"Scott G. Gier - Genellan 02 - In the Shadow of the Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gier Scott G)

"More will be known when the human fleet returns. Our sensor arrays are
ready. Every emission before, during, and after their leap from hyperspace
will be scrutinized."

"Have you thanked Sharl for her technical hints?" Kateos asked.

"Hints? Good friend Sharl tells us what we, as scientists, should already
know. She holds back what is critical forтАжhrrumph, negotiations. I wish she
could be less reticentтАФbut, butтАж you do not know? The king has directed
me to form the technical negotiating team. It is time to return to Genellan."

"At last!" Kateos exclaimed, embracing the scientist. "But I will be unable
to go. How will Et Kalass possibly manage withoutтАФ"

"ThisтАж old tyrant will manage quite miserably," Et Kalass growled over
the intercom. "You, worthless translator, have been assigned another
mission."

"Minister?" Kateos queried of the disembodied voice.

"The king will elaborate," the noblekone sidestepped. "Now, indulge the
shuttle captain and strap in."




THREE
CLIFF DWELLERS
┬л^┬╗
Torn from mist-shrouded volcanic cliffs, gray threads of sulfurous steam
tumbled skyward, obscuring the chasm and dulling the river's wet thunder.
A column of sun warmed Ki's bones.

The ground trembled, or was it her heart pounding? The ground
frequently trembled. Ki, widow-of-Braan, leaned against the black marble
wall and ran a bony finger down a filigree of gold. A vine rife with emerald
flowers twined along the wall's perilously steep perimeter. She smelled their
rich perfume, but she mainly listened, sweetly anxious, deliriously nervous.

The ground had trembled. Above her a loosened stone, submitting to
inexorable forces, clattered against the precipitous face of the great plateau.
The matriarch of clan Soong, belying her years, darted beneath a granite
overhang as the gravity missile bounded past the mist-sparkled terrace,
unseen in the steamy shroud. Unseen but not undetected; the huntress
tracked the spinning stone as if in slow motion, bombarding the shard with
sonic probes as it fell.

The ground would always move; the weather would never rest, freezing
and warming in endless cycles. Falling pebbles were as inevitable as rising
steam. It was a wonder more did not fall, notwithstanding the gleanings of