The Prison in Antares Read Online Free PDF

purpose in going there?”
    â€œA lot more gets exchanged there besides currency and bodily fluids,” he said with a smile. “With any luck, this little excursion will save us the bother of pinpointing Nmumba’s location, and since we’ve got to reach him before he breaks, it’s worth the time.”
    Irish seemed lost in thought for a long moment. Finally she nodded her head. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll come along.”
    â€œHow come you never asked me?” said Snake.
    Pretorius chuckled. “I won’t have to bail Irish out of the local jail after she picks the pocket of some two-ton creature with a foul temper.”
    â€œYou hope,” said Snake.
    Pretorius nodded his head. “I hope.” Suddenly he frowned. “You know, I think we’re missing a bet here.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” said Snake.
    â€œThere are bound to be some Altairians at Madam Methuselah’s, hopefully from all three inhabited worlds.” He turned to Proto. “I want you to come along too. I know you can emulate an Antarean, but I want you to check out their uniforms, their insignia, anything that might have changed since the last time you saw one, anything that’ll help you create a believable illusion of a member of any of the three variations of the race.”
    â€œAll right,” agreed Proto. “That makes sense.”
    â€œAnd don’t come as a middle-aged man. I don’t want anyone thinking you’re a customer. It wouldn’t do to have one of them sidle up against you only to find out that what they see isn’t there.”
    â€œWhat shall I go as?”
    Pretorius looked around the deck. His gaze came to rest on Irish. “Her.”
    Instantly Proto appeared to be her identical twin.
    Pretorius stared at the illusion, then shook his head. “No, you might get hit on. I think we’ll be safer if you’re an Antarean officer. A general. No Antarean serviceman or even officer is going to chat up a general.”
    Proto nodded, and before his nod was done he was a general in a dress uniform.
    â€œOkay,” said Pretorius. He turned to his crew. “We’re as ready as we’re going to be. Go on about your duties, grab some sleep before we land, and then let’s get this show on the road.”

6
    It wasn’t much of a world, eighty percent dirt and the rest dust. Almost all the water was underground, or at least elsewhere. The town consisted of a landing field, a boardinghouse, a message-forwarding station, a spare-parts shop for the more popular types of smaller spaceships, a general store that sold everything from dry goods to medicine to antique weaponry . . . and then there was Madam Methuselah’s, which had a fame far out of proportion to both its size and clientele.
    â€œThat’s it?” asked Irish, pointing to a frame building that was clearly the largest structure in the town, but seemed unexceptional in all other respects.
    Pretorius nodded. “Hard to believe its fame has reached the Democracy and half a dozen other sectors, isn’t it?”
    â€œClearly people don’t come here for the ambience,” said Proto.
    â€œTell me that in another ten minutes,” said Pretorius with an amused smile. “Okay, no sense standing out here in the heat just staring at it. Let’s go inside.”
    They climbed the three wooden stairs to the large veranda. The door sensed their presence and opened automatically, and then they were inside.
    â€œMy goodness!” said Irish, looking around. “Who would have guessed it?”
    Females of more than a dozen races lounged in the main rooms, and Pretorius assured them that another thirty or forty were busy working at the moment. The walls were covered with exotic and erotic art—paintings, holographs, etchings—from dozens of worlds, and just ahead of them was a huge, elegant bar made of an alien