"Mike Resnick - Tales Of The Galactic Midway - Alien-Tamer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

that he is correct.”
“Me too,” agreed Flint. “Youtell him, though. I don't think I could stand to watch him
gloat.”
“If you wish.”
Flint picked up an oddly-shaped and totally incomprehensible artifact from a
hardwood table and toyed with it. “Where do you plan to send him?” he asked at last.
“I thoughtyou might have some suggestions,” said Mr. Ahasuerus.
“You mean printable ones?” Flint took a sip of his beer and made a face.
“God, this stuff is terrible!” He wiped his mouth off, grimaced, and took another
swallow. “See if you can't find something really off the beaten track—maybe a couple
of worlds that aren't even members of your Community.”
“Is there any particular reason for that?” inquired the blue man. “And please be
careful with that artifact. It's quite irreplaceable.”
“I should hope so,” said Flint, placing it back on the table with obvious distaste. “I'd
hate to think there were two of them floating around the universe.” He looked up at
his partner. “By this time Monk's seen just about everything Kargennian and the
others have to offer. Maybe he can find something more to his taste out in the sticks.”
He paused. “How much do we plan to spend?”
“For a good act, the sky's the limit.”
“Don't tellhim that; he'll take you at your word.”
“Shall we say a hundred thousand credits?” offered Mr. Ahasuerus.
“Shall we translate that intoreal money?” replied Flint wearily.
“About eighty-two thousand dollars.”
“That's too much.”
“We're taking in twice that much every night,” responded the blue man.
“I know,” said Flint. “Not bad for a joint that was almost bankrupt a year and a half
ago—especially when you consider that they change the rules on us every time we hit
a new world.” He shrugged. “Okay, eighty-two thousand dollars it is.” He took
another sip of his beer. “You know, if we give a guy like Monk that much money and
no time limit, we may never see him again. Tell him that wherever he is and whatever
he's doing, the robot pilot is bringing the ship home six months to the minute from
now, empty or full.”
“Do you mean it?” asked the blue man.
“Of course not. But as long as Monk believes it, what's the difference?”
“You're an interesting man, Mr. Flint.”
“I'll assume that's a compliment, Mr. Ahasuerus,” said Flint ironically.
The blue man got to his feet. “I'd better go have a talk with Monk now.”
Flint shook his head. “Let him sweat a little. Come on,” he added, also rising. “I'll buy
you a beer.”
“That's a very generous offer,” said Mr. Ahasuerus, “but I'm afraid my metabolism
doesn't—”
“Neither does mine,” interrupted Flint. “But I figure if I make you drink enough of
this stuff, you'll see to it that the robots learn how to make it a little better.”
“You're all heart, Mr. Flint,” said the blue man glumly, as he followed his partner to
the elevator.

Chapter 2
They're just a bunch of goddamned seals!”
Jupiter Monk, protected from the howling winds and subzero temperature of Beta
Scuti XI by an oversized fur coat, thick gloves and boots, and a plastic face mask, was