"Alan Dean Foster - Flinx 5 - Flinx in Flux" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

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with.
So it was that the six had gathered in this cramped and stuffy chamber, under
the assumed names that they had come to regard as their only important ones, to
decide the where and when and how of the announcement they were going to make.
Though they had no official leader, Spider spoke first and longest because he
was the most articulate among them.
When burning with the Cause, Spider could be spellbinding. His body was a
mistake of familial genetics. Within that rotund, jovial shape dwelt the soul of
a tall,, sepulchral figure whose spiritual ancestors had once stalked the
torture chambers of earlier inquisitions. He never hesitated, never
second‑guessed himself. Because he knew. Knew what was right, what was just,
what had to be done. His companions listened with respect. All felt as he did
but could not put their emotions into words as facilely.
It was dangerous for them to gather together in one place these days. As a
result of recent activities, the organization had suffered injuries, though no
deaths. But those activities had sparked more than the usual casual interest on
the part of the authorities, enough interest so that the six had had to take
circuitous paths to reach this meeting place in safety. Each was certain he or
she had made it unobserved. Extreme caution was their shield, anonymity their
protection. No one knew which worlds the organization had cells upon. The
government was persistent but clumsy, easy to fool.
Soon it would not matter. In one blinding strike for Mother Nature they would
voluntarily cast off their cloak of secrecy and announce themselves to a dazed
Commonwealth. Every newsfax, every tridee would declare their name and purpose.
Their purifying gesture would beget an avalanche of support that would shake the
foul industrialists to their knees, and a new era of respect and love would dawn
across this portion of the galaxy.
It would not be a random act, of course. They were as intelligent as they were
dedicated. Even an act mounted for publicity must have behind it a legitimate
purpose.
Given the extent of the cancer, they had no lack of targets to chose from. There
was so much to be done and so little time in which to do it. Now, at last, after
so many years of planning and building and laboring in secret, they could begin
the real work. From now on the government and big corporations and ravening
exploiters would have to deal with the avenging angel of the emergent
organization.
And if some of them should die in the process? All had agreed long ago that the
righteousness of their cause was well worth dying for. What mattered an
individual life here and there when the sanctity of whole worlds was at stake?
Spider concluded his presentation with a brief recapitulation of the current
situation before nodding to the woman seated to his right. She called herself
Flora. Her eyes were blue, and her hair was the hue of spun gold. She was taller
than any of the men except Stick, who sat quietly on the opposite side of the
table. Her body was like desert heat. Gazing at it caused men to hallucinate.
Stardom and fame could have been hers via the tridee networks, but such
superficialities did not interest her. She had much more in common with Spider