Читать книгу Space Patrol! - Sarah Nicole Nadler - Страница 1

Sunlight flashed across the nose of the Forty-Five Dancing Girls as she wrestled with the spatial currents, trying to keep her keel even in a nor’norwesterly course going negative on her z-axis.

Unable to combat the strength of that current, her captain gave a gusty snort of exasperation before releasing the ship's wheel, allowing the spokes to spin to starboard. There were shouts as his crew ran about, hauling in this line and letting loose that one until the ship ran before the solar wind, her sunsails puffing wide like golden wings above her three masts.

“Look lively there!”

The Captain was a squat brutish creature. His angry shout sent the desperate thugs of his crew scrambling to catch the line that had slipped its clamp and was now flapping madly about.

Denser than the core of a white dwarf! The captain thought in disgust. When would these layabouts start to act like a proper crew?

Captain Arol Nask was of that most disreputable alien race, the Jerz. Born on Mars to a slave mother, he had managed to sink even lower than his birth by taking up slavery as his own profession.

Now, his thoughts were grim as he watched the end of the rope whip about. Last trip to this corner of the galaxy, we barely came off with a profit! He scowled at the remembrance of his negotiations with the planet leaders, Those uppity little barbarians have no idea the cost of shipping raw slaves all the way across the galaxy.

The crooked purpose of Captain Nask’s ship was somewhat at odds with her beautiful design. She was modeled after an old ocean liner—complete with a real oak hull, a genuine ship’s keel salvaged from some ocean vessel, and varnished in space sealant for airtight integrity. Nask took it all in with a glance that soothed his angry nerves just a trifle.

Topside her deck was all smooth wood planking and she sported a twelve-spoked pilot wheel—fully digitalized of course, but nevertheless lending credence to the look of a real planet-bound vessel. Her navigational computer for interstellar travel was fully voice-activated to eliminate the need for buttons that would have marred the façade, and a viewport stretching from stem to stern made her space-worthy and formed the nose of the ship, allowing an optimum view of the star systems that lined their current course.

As Nask once again gripped the helm a white puff of steam released from the double steam engines. The soot-bots scurried about, stoking the boilers below as he prepared to come about for a second run at the planet that was his target. The bow of the Forty-Five dipped slightly, giving him a brief but alluring view of his sought-after destination. The blue-green planet lay spread out below him with hints of wispy clouds skirting across the atmosphere like fleecy sheep.

He hauled back on the wheel, ignoring the luffing sails, until he heard the ship’s bell chime. That was the signal that they had reached optimum orbit over this planet known locally as Earth. Their orbit steady now over the landmass below, he disengaged the manual drive and told the computer to anchor them steady in orbit. Excess steam from her engines puffed into a small cloud that disguised them from below as the crew raced about, scaling the ratlines to stow her sails.

He gave a hurumph that shook his massive girth, watching his crew from the poop deck, his arms akimbo.

Well, I’m not playing their game—not this time. Oh, he would meet his usual dealer, and pick up several of these Earthlings that made such choice slaves on the Asterope market. Paying for them, however, was no longer on the agenda.