By Konstantin Krylov
A beam of sunlight, barely piercing through the brown veil of aerial roots, suddenly gleamed through a crack between the vines. It hopped over the slumbery river waters, shined on a nickel button, decorating the sergeant's zipper, and then jumped over the captain's spotted face - all this just to jab his eye.
The captain narrowed his eyes and covered his face with his palm, dropping the paddle. The impish aboriginal boat, as if it had been waiting patiently for such a moment, wriggled like a flirty girl's bottom, turning upstream.
The sergeant, who was a true Italian, let out some profanities, mentioning - quietly, but in a firm, responsible way - the Bosom of the Holy Virgin, and took a punt pole, making the stubborn boat straighten out.
Once again, the captain thought how nice it would have been to glide down the river using an anti-gravity boat. Unfortunately, the law prohibited using Earth weapons and transport among those backward planets.
If they were caught, an anti-gravity engine would be an aggravating factor, and for a professional smuggler, it meant spending five to seven extra years on some wretched planet. Somewhere much worse than on this one.
"Whose lands are these?" the sergeant asked, as he was handling the punt pole.
"Nguengo," the captain responded, glaring at the coastline - they gotta notice us any time now.
( Read more...Collapse )
calm
tired
thoughtful
giddy