[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Alexander's general description. McCade's heart sank as a quick scan failed to
turn up a perfect match.
Maybe Lady Linnea had tricked him, or maybe Alexander really was dead, or
maybe a hundred different possibilities.
Nonetheless he turned his attention to those who most closely matched the
prince's description. One
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caught his eye time after time. A man calling himself Idono H. Farigo. He'd
arrived about the right time, played Destiny, and lost. The only trouble was
that Joyo's computer placed him at only a ninety percent match for Alexander's
physical description. Examining the detailed analysis which followed Farigo's
summary, McCade noticed some interesting facts. First, Farigo's race and age
matched Alexander's perfectly. Second, both men were exactly six feet one inch
in height, and both weighed 178 pounds. And third, they both had blue eyes.
However, where Alexander had light brown hair, Farigo's was black, and though
both had even features, Farigo's were rougher and less refined.
As McCade leaned back to think, he ignored the pain of his various injuries,
and wished he had a cigar.
Forcing his mind to the task at hand, he considered the facts. On second
thought, maybe a ninety percent match was pretty good. Especially when the two
men were a one hundred percent perfect match in everything but facial
appearance. And from years of bounty hunting, McCade knew how unimportant
facial characteristics could be in tracking someone down. Given enough
credits, a new face was as close as the nearest biosculptor, and the prince
certainly had enough credits. What if he'd visited a biosculptor before coming
to Joyo's Roid? And from what Lady Linnea had told him, it would be just like
the prince to roughen, rather than refine his features. That way he'd have a
face more in keeping with the common herd. Then, disguised as Farigo, he'd
arrived on Joyo's Roid, played Destiny, lost as he'd no doubt hoped he would,
and been sent to some miserable planet as a slave. It all made a crazy sort of
sense...
but what if he was wrong?
"Can I see that?" Cy asked, hovering in front of McCade.
McCade nodded and handed over the print-out. "As a matter of fact you can keep
it. Otherwise I'd have a hell of a time explaining where I got it."
Cy bobbed in agreement. "Did you find anything?"
"I think so," McCade replied doubtfully. "Take a look at that Farigo guy. He
seems like my best bet, but if I'm wrong I could waste a lot of time and
energy on him."
Cy found Farigo's name on the print-out, and sounded it out,
"I-do-no-H-Far-I-go... that's a weird name."
McCade sat up straight, and then wished he hadn't. Everything hurt. "Well,
I'll be damned... at least the bastard has a sense of humor. How much you want
to bet the 'H' stands for 'how.' 'I don't know how far
I go.' That's got to be him. Thanks, Cy, now I'm sure Alexander and Farigo are
the same man. You've been a big help. OK ... you said there was some bad
news... I guess I'm as ready for it as I'll ever be."
Cy felt happy and sad at the same time. He'd been able to help, but it wasn't
going to do any good.
"They're sending you to a slave planet called Worm," Cy replied sadly. "And
they don't plan on you coming back."
To Cy's amazement, McCade broke into gales of laughter, grimacing at the pain
it caused him, and pointing at the print-out clutched in Cy's metal fingers.
Cy aimed a vid pickup at Farigo's entry, and there under "disposition," it
said, "Manual labor, ten years, the planet Worm."
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Ten
IN SOME WAYS, McCade actually enjoyed the trip to Worm. While his quarters
aboard Joyo's supply ship were something less than luxurious, the chow wasn't
Page 52
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bad, and the ship's engineer was also a damned fine medic. She was
middle-aged, homely, and gruff. Though far from sweet, even as a baby, hopeful
parents had blessed her with the somewhat unlikely name of Candy. But McCade
liked her nonetheless. And not just because she patched him up, and brought
his food each day. Behind Candy's rough facade there was a quick mind, and a
sharp wit. Plus she'd knocked around the Empire even more than he had, and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
Alexander's general description. McCade's heart sank as a quick scan failed to
turn up a perfect match.
Maybe Lady Linnea had tricked him, or maybe Alexander really was dead, or
maybe a hundred different possibilities.
Nonetheless he turned his attention to those who most closely matched the
prince's description. One
Page 51
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
caught his eye time after time. A man calling himself Idono H. Farigo. He'd
arrived about the right time, played Destiny, and lost. The only trouble was
that Joyo's computer placed him at only a ninety percent match for Alexander's
physical description. Examining the detailed analysis which followed Farigo's
summary, McCade noticed some interesting facts. First, Farigo's race and age
matched Alexander's perfectly. Second, both men were exactly six feet one inch
in height, and both weighed 178 pounds. And third, they both had blue eyes.
However, where Alexander had light brown hair, Farigo's was black, and though
both had even features, Farigo's were rougher and less refined.
As McCade leaned back to think, he ignored the pain of his various injuries,
and wished he had a cigar.
Forcing his mind to the task at hand, he considered the facts. On second
thought, maybe a ninety percent match was pretty good. Especially when the two
men were a one hundred percent perfect match in everything but facial
appearance. And from years of bounty hunting, McCade knew how unimportant
facial characteristics could be in tracking someone down. Given enough
credits, a new face was as close as the nearest biosculptor, and the prince
certainly had enough credits. What if he'd visited a biosculptor before coming
to Joyo's Roid? And from what Lady Linnea had told him, it would be just like
the prince to roughen, rather than refine his features. That way he'd have a
face more in keeping with the common herd. Then, disguised as Farigo, he'd
arrived on Joyo's Roid, played Destiny, lost as he'd no doubt hoped he would,
and been sent to some miserable planet as a slave. It all made a crazy sort of
sense...
but what if he was wrong?
"Can I see that?" Cy asked, hovering in front of McCade.
McCade nodded and handed over the print-out. "As a matter of fact you can keep
it. Otherwise I'd have a hell of a time explaining where I got it."
Cy bobbed in agreement. "Did you find anything?"
"I think so," McCade replied doubtfully. "Take a look at that Farigo guy. He
seems like my best bet, but if I'm wrong I could waste a lot of time and
energy on him."
Cy found Farigo's name on the print-out, and sounded it out,
"I-do-no-H-Far-I-go... that's a weird name."
McCade sat up straight, and then wished he hadn't. Everything hurt. "Well,
I'll be damned... at least the bastard has a sense of humor. How much you want
to bet the 'H' stands for 'how.' 'I don't know how far
I go.' That's got to be him. Thanks, Cy, now I'm sure Alexander and Farigo are
the same man. You've been a big help. OK ... you said there was some bad
news... I guess I'm as ready for it as I'll ever be."
Cy felt happy and sad at the same time. He'd been able to help, but it wasn't
going to do any good.
"They're sending you to a slave planet called Worm," Cy replied sadly. "And
they don't plan on you coming back."
To Cy's amazement, McCade broke into gales of laughter, grimacing at the pain
it caused him, and pointing at the print-out clutched in Cy's metal fingers.
Cy aimed a vid pickup at Farigo's entry, and there under "disposition," it
said, "Manual labor, ten years, the planet Worm."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Ten
IN SOME WAYS, McCade actually enjoyed the trip to Worm. While his quarters
aboard Joyo's supply ship were something less than luxurious, the chow wasn't
Page 52
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
bad, and the ship's engineer was also a damned fine medic. She was
middle-aged, homely, and gruff. Though far from sweet, even as a baby, hopeful
parents had blessed her with the somewhat unlikely name of Candy. But McCade
liked her nonetheless. And not just because she patched him up, and brought
his food each day. Behind Candy's rough facade there was a quick mind, and a
sharp wit. Plus she'd knocked around the Empire even more than he had, and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]