BLACK TRIDENT

BLACK TRIDENT

The first thing that caught Yar's eye as he played cards with the dragbeater was his trumps. The game was clearly in his favor, and that couldn't have been more satisfying, as was basically another quiet day at work.
The sturdy, well-built Yar, for his race, was a very powerful man, and generally attractive. But it was his strength and power that helped him get a non-dusty job as a guard. The cards just happened to be in place when Yar's Rock ran into Mr. Tiggs in Trangar, and he did so at a moment most would have chickened out and run away. But not Yar. He stood up for the rogdus, the one the dodgy dragbenders had jumped out at, without an ounce of doubt. And such a noble act has now paid off handsomely.
Mr. Tiggs offered a job as a guard, and to guard his large garden, where all sorts of rare and medicinal herbs, flowers, and other trees and shrubs grow. In addition to the garden, still have to look after the gardeners, but this is a pure formality, which really liked Yar. All the gardeners, were exquisite beauties. It seemed that Mr. Tiegs specially selects such gorgeous girls for his work, to please the eye.
Even now, while he was flipping cards with Dawes, the boxer kept glancing at the girl running from bed to bed. The redheaded, shapely figure, and cheerfully bouncing breasts of the gardener, her uniform was a sight to behold. A neat, blue, above-knee-length dress perfectly highlighted her figure and boasted her long legs. More than once Yar had caught himself thinking that human girls, though smaller than boxer girls, were also something to behold.
- It's your move, Yar," the dragbiter said, stacking his cards upside down, "you might want to look less at the girls, or you might blow it.
- Oh, come on," Yar grinned, his eyes down in his hand, "you'd be glad I lost, wouldn't you?
- Yes. I would. But I'd still like a fair victory.
- Wow, a dragbiter who wants a fair win is a miracle!
This fellow was not a typical dragbiter. He was the kind of accidental that dragbikers themselves consider a disgrace. Born of a weak dragbiter, he's doomed to live a lonely life. No landour, and no life among fellow dragbikers, who now and then plunge into adventures and participate in dangerous adventures. No military glory. For he is much weaker and more human in his frail body composition. But he wears a bone mask, as any dragster should, and never takes it off. And now, through the eye slits in the mask, his four vertical pupils were staring at him tenaciously. He drew out the card slowly and smoothly and placed it on top of Rock's trump. It was a special card that always won the game. And as soon as Iar looked at it, he grimaced and tossed the remaining cards onto the table.
- Goddamn it, not again!" and swearing, he took the last five copper accoutrements out of his pants pocket and waved, "That's enough for today. I'll pay you back tomorrow at lunch...
- All right..." said Dawes calmly, picking up the coins from the table that stood under the sprawling tree surrounded by neatly trimmed flowering shrubs.
The view from here was good. Numerous flowerbeds, barns, and warehouses were visible. Work was going on all around. Calm and measured work was going on. Girls were pruning, watering, and taking care of the plants in the garden. Well, Dawes, having finished his card game with Yar, began his work. He took a notebook out of his small bag hanging on his shoulder, and armed with a pencil, he went to walk by the beds and beds to write down in what state this or that plant is. Which one was ready for picking, and which one could be ordered for a good deal.
Skala snorted angrily and gave the drug dealer in a business suit a long look, put the cards in his pocket and also went to walk around the territory.

Evening came. Jar gathered his things and prepared to hand over the night shift to his friend. She was a boxer he'd met on the dock at Trangar. Amazingly, Trangar had become quite a town of destiny for the Rock, he thought with a smile.
On leaving the cozy little house designed for guards, the Rock found himself in a noticeably deserted garden. The gardeners had finished their day's work two hours ago and gone home. Dawes, too, had departed.
Walking along the stone paths, he came to an empty street, or, more accurately, the road that led to Poltor's. Mr. Tiggs's garden was on the outskirts of the human empire, near a dense forest where lumberjacks frequented. But not all of them, only those with a logging permit.
Yar cast a brief glance in the direction of the thicket, where the road was hidden and blocked by a barrier. Beside it was a small building reserved for Kandorians who checked the documents of loggers. One of the lawmen stood at the barrier, the other under the awning. The rock was tense about this proximity, and all because his past had been linked to crime on the seas, but Yar was very good at keeping it quiet and no one would guess that he was a pirate.
When he heard footsteps from the other