only temporarily, to guest in the
section.

He did not deny my company but went on ahead, once more in his hand that metal plate he had shown
me at the port. As he came to the sand-billowed doorway, he stood a long moment, looking at the face
of the stronghold, almost as if he expected one of those now shuttered windows to open and himself to
be hailed from within. Then he stooped a little, peering closely at the door. With one hand he brushed its
surface and with the other fitted the plate he carried over the locking mechanism.

I half expected to see him disappointed, my belief in the durability and dependability of machinery having
been systematically undermined by the breakdowns of years just past. But in this case I was wrong.
There was a moment or two of waiting, to be sure, but then the seemingly solid surface parted into two
leaves, rolling silently back on either side. At the same time, interior lights glowed, and we looked down a
straight hall with closed doors to right and left.